Well, here is the second chapter. Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed, favourited, and read. It really means a lot to me.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Amazing Spider-Man, nor any other Marvel movies or Marvel owned stuff in this story. I am making no money from this.
Chapter 2
Batten Down the Keyboards
Location: Reagan Knox's apartment. Date: Saturday. Time: 11:26am. Reagan Knox: Currently sleeping on her desk while still sitting in her computer chair. Everything is silent inside the open-floor apartment; everything is normal inside the apartment. Clothes, clean and dirty, are scatter around the bed and dresser, all the dishes have been washed and are laying dried on the dry rack, waiting, ready to be put away. Reagan's bins of random computer parts are tightly packed under her bed, and post cards from her parents in Florida are strewn about the kitchen counters; words of love are constant in the postcards, so are questions about male companionship.
Outside the apartment building the ever-going sounds of New York City are sane, no crashing sounds of destruction from Spider-man protecting the city for the greater good. Just the sounds of car horns honking and people babbling away can be heard. The noises from the apartment units are going strong on this early Saturday morning. Jane Reid a single mother of three children under the age of eleven live directly above Reagan; the three children are currently running and stomping above.
To the left of Reagan's apartment lives a married couple in their early thirties, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Well, that's not their real last name; it's actually Austin, nonetheless, Reagan just refers to them as Smith. See, he's cheating on her and she's slowly embezzling money from him so she and his brother can runway to California together. Yes, she's hacked their…everything. She wasn't going to; she respects that her neighbour's crap is their crap, although, she got a little suspicious the second time Mr. Austin's hand brushed her ass. It was after the third time she decided to look into Mr. Austin; not long after that she discovered Mrs. Austin's indiscretions. That's when she just started to refer to them as Smith and chose to let them deal with their muddled chaos of a marriage on their own. At the present moment Mr. and Mrs. Smith were watching the morning news, no doubt on opposite sides of the sofa. The TV volume is turned up louder than normal and can be faintly heard through the walls.
A sound emerges in the silent home of Reagan Knox; it's the quiet sound of the wheels on her computer chair as they begin to move. They squeak slowly along the floor as Reagan's body shifts; the wheels' motion begins slowly and gradually gains speed as the sleeping body shifts more and more. The chair suddenly and urgently slips backwards; leaving Reagan to be harshly awakened by her face falling off the desk and her body hitting the floor. Stunned and put-off by the chair's betrayal, Reagan lies there, gaping in agony. She's too afraid to move in case the chair decides to finish the job. Reagan cautiously rolls away from the homicidally chair and pops up a couple feet away. The first thing on Reagan's mind after an ambush like that is her morning coffee; steaming hot and bitter, to that Tracey would say 'Just like you like your men.'
Reagan stands in front of a full length mirror while she dresses in a multi-coloured pullover that looks like it's from the 80s, and forest green pants. They don't match, of course, but Reagan doesn't really notice. Stuff like whether her clothes matched didn't matter to Reagan; she was always too busy taking apart computers to notice that socks weren't supposed to be pulled up to your calves. Reagan pushes her damp, freshly washed hair off her face. Her features are average, by her account (and the guys she dated), Reagan has a square face and a strong jaw line, however, her cheeks are on the pudgier side and her cheek bones almost blend into her face. Her eyebrows are long and brown, and her lips are small in size, but are plump and have a natural upturn. Reagan has always thought her nose was too big for her face; she finds it throws off her other facial features. Reagan's build is tiny; she gets that from her mother. Reagan may be short, but what height she does have is in her legs, everything else is just kind of…miniscule.
As Reagan looks at her own reflection she begins to groan; she leans forwards and her face falls against the mirror. Her face is pressed up against the glass, smudging the mirror as her face is dragged down by gravity and her deterrent.
Go, go Power Rangers!
The familiar sound of Reagan's ringtone comes from against her ass. She groans again. As she pulls her phone out of her back pocket she looks at the caller: Turd Taco (Tracey). "Hello?" It comes out sad and slurred because someone has their face squished into a mirror.
"You okay? You sound sad." Tracey says with concern.
"No. My face and the mirror are just becoming one."
"Why are you and the mirror becoming one?" She asks with slight irritation but still massive amounts of patience. They've had similar conversations and Tracey is used to dealing with people, it is her job after all.
"It was looking at me," whined Reagan.
"Get off the mirror and have another cup of coffee. Actually, have two." Tracey used a tone that said she knew exactly what needed to be done. "I'll be there in ten to pick you up. And I don't want to see you and the mirror attached when I get there." With that Tracey hung up the phone. Tracey has never been particularly fond of parting with people on the phone. Her reason of thinking is why spend time in an awkward goodbye when you can just slap the conversation shut and avoid the whole who-should-hang-up-first jig. The first time Tracey unexpectedly hung up the phone during Reagan's awkward farewell Tracey was sure she'd lost the new friend she was finding in her classmate. However, when Reagan asked her about why she had hung up on her and Tracery told her reasoning; Reagan had thanked her for hanging up. Of course Reagan didn't give any explanation as to why she was thanking Tracey; she just thanked her and said nothing more. Well, Tracey could not be happy with that. She tried to ignore the irritation of not knowing something, but she couldn't contain herself. When Tracey asked Reagan, Reagan just looked at her for a minute before speaking (Reagan couldn't believe someone had just ignored her social awkwardness and actually had to ask about it); to this day Tracey still describes the look on Reagan's face as if a whale had just tried to communicate with Reagan. Reagan claims her face never looked like that; she said she'd 'be more understanding to a whale'.
