Spider Gwen Chapter 4.

AN: Might be my last post for the next month or so. School is wrapping up.

The location Peter Parker brought me to was a small but bustling restaurant, one that smelled really good. Crowded too, given how close we were to lunch.

"Hey Stan," Peter greeted a small, elderly man behind the counter. "Got fries?"

"Hello there Peter," the man said with a warm smile on his face, his eyes twinkling behind thick glasses. "And this is-"

"Gwen," Peter started before I could introduce myself. "She's in town to help with the missing person's case."

"Ah," Stan said, nodding to himself. "What could I get for you? Lots of specials today."

"Just some fries," Peter said, dropping a bill and a few coins into the old man's hand. "I'm on a budget after the vacation."

Stan then turned back to the kitchen as I felt Parker give me a dirty look. "One fries! And hurry it up!"

Ah, classic New York efficiency. Second to none.

"So," I said, changing the topic away from Parker's wallet. "Where are we going after this?"

Parker didn't say anything, which I found pretty annoying. Even more so than the fact that he plopped himself down at the nearest table.

"What are we doing here?" I snapped at Parker. "Is this what you meant to show me?"

"Well," Parker said, rolling his eyes as his hands grabbed a bottle of ketchup. "I did intend to show you the best fries in New York, but if you insist I eat them all myself, I'm cool with that too."

"You're not mad about the chips?"

"No, of course not," Parker replied, his voice oddly cheerful as his grip tightened on the poor bottle of ketchup. "I'm furious."

Ah, so this was how I was going to die. Murdered in broad daylight over veggie chips. Thanks Venom.

"For real though," Parker said, his hands returning to normal. "Miles is joining us for lunch."

"He has time for that?" I felt my jaw drop. It was next to impossible to get to a restaurant, grab lunch, and get back to school over lunch break.

"He has a free period after lunch today," Parker said. "Enough for him to come here anyhow."

"That's right!" I heard Miles say as he slid next to us. "Hey Petey, Gwen."

Didn't know Miles was so good at sneaking up to me. I wonder if he was taking lessons from the ninja-accountant.

"Hello there Miles!" Stan from behind the counter called. "Same as usual?"

Miles laughed before he yelled back at the old guy. "Only one way to eat the classics."

"Now you've got me interested." I turned over to Miles. "What is this classics you-"

"No." Parker pointed a single fry at me, reminding me of the modern art piece that doubled as a laser tank. "I can't afford that. I'll starve."

"You could lose some weight," Miles joked.

"Not you too!" Parker cried, bringing his head to the table. "Miles, you're killing me!"

"Hey Gwen. You try their pastrami?"

I looked over to Miles. Pastrami did sound good. Like really good. Then I looked over to poor murdered Peter Parker, still burying his face on the table.

"Not yet. Maybe later. I don't want to murder his wallet."

Miles shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm digging in."

"One large pop and a pastrami sandwich on rye."

"With just that little bit of mustard on it," Miles said to the old guy. "Just like it should be."

The sandwich did look good, but my wallet had about the same amount of money Parker's had, so I really doubt I could afford one.

"At least try the pastrami," Miles muttered as he pointed to a slice that had fallen out of the sandwich.

I didn't need any invitation. Who would?

The pastrami was really good. Even the little slice was seasoned and juicy. I was willing to bet what was left of Parker's wallet that it would be even better as a sandwich.

"Why didn't you get me a piece?" Parker complained.

"You put Jamieson's podcast in my Christmas gift." Miles shot back. "No pastrami for you."

Parker's eyes narrowed, a moment before he darted forward, grabbing fully half the sandwich before Miles could react.

"Lots of pastrami for me," Parker corrected.

Why was it that Parker was a ninja too? Did everyone in this world go to the same dojo? Was Saturday International Sneaking 101 class?

Miles didn't say anything, but his hands were as fast as Parker's, and a moment later the fries were in front of him.

It was funny, more so than even the look on Parker's face.

