Behind the Mask

The elevator was not my preferred method of descending five floors, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed to get to the lobby as quickly as possible, before all of the taxis were taken, and before my brother’s life managed to slip away.

I got the call from my mother. Although I could barely understand a word she was saying, I gathered enough information to understand that he was shot. I saw the police chase on the news before she called me, and a strange feeling washed over my senses. I worried about Greg, seeing how he was a proud and extremely cocky member of the NYPD, but wouldn't know for sure if he was involved. The awful feeling in my stomach was one I never felt before, and that alone was enough of a clarifier.

I felt a clump in the higher section of my chest, right around the area of where my heart would be. I didn’t cry, my father taught us better than that. But it still hadn’t sunken in yet.

I watched the orange button with the down arrow blink as it prepared an elevator on my floor. All I could feel was a sense of urgency. I needed to be there, my big brother needed me. If I took the stairs, I knew my weak knees would collapse in my rush and I would never get to the hospital. But this elevator thing was torturous.

Finally, the large silver doors opened, revealing a single body inside. I didn’t give him much of a glance, just enough to tell he was a man. I stepped inside quickly, pressing the button for the lobby, even though it was already glowing.

The silver doors started to close, but the pace was that of a dead snail. I bit my lip to calm my nerves, and wrung my fingers until they were red. My stomach rolled when the elevator dropped a little. I hated elevators.

I studied the numbers above the door as they changed from five to four to three. I sighed, reminding myself to stay calm.

The metal box jerked violently to a stop, forcing me to grab the wall for support. The metal on the outside screeched to a halt. The lights flickered three times and then snapped out.

I held my breath in the silence.

The backup lights kicked in after a second, but the silence was deafening. The elevator stopped moving.

The elevator stopped moving.

“No,” I murmured to myself. My eyes started stinging with the tears that would undoubtedly spill over. “No, no, no!”

I raced to the red phone hanging beneath all the buttons and lifted it to my ear. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?”

The phone was dead.

I banged on the metal doors until my knuckles were numb. This could not be happening to me, not now. I needed to see Greg, I needed to know he was okay.

My tears blurred my vision to the point where all I could see was the thick wall of water over my eyelids.

“It’s alright.” The man in the elevator helped me lower myself onto the floor. “Elevators break down all the time.”

“No, you don’t understand!” I cried, ready to throw a temper tantrum. “I need to get to the hospital!”

“Are you hurt?” He asked. I didn’t give him the regards to look at his face.

"My brother!" I couldn't say anything else between the sobs.

Greg was dying. He would die before I even got a chance to say goodbye. I didn't care what Dad said. I cried hard.

"Don't cry. It'll be okay."

I decided to get a good look at the poor soul who was stuck with me. He crouched down to my level and kindly patted my back. He was young, close to my age. His hair was messy, windblown even. It reminded me of Greg's hair when we were growing up. He had it all shaved off now.

"I'm Peter."

I cleared my throat. "Olivia." I wiped my eyes, probably smearing my mascara all over the place. "I can't lose him. I have to get out of here."

Peter rose to his feet, searching the ceiling for something. He spotted the emergency exit and looked back down at me.

I jumped to my feet as well, wobbling on shaking knees. "Can we get out of there?"

"I think so, but what happens after we get out?" His eyes were thoughtful, looking past me. "There's nowhere to go."

I combed my brain for all the possibilities, but there weren't any to consider. I needed to face the fact I would be stuck here until help arrived.

I dropped my face in my hands, well past tears and now approaching frustration.

"It isn't fair! We live in the 21st, century, and we can't even keep a damn elevator running for five floors!" I kicked the metal doors, making my toes throb.

"Abusing the elevator isn't going to make it run," He said under his breath.

I kicked it again. "It's better than doing nothing!"

He physically took a step away, probably offended by my aggression.

I sighed. "My brother was shot. He might be dying, and I always take the stairs here, but I decided to take the elevator because I thought it would be faster, and of course the one time I take it, it breaks down and now I'm stuck in a friggin' metal box while my brother is..." I couldn't finish, tears breaking my voice again.

Peter stayed quiet, contemplating the ceiling again.

I watched him in disbelief, knowing that there was nothing he could do. He stood on his toes to push back the door on the ceiling. The elevator shaft echoed when the metal hit metal.

He found a solid grip on the rim of the opening and effortlessly lifted himself up and through it.

I stepped below the opening. "What the hell are you doing?"

He reached his hands back through the hole, offering them to me. I hesitated, but decided I didn't have a choice. I placed my hands in his.

He held them for a few moments, and I wondered if he was going to pull me up or make me do it myself.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked me.

I blinked. "What?" He stared me down, waiting for an answer. "Yes."

He slipped his hands down to my wrists and lifted me through the hole very smoothly, like I weighed no more than ten pounds. I steadied myself ontop of the elevator and looked at him with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged, studying his surroundings. "Piece of cake."

I let the inhuman strength pass. "What now?" I looked around at the tall, steel walls of nothing.

He rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to the wrist. "So you can keep a secret?" He repeated, this time using his eyes to force me to be truthful.

I nodded to be sure. "Yes, but what does that -"

My words got caught in my throat. A thin, silver string shot from his wrist and attached to the very top of the elevator shaft. I recognized it right away, just as the entire city of New York would.

"Oh, my god." I clasped a hand over my mouth. "You're..."

"Why the surprise?" He smirked, reaching for my hand. He curled me into his side, and we started rising before I even realized what was happening.

I was obsessed with memorizing his face, the face that was hidden behind a mask to all of New York.

He noticed my stare. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"No," I just ignored the fact we were dangling from a spider web in an elevator shaft. "I just..."

"Not what you expected?" He finished for me.

I stared at him some more. "You're just a normal guy. I mean, no one would ever guess that you were behind the mask."

"That's kind of the point, isn't it?"

I understood the keeping secrets question he presented earlier. "You're right."

We reached the top ledge of the elevator shaft, which conveniently led to the roof. I'd never been on the roof of a building before, but the wind was stronger and the height made me nauseous.

Greg reentered my mind and focus. "I need to get to the hospital. The one off of 37th."

He nodded. "Right. I would assume you don't want to wait for a cab in traffic?"

I caught on to his hint. "Would you mind?"

He peeled off his sweatshirt and pants to reveal that unique red and blue suit, sliding the mask over his features. "It's the least I could do." He stepped up to the edge of the ten story building. "Are you ready?"

It didn't soak in until then that I was graced with the presence of the most beloved hero of New York City. The intricately designed suit outlined his figure, the lights from the street below reflecting off of his mask. He was the definition of superhero.

I knew I had to trust him in order to get to Greg in time, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He'd just revealed his secret identity to a complete stranger, and that alone implied that he trusted me. That was enough, right?

He was Spiderman. That should be enough.