Just a Typo

There was a typo on the Stark Industries website. It was miniscule, and most would just skip right over it, their brain automatically filling in the gap. But you were a detail oriented person and that one misspelling was like a phantom itch on your subconscious. 

You rationalized that Stark Industries was a big company, someone was bound to notice right? Initially you had spotted the mistake during your search for internships. A few days later you were daydreaming about working at their state of the art lab, staring at the glossy press photos they had up on their website when you saw it again. A third time around midnight was when you gave into the little voice on your shoulder telling you to fix it. 

Logically, you could have sent an email and maybe it would have been fixed. But an email would take weeks, handed up the corporate chain of command until it finally reached the right IT person. No, you could easily do it in a few minutes. Plus, it was just the UI design of a website, it’s not like you were hacking directly into Stark Industries’ mainframe. 

You rolled out your shoulders, adjusting your horrendous posture over the keyboard and began creating a doorway into the interface of the website. Coding came easily to you, picking it up from your best friend Ned’s passionate rambles on the subject. While you weren’t a prodigy by any means, you definitely weren’t any normal user either. Your interests tend to land more in the biochemistry department, which is why you were a student at Midtown. 

HTML scripts whizzed past your eyes as you quickly keyed yourself into the main structure of the digital design, scanning until you landed on the typo that had plagued your waking thoughts for over a week. Humming, you typed out the correct spelling of accolades and left a little witty message explaining that you fixed their mistake. While not noticeable on the viewer’s end, anyone looking to investigate the little visit would find your mark clear as day. Backtracking in the mainframe, you slipped out the way you came and closed the tab. No harm done to the precious UI of Stark Industries, and honestly it’s not like anyone would notice. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you tabbed back into another Youtube conspiracy video. 

Two days passed, and you were stretched out over the picnic table behind Midtown’s gym doors bemoaning French class with Peter and MJ while Ned looked on in humor. He at least picked the smart decision and went into Spanish. “Honestly I think I might vaporize on the spot if Madame asks me what the difference between sixty and seventy again.” You groaned, slamming your head softly into the splintered wood. 

Peter chuckled, placing a hand beneath your forehead as if to stop the dramatic damage you were surely doing. You continued the bumping, opting to ignore the slight stirrings his movement caused. “It’s not that bad-’ A chime from his phone cuts him off mid sentence. 

“Aw man is that Mr. Stark again?” You whined, already missing his presence. Peter had gotten a high level internship at Stark Industries, somehow ending up as Tony Stark’s personal intern. While you were insanely jealous, you knew that it couldn’t have gone to a more deserving person. Peter was one of, if not the smartest person you knew. He had been a constant by your side through most of your life, through the bullies on the elementary school playground, and the sullen, gangly phase through middle school. Even now you both had your own tight knit group with MJ and Ned, but somehow things always felt easier with Peter. 

So it stands to reason that him dipping out every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday of the week chipped away at your patience until there was only a line of dust left. 

Peter winced at your whine, regret already clouding his features. “Yeah, sorry. He just made a big breakthrough on a project and wants my help on it.” He shot a nervous glance towards you, fidgeting with his Stark issued smartphone. 

You remember when he first got the tech, his excited rambles as he described the entire first day at Stark Industries and what it was like to finally meet his idol. Growing up as two poor kids from Queens had made you both cherish any piece of tech you could get your hands on. And the shiny, sleek, new phone that Stark had handed him for free that first day had won leagues of his hard-earned appreciation.

It was understandable, Peter’s hero worship of Stark and how it made him sometimes brush off social commitments with you and your friends in lieu of spending time with Mr. Stark. There were many, many , arguments between the two of you because of his lack of consideration. But recently it seemed to have leveled out, Peter balancing clubs and school with the occasional group hangout. Yeah you missed your best friend, but you both weren’t those quiet nerds in the back of the sixth grade classroom. You had your things, and he had his. Plus you weren’t an idiot, who would ever turn down the opportunity to spend time with Tony Stark in his personal lab?

However, no matter how much peace you thought you had made with his new extracurricular, you couldn’t help the pang of abandonment that struck every time he had to leave. Your posture eased and you perked up in your spot. “No worries Petey we’ll survive without your presence, even if we will sorely miss the French commiseration, monsieur .” Throwing a jaunty wink and a reassuring grin his way, you were glad to see the relieved slump of his tense shoulders. 

MJ snickered, “Yeah no worries Petey ” she drawled, emphasizing your throwaway tease. Peter’s ears tinted red for a second, scrambling up from his spot. Ned grinned, glancing at MJ and back to Peter. 

“Yeah okay guys, I’ll see you on Monday okay?” He waved, gathering his bag and sprinting off to catch the 4 o’clock subway to uptown Manhattan. 

After watching his form slowly disappear in the distance you slumped back against the picnic table, meeting your friends’ twin smug glances. “What, a girl can’t look?” You retorted, shooting them a glare. Ned held his hands up in surrender. 

