A/N: Sorry for another long absence boys! This chapter was a bit of a pain to get out but, on the bright side, the next chapters should be easier to write. I've mapped out exactly how this arc is gonna go and how I'm gonna finish it and this story should, in total reach about 140 chapters (give or take), and that's including a two-part epilogue. So we've got around 11ish chapters left including this one.
Robotics Fangirl: Haha, it was a very good joke. I appreciate you rereading this all the way through, not entirely sure if it's possible though considering it's like a million chapters long at this point lol.
MarvelFan005: I can't lose writing the friendship between Harry and Adara, but they're definitely not going to have a great time with each other for a long while!
pvrkcrr: This chapter is still more talking so, yikes, but I can promise more action next chapter! As for If You Don't Love Me Now, I do have a lot of one-shot ideas to put out (some of them half-written) and I would like to update it in the near future. I currently have an idea about Adara's backstory but it's unlikely that I'll get around to updating it any time soon as I've got way, way, way too much work to do. But I'm glad you're still enthusiastic about it :)
So I completely forgot to thank everyone who followed and favourited last chapter so I'll be putting you all in this one, I'm very sorry!
Thank you to: a, Aetheriol, Bogdon, Mogor, pvrkcrr, sydvan23, AC1252, Gordon64, TheMaximumExperience, nataliamontes13, 2001, Hermione Romanoff, justonatan, IrishGinger12, Caitlinn89, lillychaiten, Robotics Fangirl, pokemon63473, Booklover, MarvelFan005, Sage Biju, Kaitlynandi, ericmw8, FantacyLover, Raven Ruler, DarkStorm00, kimikokimono, TheDarkKnight360, VVanted and dreamerz414 for either leaving a review or following/favouriting on the last (couple of) chapters! As always, I cannot stress enough how insanely important your support means to me and it definitely keeps me writing.
"Touch me and slip away
I can't hide feeling out of place
I can't function oh my mistake
Thought you were someone i once knew"
"With over a week since the reveal of Spiderman as Peter Parker, it seems to have all gone quiet. The last confirmed sighting of Spiderman was in the fire, believed to be caused by a new villain branding themselves as the 'Green Goblin.' Other sightings are currently unconfirmed, as well as a lack of appearance from the Bluebell. We're here with our Avengers correspondent, Samantha Bird. Samantha, can you tell us what's happening with all of this?"
"Well, David, despite how quiet it's been for the past few days, one can't help but feel like something is building."
The news was playing from her laptop, the only light in the dark room as Adara sat at her desk at around midnight, surrounded by files. The sound came through a pair of headphones so she wouldn't wake up Steve, but she wasn't really listening to it anyway, her face furrowed into a frown as she flicked through the files, made notes so she wouldn't lose her place, before reading them again.
It as dull, it was boring and she was tired. But it was work, and she had lots of it to do.
The thought of sleep wasn't too appealing either, while the Orange World banished any of her usual nightmares, it was still an uncomfortable place. Besides, she wouldn't sleep anyway, she'd lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the brisk, harsh tone of Harry, her best friend's voice.
Messages had come through her phone all day, but she had ignored almost all of them. The only reason why her mobile was even still on was that she was living in the vain hope that Harry might text her to apologise or something. But did he even need to apologise? He had every right to be angry, but why at her? She wasn't the evil one, she was trying to fix all of this! He was just making things more difficult. He didn't believe her, he hadn't trusted her. And that stung, after all they'd been through.
She was sick of all of this. She was sick of the press, the work, the Faceless Man, school, all of it.
And she was sick and tired of the people she cared about too. Which was horrible and unreasonable, but she felt it anyway.
Her eyes flickered over to a picture frame on her desk. A moment captured years back now, thought it didn't feel that long ago at all. Their old team, for the academic decathlon had one a regional competition. They had been given medals and Steve had insisted to take a photo of Adara with it, in the stupid yellow jackets they had to wear. She held the medal up in the air, presenting it grandly, a ridiculous grin on her face. Beside her, Natasha had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, pointing to the medal looking both prideful and bemused at the same time. She had thought the yellow jacket was stupid too.
Most of the other people on the academic decathlon team had grown up and aged out of school now. Adara wasn't a member anymore. Natasha was dead.
