A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, Spiderman: Homecoming, Thor, and Thor: Dark World.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Year From Hell: Season 3, in progress. Please stand by…
Note: It really burns my cookies that the introverts were right all along.
To all my family, friends, and readers from around the world, be safe, don't give in to paranoia, fear, and anger. If you have family, friends, or even a neighbor or co-worker who has a difficult time getting out, or just needs a shoulder to (figuratively) lean on, don't be afraid to help them out.
Do The Five:
Hands: Wash them often. 20 seconds is recommended. That's the length of time it takes to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle" or the Alphabet song through once. It's also the time it takes to recite the opening narrative to Star Trek. You know it. The one that begins, "Space, the final frontier…". For those inclined, it's also the amount of time to recite the Lord's Prayer. I'm sure we all have something we can recite or sing for 20 seconds, even if it's part of a popular or favorite song, poem, or even a Shakespeare soliloquy.
Elbow: Cough into it.
Face: Don't touch it.
Feet: Stay more than 6 feet/2 meters apart.
Feel: Sick? Stay home.
Most of all, stay safe. And for all our sake's, stop hoarding toilet tissue and hand sanitizer. That's just stupid.
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 82
In the midst of webbing up the gang of robbers, Peter heard May scream at the same time Karen's urgent voice broke into his constant stream of witty banter.
"Peter! Someone's shooting at May!"
He ran for the door, ignoring those still free, shot a web and swung out of the store over their heads, some continuing to swing their fists and missing. "What?! Where?"
"South side of the building." There was a short pause as Peter changed directions. "Hurry, Peter! She can't hold on much longer."
Peter shot another web, using his momentum to carry him around to the alley. May was hanging by one hand to what was left of the ladder. Below her, a man wearing a ski mask that covered only the upper half of his face took aim. Ignoring him, Peter gritted his teeth and reached out.
~~O~~
Dangling high above the hard and unforgiving ground, May tried and failed to grab onto the ladder with her free hand. "A-a-ah!" The hand still holding on cramped. Her wrist ached as she twisted in the wind that never seemed to let up in the city, using the buildings to essentially create wind tunnels.
The ache moved up her arm to the shoulder, tightening the muscles in her neck and upper back. They always tell you to never look down, and just like in the movies, she did just that, scaring herself even more, if that were possible.
Soon, May lost her hold on the ladder and found herself plummeting toward the ground.
~~O~~
Peter swung into the alley just as May's grip on the mangled ladder gave out. He caught her by the hand, her high-pitched scream cutting off as they continued down to the bottom of the arc and started back up. Swinging his arm back and forward, he flung May into the air and caught her around the waist before she'd fallen more than a few feet.
When they reached the top of the arc, Peter let go. May instinctively tightened her hold on his neck, nearly strangling him as they landed on the roof. The web dropped away and Peter wrapped his aunt in a tight hug, her harsh breaths rasping in his ear. To his surprise, soothing music came through the headset. Karen's attempt to calm their racing hearts. He sent her a silent thanks and slowly lowered May until her feet touched the roof. Still, she refused to let go.
Bringing one hand up to stroke where her hair would normally be, he murmured, "You're okay, May. He's gone, and you're going to be fine."
Peter stumbled backward as May pushed out of his arms and gave him a hard shove, her voice shrill, "I'm not okay and I'm not going to be fine! He almost killed me!"
She let him lead her to a small raised platform near the environmental system and didn't resist when he urged her to sit. He joined her, keeping one arm around her shoulders. Using the same gentle tone he'd heard from his parents, May and Uncle Ben, Peter whispered, "Tell me what happened. Why didn't you stay on the roof where you would be safe?"
