Oh WOW! We are getting so much closer to the goal, are we not?!
I also like to say you may want to check in the previous chapter because I update the shit out of these things because I am one paranoid fucker who will look back, read, and just choke on a sandwich because "THERE'S A MISTAKE/TYPO/GLITCH ON MY STORY, WTF?!" and... yeah, that's an author's life for ya. This is all unbeta'd, this is me writing the story because I am impatient little fucker (you can tell by the pacing that I'm trying to go for slow but I end up coughing up these chapters to make it through time skips because I want to get to the good stuff like everyone else does). Whatever, don't mind me, ignore this, go read the story.
Still reading this? Okay, let me just say that I already watched Homecoming and I was kind of disappointed that they didn't reveal much on Peter's past regarding how he got the spider bite, how his parents and uncle Ben got down (I know they've explored that area with the last two movies, but still), but at the same time, I'm glad they left this alone. I had this headcanon while watching Pete fight the Vulture on the plane that Pete's afraid of planes because those giant flying metal fucks killed his parents.
Oh my God, just thinking how the first meeting between Peter and Anemone is going to be awful to her, I swear!
Any Jesus Christ on a taco, Thor Ragnorok, Black Panther, and fucking Infinity War! You know, I kind of wish I made this story make a detour to Wakanda, but I don't think that would have been possible for our MC. Because 1) how the fuck would she get there if it's hidden? 2) why the fuck would these people let her in if she's not even allowed in? and 3) what's inside, stays inside! So... yeah, it would have been a cool concept that I was thinking about rewriting the whole story for it, but when I really thought about it, it probably wouldn't come out as realistically, no matter how badly I wished it was for poor Anemone. Well, now it's time to wait for Thor 3 to come out and play!
Warning: Language, Violence, Adult Content, possible Triggers (there will be heads-up for these things), and whatever comes to mind.
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ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ sρïdєя-ωσмαη
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There it was.
The safe house. Days after scoping out the address written down by Rick, I finally tracked it down to this place.
But whatever I was expecting to find, this was honestly not quite what I imagined.
Covered in faded graffiti tags that overlapped other tags, the building looked so close to collapsing it was a wonder why the city officials hadn't thought to destroy it in order to replace it with something brand new, but the building remained largely untouched. It sat as a corner street building, the honking of the cabs and the noise of the city was a bit overwhelming for my heightened senses, and it reminded me of the time when watching Civil War that Peter told Stark about why he wore those goggles.
The buzzing in the background that had previously felt faint in the back of my mind grew in volume over the course of traveling further inside a metropolis
I hadn't been in any major city until now, staying completely off the grid to prevent any possibility of being caught on camera by both CCTV's and handheld camera phones, so I was pretty surprised myself when everything started getting too much for my eyesight and poor ear drums. There was too many things moving fast and everything was noisy that it drove my senses a little nuts. Sensory overload anyone?
However, unlike Peter, I had this thing with me for nearly an entire year, so I had a better handling of it. It was difficult, but if I concentrated more of my problems than my surroundings then it became nothing but an itching buzz fluttering over my ears and eyes.
Sitting in a small sandwich shop across the street from the safe house, I stared at it, assessing it carefully while looking around the crowds for people possibly staking out to catch whoever was planning on going inside.
That was the problem with this picture: I couldn't bring myself to go inside the safe house out of (justified) paranoia.
Forget for a moment I even had heightened senses that could perceive threats to give me a quick heads up and enough time to react to them, let's just pretend I was actually a normal numpty-headed girl who went inside the seemingly normal apartment building, or wherever the hell the place was, and—What? Not expect someone to report me? Not expect a team of lethally armed agents to be waiting for me with their heavy duty tranquilizers guns?
Yeah, no way.
... but at the same time, yes way.
And why was I even taking such a considerably huge risk?
Because Pepper fucking Potts.
