A/N: See if you can find the NWH reference in this. Also, more Peter in this chapter. Kitty Pryde is also vastly underappreciated in any context. Let me know what you think.
Chapter Four:
"Don't Break My Window"
Songs:
"My Type" by Saint Motel
"Swinging Set" by Michael Giacchino
"For All You Give" by Paper Kites (feat. Lucy Rose)
-O-
The next three days passed like dragging bare feet over glass shards.
She sat at the desk in her living room, typing new commands into her mainframes, taking sips of her cold coffee every so often. Kitty Pryde hadn't returned her texts for the last few hours. When she first called her friend over a week ago, Kitty had thought someone died.
"Ok, that's a little dramatic," Maren had said.
"You never call. Your preferred method of communication is sending memes and TikToks. What's wrong?"
She had sighed, re-evaluating if she should bring her friend into this. There really wasn't any solid proof of malice in the disappearances. "What do you know about the kids who the police have labeled as runaways?"
Leaning back, she glanced at the clock above the door to her loft.
'11:53,' Just late enough to make her miserable when she went to work in the morning, but not early enough to go to bed for the night. She could finish the book she started three months ago that stared judgementally every time she passed it. She could, but she knew she wouldn't.
A rapid series of taps against her window jolted her. Her eyes flashed open. She jumped from her seat, pushing her glasses back from where they had fallen down her nose. She raised her hand, a purple energy surrounding her fingers, which earned her an innocuous wave from the Spider-Man crouched on her fire escape. Tiredness suddenly returned to her body, worse even after she saw him, and the purple band fizzled out. She glanced over her shoulder as she walked to the window.
'2:37,'
She wanted to cry in desperation. She had fallen asleep.
Maren unlocked the window, swinging it inward. "What're you doing here?" she yawned.
She hated the chipperness in his voice. "Well, it's nice to see you too. I'm fine, thanks," he said, hopping into her living room, closing the window when she went and collapsed on her worn leather couch. Rubbing her eyes, she answered,
"Hello, Peter. How are you? Why are you here? It's almost three o'clock in the morning,"
He clicked his tongue, falling into the matching leather armchair across from her, "No, I think the better question is why are you still up at three o'clock in the morning?"
A burst of irritation flooded her with new energy. "Says the person in a red and blue diving suit,"
He pulled his mask off, and she noticed black soot lining his face. Through the window, she saw residual smoke billowing into the sky from the direction of Queens. He grinned at her. When he had first smiled at her in a SHIELD debriefing room, she knew that this Peter was more dangerous than hers had ever been.
She waved in the direction of his face. "Do I want to know?" he started to answer, but she closed her eyes, holding up both her hands. "Nevermind. No, I don't,"
He settled into his chair, looking around. "It's cozy in here. I like it. Very Miss Marple meets New York," he nodded approvingly.
"Again, Peter- not that I don't appreciate the visit-,"
"No, that's fine. Just shred the rest of my dignity,"
Tiredness easily changed into longsuffering-ness (?), Maren found. She propped her head on her hand. She stared at him pointedly.
"Isn't the point of having a SHIELD contact actually having someone to contact?"
A laugh bubbled from her, "Yeah, when it's not three o'clock in the morning,"
"Time is a societal construct to make people late,"
"Like you always are?"
With a closed-mouth smile, he moved his head in a considering bob before he said. "That was low…but I respect it,"
"C'mon, Peter. Some of us aren't nocturnal,"
His eyes lost a bit of their playfulness when he answered, "I need access to a few SHIELD umbrella databases. Unfortunately, my sources just aren't as well-rounded here,"
"You mean, dropping people off of roofs isn't working?"
He shrugged. She stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Ok, fine." she made a show of dragging herself from the couch and ambling back to her desk. With the tightness in her neck and shoulders, she was envious of the way he catapulted himself off his chair with an easy flexibility. "Y'know, I wouldn't have to do this if you had accepted the job Fury offered you as a consultant,"
His face scrunched. "As if that wouldn't have lasted all of five hours. I can't imagine working under anyone like that," his eyes darted to her. "No offense or anything,"
"Oh, offense is definitely taken. But somehow, I'm still breaking federal law for you," she grumbled as he leaned against her desk. She avoided his thankful smile by typing past her security measures. It wasn't the first time she had bent the rules for a super in spandex, but it was the first time one of them had made a housecall. After asking what type of access he needed, she looked at him from overtop her glasses . "Someone asked me to spy on you today,"
His expression fell as tension lined his shoulders. The lines in his face became more prominent. "And what was your response to that request?"