May fumbled with the mask, and Peter, recalling the claustrophobic sensation the first few times he wore the mask, rushed to help her take it off. She gripped the mask, crushing it in both hands. He took his off and set it aside, waiting for her to speak, and finally, she did. "I… the, uh, fight moved where I couldn't see it, so I climbed down, but the uh, the ladder, I mean the ground was too far to jump when I reached the bottom. On my way back up, that guy started shooting." She buried her face in her hands. "Shit! He almost killed me! I-I could've d-died…" The last word ended on a sob as the adrenaline wore off and she leaned into him again, finding his hand with hers. "You've lost so much, Peter. How could I be so stupid? You'd be all alone now and it would be my fault."
"May I point out, Ms. Parker, that your suit, while not as technologically advanced as Peter's, does possess a layer of high-impact Kevlar," Karen interrupted. "The standard, non-armor piercing bullets employed by the shooter would have been deflected. You would not have been injured, except, perhaps, some minor bruising."
The crying slowed and stopped. May wiped tears from her cheeks, sniffed, and took a deep breath. "Oh, that's a relief." She gave up a small smile. "Guess I was worried for nothing."
"That's not entirely true, Ms. Parker," Karen replied in that too calm voice Peter now thought of as cold and unemotional. "You were approximately forty-five meters above ground when Peter rescued you. At that height, you would've been killed by the fall."
Avengers Headquarters
Upstate, New York
Darcy and Tony had come to an impasse. "… we're doing it, Tony," she stated for, well, she'd lost count. Her chin came up, mouth set in the same stubborn line as his. "Now. Tonight."
"The original report was done by an outside lab. They're accurate."
They'd had variations of the exact same conversation over and over again. Darcy wanted the DNA test done again so he could see for himself that they were father and daughter. He was satisfied with the status quo.
Her eyes narrowed, arms crossed. "As I've told you ad nauseum, I do my research. The lab that processed the original specimen is owned by a subsidiary of Stark Industries, hence, they work for you. Therefore, the staff would say whatever you want them to say." Letting out a long breath, she stood. "Let's do it now. We'll go to the lab here, let them take the specimens themselves, and do the tests immediately. You can physically monitor each step in the process in case anyone gets it into their minds to switch out the samples." Tony opened his mouth and shut it again when she held up a hand. "Save it. The labs here are better than state of the art. They'll get it done in seventy-two hours, not two weeks or a month or even the same day like on television and in the movies."
"Until Friday confirmed, I didn't know SI owned it," Tony reiterated. "Full disclosure, the facility is a subsidiary three times removed, but I don't monitor the day-to-day operations. Even the CEO doesn't have time for that. We get a quarterly report, which is just a formality because it doesn't have the same resources or business plan as most of our larger companies. Pepper only gets involved if major problems are brought to her attention by the DO."
"Toh-may-toh, toh-mah-toh," Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes. "Let's just do this and get it over with. That discussion is to be continued, but not tonight. I'm so over it."
Though his expression didn't change, Darcy knew she'd backed him into a corner. If he declined, it would show lack of faith in the staff that had been vetted every which way they could. Trust was a big thing with him, and it was obvious he believed that redoing the tests would cause her to think he hoped the lab had been wrong.
Tony came from behind the bar where he'd opened yet another root beer, but hadn't taken a drink. He waited for her at the lifts, and together, they rode down to the medical R&D labs on the lower levels.
~~O~~
The lab tech secured Tony's specimen, marked it with a code, and placed it beside Darcy's on the tray. "We'll have the results in three days, Mr. Stark. The doctor will send you an email when they're ready." He looked at both of them through a face guard. "You'll want the report in person, I expect."
Darcy took a step forward. "Mr. Stark will personally oversee each step in the process," she reminded the tech. "It's important…"
"That won't be necessary," he broke in before Darcy could get wound up.
The tech's eyes narrowed with annoyance, but he capitulated with a tight smile. "So there won't be idle speculation on the who and the why of the testing, let's take several specimens and have the tests run by techs on all three shifts in a triple blind with a control, so there will be no preconceived ideas as to the possible outcome."
Tony shared a look with Darcy, communicating silently. They nodded and spoke at the same time, "Agreed."
