Author's Note:
This is set during "In a Mirror, Darkly." Between chapter 19, Time in a Bottle, and chapter 20, All Stations, Save Spider-Man.
Reading the prior story is hopefully not required to enjoy this, but especially on Earth-42, some characters and elements of the plot could be confusing. So if you haven't read it before, now is your chance!
This is a Stick Up
The Middle of Summer, Earth-65
A red line of liquid traced its way down her forearm, cutting a straight path across her skin and towards the crux of her arm. It pooled there before it dripped down and splattered against the sizzling hot concrete beneath her feet. She staggered forward, moving amongst the swarming crowd of people surrounding her. One of them jostled her, causing another red liquid line to dramatically shift in its path down her perspiring skin. In her left hand was clutched her mission, and her destination was just a few blocks away! In her right hand, was held the source of the liquid dripping down her arm.
"Shoot," muttered Gwen as she tried to lick up some of the sugar water escaping from the paper cone held in her hand.
Strawberry it was. Unfortunately, the shaved ice was melting faster than she could eat it. It had been a long line to get one, but this was one of the hottest days New York City had ever seen, at least as far as temperature records went back. And her impulse purchase wouldn't have been such a bad idea if a tiny hole in the paper cup hadn't let loose a small torrent of sugary water that now trailed down her right arm.
Deciding that action was finally needed, she tucked the paper cone in close to her chest and fired the most inconspicuous of webs at it. Holding the cone back aloft, she examined her handiwork, remarking as the red flowing liquid was now mostly staunched, "well, here's to small victories."
It was only then that she noticed that the envelope in her left hand was now dotted with large red splotches.
"Oh no, no, no, NO," she exclaimed in a panic as she freed the slip of paper from within the envelope and hurriedly checked it for marks.
To her relief, it had none.
"Small victories," she muttered again as she placed her payroll check back within the envelope.
She discarded what was left of her shaved ice in the nearest trash can, finally deciding that it just wasn't worth the trouble. She'd have to make the last few blocks to the bank without something to keep her mind off of the oppressive heat.
And god was it hot!
It wasn't even a dry heat, where the slightest breeze could offer relief. This was a humid, muggy heat, and it was hot, so hot.
Too hot.
The glass, metal, and concrete obelisks surrounding the citizens of Manhattan focused and concentrated the wrath of an angry sun down upon them, making them bake within its malice.
Or, that's at least how Gwen thought about it, as she trudged her way towards the bank. But the building that was her goal would have air conditioning at least, and that raised her spirits, as much as it could.
As each step brought her closer to that chilled oasis, she thought about the salvation held within the envelope. Her dad, after leaving the force, had found work. But it wasn't steady, and it wasn't for a lot of money. Being a private dick was not something you could do by the book. And that wasn't something her dad had experience with.
So, to compensate, she had taken a job loading trucks for a warehouse near her school. It wasn't glamorous, and it didn't exactly pay all that well, but it allowed her to work in the mornings before school and kept her evenings free. Initially, when she had applied, the owner had tried to turn her away, not thinking that someone of her build was up to such a physical task. But five minutes spent watching her work had shattered that notion. She didn't show off, she just kept pace with the rest, which was something she could do in her sleep and in fact some days did as she had to get up well before the sun, and more than once she had caught herself dozing off around fifth period. But she did what she had to do.
So that was a big part of her life, this Senior year.
And she needed to make it to the bank before they closed at 5:00, or else they would be short this month's rent. Because somehow, even in 2024, the business she worked for didn't have direct deposit
So, against the oppressive heat, she pressed on.
It was ten minutes to five when she arrived at the last intersection before the bank. Taking the opportunity afforded to her by the red crosswalk signal she used the collar of her shirt to wipe her forehead clear of the beads of sweat that were collecting upon it, covering her eyes for a moment as she did so. It was only when she lowered her shirt back down did she see the Korean man who had stepped out into the crosswalk on the other side of the street. He looked to be a few years older than herself and his clothing was dotted with spots of perspiration, but that wasn't surprising, anyone who spent even a few minutes outside today looked similar. What was surprising was the hurried pace he was taking, and that he didn't seem to notice the white car bearing down on him. Gwen didn't have time to yell anything, she didn't even have time to think.
She only had time to act!
With three bounding steps, the envelope in her hand momentarily forgotten with the explosive rush of adrenaline, she crossed the distance between them and tackled the oblivious man out of the way just as the car tore by them, blaring an angry horn as it passed.
Getting back to her feet she attempted to help up the man she had just saved, but it was like she was invisible to him, and before she could even say anything he was already up and running again.
"Look both ways next time," she yelled after him, but he was already disappearing into the cluster of people waiting to cross the street.
