Peter's first clue that something was off should've been when his spider sense began squawking at him as soon as he stepped into the run down building.
Betty had been chattering his ear off, talking about some drama between Flash and a new kid at her school (which Peter had been only half paying attention to). But as soon as they opened the doors and Peter gestured to the elevator, the light buzzing at the base of his neck turned into an incoming swarm of bees.
He stopped briefly, slightly worried as he scratched his neck, but at Betty's raised eyebrow, he kept moving. To his dismay, it only seemed to get stronger the closer he got to his office.
"You alright?" Betty glanced at him as the ramshackle elevator began lifting them up.
Peter pushed a breath through his nose. "Yeah. Just the beginning of a migraine, is all. It happens." He shrugged.
"Well, buck up, buttercup." Betty lightly punched him in the arm. The elevator stopped and they both stepped out. "Still got a half day of work left."
"Yeah. Here's hoping the Noceda's don't have an appointment today." He snickered. "I don't think I could handle that screaming match right now."
His second clue should've been Karen practically running out of the office, a worried look on her face and a frantic beat to her heart. Peter almost froze when he saw the frown on her face twist into an awkward, pleading smile.
"Ms. Karen Page!" Betty greeted, shoving her hand in Karen's face. "Betty Brant, Daily Bugle. Can you answer some questions I have about last night?"
Karen's expression somehow fell even further, leaving her looking lost and afraid. She quickly glanced at Peter, and all he could do was shrug.
"I'm sorry?" Karen asked, lightly shaking Betty's hand.
"I'm an intern for the Daily Bugle, and I was asked to cover the fire in Queens that occurred last night. My sources," She made a large, obvious gesture in Peter's direction. "Tell me that you and Mr. Foggy Nelson were present at the scene last night, due to the fact that the victims are your clients. Could you elaborate on your presence at the scene and the circumstances with which you arrived?" Betty had her phone out, already recording.
"Uh…" Karen blinked, caught completely off guard.
Peter was prepared to step past them and head to his desk in an attempt to get any work done. Only then did he receive his third and final clue, and he finally realized that something was very wrong.
Because Frank fucking Castle was walking about Nelson, Murdock & Page.
He froze, feeling all of the color drain from his face as he watched the Punisher walk casually around his desk, reaching into one of the filing cabinets right behind it. He called out to someone, probably Matt, before he pulled out a file and went in the direction of Matt and Karen's office.
Peter slowly looked at Karen, who wore a similar expression of horror. He gulped. Fuck.
"Ms. Page?" Betty prompted.
"Um," Karen seemed to shake herself out of her stupor. "Unfortunately, I am unable to comment at this time. If you'd like an interview, I'll need you to go through our receptionist first." She attempted a smile.
"But I did." Betty jerked a thumb at Peter.
"Right, but I meant to book an appointment. We are a busy law firm constantly dealing with sensitive cases, and oftentimes we must prepare before an interview can happen due to the nature of our work." Karen found her composure as she spoke. "Our office is currently closed to walk-ins."
"But-"
"The best I can offer you is to make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. I know we have that time slot open, and I'd be happy to accommodate you then." Karen offered a professional looking smile.
Betty grumbled, but relented, putting her phone away. "Very well, Ms. Page. I'll see you tomorrow, then." She offered her hand once again.
Karen shook it. "Gladly. Have a great day." She ended the conversation a little shortly, but Betty didn't seem to mind. As soon as Betty retracted her hand, Karen looked at Peter. "Can we talk for a minute?" She asked, the worry leaking back into her voice.
"Uh, yeah." He chuckled awkwardly. It took everything in him not to either bust into the office and take down Castle or jump on the ceiling and scurry away.
"Guess I'll see you tomorrow, Pete. It's your turn for coffee." Betty offered him a side hug before she strutted down the hallway, a bounce in her step. "Good luck with your fancy lawyer job." She called behind her shoulder.
"See you, Betty." He yelled back, trying not to make it sound like he was worried.
Karen watched as Betty walked away, giving the elevator a good thirty seconds to work before she dropped all pretense of calm she's been holding. "So-"
"The Punisher?" Peter hissed quietly. "He's here?"
Karen nodded frantically. "Yeah. You, uh, you think you could come back later?" She stepped forward, gently ushering Peter away from the office.