Queens, New York
Unknown Location
Watching the CCTV video of the robbery, Felicia growled deep in her throat, sound just like a cat. Like the domesticated feline, the sound did not bode well for the object of her anger. She dispersed some of the anger in one short burst, punctuating it by kicking a trash can. "****!"
She powered down the phone, tucked it into a pocket, sealed the Velcro closure, and stood, replacing the mask as she left her place of concealment. Jogging silently up the staircase to the roof, she took a moment to orient herself in the dark. The roof's lights had quit working long ago, with a little help from her.
Choosing a direction, Felicia ran toward the parapet, launching herself through the air between buildings. She went into a shoulder roll, coming to her feet, the momentum doing its work as she kept moving, until she'd reached her destination.
Making her way to the stairs, she didn't stop on the first floor, but kept going, down into the basement. When she first found this place, an old apartment building that had been vacant for years, the basement had been full of life's castoffs. Furniture, toys, can food, baskets, an old washer and dryer in which a family of rats had made their home. Being a criminal didn't mean she wasn't compassionate and understanding. She'd trapped the rats and set them loose in one of the parks.
Dirt, dust, cobwebs, and grime had covered every surface, the hopper windows so dirty, you couldn't see out. Not that there was much to draw the eye. Just the dumpster wheels and trash people were too lazy to pick up when they missed or didn't bother making the effort. Yet another reason to get a decent education. With a degree, she could move anywhere, do anything other than what she'd known all her life.
Now, the room was clean, though not completely dust free. Such was the way of old buildings. The furniture was old, but in decent condition. Felicia had procured, i.e. stole, a mini fridge, more for her use than anyone else's. She often thought about moving into the space instead of roughing it in the abandoned gas station, but then her cohorts would know where she lived and who knows what they'd do to her or her place while she slept. One of them could even get it into their tiny little mind to turn her over to the police so they could take over the operation. Not that it would do them any good. They were too stupid to realize she was using them as a distraction for her true activities.
Several coats of black paint kept the light out and people from seeing in. Standing under the hopper window that faced the street, Felicia waited. A few minutes later, the guys trooped into the basement, pumped for the success of their most recent foray into lawlessness.
Felicia only hired men and only a certain personality type, using subtle questioning to assess their intelligence and willingness to follow orders. Women, given the right circumstances, could be more ruthless than men. This had been proven time and time again. So, no, there weren't any women among the ranks.
To put them at ease, Felicia had laid out a spread of their favorites: hot wings, potato skins, giant pretzels, cronuts, and, of course, churros. The liquor store wouldn't sell her beer, so they'd have to be content with water or canned drinks. All designed to put them off their guard.
The men filled their plates and made themselves comfortable, shoveling the food into their mouths as if they were starved. Napkins had been provided, but only a couple were bothering with using their manners.
A short black wig covered her hair and she used a synthesizer to disguise her voice so identification would be impossible, should one or more of them get caught. All they really knew about her was her height and probable weight, and even that was iffy due to the baggy gender-neutral clothing. Aside from that, they all thought she was male and she let them, even encouraged the falsehood.
While the men gorged themselves, Felicia looked over the booty from the electronic store, shaking her head. She'd given them a list of items with orders not to take anything else, but they hadn't listened or didn't care if she were angered. They'd get over that soon enough.
Felicia sat apart from the group as she always did. More to keep them from sussing out that she was a woman, but also to show a pyramid of power with her at the top. Several of them had approached her separately, putting a bug in her ear about appointing a second in command, each hoping they'd be that man. As they were a diversion at best and maddening at worst, it wasn't happening.
One by one, the men finished eating and Felicia thanked whatever God or gods were listening that she no longer had to watch a bunch of mannerless louts masticate their food and listen to them complain-again!-that she hadn't provided beer or a couple bottles of Jack.
Expressions of expectation turned to dismay when Felicia dumped her empty plate, wiped her mouth, and tossed the napkin into the trash. They'd learned long ago that it was her signal that they should vacate the premises.