"I ain't no rat,"
Relief eased the lines as he coughed a laugh, "How is possible that you weren't born in New York?"
"I think I was in a past life. God knows I wasn't born for the small towns I bounced around in as a kid," She quietened for a few moments, concentrating on the screens. "Ok, I sent them over in a blanketed file. You know how to get into-"
She trailed off, and he scratched the back of his neck with an awkward laugh. "Yeah, I can manage,"
A moment passed where neither of them knew what to say. A police siren passing matched the intensity of the clock ticking on her wall. They both spoke at the same time.
"So what are you doing-?"
"How is your-?"
Both stopped, laughing. "I'm sorry," Peter said. "Go ahead,"
"Sorry, I was just going to ask, uhm," she turned back to her monitors, ensuring the file completely transferred. It already had, but it gave her something to do. "How's your brother doing in Boston?"
Peter crossed his arms, breathing out a heavy breath. "He's good. Yeah, he's good. I talked to him earlier. He says he and his roommate "vibe" or whatever,"
"You realize putting air quotes around new slang makes you ancient, right?" she jabbed.
"But he and MJ are looking for their own place. She wants something modern Gothic so we were both trying to figure out what that meant," his eyes widened for emphasis. "We didn't if you couldn't tell. But in Pete's words, they are "dead-ass broke" so it doesn't really matter,"
Maren's shoulders shook with laughter. "He did not say that,"
"Yeah, he did. He kinda wants to stay away from the trust fund Stark left him until he's twenty-five. Happy told 'em that sounded like a good idea. It's the Peter Parker curse apparently to be "dead-ass" broke for most of your twenties,"
"So how is the new job with Jameson?"
"Good. At least knowing that the Spider-Man shots will be taken by a talented photographer. And just the tiniest bit satisfying knowing that Jameson is paying Spider-Man for the shots he's taken of himself. No matter what universe, that guy is a dick,"
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, ok. That's fair. You're still working on your dissertation through NYU, right?"
"Mm-hmm. My theories of nano-tech are kicking up dust apparently,"
"I seriously doubt that. So what were you going to say when we had a verbal ten car pile-up," She turned when an alert pinged on her computer. When she stilled suddenly, he peered over her shoulder. A map with a live target filled the screen as well as a record of communication of a supplies transfer.
"What's up?"
The memo popped up before she could stop it. He read it aloud.
"Official memo of Oscorp communications… confidential,"
With a keystroke, the data disappeared, leaving her stash of memes open.
"What are you doing getting info from Oscorp on your personal servers?" he asked, crossing his arms. He didn't look at her, eyes still on the monitors. She stood from her chair, moving around him as he had gotten closer than she first guessed. He finally turned his eyes to her as she stretched her arms above her head, stretching sore shoulder muscles.
"I'm just running some data from work, that's all,"
He tilted his head disbelievingly. "Maren-,"
"Seriously, dude. It's fine,"
"All of us have had bad run-ins with Oscorp in the past. If there's something that you're getting weird vibes about?"
She didn't want to lie. "It's nothing concrete, but if I find something-,"
"You'll tell me?"
She nodded, "Yes, I will tell you. Do you want me to pinky promise?"
"A blood oath would actually be nice,"
"Don't push it, Parker,"
He forced a smile even as he cast one last look toward her monitors, probably wishing he had installed a keystroke cloner. He grabbed his mask off the back of her chair. "I'll see you around?"
"And the point of having a SHIELD contact is?" she threw back at him. The smile she got that time was more genuine.
"Touche," he opened the window. He yanked the mask back over his head. "Try to get some rest," he waved once more before propelling himself backward, jumping from her fire escape. Despite having seen him drop from greater heights, her stomach still bottomed out watching him fall twenty-one stories before catching himself on one of his web lines. She rushed to the window, watching him until he vanished into the skyline.
Closing the window, she gave a lingering glance toward her computer before the allure of her couch won. She collapsed on the cool leather and closed her eyes.
-O-
'Girls just wanna have fuu-uhn, Oh, girls just wanna have-!'
Maren blindly fumbled for her phone as it rang. The ringtone gave the caller away. Sleep graveled her voice. "Hello? Kitty?" her glasses had fallen onto the floor beside the couch. She forced them back onto her face, looking at the clock above her door. "It's not even seven o'clock." the silence on the other end of the line alarmed her. "Kitty? What's wrong?"