Adara knew that, despite the celebration of everyone coming out of the blip, the world was in a miserable state. Earth being the place where the snap had occurred three times and the amount of pure cosmic energy that summoned had had an increased threat on the ongoing threat of climate change. That wasn't even mentioning that every country's government was in some form of collapse when half of the politicians reappeared from nowhere and attempted to assert themselves. Riots on the street, unemployment, homelessness. The world celebrated a bittersweet victory, reunited with their loved ones in less than pleasant circumstances.
No one was happy, not truly. Adara especially not. She had fell deeper and deeper into depression over summer, arguing with Peter, Harry and everyone else. She had pulled herself out of that hole of complete sadness and hopeless through working with and, later, fighting against Mysterio. The thrill of a fight, a mystery was the only thing keeping her from becoming completely unbalanced.
But even that wasn't helping anymore. She just felt tired and lonely and angry. Despite all the friends she had with her, even if Harry was pissed, she had never felt so isolated before. Her finger traced the line of her scar.
What if Natasha was still here? Would she be so utterly, fucking miserable? Probably not. As much as she loved Steve, her depression seemed to outweigh everything. She was too tired to care, she missed Natasha too much.
And she had so much work to do.
She turned back to her work and continued flicking through the files.
"Adara?"
"What?"
"Don't you have homework?"
Fourteen-year-old Adara yawned and shrugged, looking away from the game show she was watching on television. Natasha had just come into the house, she had been away all day on a mission leaving just her and Steve, who was in the kitchen, left in the house. It was clear to tell it hadn't been an easy mission, Natasha's hair was tousled (which was a lot for her) and she was still in her Black Widow suit, granted she left her tasers on the coffee table when she walked in.
"I've finished it all," Adara said, a flicker of a smile crossing over her features.
"Sure you have," Natasha sat on the couch next to her.
"How was the mission?"
"Easy," she sighed. "Nothing like a drug ring to keep you on your toes. How was school?"
"Just as hard as your mission, I imagine."
She laughed and ruffled her hair. Adara glared and whacked her hand away.
"Nat, what did I say about putting weapons on the table?" Said Steve rather sternly, walking back into the living room.
"Sorry, Steve," said Natasha without sounding very apologetic, putting the tasers back into her belt holders. "How's the pasta cooking?"
"My neck hurts," muttered Adara, sitting up to rub the back of her neck.
"Adara?"
"What?"
"Adara?"
"What do you want?"
"Adara?"
Steve's voice shot Adara out of her slumber, and she bolted straight upright, naturally reaching for the underneath of her pillow to grab her knife. To her own surprise, she was sitting, and reaching forward only led to her thrusting her hand into the hardwood of the desk, and her fast movement had caused her chair to tilt back.
Steve caught the chair before it could fall on the floor and leave her with a headache worse than it already was. She righted herself, but on a sheepish smile and looked at him.
"Yes?"
He didn't look amused, gesturing to the laptop that was playing twenty-four hour news still, as well as the files and notes scattered all over her desk. She looked out the window, it was day. She must've fallen asleep without realising.
"What time did you go to sleep?"
"Er," she frowned and checked her watch. "No clue, pretty sure i was still awake after…" she was about to say three in the morning, but could already picture Steve's reaction. "After midnight."
He didn't look like he entirely believed her but didn't argue, "you need to get away from your desk and these files." He closed the laptop. "And get some fresh air. What do you say we go out for lunch."
Adara frowned, considering it, "yeah, that doesn't sound too bad."
Steve glanced back at the files scattered around, "have you organised these things?"
Adara shook her head. "They came to me in a mess and I was very slow at sorting them. I'm still sorting through them, but I'm almost done."
He seemed curious so Adara handed him the first few files on one of the piles she hadn't gotten round to sorting through before she had accidentally falling asleep. She shut her notebook that she'd been writing in and began to try and sort out some of the various stacks of piles when Steve went 'huh.'
"What's this about a SHIELD base in Texas?" Said Steve. "I didn't realise they had one there."
Adara waved her hand, still organising papers, "the files disclose a lot of undisclosed SHIELD and Hydra based. Most of them are shut down permanently now, or housing a new group. Not a main priority."
"Have you read up on this one?"
