Peter didn't know if he could keep this up. There was just… so much of it. He had stumbled into the kitchen one morning, around two in the afternoon, already much too late to even think about going to school. Why didn't Aunt May wake him up this morning before she left for work so he had time to get ready like usual?

There was a heavy feeling setting in his stomach. Gently he made his way to his Aunt's room.

"May?" He softly knocked on the door, pressing his ears against the thin wood to try to determine if the shower was on. It wasn't. He did hear the humming and buzzing of the busy New York City traffic. He felt the cool draft come in through the room, and brush against his feet from the crevice underneath the door.

That wasn't right, Aunt May never slept with the window open. Peter opens the door with an urgency. His first instinct is to gag, as a putrid smell of rotting meat wafts into his nasal cavity.

It's got a tinge of sickening sweet cheap perfume to it, and that's when he notices it. The natural stillness of his Aunt and all the variables in the room reconstruct itself into a scene replaying in Peter's mind.

The broken glass on the window seems to be the cause of the draft and a telltale sign of a break-in. There was obvious resistance, and in May's body, there's a knife in her hand. It's stained with dried crusty blood. From where he stood, he could see the gaping wound, the bruises around her neck.

Peter steps out of the room, it's more than he can handle. Why did it always happen to him? There's a knock at the door, and when Peter doesn't answer, they try again. This goes again for a few minutes and whoever it was decided to let themselves in. It's the police.

"One May Parker didn't show up for her six forty-five shift without notice and a Peter Parker never went to school this morning- hey kid, you alright?" The police officer notices Peter sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen, unmoving, un-comprehensive.

The officer can detect something off, and immediately does a quick check through the entire flat. The officer notices the body quickly and immediately looks down at Peter apologetically. She looks down into her radio.

"Code 70 D.O.A. Queens, corner of 90th and 104th ave." She slowly ushers Peter out, gently. She sits him on the front steps of the townhouse flat and gives him a fresh bottle of water, and a croissant. Two more police cars approach his residence, and Peter still hasn't said a word.

Hank steps out of the police car he's been assigned to, and his eyes look downcast, grumbling about homicides. He immediately notices the teenage Peter.

"Parker? Is that you? Your friends with Connor, right?" This is what snaps Peter out. A mention of his life that doesn't revolve around Aunt May.

"Y-yes, how'd you know it was me?" Peter stutters, eyes extremely close to watering. His nose burns up at the tip and he just can't stop himself from crying.

"Uh, a photo." Lieutenant Anderson responds to Peter. Funny, Peter doesn't remember any photos being taken by Connor, maybe Connor was one of those sneaky Instagram people who managed to take photos in class somehow without the teacher noticing at all. It didn't really matter right now, nothing really mattered.

Hank made some kind of signal to the other officers, which Peter was too downcast to see, and took him back to the station. There wasn't really anywhere to put Peter, as they didn't know his involvement in the crime that had taken place at the Parker residence, so they just sat him down in one of the many interrogation rooms.

Peter was still in his pyjamas, but nobody took any notice or gave him any looks besides apologetic ones of pity. Figuring that Peter needed some comfort of some sort, Hank ordered an Uber-eats McDonalds happy meal and called the school which Connor went to, had him excused from classes from the rest of the day due to official Police business.

It only took Connor seven minutes to sprint down from the school which was three kilometres from the police station. He didn't look puffed in the slightest and immediately took a seat next to Peter once he located him.

First, he was confused on why Hank would ask him, an android who wasn't designed with emotions in his system, but then Connor realised that integration within human society was one the things he was programmed with. He could simulate emotions in his program.

Peter leaned up against Connor and cried softly into the crook of his neck. Connor placed one arm around him while using the other arm to place a shock blanket around Peters' shoulders. Connor then rubbed comforting circles into Peters back in a soothing manner.

It wasn't his primary function, but treating victims of crime to help them calm down from their shock was a function he could perform. Connor shut his eyes and began browsing through Peter's legal folder. After finding that Peter has accumulated a sensory disorder which led to sensory overloads Connor knew that Peter must have been sleeping with earplugs to block out the average noises a person would be exposed to during the time they slept.

INFORMATION_ADDED: VICTIM_DIDN'T_HEAR_CRIME_?

Hank must have contacted the secondary emergency contact in Peter's file and said person had just walked through the door. Tony Stark walked into the interrogation room, and Connor stoop up to leave, but before he did, he looked through the SWAT supplies, and 'borrowed' a pair of noise cancelling earplugs they had for practise shoots and dropped them in Tony's hands.