The last guy had one foot on the bottom step when she called out, "Bates, a word, please."
Bates exchanged looks with his cronies, who always left last. He lifted his chin, telling them to go on without him and came back, staying well out of arm's reach. Forcing him to sit so she wouldn't strain her neck wouldn't do any good. Not much scared him. She'd seen him take on guys much bigger and win.
"Danny tells me it was you who shot at Spider-Man and his sidekick." Bates had the poor sense to sit tall with pride. "Is this true?"
Arms crossed, Bates puffed out his chest. "Yeah."
"And Spider-Man?"
Bates made a sound of derision. "That pansy-ass ran off to save the sidekick, just like I planned."
Letting him believe she was impressed, Felicia asked, "So what's your weapon of choice? Saturday night special? A .38? Smith and Wesson?"
An overly eager grin split Bates's face allowing her to see that he'd lost at least two teeth, probably during barroom brawls he started. The light glinted off the barrel of the gun as he pulled it from the holster under his left arm. "Naw. Me and my boys don't mess with the cheap stuff. This un belonged to Ma before she moved to Arizona to live with her sister." Felicia held out a hand and he laid the weapon in her palm, still grinning. "And I still live in the apartment where I grew up. It's rent controlled. Only pay three hundred a month."
The last part had nothing to do with their conversation, but he managed to mention it in nearly every conversation they'd ever had.
Felicia ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide to check the chamber was empty while pacing in what would appear to someone of Bates's limited intelligence a random pattern. She glanced at him while examining the weapon, her signal for him to take a seat. "Glock 19. Basically a smaller version of the 17, first produced in '88, primarily for the military and law enforcement."
On her next lap, Felicia stopped in front of Bates, who'd slumped down in his seat, totally relaxed. A situation that wouldn't last for much longer. Holding the barrel, Cat used the grip to smack Bates in the face so hard he fell out of his chair. "I told you never to bring a gun to one of our raids!"
With quick, practiced movements, Felicia took the weapon apart, dropping the pieces on the floor in front of Bates. "You're through here. Get out. I don't ever want to see your sorry ass on my turf again."
Hands under his shoulders, he glared, promising a world of hurt if he ever got his hands on her. The wisest course was to go on the offensive. Felicia caught him in the ribs with the toe of her boot and immediately retreated. She let him get to his feet then moved into a fighting stance, daring him to attack. He took her up on the "invitation", and rushed her with a low growl.
Felicia stood her ground, jumping at just the right moment, clocking him on the side of the head in a perfectly executed elevated roundhouse kick. He crashed into the tables and chairs, knocking them around like Legos. She grabbed the support pole, using her momentum to swing around, getting him in the chest with both feet.
Somehow, Bates was still conscious. Felicia took a set of brass knuckles from the back pocket of her pants, slipped it on her right hand, and gave him an upper cut that snapped his head back. His eyes rolled back in his head and flopped to the floor.
NYPD - Queens Division
Officer Irene Spencer and Captain Crosby Sanford stood over the semi-conscious man on the steps of the station. Without waiting to be told, Spencer pulled on a pair of latex gloves, plucked the sheet of paper poking out of the man's collar, and carefully unfolded it.
The older man, gray haired, with a cynical twist to his features, verbally prodded, "What's it say?"
"It's just a list of dates, times, and a short note telling us to watch the security footage at the addresses provided." Something about it seemed familiar. Then, she had it. "Captain, these dates coincide with break-ins." They looked down at the guy who hadn't shaved in days. Someone had beaten him badly enough that he'd need medical treatment before being processed. "I'd call the EMTs, but they're at the fire." Spencer pulled out her cell phone. "My brother-in-law's a nurse. I could give him a call. He's off duty tonight and doesn't live far."
The Lieutenant crouched to flip the man over onto his back, scowling. "Call him, then have Panofsky and Avila escort his highness to the processing suite."