"Maybe," she shrugged, "I've done a lot of reading, I can't remember all of it."
"Adara," said Steve. "According to the file, Luka was posted to this base. He states it here."
She stopped sifting the files, looking up at him, "what's the files date?"
"Mid-nineties."
"Does it say confidential."
"It does."
She snatched it out of his hands, quickly scanning through the file. It was very clearly only the front page of it, with a large, red "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped across it. But Adara looked at the finer print.
SHIELD: Austin, Texas
SHIELD manager: Dr Murphy.
Military overseer: Gen. Luka
Cuttlefish Peer Operation.
"Cuttlefish?" Adara repeated, before blinking, remembering something and opening up her laptop.
Steve scanned the paper again and glanced over her shoulder at her laptop screen. "What is it?"
"Look here, see," she gestured to the website she was on. "Cuttlefish are 'adept at blending in with their surroundings… They have a diverse range of body pattern patterns that they can shift through almost instantaneously.' I remember Ned listing off a bunch of camouflage animals when he was rambling one time, Cuttlefish sounded stupid so it stuck in my head."
Steve came to the realisation at the same time, "it's a cover name. Cuttlefish Peer. Chameleon Particle."
A grin spread over her face, and she looked at Steve, giddy and eletated in a way that exemplified her loopy exhaustion more than anything else.
"This is it, this is where we find out who the Faceless Man is. Here, help me find the rest of the file pages."
January 3rd, 2001
In South East France, only a few miles off from the Swiss border, a baby named Adara Martin Thomas had just been born.
Thousands of miles away in Austin, Texas. Her unknowing father finished off the job he had been given on New Year's Eve. With all the equipment that held anything significant loaded in the back of a truck, and everything else doused in petrol, he was almost complete.
"You scum," spat the man lying on the floor, bleeding heavily from his leg. "You can't take all of my work. This was my experiment, our experiment. And you think you can take it all? For who? Your government? Fuck you. First you shut us down, and then you kill all of us? Why? For doing our job?"
"There's no hard feelings, Doctor Murphy," said Luka, almost sounding sincere if it weren't for the fact that he was nonchalantly loading his handgun. "It's just the job I've been given. People are interested in all the possibilities of this technology."
"It was a deadend."
"I don't make the decisions," said Luka, before pausing. "Well not all of them. As for your team, I wouldn't worry, only most of them are dead. Though I do have a couple of questions, so," he shoved the magazine back up to the pistol, directing at Doctor Murphy's uninjured leg. "We don't have all day."
"What? What is it you want from me?" He snarled, "because you won't get it. You were always just some stupid jock."
Luka looked at him coldly. "Where is O'Leary?"
"That drunken fuck?" Murphy laughed. "Does it matter? He's no threat, he's too busy drowning in his own sorrows to give a shit. Vanished right off the map, he did, after the shut down. No one knows where he went."
That's what every other scientist had said about O'Leary. But, for good measure, Luka shot out his other leg anyway.
"Ow, crap, what the HELL is wrong with you?" He gripped his knee and cried out in pain. His entire bone is shattered anyway. "I don't know where O'Leary is, I swear it. He probably fucked back to Ireland!"
"And Adelaide?" He asked.
The question hung in the air for a few long seconds.
"She vanished when O'Leary did."
Luka shot him in the hip this time. Out of anger more than anything.
"I don't know where she is! Please!" He let his head fall back onto the floor, moaning in pain. "After she ended things with you, she never came back, we didn't think any of it, I swear!"
Luka believed that too. He had told Adelaide to go far, far away. She couldn't stay in America if she knew the truth about Hydra, she'd eventually tell someone else and get herself killed. However, he had never considered the fact that he might have to anyway. When the order came to kill all witnesses and those involved with the Chameleon Particle experiment and take all the equipment for it to a base in Siberia, he had been surprised.
Pierce had ordered him to leave out no one, and that included Adelaide. Luka just wasn't sure if he could kill her, even if he could find her.
"Please," begged Murphy, "I've told you everything I know! Please let me go, I have a wife, a child–"
Bang!
He was dead the moment the bullet when through his head.