“Hey, didn’t say anything!” He protested, MJ still upholding her smug look that just screamed ‘ I know something you don’t!’ Which only made you want to poke her in her self righteous face more. “Fine, I should probably head back home anyways. Deli is probably expecting me soon.” You grumbled and started to pack up your stuff strewn around. 

“Tell her I said hi, and that you should totally bring her over again.” MJ commented, jabbing a finger in your direction pointedly. Ned nodded in agreement “Yeah, Delilah is way more fun than you.”.

You gasped in offense, eyes narrowing. “See if I let you guys try any of my baking experiments again.” 

Ned paled, retracting his statement immediately. Even MJ seemed to take your threat seriously, squinting at you. “No way you mean that, who else would willingly consume that many cupcakes?” She said, knowing that you were bluffing. 

“Well maybe you can take that up with your obvious favorite of the Sterling siblings, since it’s clearly not me.” You huffed in mock outrage, hoisting your bookbag up on one shoulder. With a sing-song wave of your hand, you left them. “Have fun with your new health kick! See you on Monday!”

Ned gaped after you, MJ was already texting away on her phone to your younger sister no doubt attempting to convince her to aid them in regaining dessert privileges. While you weren’t a professional, your side hobby of baking tended to put out tasty results. Stress-baking after exams always left your friends lugging home tupperwares of sugared goods that they obviously enjoyed. While it wasn’t on purpose, you did enjoy giving them little tokens of appreciation every now and then.

However, they had not yet been kicked off the baked good list, no matter how much you threatened them. Although Peter had gotten quite close a few times with his new habit of flakiness. Shaking away the baking and suspiciously not Peter Parker related thoughts, you continued on to your usual subway route home. 

Letting your newest playlist filter through your earbuds, you gazed around the train in slight disinterest. A sweet looking old lady sat on your right with a granny-cart loaded with groceries, and a man stood to your left in a business suit and briefcase. Farther down there were some other Midtown students you recognized, and as the next song began to play, you noticed him. Blonde hair peeking out from under a Brooklyn Nets baseball cap, he seemed restless. The alarm bells didn’t start ringing out until you noticed him shift again, in your direction. He was broad shouldered, a big guy. Most of his bulk was covered by a dark bomber jacket that looked to be designer, but he looked like a guy who could do serious damage if he wanted to.

And this guy was staring straight at you. In your momentary analysis of him he had shifted again to glance at you, catching your stare with piercing blue eyes. His lower face was covered with a black dust mask, and it only emphasized the brightness of his gaze. You were spooked.

The subway announcer chimed for your stop, and you darted out in the steady stream of departers. Hoping to get lost in the crowd you followed a clump of businessmen up the exit. Glancing behind you revealed that the tall man had also gotten off, and was currently making a beeline for your position.

Panic surged through you, you were only a teenager. Why was this man intent on tailing you? Gripping your keychain with the dinky can of pepper spray on it tighter, you squeezed into the middle of the Wall-street knockoff crowd and prayed that you would make it out of this tunnel. 

Grabbing your phone from your jacket pocket, you sprinted out as soon as your group reached the entrance. Glancing around, you were in familiar territory. Mr. Vlachos’ bodega was only a few blocks from here, his son was in the local gang and his friends tended to hang around often. If anything, you’d be safer there at least. Deciding to take the chance that your running would be easier spotted than speed walking, you ran full-speed towards the corner store. A quick check behind you revealed the terrifying image of the tall man picking up speed on your tail. Fear thrummed through your veins, every news article you’d ever read of a woman being attacked in NYC flashing through your mind. Why were they targeting you?

Somehow, fate was on your side that day. Even with your out of shape physique in stitches from running that fast, you had made it in front of the dingy little convenience store. Alexander and his friends were lounging on the chairs outside of the shop, looking up at you as your sneakers skid to a halt in front of them. 

“Whoa adelfí, what’s wrong?” He called out, jolting up from his previous slouch. You glanced behind you, panting. The man had stopped a few meters away, seeming to hesitate as he took in the four men that had straightened upon your mad dash towards them. They all whipped their heads to look in the same direction, noting the suspicious man. Alexander stiffened, standing up and walking quickly over to you. He stepped in between you and the man, crossing his arms as he motioned for you to get inside. 

“Who’s this guy, is he bothering you?” He jerked his chin towards the stranger, eyes squinting as he scanned the guy’s form. Alexander was tall, but the man had him beat by a few inches. 

“I-I don’t know, he followed me from the subway.” You managed to get out, your lungs slowly recovering from your spontaneous exercise earlier. Stepping quickly towards the glass doors, you flinched as the man shifted as if to walk over. George and Liam also stepped over after seeing your flinch, sizing up the guy. 