Suppressing a grin, Spencer held the door for Sanford, saying, "Yes, sir," as he went inside while she made the call.
~~O~~
From her hiding place in the alley across the street, Felicia watched Bates being manhandled none to gently into the station by two uniformed cops, protesting his innocence in a slurred version of the Jersey accent he tried to hide. The chances of him getting out anytime soon were pretty close to nil, this being his third strike. The actual number of strikes was much higher, but were thrown out due to circumstantial evidence or sworn statements from "witnesses" that he was anywhere other than in the vicinity of the crime in question.
As soon as the street was relatively clear, Felicia made her way back to the hideout, where she changed into the skin hugging black suit, removed the wig and voice synthesizer, and let her hair down, tousling it to remove the flatness caused by the wig, letting it fall around her shoulders. She put the mask on as she reached the first floor and pulled on gloves before locking up and setting the alarms, smiling as she did so, picturing Bates's face at his arraignment where the charges would be read. It promised to be loads of fun. She'd take a seat in the gallery and revel in watching him being taken away in handcuffs.
~~O~~
Crouched in the darkness where the streetlights couldn't reach, Felicia spied Peter talking to someone wearing a suit similar to his, in black with non-spider like designs. They both had their backs to her and all she could see was a head of dark hair. Had Peter taken on a sidekick without telling her? Not that they had to share everything. However, it was such an important step in his life as a superhero, she was surprised he hadn't at least mentioned it.
Why were they on that particular roof anyway? Was he waiting for her to show up or just hanging out? He touched his left ear, listening to whomever was on the other end. Peter hadn't yet introduced her to the voice in his ear. That meant Spidey's companion was someone else. A good guess would be his aunt, but then again, maybe not. He wouldn't risk the life of his only living relative by bringing her with him on patrol where there was sure to be shooting.
"Only one way to find out for sure," Felicia muttered under her breath as she stood and walked backward to get a running start.
~~O~~
Peter's spider sense tingled, telling him they were being watched. Without turning around, he whispered urgently to May, "Mask!"
May fumbled, turning the mask around and around, trying to find the front. He put his own mask on then gave her a hand. Not long after, the familiar tread of footsteps came from behind. Peter stood and May joined him in watching Cat slink out of the darkness, much like the creature from whom she'd taken her AKA, stopping a discrete distance away.
Her mouth turned up in that knows-everything, doesn't-give-a **** smirk he remembered so fondly as Cat's eyes moved from one to the other, stopping on him. "Well, this is an unexpected pleasure, Spidey."
"Same here, Cat," he said with sincerity.
She balanced her weight evenly on both feet, arms hanging loosely by her sides, the wariness back again. "Wanna introduce me to your friend?"
As soon as he realized who their visitor was, Peter had asked May not to speak. She didn't like it, but unlike earlier, this time she'd pay attention. "Black Cat, this is…" Peter experienced a brief frisson of panic. He hadn't anticipated the need to make introductions, and so, hadn't put thought into an alias. "…N-n-night Angel. Angel, meet Black Cat."
The women nodded a greeting. Then, Cat returned her attention to him. "So, got yourself a sidekick, huh?"
Peter felt May stiffen at the description, apt though it was. He touched her on the arm and she backed down and injected humor into his tone, "Superhero support."
"Of course," Cat agreed, her tone saying she was humoring him, but he wasn't sure why. She exaggerated a sigh, one hand on her hip. "Well, some of us need help, and others," the free hand pointed at herself, "don't."
Annoyed, Peter moved closer, arms crossed defensively. "I don't need help. This is more like a… a ride-along."
"Ah," was Cat's noncommittal response.
May's light touch on the arm May stopped him from making an ill-advised retort that would increase the tension instead of deflecting it, instead saying, "Look, Cat, it was great seeing you again. Always is, but we, uh, we gotta make tracks. See you later?"
A glint of humor shone in her eyes and Peter knew he was about to be hit with a zinger. Cat snorted and grinned, "Not if I see you first." She waved and turned away, "Later, Gator."