Blood pooled out around his corpse and Luka stared at it for a moment, inspecting the senior scientist with cold, calculating green eyes. Then he turned around, toward the exit of the old SHIELD building, just on the outskirts of Austin, away from any noisy neighbourhoods or high-rise buildings. No one would pay much attention to the spectacle, and Hydra would cover it up anyway.
Spontaneous, they would say, caused by a faulty pipe or something. Poor old Doctor Murphy's families would be informed that he perished in the flames. The mortician would ignore the bullet holes in his body.
He left the building and got out a packet of cigarettes that he kept in his back pocket, rarely used, and lit himself one using a lighter.
He paused when he saw a figure in the darkness, standing next to the truck.
"Luka?" The man sounded more surprised than anything.
It was O'Leary. He was looking young and foolish, with honey brown eyes and a slightly alarmed expression on his face. He stood next to the truck, eyes flickering back over it for a second before giving Luka a casual wave.
Luka glanced at the truck and back at him.
"O'Leary," he said, "word on the street is that you had buggered off back to Dublin."
"I did," he shrugged, "for a bit. But it didn't feel the same. I didn't know you smoked."
Luka glanced at the cigarette in his hand, "sometimes, when life is giving me shit. I try to not make it a habit."
"Yeah," said O'Leary, "I used to smoke… Took me a while to regulate myself to stop it. But everyone smoked when I grew up, you know? Now you can't smoke anywhere. So that's why I stopped, a little bit why."
"Now you just drink."
"Just because I'm Irish–"
Luka indicated he didn't care with a wave of his hand, "that's not what I'm saying. You could be from anywhere, and you'd still be an alcoholic. What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
"I'm working. Now answer my question."
O'Leary shrugged, "felt like I should get one last good look at the place while I'm still in Austin. I'll be gone by tomorrow morning, so it just felt suitable."
Luka knew O'Leary would be gone before then. However, he meant in the more permanent sense.
"Did you steal from the truck, O'Leary. The locks broken, what did you take?"
"I didn't take n'nt, why would I want to be in your truck?"
"Do you know what's in there?"
"Equipment," O'Leary shrugged, "from the experiment. Not sure what use you have for it though, the experiment was a failure."
There was a flicker of… Something in O'Leary's eyes. Luka wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it told him that the man was lying about something.
"Perhaps, but it still has use," Luka took the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed it under his foot. He took another one out and lit it, "but this place doesn't have any use."
With a final drag of the cigarette, he flicked it at the petrol that was pooling on the ground. O'Leary jumped black when a line of fire grew suddenly, streaming straight for the laboratory. Both of them watched as it burnt for a few minutes and then Luka checked his watch.
"An explosion will occur in about a minute when the fire burns through the pipes," he glanced at O'Leary, "I recommend you get out of here."
O'Leary blinked and nodded, "General, it's been an honour."
His salute was mocking, so was the shadow of a smirk that crossed his features. He turned on his heel, his pace slow as he walked away from the laboratory and back towards a street, not too far off in the distance.
With a frown, Luka glanced back at at the truck. Sure enough, the lock on the back of it was broken, snapped. Opening the door, Luka could see that everything he had packed in their was still in its place. The only thing that was significantly different was the fact that one of the boxes was open. Luka checked inside, it was the box with the concentrated doses of the chameleon particle serum.
And one of them was gone.
"Shit," he muttered, pulling his gun out of his jacket pocket and double-checking the magazine was still in there.
He had to kill O'Leary anyway, it wouldn't be difficult.
But it would come to his own surprise when he realised O'Leary had vanished into seemingly nowhere, despite the street being almost dead silent. No one was there except an old man with greying hair, who definitely wasn't O'Leary.
With a frown on his face, Luka decided to search for him tomorrow. Turning around, he missed the glittering, honey-brown eyes on the old man's face.
"Hey, Steve– Oh Jesus."
Sam has let himself into the apartment just past three o'clock to a rather horrific sight.
The living room was a mess, sofas, chairs and tables pushed back in order to create more space for the sheets of paper that were laid out across the floor. String has been strung up to create some kind of strange washing line for files only. Steve had collapsed onto the sofa looking half passed out and seemingly failed his mantra of being able to "do this all day." In the middle of the room, standing with her legs far apart in order not to mess up any of the rows of paper she had laid out was Adara, stapler in hand and frown on her face as she inspected the sheets of paper hung up.