"Ok, fine," Parker muttered, putting the half-sandwich back on Miles' plate. "You win. May I please get my fries back?"

"Sure," Miles said though some eight murdered fries. "Just- just give me a minute."

"So Miles," Parker said as he took back the significantly emptier carton of fries before he blasted some ketchup on the side of the carton. "Do you know how much a bag of veggie chips costs these days?"

"Veggie chips?" Miles sounded confused. "Have you had veggie chips before?"

"No," Parker said. "But I'm going to run out of money before the month is over at this rate."

"Can we not talk about it?" I snatched a fry out of the carton before Parker could retaliate. "And Parker, what was it that you wanted to show me?"

Parker, much to my surprise, did not retaliate for my fry-stealing, but he seemed to be looking at Miles, his face having suddenly turned serious. "The computer should still have power, if I remember correctly."

I heard Miles swallow hard beside me. "Yeah. It should. Are you going there today?"

"Do you want to be there?" Parker asked, his food forgotten as his eyes seemed to glaze over. "It… could be difficult."

"I-" Miles started, pausing for a moment. "I'll keep watch. Make sure nobody sneaks up on us."

"We'll be quick with it," Parker said with a slight nod. "Alright. Let's finish lunch."

I was wondering what to eat when Miles handed me half of the sandwich. "Here. I'm not all that hungry anyhow."

Why did he look so sullen?

It was a good question, because as much as I enjoyed the sandwich, the fact that Miles had turned from cheerful neighbourhood Spiderman to a quiet, sad robot in the span of twenty seconds was really concerning.

It was a few minutes before noon when we left the store, heading up the street in relative silence. There were a few nods and high fives for Miles from the other passersby, but apart from that, it was a quiet trip to an old, boarded up building.

"I'll keep watch here," Miles said as he stopped by a set of steps in front of what I assumed was the front door. "You know how to get through the garage doors, right?"

"Yeah," Parker said as he stepped into the wide alleyway beside the building. "If anything happens, let us know."

"You got it," Miles said. "But… make it quick."

"Come on Gwen," Parker said, his pace quickening. "You should probably see this."

I followed him. After all, what else was I supposed to do?

"Watch your step," Parker muttered as he walked around a garbage can. "We don't want to attract unnecessary attention."

"Those Underground guys?" I asked.

"And the police too," Parker said. "But yeah, mostly the Underground."

"What if we get attacked?"

Parker paused at that, his lips turning down as he let out a sigh. "Fine. Can your suit change?"

I closed my eyes and willed the Venom symbiote to change, feeling some of the tiny spiders change and shift across my skin. "Better?"

"If the police show up, I'll have you change back," Parker said. "Miles and his family knew the Masons well enough have an excuse to be here, so that should have us covered."

"Right," I said as I reached the end of the alleyway. "Hey Parker?"

"Yeah?" Parker asked.

"Is the door supposed to be open?"

"What?" Parker snapped as he turned the corner. "How did-"

"Parker?" I didn't like the tone of his voice.

"Someone's been here," Parker muttered as we stepped into the garage, slamming the garage door down behind us.

He wasn't wrong. Someone had shot up the place, given the bullet holes in the walls. And yet there was still a computer on by the back wall. Spooky.

And oh, did I mention the computer screen was showing a video with a big play button? Extra creepy. Did I step into a crime scene or a horror movie? Hard to tell, being a white blonde. Was a serial killer going to introduce my guts to a machete?

To my relief, it looked like the former, because Parker was at the computer, his face a mixture of purple and blue in the light reflected from the screen. If nothing else, a serial killer would probably stab him first.

"Who the hell was watching this?" Parker muttered. "And how did they find this place?"

"Parker?" Parker didn't sound too good. Stressed for sure. What was the video about? I glanced over his shoulder. And suddenly I didn't want to know.

I recognized Phin Mason from the poster. But this version wasn't the smiling girl in a graduation gown, but looked haunted, not to mention bleeding from several ugly scrapes.