There was no preamble. "I'm in the city. You need to come to meet me. I think I found something about those kids. Another one disappeared from the mansion last night,"
"Send me your location. I can be there in ten,"
-O-
She tossed her tip through the cabbie's open window before catapulting herself out the door. Kitty seemed to have found the only dark alley in Manhattan as the sun rose above the city. She avoided water droplets falling from fire escapes as well several mud puddles.
She grabbed her chest when Kitty emerged from within the brick wall to her left. "Holy shit. Geez, dude. Warn a girl,"
"No time." Kitty grabbed her wrist. "Come look at this,"
Kitty yanked her toward the wall, and an eerie coldness settled overtop her as the pair passed through the brick and into the warehouse on the other side. Maren pulled her hand back.
"Argh. I hate it when you do that. It makes me feel like I have bugs crawling all over me," she said, rubbing her arms up and down her sleeves. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing debris scattered across the room. "Someone needs to hire a new housekeeping service," she murmured, kicking at an overturned desk. "How did you find this place?"
Kitty stood on the other side of the room. A metal lever jarred against the wall, and lights flashed on overhead. Maren blinked at the sudden change. "Jacob Ramos found it first." she held up her iPhone. "But he forgot that he was sharing his location with me. Unfortunately, it seems like that's not going to be of very much use anymore," she said bending down and picking up a smashed phone. She held it up for Maren to see. Maren crossed the room, stepping over debris, taking out her adapter cord, and plugging the kid's phone into hers.
"I'll see if anything's salvageable. I wanna see if there are any kind of communication records. Why would he come here? It's not exactly the most exciting place to go to in Manhattan. These are all warehouses for big chain suppliers. I mean, pretty great for buying in bulk, but,"
Kitty surveyed the room, crossing her arms. "Something tells me that they weren't storing toilet paper and napkins in here," she kicked over a broken chair. "There's enough rust in here to give Colossus tetanus,"
Maren fiddled with the device until the cracked screen showed broken life. "You never know. Maybe, he still has a watch or Airpods with him that we can track,"
Kitty shook her head. "No, Jacob wasn't like that. He didn't have the resources for that. His older brother was probably the one who filched this phone from some poor schmuck off the street,"
"Not a good home life?"
Kitty gave a look, "Did any of us who ended up at the mansion?"
"You said a brother? Is he still at the mansion? I'd like to talk to him,"
"No. Not unless speaking to the dead has been added to your list of abilities,"
Maren's frown deepened. "How did it happen?"
"He got caught messing with some gangs in Hell's Kitchen. They liked how he blended into shadows until he tried to work it to his own benefit too much. It happened about two months ago. Jacob hasn't been the same,"
"Geez. I don't blame him,"
"But Jacob's not like his brother. He's a sweet kid, but he's still fourteen, y'know. Moody as hell. I knew something was up when he said he was coming to the city. He wanted to come to visit where he put his brother's ashes. He had such a funny look in his eyes. I didn't press. I should've though,"
"Hey," Maren put a hand on Kitty's shoulder until the other woman looked at her. "You had no idea this was going to happen,"
"I need to report this." she gave a bitter laugh. "The police won't do anything, especially since he's only been gone for less than twelve hours,"
"So you wouldn't categorize him as a "runaway"?"
She vehemently shook her head, stepping toward Maren. "No, he wouldn't. He was just starting to make friends and fit in. Y'know, Bobby got him a skateboard. Jacob's a talented kid. He'd sketched out how he was going to spray paint the back of it,"
"All the other kids, they were true runaways. No one had seen them for months. They decided the mansion wasn't for them. There are so many kids now and not enough teachers. Or adults period,"
"I know this is going to sound insensitive, but what was Jacob's rank on the power scale? I'm trying to figure out common ground,"
"Beta-level. Remember the spray paint?" She asked, and Maren nodded. "Jacob can take a design in his head, or something he's seen for a few seconds and replicate it completely. It even registers as the same materials as the original work,"
Maren chuckled. "Master forger, huh? He could make a fortune with the Jackson Pollock market right now,"
"His giveaway is not as obvious as most,"
Maren gave a considering nod, "Well, that's not too unusual. Look at Gambit, you wouldn't know about him, especially when he's wearing his glasses,"
Kitty pointed to her forearm and pinky. "This finger is gone on the right, and there's a scar running up his arm from his hands. Something got screwed with his nerve endings when he was born. I think it was an early sign of mutation, and the doctors mistook it for a harmful infection,"
Maren hummed, acknowledging but saying nothing more. The other kids had been betas except for one. One of the girls taken first had been an alpha mutant— a pyrokinetic with authority issues. The scorch marks across the room suddenly made more sense. Had their kidnappers brought all of them here? There were no containment units, only overturned desks, chairs, and scorched walls. She was missing something, she knew it.