Coming up next to him, May began, "Peter…"
He put a finger to his lips, telling her to wait until they were sure Cat was gone and Karen confirmed. "Cat has moved well beyond hearing range for the average human. You may speak freely."
May and Peter shared a look. The slumping of her shoulders told him she was nearing the limits of her energy, physical and mental. It was time to head home.
"Do you know where she lives?"
Going to the parapet, Peter watched the police wandering in an out of the shop where the robbery had taken place, wondering what his ant was getting at. "Why?"
"I could tell from her voice that she's a young girl. What if something happens to her?"
Never had the thought crossed his mind that Cat might run into a situation she couldn't handle. Now that it was in his head, it likely wouldn't leave him alone until he talked to Felicia. Glad that May couldn't see his face, he turned from the scene below, adjusting the webslingers. "She can take care of herself, May," he told her with more confidence than he felt.
Peter jumped up on the parapet and held out his hand. "Let's go home."
Even with her face covered by the mask, Peter could see May's look of relief as he helped her up next to him. "I am never doing this again." He held her close and prepared to shoot a web. "We're going to have a long talk regarding your nighttime activities."
"Yeah, kinda thought we would." He looked down at his aunt, who had his neck in a tight grip. "On three. One… Two… Three…"
Thwip!
Avengers Headquarters
Upstate New York
Sitting in a quiet corner of the pub, Darcy brooded while Steve went to get them something to drink. After her talk with Tony, her appetite had taken a powder, but Steve had insisted they go somewhere to get her mind off the upcoming test results.
A glass appeared on the cardboard coaster as Steve scooted into the seat across from her. He'd gotten her ginger ale with cranberry juice, garnished with lime wedges, and a beer for himself.
She stirred the drink with the straw, staring at the tabletop until Steve reached over to take her hand.
"You okay?"
"I am," she said, and even to herself the words lacked conviction. "Or will be, once this is all over." Steve's expression was doubtful and Darcy smiled sadly. "He's way too accepting of the original results. You'd think, with his rep, he'd only believe it if he did the test himself."
Steve's thumb rubbed over her knuckles, soothing her frazzled nerves. "Or maybe he wants you to be his daughter so badly he doesn't want to know you might not be."
Darcy sucked down her drink and stood. "Mom talked about him sometimes, but never told me his name."
Steve stood too, tossed a few bills on the table, and steered her in the direction of the main entrance with a hand on the small of her back.
~~O~~
Instead of getting in the car, Steve put his arm around Darcy's shoulders and aimed for the boardwalk near the marina. Most boats were berthed. A few were on their way in, and down near the pier, they could hear loud music. Water lapped at the undersides of the wooden planks that made up the walkways. Some of the boats had lights on with people lounging on deck, laughter floating on the breeze.
When they came to a bench, Darcy sat down with a sigh. He sat next to her, and after a moment's hesitation, draped his arm around her shoulders again, pulling her against his side, and taking hold of her hand. She looked up at him with that same sad smile. He accepted her unspoken request and kissed her.
Though she made the offer, which was more of a demand, Steve didn't allow it to get out of hand, reasoning that if they were to take their relationship to a more intimate level now, it would only serve as a salve to her bruised emotions.
Apparently, she thought so too because she backed off and snuggled closer, both arms around his waist. Pressing a cheek to the top of her head, Steve whispered, "Want to have dinner at that place Sam told us about? What was the name of it?"
Darcy sat up, hand out. Steve obediently laid his phone in her palm, rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other and looked out over the water, totally at ease. That is until he heard her near silent gasp and felt her body stiffen where they still touched. She shot to her feet, turning angry eyes on him. "What the hell are you playing at, Steve?
"What is it, Darce? What's wrong?"
The hand gripping his phone clenched harder as she turned it so he could see the screen.
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. He couldn't keep his voice steady, stammering out, "I-I can explain."
TBC