"Not the video I wanted you to see," Parker said, closing the video and clicking away at the screen.

"Why not?" Parker denying me access to Phin left a bad taste in my mouth.

"Because this is the second video," Parker replied. "There's another one before this you need to see."

"Right," I muttered as Parker stepped aside, pressing play on a different video.

I saw Phin in this video too, but also another guy I had never seen before in the background. Coughing his lungs out.

"Rick Mason," Parker explained as the camera focused.

"Running a test upload…" the video version of Phin said as the man behind her, Rick, devolved into a violent coughing fit.

"Half my team is sick," Rick Mason managed to get out. "But Kreiger still won't admit it's Nuform."

There was a shift in the video as the old, non-bloody Phin walked across the camera.

"We need to do this tonight," old Rick said.

"They were trying to sabotage Roxxon Plaza before it opened," Parker said. "You'll see why in a minute."

"Because of the toxins." I recalled.

Sure enough, Phin said as much in the video.

Then I heard something really interesting.

"You sure they can't just make more of this stuff?" Phin had asked her brother.

"No," Rick replied. "No, as long as we take out the backup supply in Jersey too."

"But without me, they'll have no idea how Nuform works," Rick continued.

Well, that would explain why Roxxon had brought Doc Ock along. Without her, they couldn't produce more of the stuff.

"I'll record us," Phin said. "If anything goes wrong, video uploads straight to the Bugle."

"Did that happen?" I felt stupid for asking the question one second after the words left my mouth. Of course it didn't happen. If it did, then Roxxon would have imploded already.

"Second video," Parker muttered.

I didn't want to watch the video, but given that Parker had already switched over, it wasn't like I had much of a choice.

This time, there was only Phin, and even before she said anything I noticed that she was bleeding. It was the beginning of the video I had initially seen, the one someone else had been watching.

She was panicked too. Afraid. Angry. The phone had been damaged. There would be no grand expose. And the pieces fell into place in my head.

I didn't want to watch it anymore, because I knew how it would all end. But still the video went on, and I couldn't bring myself to stop watching.

"I won't let tonight be for nothing," Phin's voice came from the speakers as I forced myself to not look at the screen. "I promise, Rick."

And then the video was over.

"Now do you understand?" Parker asked.

"Yeah," I said, not looking at Parker or the still image of Phin Mason. "Now what?"

"There's a lot of evidence scattered across the house," Parker said. "Phin seems to have left much of the house untouched, and we suspect she only worked in this garage."

"Ok," I said. "Should I look around?"

Parker paused at that. "We should get Miles here. We'll need to see if there was anything taken."

A dark idea came to my head as I looked back to the computer. "What if they're still here?"

Parker swore at that. That was bad.

"Stay here" Parker said, pointing to a gaping hole leading to the store beyond. "And we'll search the store together."

"Right," I said. Right as the behind us began to rise.

"Miles?" Parker called.

There was silence. But the shoes I could see behind the rising door didn't belong to Miles. In fact, they were purple. And there were multiple pairs.

Shit.

"I'll take them!" I shouted at Parker as I shoved him toward the gaping hole. "Get to cover!"

"No you won't." a voice came from the open doorway. "And why is it you again?"

I strained my ears as I squinted into the midday sunlight. Why did the voice sound so familiar?

Then the door revealed the guy talking to me. And six of his friends. All with guns. All dressed in fashionable purple. All wearing face masks.

Shit.

"Nobody wants any violence Spider Lady," the guy talking snapped as the other six inched closer, guns up. "Give us the computer and nobody gets hurt."

"You're the one with guns pointed at me," I pointed out.

"Yes," the guy replied. "But we're here for The Tinkerer's computer."

"To give to Roxxon?" I snarled. Maybe if I stalled them, Parker could get Miles and jump them.

"What?" The guy sounded confused. "Why the hell would we give it to Roxxon?"

"Could we just grab the thing and run?" one of the others muttered.