She looked at Sam, smiling, "oh, hey, Wilson."
Sam was taken aback for a second by the new scar on his face, about to ask when he got distracted by a thump.
"I told you to stop doing that," hissed Bucky, appearing behind Sam.
"I had a magnet," said Steve, "I had a car door, you have a metal arm. I was only trying to see if it would work, I thought you'd be quicker getting unstuck, that's all."
Bucky continued to glare at him before barging past him to step into the apartment.
Instantly, Steve shot upright and Adara freaked out.
"No!" They both yelled.
Bucky froze misstep, and then glanced around in confusion at the sight in front of him.
"I have spent all afternoon doing this," said Steve. "If someone messes it up, that might be it for me."
"These are all Luka's old files," said Adara, "we're trying to find all information on the SHIELD Texas base and Cuttlefish Peer Operation."
"The Cuttle What?" Sam felt bewildered. Beside him, Bucky began scanning the files.
"It's the code name for the Chameleon Particle experiments," she explained, having to do a dance on her tiptoes to avoid stepping on anything as she made her way to the other side of the room. "We were sifting through paper for a while and then we weren't getting anywhere, so we decided to spread them all out to make it easier."
"This doesn't look easier," Sam said.
"It is," shrugged Adara.
"It isn't," grumbled Steve.
"Here's one," said Bucky, bending down to pick up one and reaching over to hand it to Adara.
"Oh, bien," she smiled, "Steve, peg."
The man, not moving from his slumped position on the couch reached into a box full of clothes pegs and tossed it to Adara, who caught it without looking up, reading through the file.
"This is another one about a man called Doctor Murphy so it must come…" she glanced down the washing line of files, "here."
She hung it up between two sheets of paper, nodding to herself.
"What are you trying to look for anyway?" Asked Sam, edging his way around the living room to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
"To discover the identity of the Faceless Man," she said.
Sam had been filled in on this by Bucky, and he raised an eyebrow, "how do you know he was involved in the Chameleon Particle experiment?"
"We don't," Adara's tone was light. "But it's the only lead we have. "He's got to be linked to it somehow."
"If he's a shifter," pointed out Bucky, passing her another sheet which she hung up. "Then how will you know if it's him."
"I know what he looks like," she shrugged. "If you see a file on a man who is Irish, then that's him. His appearance is kinda blackish hair, short at the sides but he might've had a different cut back then. Tall, white, brown eyes."
"Ah, very specific," snorted Sam.
She shot a glare at him and continued searching through the files. She spotted one, bending down and hovering over it. It was a brief file on her mother, the word deceased stamped over her name in red ink. The other three men in the room, having not noticed her bent down to pick it up, were talking amongst herself. Adara folded up the sheet and put it in her back pocket.
"See anything?" Prompted Steve.
"Nope," she sighed. "I can't see anyone who looks like him."
"Well, how would you know it was him?" Asked Steve. "I know that you can tell if he's shifted not in real life, but how could you in a photo?"
She shrugged, "I'm betting on he gained his powers from the Chameleon Particle experiment, not before it, so he wouldn't be shifted. Also, his accent isn't faked, I've got a good ear for it. We should probably be able to tell as his birth place would be in Ireland or Northern Ireland."
"Is your ear for accents really that good?" Sam said doubtfully.
"I speak like a hundred languages with a spot on accent," she said, eyes narrowed at him. "I would be able to tell."
"Whose to say he isn't the same?"
Adara, slightly annoyed by Sam's snark, continued to tiptoe her way past the files spread along the floor, investigating the ones in the furthest corner, just out of sight. One file had been tucked slightly under the sofa, but caught Adara's eye anyway with the name printed at the bottom.
Kieran O'Leary, as Irish a name as any.
"I don't think this is the most effective way to get to the bottom of things," said Bucky. "You don't even know if he was involved in the– have you found something?" He must've noticed her pause.
She picked it up, glancing over it and finding the photo. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a much younger, scruffier, skinnier version of the Faceless Man staring back at her with a half smile and honey-brown eyes. There was little doubt in her mind as she looked at it.
"I found him," she said, causing the three men to straighten up. "His name is O'Leary."
"Are you sure it's him?" Asked Sam.