What I was doing was like trying to get close to the President of the United States (and I had doubts he had as much precaution as one certain billionaire), and being the dumb girl that I was, I didn't actually plan that far ahead of me once reaching New York. How was I suppose to reach her? Let alone get close? Passing an important message wasn't easy as I thought it would be, not that I ever dismissed it as child's play. I was better off on the run to nowhere, keeping the dogs chasing nothing but the dust I left behind.
But.
Looking at the shabby building, this was the very place that could potentially help me in my plans to alert one man of a danger lurking all around us and waiting to attack when we least expected it to. This was my only chance, and it was situations like these that I knew I should never let opportunities that knocked on my door go unanswered.
Getting up from the chair, pulling my hoodie closer, pushing my shades further up the bridge of my nose, I walked towards the safe house.
Who would have thought that those thirty something steps would be one of the most heart pounding moments of my life? The USB felt cold in my suddenly clammy hand, hidden away under the cover of my sweater's pockets, but I had to remember to be careful else I ended up breaking the damn thing by accident. Still looking around, I climbed the steps of the graffiti-covered establishment, trying not to freak out when several people looked at me funny but thankfully minded their own bloody business.
Above the door handle, there was a tiny keyboard that looked dusty, dirty, and full of painted grime by whatever knob who tried to get in. It looked deceptively old, unused, and broken. Hoping that my presence won't be alerted once I used the password and be accessed entry to the safe house, I tapped the keypads carefully.
click!
I stood there for a moment, shakily inhaling and scrunching my eyes closed before opening them and reached for the door handle. gloved fingers tentatively brushing against the bronze knob, I slowly grabbed the whole thing into a fist and gently twisted it under the latch bolt slipped from the strike plate. There was the ominous creaking of the rusty hinges, and I winced as the sound echoed in the very empty, dirty, cobweb filled room.
There was dozens of broken furniture, dust particles that made me cough a little when I entered, and the whole place was completely dark up ahead if I ventured further inside.
The entire place spelled something right out of a cult classic horror film of abandoned buildings haunted by restless ghosts. And I was playing along with it as the typical idiot girl who walked inside; honestly, if the me from a year ago saw what I was doing, other me would have lost her marbles and pulled out a tv trope dictionary to read out loud why my decision was a really fucking bad idea. But the me of now decided to risk the possibly of getting mind raped or ripped apart by unseen forces because I seriously needed to get my brain checked for imagining Berserk-level horrors for just taking a few steps inside a creepy building.
Giving another exhale to calm my frayed nerves while keeping a sharp eye for any hidden danger, I started to scope around the place for any signs of an entrance that could lead me to a secret lab, office, or whatever that could help me.
It was honestly frustrating trying to locate a secret passageway that I was beginning to wonder if by some chance people had already come and swept the place clean, but the dust and cobwebs said otherwise. I climbed through all the upper floors, knocking down doors and nudging items around to see if a secret lair would reveal itself. Going down to each floor did nothing but frustrate the bloody hell out of me. Trying to find a hidden latch was much difficult than was usually depicted in the movies and television shows that I felt pretty dumb for thinking this would be easy as pie for me.
If there was a lesson to be learned from this, it was that I shouldn't expect much.
Just where the fuck was that hidden computer lab that Rick implied he had?! Was I even in the right building? ... Or maybe I was actually alerting the organization of my presence.
"Goddammit!" I cursed as I threw a chair I had been holding, beginning to head for the doorway.
A resounding thud when the chair crashed and splintered to pieces against the wall made me halt in taking another step. I remembered to check the walls, beating them with my fists that they practically caved in from the force. This building was old, things were almost falling apart with age, yet it still stood because it served a purpose. Turning to face the wall which did not yield to the flying chair, I stared at it through the darkness.
Making my way past the scattered furniture, careful not to even accidentally squash one of the many rats I had seen scarpering around the floors (ugh!), I made it to the other end of the room where there was the wall. The entire thing stood almost in the middle of the room, so open that I could circle around it, like a sort of wide island.
This was the way to the secret lair
Now I just have to find the doorway inside.
I tapped it, knocked on it, kicked it lightly, and nothing reacted to my touches.