"No," the guy talking replied. "The last group to get webbed took three hours to get unwebbed."

Well, glad to see I made them miserable.

"Then we shoot her?"

"No," The guy growled. "We're here for the computer. No violence unless necessary."

"What do you want with the computer?" Come on Parker. Get dressed already.

"None of your business," the guy said. "Last chance to step away."

I took a step back.

"Away from the computer Spider Lady," the guy muttered. "I'm not as dumb as the last lot."

"Hey fellas!" Parker's voice called from the alleyway. "Seven on one isn't fair you know!"

"Fuck," the guy muttered. "There's two of you?"

"Yes?" It was the only quip I could make in the moment.

"Fuck it." the guy snapped. "Ignore the Spiders! Get the computer!"

"Oh no you don't!" I shouted as I fired a stream of web at the guy closest to the computer. "You're not getting this!"

Too late, did I notice the guy activating his rocket shoes. Because he launched himself right at me.

Have you ever been sucker punched? Yeah. Now replace that punch with a shoulder, launched at you at close range. Followed by a human missile.

Then of course, crashing into a really large computer monitor.

While I was trying to get my breath back, I felt the human missile climb off me and shuffle over.

The sound of ripping wires and angry computer beeping made it certain that the computer was being kidnapped. I would have confirmed it with my eyes, but I was trying to check if my ribs were still intact.

I wasn't sure of much after that, but eventually, Parker and Miles walked over to me, both of them behind masks, Parker reaching out a hand.

"I hope that bastard wakes up with the worst headache tomorrow." I muttered as I turned over to the remnants of the computer. Just a smashed computer monitor and an equally smashed table.

And then I heard something I was familiar with. It was a battering ram. Used for police operations.

"Freeze!" A distant voice shouted, the voice booming against the walls of the building. "We have a warrant!"

"The cops are here?" Parker sounded stunned as he froze.

"Why would they need a warrant?" I asked, my head still dazed. "If they're here for the jerks who took the computer…"

"We need to go," Parker growled. "We can't be found here."

"Right," I muttered as he checked the alley outside the building. "Nobody's here. Let's go."

"You didn't get any of them?" I asked Parker.

"Would you believe me if I told you they literally threw their guns at me?" Parker shot back.

"Really?" I asked, a moment before tripping over something heavy and clunky.

I looked down. A gun. Bright Underground Purple. And one of seven. All abandoned.

"They left their guns behind?" I asked as we swung away from the building and the police raid.

"They wanted that computer all right, even more than seven guns." Parker shouted as he swung over to a nearby building. "But what are the cops here for?"

I swung around one of the buildings, squinting at the armoured van the cops were using. "Hey Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is the FBI here?"

"What the hell?" Parker sounded stunned as he turned his head to look. "The FBI?"

I pointed over to the heavy van by the street. One with three big white letters painted on the side. Yep. Feds.

Parker paused a moment as he turned to Miles. "Head back to school. We'll handle this."

"Are we just going to walk up to them?" I asked.

"Pretend we're here to help," Parker said. "Maybe we can learn something."

That was a good idea. Play dumb, let the Feds do the talking.

"Hey!" Parker called out as we neared the police van. "Need any help?"

I landed next to Parker on the sidewalk as one of the police guys with guns raised a hand. "Sorry, no civilians, even if you are Spider Man."

"That's alright," Parker raised his hands high. "We're just here to help, if you need it."

The guy with the gun didn't say anything, but he nodded and lowered his hand. "Noted."

"What do we do now?" I whispered to Parker.

"As a matter of fact, we would like your help," another man said from behind us, from the wide alley. "You two see anything?"

"We're not sure what you mean by that," Parker said as I turned to look at the guy behind us. He looked pretty similar to the first guy, but he sounded older and didn't have a gun.

"See anyone around here carrying a big computer?" The guy continued, gesturing with his hands. "The tower, not the screen."

Well, yes, I personally did, but the FBI guy didn't need to know that. So I shook my head.

"What happened?" Parker asked.