A vent return expelled air. She would have been thankful later in the day, but as it remained, there was still an early morning chill in the air that sent goosebumps across the back of her neck. A pile of dust was swept through a dip in the floor from behind the furthest wall. She bent against her heels, looking closer.
She remembered looking at the blueprints on her way. There was no mention of a subfloor. Though she supposed a secret dungeon wouldn't be mentioned on the plans filed with the city registrar.
"What's below us, Kat?"
"Dunno." she gave a wan smile. "But if you give me a minute, I'll check,"
Kitty vanished through the floor as Maren's phone dinged. A text message. The notification read, 'Dylan- heads up, Lindh's out for well heads. Something's crawled her ass about something,'
She groaned. "Great,"
She responded, fingers moving against the screen quickly. "Thanks i'll keep a look out xx,'
She shoved her phone back into her pocket. Kitty yelled from behind the wall.
"Hey, you're gonna want to see this! Come open this door. I'm getting claustrophobic,"
-O-
After finding the door and bumping it open with the skeleton key software on her phone, Maren was surrounded by the remains of a sterile lab, which she found more disturbing than the abandoned rust upstairs. Six glass containment units lay parallel to shattered monitors and overturned tables. The scorch marks upstairs were minor compared to the damage here.
She grabbed Kitty's arm when she went to step away. "Watch out. That looks like acid on the ground,"
Kitty froze, looking down. A green oozing mess rested on the floor. "Ew,"
Her stomach rolled. "This place gives me the creeps,"
"God. It looks like they were keeping kids down here," Kitty picked up a child's hospital gown from the floor.
Panic tightened like a vise around her ribs. It hurt to breath. The memory swept through Maren's mind before she could stop it- the sensation of cold metal instruments against her skin and medical leads being attached to her head. Maren had been one of these kids, plucked off the streets. Uncconsciously, her hand went to trace the scar on the back of her neck. There had been no anesthesia. There was no need to dull the pain when the doctor performing the tests hadn't anticipated her survival.
She jumped at Kitty's hand on her arm. "Hey, you ok? I thought this could trigger some bad memories. I know this isn't quite the same, but…"
Maren cleared her throat, pasting on a smile. "Yeah, of course,"
"But it's ok if you need a minute, alright?" her friend smiled kindly.
"I know. I'm good. Really, Kat. I'm good. That was a long time ago,"
Kitty hesitated, and Maren knew what she was thinking. It had been one of her first thoughts. "Have you thought about if…" she couldn't make herself finish. Maren took mercy on her.
"About if this is similar to Dr. Abraham Cornelius' pet project? Weapon X? Isolating the mutant gene? It's sorta pick your poison with that guy." she exhaled heavily. "He's dead, Kat. I watched him die. It didn't look enjoyable,"
"I wish Logan had killed that bastard slower,"
"Might not have been slow. But it definitely looked like it hurt from my point of view,"
"That was probably one of the only times he didn't get a lecture for it either,"
They smiled at one another, and the vise in Maren's chest lessened a bit, the painful panic in her limbs numbing.
"We do need to get some other people involved in this." Maren said. "Have you told Xavier about the kids? Just because it's not Cornelius, it doesn't mean there's not another wacko out there with a god-complex and plenty of resources,"
"You mean SHIELD?"
"I mean, our resident security consultants,"
"You make the people in spandex sound professional." Kitty chuckled. "Yeah, it wouldn't be a bad thing as long as it's the right people,"
"I can make sure of that. I work with a guy. His name's Dylan. He knows all the good sweepers. I can have them down here in less than an hour. You think you can stay to run point? Not exactly by the book, but you know what to look for,"
"You mean, I get to be the boss and no one to tell me no? I'm always game." she tilted her head. "I'm sure that your spandex still fits, y'know? There's always room for another security consultant," Kitty said with a hint of begging in her tone.
Maren was saved from answering by her phone ringing.
The number read as Lindh's, but Maria Hill's voice broke through the silence. "Doctor Bennett, this is Maria Hill. We need you in fifteen minutes. Agent Barton and Doctor Banner have requested your help regarding Oscorp,"
Despite the fact that Maren was certain she was undergoing cardiac arrest, she answered in a strained voice, "Yes, ma'am. I can be there," she looked at her watch. "But I might be a little," the line clicked. "Late," She looked at her phone in despair before putting her phone back in her pocket. "Somehow, I get the feeling this isn't going to be a fun meeting,"