"But Karen, I need the paycheck. Plus, what if you, Matt and Foggy end up in danger? I can't let you guys just sit in there, defenseless against a literal serial killer!" Peter's voice rose at the end.
Karen shushed him, putting her hand over his mouth. "I trust Frank. Despite it all, he's a good guy. He'd never hurt Foggy and I. We're just trying to figure out what happened last night between you and him. He seems to know something about Manfredi."
"Right. Yeah. He was saying something about that last night." Peter shivered.
"He was?" She almost yelled. "Then, I- just… ugh!" Karen threw her hands in the air in frustration.
"Karen?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you okay?"
She tangled her hands in her hair, taking long, deep breaths. "I'm fine." She ground out. "I just… I need you to head out for now. I'll make sure you still get the full day's pay since this isn't your choice. But I'm gonna call you around 5 tonight. We'll grab dinner and discuss what you know about this. Got it?"
Peter pressed his lips together. "Are you sure?"
Karen's face softened, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Very. We'll be fine."
"Alright." He sighed.
"Thank you, Peter." She straightened her back. "Seriously, you have no idea how much I appreciate this."
"Yeah, yeah." He cracked a smile. "Guess I'll see you tonight?"
Karen nodded. "Yup." She looked like she was about to say something else when a sudden, high pitched shout rang out from their office. Karen grimaced. "Shit. Sounds like Foggy's panicking."
"Wait. That was Foggy?"
Karen released a heavy sigh, a strained look on her face. "You don't know the half of it. See you, Peter." She patted his shoulder one more time before she quickly turned on her heel.
"Good luck." He called back. As soon as the office door shut, Peter slumped against one of the walls.
One of the things he loved most about working was the time that was taken up. It actually gave him things to do other than swing through the city or work on his GED assignments. Plus, it was at least more interesting than everything else. Without work today, he was stuck in pure boredom.
He briefly thought about putting on his suit and heading out as Spider-Man, but he decided against it. His wound still throbbed, suggesting that swinging around right now wouldn't be the best idea. Plus, it was insanely cold outside, and he already had to go out that night to meet Daredevil. No need to spend more time outside than necessary.
And he didn't really want to disappoint the only person in the world who knew his secret. Cause Lord knows Karen would tear him a new one if she found that he was doing the whole Spider-Man thing after she tried to convince him to spend the day in bed.
Could he do that? Yeah, absolutely not. He never dealt with boredom well.
Peter sighed and ran his hand across his face. He spared a glance at Nelson, Murdock, & Page. Nothing seemed off, though his spider sense was still ringing above its normal level. That must've been typical whenever the Punisher was involved.
He was about to give up and go home when his phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller ID and smiled a bit to himself. "Mr. Li," Peter greeted with a smile. "You've got really good timing."
"And you're sure you're okay with dropping everything?"
"Mr. Li-"
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop that?"
"Right, sorry. Martin-"
"And don't apologize so much, Peter." Martin smiled as he led Peter into his office. The wood paneling felt very sophisticated, and the prestige of the space was pushed further by all the distinguished Chinese art hung on the walls. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Right. Uh…" Peter stumbled over his words as he tried not to say sorry. "But, yeah. My bosses gave me the day off work. I've got until 5, cause, uh, dinner plans, and I'm more than happy to lend a hand around here."
Martin sat down behind his mahogany desk and picked up one of his fancy fountain pens. "And you're not sick or hurt or anything?" He asked as he twirled the pen around his fingers.
No, of course I don't have a bullet wound in my side. Whyever would you think that? It's not like I was being stitched up down the hall last night. He thought dryly.
Out loud, he responded, "No, they just needed to shut down the office for the day. I'm not totally sure why."
"Right. Great, then." Martin's shoulders deflated in relief. "I really appreciate you coming in today, Peter. The meetings with city hall came out of absolutely nowhere, and there aren't a lot of people I trust to run the shelter in my absence."
"You know I'm always happy to be here, Martin."
"Yeah, I know. You and May, still so much alike." He chuckled to himself. "How were you two related again?"
Peter shrugged, internally quelling the sudden panic he felt. "She was my aunt." Was all he ever said. He could never say what he really wanted to. She was all I had, she was like a mother, she was the most important part of my life, she was my only family.