"Really?" I snapped, beyond tired of this guessing game. "Fuck you Parker, I had enough of your bull—"
"Access Denied."
Shrieking like a banshee, my reflexes made me jump high until I reached the ceiling, clutching on the top like a puddy that refused to let go. Frantically, I looked around for the source of the voice, trying to find the death squad of men and women in black gear bursting in the building to take me out with their heavy duty tranquilizers that could put an elephant into a coma.
My senses should have picked up life signs besides the rat, I should have been able to detect a heartbeat or a person's body heat signature because that's what my senses do. It was more amplified now that I was inside a city, but it only dimmed when I was inside a closed building that blocked out the rest of the world outside, enabling me to concentrate a little better that there was no needed effort.
But there was no one. No heat, no heart, no signature, nothing.
I hung off the ceiling for awhile, not trusting the ground like a child pretending the floor was lava. Seconds went by, then minutes, and then after a long period of steady silence when nothing happened, I calmed my frantic heart.
"... hello?"
"Access Denied," the voice abruptly announced that I tensed once more.
Moving past the freak out session, I carefully considered the words a voice. It sounded mundane, apathetic, and it spoke in the same echo as it had the first time around. Finally letting go of my hold on the ceiling, I fell back down to the floor and kept myself in a crouched position, giving the entire room a careful look to make doubly sure that there was no one with me.
"Is anyone there?"
"Access Denied."
"Yeah, I figured." I muttered.
It was a recording machine voice, the kind people find when making connect calls to their banks, placing an order for pizza, or selling products. I stood to my full height after awhile, spooked a little when something hideously tiny scurried past me. I eyed the wall, circling around it once more to check for another outline of a door.
"Open Sesame?"
"Access Denied."
"Please open up? With cherry on top?"
"Access Denied."
"Bullocks!"
"Access Denied."
That voice was starting to get on my nerves now, but I stopped at one face of the wall.
"... Peter Parker?"
A sharp gust of air blew from somewhere, making me jump a little. It sounded like a door from somewhere had come out of hiding, and when I turned the corner of the wall, there was an opening which had dim neon blue lights creating a pathway.
"Here goes," I muttered to myself and took the first step down towards the lair.
The flight of stairs was long and a bit claustrophobic with how tight in space it was, further inducing a sense of paranoia that anything like a collapse of the building on top of me could bury me alive. But I had come this far, I had searched too long, and I've been through so much that I would be a moron to turn back. Hurrying down the steps, I finally reached the basement level of the building.
At first there was darkness, but as soon as I stepped forward, everything flickered to life.
Rick's lab.
A computer station, a sterile lab stationed beyond a glass containment, metal lockers and drawers secured to keep everything locked tight, and a workbench which had been left unused for quite some time since the Parker's last visit. It was like a small bunker, I observed as I searched the room. I stopped when I noticed a tube of glass containers that held suits that looked like swimwear of some sort, a large computer tablet sitting docilely nearby.
'I suppose I should get started,' I huffed.
I grabbed my things from the motel I had left my belongings, quickly returning to the abandoned building where I set up my new abode. Buying a sleeping bag and some lamps, I was surprised to find a bathroom in the secret bunker where I could do my business without having to go back and forth from the streets to the building. But I supposed that it would be pointless for Parker to exit and reenter a building which would lead to a lot of talk and whispers from the streets, so of course he would install something like a bathroom.
The computer station had several cameras set up, secretly hidden within the building and outside of it as well, and this would make it easier for me to watch out for any signs of the organization trying to get in after me. Another great thing about the bunker was when I discovered an exit door to the tunnel system, and going by the sound of metal on metal, horns blown, and the rush of wind, it was a subway tunnel. And while that was wonderful for just in case, I dared not step further inside because I could also hear the rats squeaking and skittering around in the darkness.
That's when I started to get down to serious business when I had enough of exploring the bunker.
I plugged the USB into the computer mainframe and watched as a file appeared on the screen.