"It looks like him," said Adara, frozen in space. "It says here that he was born in Dublin in 1978. Eyes are the same colour, face is the same. He looks younger but I'm certain it's him."
"But?" Steve could read the look on her face, someone was wrong.
She held up the file for all of them to see, "it says here that he's dead."
"Dead?" Repeated MJ about two hours later in Adara's room. "How is that possible?"
"Maybe it's a mistake," said Ned.
"These are Luka's files," MJ argued. "They've been right about everything so far. Why would they be wrong now?"
Adara stares at the file, now pinned to a board, face in a frown. Karen could find no record of a Kieran O'Leary ever existing, as Adara suspected. She reckoned he had been wiped from all databases, however there was no way to delete paper copies, not in the same way you could delete an online file at least. This piece of paper here, she thought, could be the only proof that O'Leary even existed.
She had cleaned up the apartment, though the files were in an even messier stack than they had been before, shoved underneath her desk, forgotten, now that she had gotten what she needed. Without giving Bucky, Sam or Steve much time to question her, she had already been calling up her friends. She told Peter to stay where he was now, him coming to the city too often was beginning to attract attention (though there was no stopping him if he wanted to be there).
And then, she had automatically gone to call Harry. But the texts without reply and ignored phone calls reminded her why that wasn't possible. So, she had simply called MJ and Ned instead.
"Maybe the Faceless Man isn't O'Leary," said Ned, "maybe he's stealing his face."
"I would know," Adara reminded them, "that's the Faceless Man. I know it."
"But the Faceless man is alive," MJ's tone was sharp. "The file is somehow wrong."
"I think this was on purpose," said Adara. "The Faceless Man said he knew Luka, that Luka was aware of his existence."
"So why would Luka rule him as dead?"
She frowned, "Hydra, when it was being run by Pierce, wasn't too concerned for my existence. If I caused too much trouble, they were more than willing to kill me so they could try and inject the Chameleon Particle from my corpse instead. They would've deemed me useless if they found someone else who could shapeshifter. Luka wanted to keep me alive, therefore he simply had him ruled officially dead."
"I suppose it makes sense," muttered MJ. "But how come he became a shapeshifter and everyone else who worked on the Chameleon Particle didn't?"
"He might not have been the only one," said Adara, walking over to her desk. "Check out all these files."
She handed them to the other two, who glanced over them.
"Everyone who took part in the experiment is dead?" Ned's tone was that of disbelief.
"Apparently," said Adara. "Hydra's orders."
"God, that's brutal," muttered Ned.
"Why not kill O'Leary then?"
"I don't know," Adara sat back on her desk chair, placing the file down in front of her. "All I know is that next time I come into contact with him, I have something to use against him."
"If he knew your mother," MJ's tone was that of warning. "Then he could turn it against you instead."
Adara shook her head, "my entire life I've had people comparing me to my parents. The mention of their name it just–" she made a whooshing noise, "goes over my head. The Faceless Man– O'Leary– won't catch me out with this. The question is, how do we stop him?"
"How do we stop all of them?" Wondered Ned aloud.
"Huh?"
At Adara's confusion, Ned and MJ exchanged a glance.
"O'Leary can't be our main priority, Adara," MJ's rather firm tone reminded her. "Beck and Norman are out there too."
"I– uh, yes, I know that," Adara scoffed. "I was just focused on this for the moment."
The truth was, it had completely slipped her mind. Adara had spent the past few days being so invested in the identity, the truth about the Faceless Man, the thought about anyone else had just been secondary. Even her fight with Harry had taken a backseat to her research. It was isolating, she realised, but she couldn't stop now.
She just tried to pretend she didn't see the look MJ and Ned exchanged with each other.
"Besides," she said, growing more steady, "I might have a lead on what their next move is."
MJ blinked, "oh yeah? Is it to do with the Engine Norman is building?"
"Maybe, but I don't have the full story yet. O'Leary mentioned somewhere… A building. Called the Cicero Palace. He'll be there tomorrow to hold a grand meeting about his plans for the future."
"Cicero Palace is an old club in Manhattan," MJ supplied almost immediately. "I read about it in a book called 'Tradition and Capitalism in the early nineteenth century to today.' It was basically a place where rich, white industrialists would laugh about mistreating slaves and being rich. And it still exists today, but this time for rich CEOs in New York."