Martin smiled warmly. "Right. Well, I trust any of the Parkers to take care of things. Absolutely the kindest people out there."
"It's always either a Parker or a Stacy, isn't it?" Peter put his hands in his pockets.
Martin huffed. "They aren't necessarily as kind as you all, but they're certainly capable. If you hadn't been able to come, I would've had to beg either Gwen or George to get down here as quick as they could."
"Yeah, well, they both have more important things to do than I do." Peter offered. "I'm here when you need me, Martin."
"Don't devalue all your hard work, Peter. What you do for that law firm and the newspaper is absolutely important." Martin stood, reaching for his suit jacket draped across the back of the chair.
"Uh, right. Thanks, Martin."
Peter always seemed to feel small when he was talking to the philanthropist. Martin Li could've done absolutely anything in the world. He made a generous living selling, promoting and trading art; he knew some of the most creative and talented people in the world. Most people would've taken his life and moved to somewhere nice and expensive, maybe Hong Kong or Orange County, and kept to themselves and their aristocratic art friends. Yet Martin chose to move to New York City and sponsor May's dream of a homeless shelter to help in the wake of a Blip. He was one of the few people Peter genuinely admired outside of May and Tony.
"In any case," Martin began as he flipped his jacket around his shoulders. "I should be done by 5 so you can make it to your dinner plans. I'll shoot you a text if anything changes."
"Don't worry, Martin," Peter said as he sauntered around on the plush carpet. "If you're late, I'll just let her know beforehand. No harm, no foul."
"Her?" Martin seemed to purr, a devious glint in his eye. Peter gulped. "Who are you heading to dinner with, Peter?" He smirked.
Out of nowhere, his spider sense began tingling. Just a bit, but enough to be noticeable. Odd. "Um, just my boss. She wanted help with a PI case she was working on." He scratched at the back of his neck, trying to calm down his sixth sense.
"And you're sure it's not Ms. Stacy?" Martin's smile got more and more evil-looking as he pressed.
"Gwen?" Peter sputtered. "No! Why would you think that?"
"Oh, no reason in particular," Martin shrugged his shoulders at his own obvious lie. "I just think you two would look cute together."
Peter's spider sense seemed to dim. "Uh huh. Sure." He deadpanned.
Martin smirked again as he threw on his winter coat on top of everything. "I'll see you later this afternoon, Peter. Remember, you've got the reins. Don't burn May's shelter down while I'm gone." He chuckled as he grabbed his car keys from his desk.
"I'm not Happy, I won't do anything dangerous. You can trust me." Peter stood straight, returning Martin's smile. He followed Martin out of the door, letting him lock it behind them both before shooting the man one last wave as he disappeared down the hall.
This wasn't the first time he'd been left in charge of FEAST. He came here a lot in the first few weeks after May's death, so much so that right before Christmas, Martin gave him an unofficial promotion. Since then, Peter has been trusted to look over the homeless shelter in the absence of its owner.
Martin Li had called it righting a wrong. George Stacy had called it a family legacy. Gwen Stacy called it nepotism.
Either way, Peter had somehow become indispensable to FEAST's operation. Just as much as George or Gwen, but not as much as Martin, and not even half as much as May.
Due to the cold front, it was a bit busier in the shelter than any normal day. Luckily enough volunteers were present that the only thing Peter had to do was delegate.
Right after Martin left, Peter headed up front to the front desk, where most of the volunteers as well as residents checked into the shelter. He sat down at the computer, signing his credentials in and checking the schedule.
It didn't take him long to fill every position that needed it. He even had enough people to spare two going to get some blankets and hot chocolate for the shelter. Soon, he was sitting alone by the front doors of FEAST, the air filled with a satisfied sense of peace.
He began to respond to some emails he had sitting in his inbox. Mostly just things from job recruitment agencies or potential donations from local businesses. He was halfway through a response to Nelson's Deli (wasn't that the one Foggy's family owned?) when Gwen practically ran through the doors.
"Ah! Oh my God! Christ on a fucking cracker! It is so cold!" She yelled as soon as the doors shut behind her. She approached the desk, surprise fluttering across her face. "What are you doing here, Pete?"