Clicking on the icon, there appeared a bar which asked for a password. I typed Rick's son's name once more, and just like the first two times, I was granted access to the files. Rick really must love his son, as most parents did, but this was a bit excessive. It was like that Teen Wolf show, the lead character using his girlfriend's name in his passwords that even the villain rolled their eyes in exasperation from the use of it.
I watched as everything was revealed from not just on the screen in front of me, but on the giant wall where it spread out in holographic displays provided to me by the light projector stationed at the center of the ceiling. I took in the list of names that popped up on a sidebar of the screen, millions of faces blinking and disappearing without slowing down, other documents filling up the rest of the computer.
This was what had been hiding inside the USB. It made me wonder just how in the world Rick and Mary Parker got their hands on this much information. Did they disguise themselves as agents of the organization to sneak in? Did they slowly accumulate this information for many years? Or did they get it off the hands of someone who had been on the inside? Whatever the case, it was all right here. Every dirty secret of the organization sitting on the screen and waiting for me to upload it into the public network, unleashing hell on earth.
For a moment, I wanted to throw caution in the wind and do it; forget the rest of the innocent people, I wanted to save myself.
... But that would make me out to be no better than a cowardly person who the old me would have looked down on for their selfishness. Real life was much scarier, I was alone in all this, and it's been so long since I seen my family, and I missed everyone back home terribly... However, I knew for a fact, from experience and from seeing it on the television screen, that my life was just a smidgen compared to what others went through. I was the lucky one who got away with her life, her mind, and her soul, many others probably didn't have that much privilege as I did.
So I had to see through this, no matter how scared, I had to make sure the right thing would prevail for everyone else.
When I reached to tug the USB out of mainframe, I stopped myself short.
The thought came quick and vague, but it was a thought that made me freeze like a petrified statue.
Sitting up straight on my chair, my fingers traced over the keyboard and started to type out a letter—a name. Pressing the enter button on the keyboard, I watched the screen become a scrambling mess to identify the key words until it displayed the very thing that made me stop and stare.
With absolute horror growing like a sick tumor inside my soul, I discovered a terribly familiar secret hiding itself in the archives of the files... just as I feared.
'Oh, God...'
They actually had this recorded into their files...!
I threw myself out of the chair, stalking around the bunker in a fit of despair and seething rage, my eyes blurring with hot tears falling down my face. It took awhile for me to calm myself, to ease myself back to my planning because time was running short and I really needed to get things moving along if I was to succeed. I briskly removed the USB from the mainframe and started to check for something useful on the computer that could help me. That's when I came across a peculiar icon. Curious of its purpose, I clicked on it which led me into something that looked similarly to... photoshop?
What the actual hell?
Looking at the contents written on the side, I clicked a button and then the picture of a suit appeared on the blank canvas screen. A suit which looked incredibly similar to the ones stuck inside the glass case tube stationed behind the computer lab. The sound of hissing had me whirling around, body crouched and tense for an incoming attack, only to see lights from within the glass chamber across the lab come to life.
Pulled up from a container separate from all else, a sleek and form-fitting suit was displayed inside with its sleeves and legs stretched out by tools that kept the attire stretched out.
"What the hell?" I muttered to myself. I turned to the computer, giving a hesitant glance back the glass container, I clicked around to read the tutorials for the program and what purpose it served.
After a minute of looking around, I gave up and just turned from the station.
What was this thing? Was it some sort of spy suit like people usually wore in the movies when their about to go out on a mission and—
'Wait,' I blinked in surprise as my mouth fell open in an unattractive gawking expression. 'Wait a damn minute!'
It was like a slap to the face.
The black sleek suit, the computer where there was options of customization, and these abilities hidden away beneath the form of scrawny young woman.
It was like some sort of twisted cosmic game playing itself right out there, and I was a toy that didn't know where to run back to or how to move forward. And this shouldn't have surprised me because of fucking course something bigger was playing with my life like this?! My life was not like a movie but here I was!