"Thank God for you and your weird taste in books," muttered Ned.
"Sounds like a place where the Faceless Man would be," Adara nodded.
"The question is, how do we get in?" Said MJ. "It can't be you, Adara, he'll notice if you're shifted, you said so yourself. And it can't be Peter, his face is plastered everywhere. So it'll have to be me or Ned."
"No, no way," Adara shook her head. "Harry has no powers, but he's in the line of fire if his dad is working in collaboration with the Faceless Man, whether he'll help to us or not. Peter is obviously in danger and so am I, but we're trained, so it doesn't matter as much. It can't be you or Ned, I'm not risking losing anyone."
"Adara–" MJ tried to begin.
"No, I'm not arguing about this," her tone was blunt. She didn't like talking to them like this, but she didn't want to lose more than she already had. "I'll do it."
"No offence, Adara," Ned looked slightly shaken. "But how? You can't shift, O'Leary will recognise you."
"So I'll go as myself."
"That stupid," MJ's tone was more irritated than usual. She was mad at Adara.
"It's not," insisted Adara. "The Cicero Palace must have staff right? To hand out drinks and the likes? O'Leary is self-absorbed, he measures very few people as a threat to him so he won't be paying attention to some measly staff members passing him some champagne, right? It'll be the perfect way to listen in on whatever they're saying. Maybe even find out where Beck is."
Neither of them look convinced, but Ned spoke up tentatively, "what if you do get caught?"
"I can take O'Leary."
Both of them then went and looked up at the scar running down her face. She tried to ignore their scrutiny.
"Just trust me on this," she said. "This is the only way."
Ned nodded and, after a few seconds, MJ did too, with a frown still creasing her features. Adara let out a sigh of relief and quickly started asking them for help on how to enter the building as staff, creating a strategy together.
Still, a part of her felt empty. Maybe it was just because she was tired, but she reckoned it was really because she was used to doing all of this with Harry by her side.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Queens, Harry was buying a pack of gum. Not for any reason, he mainly left his room so he could get some air and a distraction from the deafening silence of his home that even the music couldn't drown out. He was so used to having people around every day, or at least having Adara listening to his ramble or vice versa that being alone felt so strange.
As he waited for his change, he quickly checked his phone. Twenty missed calls, thirty messages left unread. All from Adara, he had more from other friends but none of them had matched the amount she had sent, not even when combined together. She was a girl that knew how to keep her cool, even when they were pissed or arguing, one or two texts were enough for her if she wanted to apologise or wanted Harry to apologise.
Now, it was hard to read what exactly it was Adara wanted.
From tone alone, when she had told him what she thought she knew about his dad, she had had nothing but sympathy and condolences. But Adara was never as good at hiding her emotions as she thought she was. He had seen it in her eyes, a flicker of frustration here and there which was bordering of full blown rage by the end of their spat. Maybe that was why he hadn't really found it within himself to talk to her. The two of them had never really gotten properly angry with each other. They had fought, they bickered all the time and it was just a side effect of living with each other for so long (MJ often likened them to siblings). But this was different. Harry had seen something that was almost feral beneath her eyes. It scared him a little.
But not as much as the information she had given him had. But he dismissed it from his mind. Norman was his dad and his dad wasn't evil.
"Your change," said the cashier in a rather disinterested tone.
Harry took it, muttered a "thanks" and headed back to the tower, his little stroll not making him feel much better after all.
He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, it was getting later but it wasn't quite dark yet. The sky was grey, Harry feared it might rain, but the air was still as dry and hot as it had been all week. It was still summer, after all.
"Pst, Harry," said someone as he passed by an alleyway.
He glanced down the darkness and saw a figure, and then back at Oscorp tower which was only just down the road. It took him only a second to recognise the voice, and his mood darkened even further.
"You can't be here, Peter," he said, walking into the alleyway. "What if someone sees you skulking around and takes a photo? The Daily Bugle would probably acuse you of plotting murder."
Peter was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and baggy tracksuit bottoms, but Harry could tell he only had it on to cover up his suit underneath. His hands were clad with the familiar gloves, and his exposed ankles were also red. Harry partly wondered what he was doing out here, rather than sheltering at home. He knew that Adara had relaxed on insisting he'd stay out of the action, especially now that it had gotten more complicated, but it just seemed like Peter had thrown caution to the wind at this point.