"And you're welcome!"
But he never acknowledged her, and in a second, he was gone.
"What an ungrateful," she began to mutter under her breath, before she realized that she was no longer holding the envelope with her check. Eyes searching, she spotted it lying in the crosswalk a few feet from the curb. But no sooner had she taken her first step towards it when the signal turned green and the mass of people on both sides of the street began to cross.
"Excuse me, hey, pardon me, please, UGH," she was having to practically swim through the sea of people in order to get to where she had last seen it.
Arriving there now, it was knowhere to be seen.
Whipping her head around she scanned the crowd for any sign of it as fury welled up inside of her. It was too damn hot outside for any of the swelling fury now burning within her to cool.
But before she had a chance to voice her feelings on this injustice, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Wheeling around, she came face to face with Miles Morales.
Which was odd.
It almost didn't quite connect with her at first, that this should be impossible. Miles wasn't here, wasn't anywhere. Hadn't been for over six months. She knew where he was, but the road was blocked. The society was building a tunnel, but they weren't there yet. Wouldn't be for a long time.
And yet, seeing him here, made all of the anger suddenly rush out of her.
Leaving her with nothing but genuine surprise.
Judging by the expression he was now giving her; she wasn't hiding it all that well.
"Are, uh, are you good? Cause uh, the heat you know, it can mess with ya."
Gwen managed to shake her head yes before he held up the envelope to her eye level, a partial shoe print newly imprinted upon its surface.
"Thanks for saving my friend," he said, as he gestured behind himself with his free hand. "He can be a bit," he gestured to his head, "sometimes you know. He's grateful, we're just in a hurry."
With that, he held out the envelope to her.
Gwen looked at it, tried to think of something meaningful to say, but decided to just keep it simple.
The momentary shock was beginning to pass.
"Thanks," she finally said, as she reached out with her right hand and took it, but not before her fingers stuck to it for a moment awkwardly.
It was then that he seemed to notice the slight red stain on her hand, so she quickly tucked it and the envelope behind her back.
"You cut yourself on the pavement?"
"No, uh, strawberry. It's just strawberry."
His eyebrows raised for a moment, but a smile was always on his face.
"Oh, well, that's good. I guess I'll see ya. Thanks again thou."
He then turned, and walked away.
Gwen watched him go for a moment, before she turned away and continued to walk the last couple hundred feet to the bank. But she was moving on auto-pilot now, her eyes locked on a point just in front of her moving feet. The surprise had faded, replaced now with only an empty hollowness.
Surrounded by a mass of humanity, she had never felt more alone.
There was at least one comforting thought.
In every universe it seemed, Miles Morales was a good guy.
~o0o~
The two of them sheltered beneath a building's overhang to get out of the punishing sunlight as Ganke began to detail what he had seen, but despite the importance of what he was saying, Miles was only half listening. His mind was still going over the strange expression that woman had given him. It was like she was seeing a ghost, but as hard as Miles thought, he couldn't remember ever seeing her before.
"Bro are you even listening to me?"
A tap on his chest from Ganke brought him back to reality.
"Yeah, yeah man I am. No guard, clear sightlines, an outside alarm we can cut."
"So then, are we good to go?"
"Yeah we good," said Miles, "but that woman."
"What about her?"
"Do you know her?"
"No," said Ganke as he set his backpack down and zipped it open. "Good, laptop isn't damaged. Bro, why are you even still worrying about her?"
"I'm not."
"Kinda sounds like you are. You've gotta get your head in the game man! This whole thing was your idea."
"I know I know, it's just," Miles shook his head and tried to explain the feeling. "I just feel like she knew me."
"Yeah well, maybe she was just staring at you cause of your ugly mug."
"Man shut-up," said Miles through a laugh, "I look better than you."
"Oh yeah, real tough competition there," said Ganke sarcastically as he swung his bag back over his shoulder. "Now, are we doing this or not?"
Miles unzipped his own bag and stared for a moment at the guns and masks within. Today was to be the last day of his life that he'd be a free man. But it was worth it. He had long since come to that conclusion.
"Lets get this done," he said with conviction as he slid the zipper closed on his bag.
Still, he couldn't shake that strange feeling. She had known him; he was sure of it.
But he would never know her.
Because in a few minutes, he was about to invoke the oldest law on earth.
A life, for a life.
~o0o~
Gwen stood in front of the bank door, staring angrily at the printed-out piece of paper taped to its glass.
"AC partially functioning.
Our apologies.
-Management"
"Of course," muttered Gwen, "that sounds about right for a day like today." So much for that chilled oasis she was hoping for.