Months of being hurt and torn up and then hunted and scared, months of trying to fit into cracks I couldn't complete, months of learning tricks and trades, months of surviving under the grid while trying to play like I was part of the crowd, months of hiding behind someone who I was not, all of it accumulated to this very moment where I was staring at something I had been trying to avoid all along.
I was no super spy from an secret intelligence organization, nor was I a trained soldier, a genius with tech and money, a sharp shooter... or even an angry person with incredible strength (sort of).
I was merely a little girl.
But I was going to be the girl who changed the tides of huge war aimed against not only herself but the rest of the world. The man, if he was every bit as powerful with his mind and resources and connections, he was going to mow down his enemies one branch at a time. He was going to make them collapse like a weak cavern caving in from the pressure and weight. He was going to retaliate against them for every wrong they had done to him, to the people, and to the entire world.
And he was going to go after every single person who so much as dipped their finger in the cesspool of evil.
This was no longer a game of pretend... but if the signs were pointing at this like neon words, maybe I should listen.
I suppose everyone was finally going to see a glimpse of a spider swinging across the streets of New York.
With that, I turned to the computer desk and pulled out a pen from the side of the tablet computer to start working on the suit. Adding a mask and some gloves, I pulled out the coloring wheel and picked out four specific colors: black, white, fire red, and bright sky blue. I spent more than an hour working on the suit, moving the picture around to my liking as it was treated as a 3D model on the screen, helping me reach to the corners to get a better angle in drawing the schemes. There was a symmetry button where if I drew on one side, it would reflect perfectly on the opposite side, so I didn't have to worry much on my drawing lines being absolutely perfect. Checking again, shaping it to my liking, making sure the color was alright, I was finally completed with my work.
Clicking on a button to signal that I was done, the noise coming from the machine behind me began to move.
"Process will be complete in one hour. Please stand by."
"That's good." I said as I stood up and stretched my joints. "I'll be heading out to get some other supplies I'll need to complete this."
The mask and suit were all good, but it was still incomplete with a few things that needed to add a finishing touch to it.
Giving a quick online search for specific stores I would find the materials I wanted, I wrote down the addresses for them then headed up the stairs, through the dusty floor, and right back out to the streets of New York. It was pretty late out, the street lamps on, but the streets were still bustling with people. It was much colder, few braving the frozen streets in their bundled up coats and gloves, and I avoided bumping into anyone as I looked for the streets I wrote down which had the stuff I wanted to buy. Because this was known to be the city that never slept, I hoped that the shops weren't closed.
It was something surreal, walking around one of the most famous cities of America. It was the home base of all superheroes, the center of epic battles in Hollywood, a historical landmark where people gathered here from other countries, and it was just really popular that it was kind of annoying sometimes. But as much as New York was quite the beautiful sight, in both day and night—
"Watch where ya walkin'!"
"Any day now, slow poke!"
It was just like New Jersey: full of angry people.
If I wasn't fast enough, I was yelled at by the people trying to get a move; if I waited at a stop sign for the signal lights to change, someone would shove their way past me to stand in front; if I took too long to cross roads, people would honk at me with their taxi cabs and cars; if I even tried to ask for directions, I was either ignored or just rudely told to shove off.
Finally arrived to one of the closest shops, and thankfully finding it open, I entered and immediately got to searching what materials I needed. Finding two spray cans of the same shade as the fire red color and bright sky blue, a plastic mask, a scissor, a box cutter, and a small sewing kit, I gathered all the things that I needed. The store clerk said nothing, probably didn't acknowledge the items I set on the counter like one would at a sex shop. Store clerks had a talent of blocking out everything and everyone, moving like machines behind the desk until actually snapping to attention when something amiss was at foot.
Paying for it quickly, I moved out of the shop and headed for the next destination.
Two blocks away was a clothes and shoes store.
It was an hour away from closing up, so I had to work fast in finding what I needed real quick as the staff were giving me dirty looks when I entered. There was a section of silky sweaters for men, I grabbed a white one. I tried not to feel bothered by the scoff from behind me, and I could only sense the skepticism coming from the worker as they probably wanted to say a nasty thing or two to me for whatever reason. I was on a mission that needed to be absolutely successful, I didn't have time to be dallying or trading verbal blows with impatient rude employees who apparently have no sense of restraint.