He wanted a look at the crime scene.

Hank knew exactly what Connor wanted when he saw him take a seat in the backseat of the police car, and Hank wordlessly took him to the crime scene.

The officer in charge of the crime scene took one look at Hank bringing Connor onto the crime scene and shook her head.

"Lieutenant Anderson… you can't. Not only is your son a civilian, he's underage." She gave Connor a look. Hank groaned but pleaded.

"Just let him do his thing, I promise he's a prodigy." She rolled her eyes, but from the lack of evidence they had gathered from the crime scene already, she relented.

"Five minutes, and if he hasn't gotten anything this is going to the chief." Hank nodded, and walked through, the woman gave Connor a look that clearly said 'Don't fuck up the crime scene'.

Connor took a look around the bedroom, and Hank had to suppress a flinch from the smell of it alone. He scanned around the body.

WEAPON_LIKELY_USED: MAC_MTH-80_PROFESSIONAL_SERIES _8-INCH_STAINLESS_STEEL

WOUND: FATAL_ABDOMINAL_WOUNDNOT_CAUSE_OF_DEATH

BRUISES_AROUND_NECK: STRANGULATIONCASE_OF_DEATH

He bent down and sampled some of her blood, bringing two fingers up to his mouth to brush against his tongue.

BLOOD: 7+_HOURS_OLD

TIME_OF_DEATH: 0437

He then looked at the shattered window. It was broken from the outside. He had found the point of entry, but not the exit point yet. With the amount of blood sprayed around the room, there must have been some residue of blood left on the offender.

He reconstructed what went down, and the offender had obviously been here for a harmless theft, looking at the drawer that was open and messily rummaged through.

PLANNED_THEFT

DECEASED_VICTIM_AWOKE

THEIF_ASSAULTED_DECEASED_VICTIM_WITH_KNIFE

DECEASED_VICTIM_REMOVED_KNIFE

CALLED_FOR_HELP_?

STRANGULATED_TO_DEATH

Connor left to examine Peter's room, and if the woman was serious about only giving him five minutes, he only had a minute left. Another scan around the room gave him enough information.

Peter had obviously come into his room last night through his window, and it seems like his watch fell off in the process, falling onto the groundbreaking, freezing the exact time he had returned home, which according to the broken clock face of his watch now discarded into his bin was around two nineteen am.

The set of noise-cancelling headphones Peter had on his bed probably meant he went to sleep with them, by his medical history given that he has a past with sensory overloads, probably because of the suddenly gained 'spider-sense'.

DETERMINED: VICTIM_DID_NOT_HEAR_CRIME

There were images of May Parker, her deceased husband and Peter on the wall in frames.

VICTIM_WAS_CLOSE_TO_THE_DECEASED_WOMAN

"Time's up! What you got?" The woman came in and looked at Connor expectantly. Connor spewed off the facts that he had, and the woman noted them.

"Still, didn't tell us where they went." Connor thought for a moment, using all the evidence he had gathered to come to a plausible conclusion.

"It isn't likely they left the same way they came in, maybe they left through another window, but made sure to close it, although that amount of copious blood would have left a residue on the offender. Perhaps there has been an accomplice to clean up after the offender… or that they're still here."

The woman scoffed but wrote down everything that Connor had told her anyway. Connor straightened his tie and left the apartment, with Hank.

"She's dead. She's gone. I've got nowhere to go!" Peter was panicking, curled up in a ball in his closet at the Avenger's Tower. Tony was trying to coax him out, to get him to do something, anything to take his mind off of what had taken place earlier that morning.

He sighed. "I know buddy,"

"I wasn't that much older than you when I lost my parents. My father… I didn't really miss him, he was a bit of a dick, but oh dear lord, my mother was an angel." He kept on talking, and that seemed to soothe Peter down a little even though he wasn't really listening, just the quiet voice of Tony talking took his mind off quite a bit of it.

"I missed my mother heaps. She was almost like my only parent, then when she left I had nobody. Peter, you have us, we can be your family. We're never going to replace the thing you and May had going on, but we can support you your entire journey." Tony really did mean it when he said he would support Peter.

Peter was like a son to him.

His poor son who had just had a mother taken away from him. He thanked the Gods that Connor was there to comfort Peter before he could drop the meeting he was in when he got the call. Come to think of it, where did Connor go after he had arrived? Tony could definitely use some of the help that Connor, as a friend of Peter, could provide.

That wasn't the only thing he wanted from Connor.

Nothing would satiate his burning curiosity to know more about the kind boy.