Opening the door, a blast of air brushed her hair back and caused her eyes to squint. It felt like she was stepping from the frying pan and into the fire. But she had to deposit her check, so she strode in, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Inside it was quite busy, with a lot of New Yorkers trying to deposit or withdrawal money before closing time. Unfortunately for her, that meant getting in the back of a long line. And even with everyone's deodorant doing its best the smell of several dozen sweaty people still filled the air around her with a pungent odor.
The line slowly advanced forward as Gwen kept her eyes locked on the back of the person in front of her, just wishing that after this she could just teleport back home and into her shower.
At the counter two people, she thought they might be husband and wife, were loudly arguing about how much money to withdraw. The radio they had playing the latest and cheapest pop hits kept popping and skipping. And from behind her a small child kept complaining about the heat, growing louder and louder with each successive cry.
After wiping the sweat off her brow for what felt like the thousandth time, she was finally next in line as the bickering couple had taken their argument elsewhere. She stepped up to the haggard looking teller and glanced at the information placard on the counter in front of him. Skipping past his favorite movies and the number of pets he had, she alighted upon his name.
"Good afternoon, David."
The man just stared at her as a single bead of sweat raced from the line of his short cut hair and down his face.
"Or, uh, is it rather good evening?"
"It's literally none of those things."
"Oh, ok, just trying to be pleasant," muttered Gwen as she swiped her atm card and placed her check on the counter.
David began to ask, "are you looking to cash this or," before he trailed off, staring at her right hand.
"It's strawberry."
"What?"
"And I want to deposit it into checking."
David shook his head slightly and blinked twice, before he finally began to process her check.
She heard a chime as the door to the bank was opened.
"HANDS! I WANT TO SEE SOME HANDS!"
She almost didn't register that something was happening at first, as her Spider-sense wasn't going off. But as she turned her head, she saw who had shouted.
Two masked men, the taller of the two holding a pistol in each hand, had burst into the bank. Everyone was too surprised to move for a second, including it seemed, the robbers themselves.
But that moment soon passed as the armed one began to make his way towards the counter, continuing to shout in a surprisingly deep voice as he did so, "KEEP THOSE HAND UP, I DON'T WANT SEE ANYONE REACHING!"
She slowly backed away as the man vaulted the counter in one quick movement and ordered all of the tellers out from behind it.
The other man, with a backpack strapped to his chest, was tying the door shut with several long zip ties.
Gwen's mind was racing, thinking through her options. But one reoccurring thought wasn't adding up.
Why wasn't her Spider-sense going off?
It always, always, warned her whenever danger was near. But right now? Radio silence.
Not actual radio silence, as the music coming from the speakers continued to drone on as terribly as it had before, scoring the scene playing out before her in a discordant way. But there was something off about what was going on, she just wasn't quite sure yet.
Everyone was now being forced to concentrate at the center of the lobby by the man holding the guns as his compatriot, after having sealed the doors, moved up next to him. Some people were starting to freak out, and the small child was now wailing over and over again, but Gwen kept her cool. For right now she would wait to see how things played out.
The two robbers shared a meaningful look before the armed one seemed to glance up at a nearby security camera.
"Alright everybody, this is how things are gonna play out," yelled the armed man as he began to pace slightly back and forth as his unusually deep voice continued to deliver instructions. "All of you are going to turn over your phones to my associate here. All of you are going to sit in a circle, facing out, as we tie your hands together. And all of you will then sit there, quietly, peacefully, until we're done. It's that simple!"
"Now, if any of you try to make it not so simple."
He gestured with one of his pistols.
"We have option number one, but if that still isn't enough positive reinforcement, we also have option number two!"
His associate did a double take from the crowd of people and back to him before he said, "I thought you weren't gonna use them?"
The armed man turned towards him and snarled, "you questioning me?"
Before the other even had a chance to respond the armed man pistol whipped him, sending him sprawling onto his back. Several people in the assembled crowd gasped.
"DON'T QUESTION ME," he yelled at the man before wheeling back around to all of them, "DON'T EVER QUESTION ME!"
Then, he glanced back up at the security camera.
Now Gwen was really starting to get confused, because she knew what a pistol whip looked like, hell she'd been on the receiving end of more than one.
And that was definitely fake.
"What the hell is going on," she thought to herself. The armed one even seemed to be playing it up for the camera. First her Spider-sense, or rather the lack of it, and now this bit of theater. Something more was going on here, but for now she bided her time and continued to play the part of the helpless scared citizen.
The other man had by now gotten back to his feet and had pulled out from his backpack a small white brick of material with several protruding wires coming out of it. On its face was a small digital display with a red and green light and a single button underneath it. The other man snatched it away from him and held it out for them all to see.