"We received a tip that this place had some association with the criminal movement known as The Underground," the guy said. "Given there's a half dozen rifles in the alleyway in the back, they were right."

"Did something happen?" Parker asked.

"We can't tell you that," the FBI guard replied. "But has there been a break in here anytime recent?"

"Nope," Parker said. "We didn't see anything."

My head disagreed, but one again, I couldn't tell either of the FBI guys that.

"Hey boss-" a new voice, this time from a woman, came. "Oh, we have visitors."

"Agent Foley," the guy without a gun said.

"Even without the… motherlode," the woman said, her eyes darting between the FBI leader and us. "We've received a lot of complementary evidence. Most of it is circumstantial, but we might be able to lay charges."

"Very well then," the head agent nodded before he turned to me and Parker. "If there's nothing else, we would politely ask to be left to our investigation."

"Do you have a card?" Parker asked. "In case we find something."

"Yes," the head agent muttered. "Yes, just one moment."

Well, it looked like Parker was in the hobby of collecting business cards. Who knew he had such a weird hobby?

"Right," the head agent said, extending a hand with two pale squares. "If you find anything, let us know."

I took the card quickly. Agent Branagh. A phone number. Clean, concise, reminded me a little of the Ninja Accountant, especially since it seemed like they got their cards at the same place, given the nice, expensive paper of the card.

"Lets go," Parker said. "We still have some time."

"What are we going to do?" I asked Parker when we got far enough away from the FBI people.

"The Underground isn't all that smart," Parker said. "Lots of them are robbing bodegas with their shiny toys."

"Bodegas with rifles?" I spluttered. "How are they even going to carry their stolen stuff out?"

"Like I said," Parker sighed. "They're not the smartest group of criminals. Most of them have gotten arrested over small stuff. Some of them even gave up their guns willingly."

"Really?" That wasn't something I heard too often.

"They figured it wasn't fun after Roxxon Plaza blew up." Parker explained. "NYPD offered a general amnesty program for anyone who was willing to turn over their guns peacefully."

"And how did that pan out?" Now this was an interesting topic

"Lots of takers," Parker said. "But given that we don't have an exact number of how many guns there were, we don't know how many are still out there."

"Who would know?" I asked after a long moment. "Phin?"

"It would have to be," Parker replied. "But she took that secret to the grave."

I nodded at that. It was the answer I was half expecting anyway. "Is your idea of spending the afternoon waiting for Underground guys to pop up and attack somewhere?"

"Shouldn't be too hard," Parker was walking faster now. "And if one of these Undergrounds brings us closer to the computer stealers, maybe we can get that back too."

The mention of the computer brought an idea to my head. "You think the computer is the motherlode the FBI guys were talking about?"

Parker paused at that before he nodded. "Yeah. I think so. It would have to be."

"Do we want to give it to them?"

Parker didn't say anything to that for a long minute.

"I think we do," Parker said at last. "But we would have to figure out what they're going to do with the computer. If they're just going to sit on it and let Roxxon poison New York…"

"Then we would have to take action," I concluded. "For all of New York."

Parker nodded at that as he squatted down by a back building, pulling a small radio from his bag before handing it to me. "Police frequency. If something comes up, we'll know."

"I'll turn it on then,"

"10-30 C-" the voice from the radio screamed.

Parker slammed the power button before he grabbed it from my hands. "Sorry. I must have turned the volume too high."

"You listen to stuff that loud?" It was a good question. If I had listened to something that loud on a regular basis I would have gone deaf years ago.

"It must have gotten knocked over when I was trying to change," Parker explained. "Sorry for your ears."

"It's fine," I said, wondering if I was going to have hearing loss some day. "Turn it back on."

Parker nodded as the voice came back on. "10-30 C at a bakery in Chinatown. Be advised the targets seem to be of The Underground, over."

"That's our target," Parker muttered as he rose to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

AN: If there are any spelling mistakes, that's my fault. Beta reader is even busier than I am.

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