The draw of coffee that Tracey has placed in Reagan's mind grants her the strength to part with the mirror. As she makes her coffee a loud pounding followed by a crash comes from above her. Reagan alertly looks up to her roof; all is silent above; too silent. Reagan lets out a sigh and smiles, "the elephants are at it again," she speaks eerily into the empty apartment.
Reagan hears her lock turn and a voice through the newly open doorway, "did I hear something break?" Tracey questions as she steps into the apartment.
"It was the elephants from upstairs."
"Again" Tracey asks in disbelief. Reagan nods.
Striding over into Reagan's personal space; Tracey peers at the purple haired girl with question and worry. Reagan shifts on her spot; uncomfortable with the prying eyes from her intense best friend.
Unable to stand the questions Tracey is not asking her; Reagan crumbles and answers the slightly taller girl. "I'm fine; now stop giving me those eyes." To Reagan's dismay Tracey doesn't. "Stop it! I am fine. I was just-"
"Quarrelling with your reflection?" Tracey interrupts.
"More like succumbing," Reagan quickly admitted.
"You baffle me, Reagan Knox, you know that? You absolutely hate the way you look. Whenever you see yourself you go into this gloom-coma." Reagan snorted at that. "No, no; I'm serious. You dye your hair to distract from your face, you only own two mirrors; the bathroom mirror and the one your mom gave you, and you hate spoons. The only time you use metal spoons instead of plastic ones is when you have company over."
Reagan took her time sipping her coffee; she acted as if her interest was solely on her coffee. A habit she started doing whenever someone was telling her something she didn't want to hear. "Does this have a point, Trace?" Reagan murmured into her mug.
"Yes. You don't like what you see in the mirror, so one would think that something like having no fashion sense would concern you."
Reagan rinsed her mug in the sink, and with no more wall to hide behind she rolled her eyes to Tracey. "You good now? Can we go or is there anything else you'd like to commit on?"
"Alright, Grumpy the dwarf. I'm ready to go if you are." Tracey put her hands up to show her surrender.
Reagan huffed at her, about to jibe back at the brunette, but was beat.
"I just think it's a little odd; being afraid of spoons, but feeling perfectly comfortable dressed like a hobo," Tracey quipped.
Reagan failed to suppress her laughter with an aggravated look, and this resulted in her snorting. "You're a bum."
"Mhhh, no I think you are."
"Shut up," laughed Reagan. "I need to print something before we go." Reagan ran over to her laptop and brushed her hand across the closed lid. She could feel the energy around her hand change as she did. The vibrations she felt from the dormant machine jumped alive with her touch, sending a plus through her body and into the air around her. Reagan became intertwined with the life in her laptop, and only her laptop. She could feel the life of the other machines around her; although, she just couldn't connect with them. It was like they were two parallel lines; always travelling together and always aware of the others presence, but never meeting.
The sound of the printer starting up startled Tracey; she gasped at the unexpected sound. "That is so cool," she marvelled.
Reagan didn't respond; she just grabbed her newly printed papers and shoved then into a yellow envelope; then stuffed that and her laptop into her bag.
Tracey waited at a street corner; she wasn't allowed to go with Reagan while she was duck-taping a yellow envelope filled with illegally obtained information to the bottom of a city owned fixture. Said criminal rounded the corner, and as she got within hearing distance of Tracey she started to skip and whistle Singin' in the Rain.
Tracey raised her eyebrows at Reagan. "Planning to commit a different felon?"
Reagan looped her arm onto Tracey's and pulled her along. "I think maybe we should turn this conversation away from my occupation and onto yours."
"You just want to hear stories about my job so you can pass them off to your parents as your own." Tracey taunted. "Well, here's the big headline that all the nerds are passing around under their desks with sticky notes. Mr. Osborn's health is catching up with him; word is he won't last the week."
"So if Mr. Osborn dies does that mean that his model-dating, delinquent son will run the leading company in clean energy?" Reagan inquired.
"We're tying down our keyboards," cheeked Tracey.
Reagan and Tracey spent the rest of the day running errands and working on their project. It was late in the evening when the girls parted ways; Tracey had taken the subway and Reagan walked. Reagan had made the decision to stop by her bench on her way home. She was always bored when she didn't have a job to focus on.
Sitting down on the bench she looked around the area; she was alone. Reagan reached under the bench to feel for an envelope. After a couple moments of feeling the underside of the bench with her hands she found it. She pulled out the large yellow envelope and ripped it open with her fingers. She pulled out the contents of the envelope; it was a bunch of papers. In great detail the papers described to her what she was requested to do.
Many words and sentences jumped out at her: animal testing, the lizard man was Dr. Connors, mutation, the Osborn family, illegal testing, OsCorp involved in cover-up. The job was dangerous, in fact it was suicidal. Certainly, it would get her arrested.
Her mission, if she should choose to accept it, is to retrieve crippling information on animal testing by breaking into and hacking Oscorp. This message will defiantly self-destruct in Reagan's face.
Sweet, another one done. If you want to leave a reviews that would be more than awesome. If, you made it this far thank you so much!