"A pound of C4, enough to vaporize you and everyone else around you! Controlled by a single deadman switch so if your thumb comes off for even an instant, you'll be the one explaining to Saint Peter why you've arrived to the pearly gates earlier than scheduled!"
"We've got enough here," he said as he pulled out another one from the bag, "to give one to each fifth person in this circle! So, now that we understand each other, lets start with the phones. NOW!"
His associate went around the circle, collecting them and placing them within his bag. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, until he got to an older gentleman a few people away from her.
"He says he doesn't have one."
The armed man walked around the circle until he was face to face with the stranger.
"You don't have one?"
"No."
"It's 2024, what do you mean you don't have a cellphone?"
"I just don't."
The armed man paused for a moment, before he said in a voice laden with malice, "so if I stand you up and search you right now, I'm not going to find one?"
"Nope."
"You do realize what would happen to you if I did?"
The old man was silent at that.
The armed man crouched down and placed his gun under his chin, resting a finger on the trigger as he did so.
"Last chance to change your tune."
The old man remained silent.
Finally, he withdrew his weapon and barked, "if I find you're bullshiting me, then your ass is grass you feel me!"
The old man nodded.
"Good, then its time to hand out the insurance, starting with you."
Gwen couldn't believe what she was hearing, these guys were complete amateurs! Of course that guy had a cellphone, from her experience there was always someone who tried to stow one away to attempt to be a hero with it later. And any criminal worth their salt would know that too. So, to not even search him seemed insane to her! Nothing about this robbery was making sense.
She watched as best she could as the explosives were handed out, before the armed man got around to near where she was sitting. She had been counting as he had progress around them, and by happenstance she realized that she was the next, fifth, person in line. But as he got to her, he paused and only stared at her. Gwen stared back trying to gleam any information from his amber eyes. There was something in them that she couldn't quite place. He then took a step to the right and began to hand the explosive to the person next to her.
"What are you doing?"
"What?" He drew back in surprise at the question, the deep voice momentarily gone.
"I'm the next person, the next, fifth, person."
He cocked his head a little to the side as he said, "no, uh, no you're not."
"I most certainly am," she countered, "what, can't you count to five?"
"Of course I," he dropped his voice back down several octaves, "of course I can count!"
One more suspicion confirmed, the deep voice was a put on.
"Then why aren't you giving it to me?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused, but that doesn't explain why you're not giving it to me."
The man shook his head as he asked, bewildered, "let me get this straight, you want me to give you the bomb?"
She nodded. "I am next in line, aren't I?"
His mouth opened to respond, but then it closed again, he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Fine," he finally said as he crouched down to hand it to her. "If it'll make you shut-up."
He grabbed her right hand and guided it onto the button, but as he activated it and tried to pull back, his fingers momentarily got stuck onto the red mess still coating her hand.
"It's strawberry."
"I know," he said without thinking. Then, they both froze and locked eyes with each other.
Gwen now knew who this was, and her heart sank because of it.
Miles didn't know who she was, and his heart raced because of it.
After a moment that seemed to last much longer than it did, he pulled back and stood up, pointedly trying not to look back in her direction. He returned to shouting orders at his associate, who then began to tie up the hands of anyone not holding a bomb.
During this time Gwen, as stealthily as she could, examined the small brick of material in her hands. Once again, she had seen the real thing several times before, and this was definitely not plastic explosives. Even if it was the wires were useless and only seemed to be there for show. In fact, the only thing about it that seemed to be real was the button and the red and green lights.
"More theater," she thought to herself, "but why?" No one else would probably have the knowledge to tell that they were fakes, so they did work as an intimidation device. But like everything else she had seen thus far, none of it was making a lick of sense.
"Go set up in the back," Miles said to the other, "I'm going to secure the rest of the front." The other man nodded and climbed over the counter, pulling out a laptop from the bag as he did so.
As Miles began to head for the windows to close the blinds, she was able to catch him looking back in her direction. But as soon as their eyes met, he whipped his away.
Gwen was starting to put together a plan, but it wasn't much more than an idea at this point. She wasn't sure how far Miles would go, what he was prepared to do. He hadn't hurt anyone yet, but there was still a lot of time left for that to change. Because, in the end, she didn't really know this person.
Why was he doing this?
Why all the theatrics?
And was he a killer?
She didn't have the answers to any of those questions. But she was sure, as long as she was stuck here holding a make-believe bomb, that she was going to get some.
She just hoped that getting those answers wouldn't come with a cost too expensive to pay.
But for the moment, she remained sitting, sweating in the stifling heat, locked in a room with the most familiar of strangers.
The most familiar of strangers, with a gun in each hand.