Going to the shoe section of the store, that's when I started to get a little frantic because I couldn't find any Croc shoes. I was so engrossed in looking around that I pretty much ignored everything until something came at me from behind. Like a pond being disturbed by the ripple of waves, I quickly focused on the sound of shoes briskly clacking towards my unguarded back.
Sensing something about to grab me from behind, I was quick to snap my arm up and snatch their outstretched wrist in mid-air, stopping them from coming into contact with me.
"Don't touch me," I warned the woman, eyes focused intently on her.
"Jesus Christ, lady! Take a fucking chill pill!" a lady with dark curly hair, wearing heavier makeup than my own, gave a small hiss in pain from the grip I had on her wrist while glaring hatefully at me.
"Leave me alone," I released her and stepped away from her close space. "I'll be out of your store in no time, so why don't you and your little posse go back to pretending you're in high school and trash-talking every paying customer that's going through your products."
The other staff members that jerked and startled at my surprise move when I grabbed their co-worker grumbled and glared at my form, feeling embarrassed and resentful for being called out on their rude behavior. The woman gaped at me like I had the audacity to insult her and her co-workers like they hadn't moments ago been whispering how I was probably some hooker trying to buy her boyfriend some presents so I wouldn't face the belt or get slapped around. She was quick to compose herself and return to her angry New Yorker mode.
"What are you looking for?" the curly-haired woman demanded, rubbing her wrist while still glaring at me like she could burn me with her eyes.
"Shoes." I sarcastically answered, turning away from her once I was sure she would keep her distance.
"No fucking shit."
I went back to looking around.
"Is it a specific brand?" she persisted, most likely eager to get me out of the store.
"Crocs." I answered.
A snort. "Crocs? In November?"
"What are you so worried about? You won't be wearing them." I said.
"Whatever. We have them over here." she went to the furthest end of the shoe stacks and tapped at the cardboard shoe boxes encasing the brand I wanted to buy. "What size are you?"
"Six."
She was quick to find it and then pull out the box before shoving it into my awaiting arms before heading towards the front desk register. I pulled out the wad of cash as I placed the silky sweater and shoe box. Having a duel of the most dirtiest glare either of us had, I watched as the woman hurriedly put my purchased items in a flimsy plastic bag before once again shoving them in my arms.
"Have a nice day, Ms. Bitch."
"Right back you, Queen Cum-on-my-back." I retorted easily with a sweet smile of my own.
I walked away with the plastic bags swinging by my side, eager to get off the streets and back to the secret lair where my work was almost nearing completion. With so many people getting after me and being total tools about it, I decided to get back them little by little. I slowed down on my walks when they yelled at me to go faster, I nearly broke their fingers when they tried to grab me to shove me aside, I flicked off the honkers when I crossed the streets, and I accidentally tripped people when they tried to cut in front of my path.
New York really did bring out the arsehole in people, like an infectious disease.
It was done.
I finished it.
Hours of cutting, sewing, spray painting, attaching, detaching, all the way until the first rays of the morning (indicated through the security cameras of outside), I was finally finished with my design.
There was no building excitement like the first time, there was no giddy happiness, there was no thoughts and imaginations running rampant in my mind, and there was no fantasy found in wearing this. There was just the sense of new purpose, a heavy weight tied to my shoulders, a wave of memories of the events that led me to this place, and the absolute conviction that this needed to be done.
When I walked up to a nearby mirror, when I saw what was staring back at me from beneath the white hood and wide white lenses of the eyes, it was not some child living every fangirl's dream. This was not a game I was playing; this was life and death hanging on the balance of this mission I set myself to.
Standing there in the reflection was a desperate woman who had been backed to the corner and was trying to prepare for the fight that would come crashing back once she made the first wave.
(youreadytorunlittlerabbit?)
Looking towards the calendar on the computer, I was two more days away from the meeting date.
Now, I had to wait.