"I just wanted to talk to you," said Peter.
Harry went a little cold at that, "what are you going to say? That I'm the son of a lunatic?"
"No, I—" Peter let out a sigh, sitting back. "I just wanted to check if you're okay."
He seemed more genuine than Adara had, which only made Harry feel worse.
"I'm fine," he said.
"How come you're not replying to anyone's texts then?"
"Perhaps because you're all accusing my father of being some kind of murdering criminal," Harry had to stop himself from yelling, but his angry words still sliced through the air. "That he set fire to a building full of innocent people, that he freed Beck, someone who actively wanted me dead, that he's working with The Faceless Man, someone who is trying to and has hurt my best friend. You're accusing my father of that and yet you still wonder why I'm not replying to your texts?"
Peter looked a little wounded, in the same way Adara had when he had shot that scathing comment about her father at her. He knew it was a sore spot, but she had bought it up and he simply had bounced it back. For a moment, he had felt guilty when she flinched away from him, hurt. And then he had seen that hurt shatter into anger, and had turned heel and walked away, unwilling to look her in the eye for a moment longer. Adara had looked about seconds away from hitting him, and he didn't want to hang around a moment longer.
But Peter didn't look angry, he looked genuinely sorrowful. So Harry deflated a little.
"Sorry for lashing out," he said, "I just… You can't blame me, can you?"
"Of course not," Peter said. "If you'd said it to me, I wouldn't have believed it either. I mean, I know my dad isn't around but if you'd said it about Uncle Ben or someone." He shook his head. "I don't know how you feel, Harry, but… you have to at least consider it."
"I have," said Harry, but he hadn't. Not really. "It just doesn't seem right. I know what you think of my father because I think the same things too. He's cold, he's neglectful, he lacks empathy and emotion. But these past few months…. He's genuinley talked to me, Adara told me how affected he was by the Blip and, oh, it's all so stupid. He's my Dad, Peter, he's not evil."
"I don't think he's evil, Harry."
"But you think he's done all those horrible things?"
"I—"
But Harry was done. He shook his head.
"It's fine, I get it," Harry said. "I'm not going to stop you from doing your thing. Finding Beck and the Faceless Man is important. But don't expect my help."
"Harry, please."
"Don't bother, Peter," the words were mean but his tone was tired. "I'm just going to go home."
Peter looked defeated and tired. The poor boy was already going through so much, especially with his identity being… out there. Harry felt a little like he was bashing an already broken pinata.
With a guilty conscience and that nagging feeling of maybe they're right, Harry headed home. To Oscorp tower.
A/N: Oh, Harry, my boy, you poor thing. But isolating yourself from your friends probably isn't the way to fix this if you want my honesty here. Honestly, most of the characters aren't doing great. Peter's struggling, MJ and Ned are doubting and don't even get me started on Adara. The next chapter should hopefully be a lot less talk than these past two have been, and be way more action-packed. And I know I promised Beck but he'll definitely be back in the next chapter. Probably. Hopefully, it won't take me too long to update.
Anyway, in the meantime, incorrect quotes!
Ned: If you found out you only had one day left to live, what would you do with it?
Peter: Say goodbye and mend my relationships.
Adara: Something illegal.
Harry: Accept my fate.
MJ: I would message ten people saying that if they didn't forward this message, I would die tomorrow.
Ned: What?
Adara: That's awesome. Can I change my answer?
Another one :)
Adara: I just heard Harry yell 'DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE MY ROOMBA IS' and then two minutes later, more quietly, he goes 'aww, poor roomba, how'd you get stuck there, sweetie?'
Annndd another one
Peter: What are you looking at?
Adara, doing a buzzfeed quiz to find out what kind of scented candle she is: Porn.
I need to get better at updating jeez
Steve, hoping for a normal day raising a teenager: Good morning, Adara.
Adara: I'm gonna try and become LEFT-HANDED
Anyyway, that's all for today folks, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and reviews are very much appreciated :)
(Note: for anyone reading White Whispers and Whiter Shadows, it's currently not a priority so it may take another couple of weeks for an update, very sorry)