"Well, hello to you too, Gwen." He replied dryly without even looking up.
She rolled her eyes and came around the desk, peering over his shoulder. "Hi, Peter. How are you?" She deadpanned.
He stopped typing, finally looking up at her with a big grin. "Well good afternoon, Gwen. It's so good to see you. I'm doing well, thank you very much. And how are you?" He replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Ugh, you're such an ass." She said, but smiled in spite of it. "What brought you in today?"
"Work gave me the day off. Figured I'd come in, and Martin called and asked me to handle things while he went to city hall."
"Ah. Okay." Gwen hummed as she took her beanie and scarf off. "What's going on at work? Why'd you get the day off after working there for literally a week?"
Peter snorted as he turned back to the computer. "Just some confidential case stuff. I'm not too sure about it, but they didn't want me involved in whatever it is."
"Uh huh. Sure, Peter." Gwen responded flatly. She grabbed her things and walked into the employee lounge not far from the desk.
Peter finished up his email, sending it off and preparing to shut down the computer and go clean something. But as he closed the tab, he saw the resident registry opened up beneath it. It was a long list of names and contact info for anyone who was currently or had stayed in FEAST.
Keeping the registry used to be one of May's duties, and she often left notes on some people's profiles. Usually, it was what sorts of food they liked or any additional support they may need. A lot of them had compliments written in as well.
Smiling to himself, Peter sorted the list by May's notes from oldest to newest and began to read through them. Sometimes, reading her words helped him feel a little less lonely.
Jones, Ryland. Age: 24
Blipped back to a condemned apartment. Vegan, but allergic to nuts. Gets his protein beans and shakes. Prefers drinking Whey. Best I've ever seen at balloon animals.
Henderson, Maxwell. Age: 15
Kicked out when parents Blipped back. Needs XXL binder. Favorite color is lavender. Is so kind, always helps the younger kids whenever their parents aren't around.
Hardy, Felicia. Age: 18
Parent died during the Blip, so she came back to no one. Quiet, hardly ever says a word, but I've caught her singing in the shower a few times. She has the voice of an angel. Enjoys Starbucks.
Davis, Aaron. Age: 38
Blipped back to a family who fell into poverty. Left so they wouldn't have to support him, came here. Has one of the biggest hearts out there, aside from that of my own nephew.
Peter's vision blurred a little bit. It was as if she were speaking these things out loud. God, he missed his Aunt May.
Carpenter, Julia. Age: 29
Came to NYC after Blipping back in Colorado. Has a daughter who she left with her parents, sends them as much as she can. Enjoys extra spice in her dishes. Has the strangest but most incredible sense of the future.
Rodrick, Alex. Age: 44
Blipped in a car, fell and was severely injured by oncoming traffic. Prefers their blankets kept warm and enjoys green tea. They're amazing at crochet.
Castle, Frank. Ag-
Peter felt himself freeze. Castle had stayed at FEAST. May had known Castle.
"Do you know when Jean and Carrie are coming back with the hot cocoa? I saw in Slack that you sent them out, and I just wanted- Peter?" Gwen stopped a few feet from the desk when he didn't turn around to greet her. "Peter, is everything okay?" She stepped next to him quickly, all notes of joviality in her voice replaced with worry.
"I, um…" He didn't know how to say anything right now.
Gwen bent over, looking at the screen. "'Frank Castle'? Why is that name familiar?" She looked at him, nudging his shoulder.
Peter hastily cleared his throat. "I, uh, I know him from work. He's taken on a case with my bosses."
"Oh?" Gwen put her hands on her hips. "What's so bad about that?"
"Well, he's…"
"Spit it out, Peter."
"The Punisher. He's the Punisher." He dared a glance up at Gwen. Her face was frozen in horror.
"The Punisher? As in, the guy who killed dozens of people all those years ago? The guy who's practically a serial killer?" She sounded rattled in a way Peter's never heard before. He nodded briefly. "And he's with your bosses… now?"
He nodded again. "It's not the first time."
"Oh no."
Castle, Frank. Age: 46
Lost all of this family before the Blip, came back to nothing. Hates wheatcakes, but loves waffles. Dark and brutish, often seeming violent but rather gentle. Formerly a vigilante. Maybe Peter can help him.