“I don’t know why you’re following her, but this isn’t your side of town maláka .” Alexander loudly drawled, widening his stance as George backed him up. The man stayed silent, but held his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he slowly turned around. 

You stayed perched in the entryway of the store, peeking over to watch the guy walk away into the distance. Heaving a sigh of relief, you let your trembling legs finally give out and collapse onto the front step of the store. Alexander and George turned around at this, the former walking up in obvious concern and the latter heading back to his seat. 

“Hey, what was that about?” He crouched down in front of your exhausted form, looking down at you impatiently. Alexander was the closest thing you had to an older brother figure, having grown up with him similarly to your relationship with Peter. However, you had nothing but sibling sentiment towards Alex. He gave you shit for the pranks you let loose on him in your formative years, and he always snuck you a popsicle in the sticky, humid summers of New York. His father Mr. Vlachos was a close friend of your parents. They had gone to high school together, and ended up in the same neighborhood with kids close in age. 

With only a three year age-gap, Alex and you had solidified a bond through the years of family gatherings and forced proximity due to no other age appropriate kids at events. You had been there when his mom had passed, sitting on the concrete rooftop and sharing a smoke as you pretended to not hear his silent sobs. He had been there when you had been bullied for the first time in school, walking you to the front steps of the building even when you insisted it was okay. He also was probably the reason why the kid turned up the next day with a stammered apology towards you, and a black eye. 

While you knew he could do better than being in a gang, and the petty crime that you knew he enabled, he was for better or worse, your brother. And you had never been more thankful for that fact than today. “I don’t know Alex, I just noticed him on the subway home and then he followed me off and I ran and then he follow-” You recounted the story, your voice growing in pitch and fervor before panic overtook your words again. 

Alex grabbed your shoulders, softly shaking them. “Hey, hey! You’re here okay?’ He spoke in a firm tone, ‘You’re in front of the bodega and I won’t let anything happen to you.” Making eye contact with you, he nodded once. You knew he meant it.

The tension bled from your shoulders, panic fading. “I don’t know why he followed me.” You quietly said, mind racing. The man didn’t look familiar at all, and he wasn’t just a creep either. He had looked determined, and that was what made your blood run cold. He didn’t pick your figure out of the crowd on a whim, he had some kind of purpose in his chase. 

You shook your head again, trying to rid yourself of the creeping feeling that slithered up your spine. “Okay, maybe he was just a creep on the street who likes girls.” Alex grimaced as he rationalized it, but the simple answer was easy and preventable for him. He nodded as the thought sunk in. 

“Yeah, just a fucking reh diastrevló okay? If he comes around again we’ll fuck him up.” He gestures towards his friends who had returned to lounging outside and smoking. You nodded, less convinced about his friends but knowing that Alexander wouldn’t let any guy just attack you. 

Standing up on shaky legs, you thanked him. Even though it was unnecessary, he accepted it with a curt nod and a firm push towards the doors of the store. “Go say hi to my patéra , you know how he gets.”

You did, the man worried too much about you when you didn’t make a stop into his store at least once a week. Letting out a fake sound of exasperation you pushed your way in, the bell chiming to announce your entry. 

“Ah kouklitsa mou my favorite customer!” A loud voice exclaimed from behind the front counter, and as you rounded the corner you saw Mr. Vlachos. 

Just like Alexander, he was the closest thing you had to family outside of your parents and younger sister. He was like the boisterously loud uncle you never had, and commonly referred to you as the daughter he never had. Well known in the neighborhood, he always snuck you the cast-off pastries at the end of the day and gave you and your sister christmas presents every year. You had spent many late night study sessions sitting inside the cozy corner store, sipping on watery hot cocoa and quizzing Peter on French terms he had no clue of. 

“Hi Mr. Vlachos, it’s good to see you today! My mom and dad told me that you need to come over for dinner next week.” You brightly reply, hoping he wouldn’t notice your red rimmed eyes. 

The brawny man behind the counter let out a chiming laugh, one you wouldn’t expect from a man of his stature. “I will text them, your dad owes me another round of poker after he skimped out last month!” He grinned, a wide smile that emphasized the laugh lines in his well worn face.

“I promise I’ll remind them if he forgets.” You offer up, matching his bright grin. “I’ve got to get home but I wanted to stop in to let you know I still exist!”.

You’re already snatching up a cup of hot cocoa, waving at him as he makes a loud indignant sound as you dash out. The answering holler of “I’ll put it on your tab!” follows you out as you wave at Alexander and his friends in your dash out.

Luckily your apartment wasn’t in the same direction the guy had retreated in, but you made a quick dash back home just in case.

Throwing your backpack at the door in a huff, you dodged the insistent questioning of your younger sister and dashed towards your room. After the day you had today, peace and quiet was a necessity. 

In the slowly darkening light of your bedroom, you stared up at the ceiling from your bed. Why did that man follow you today? You couldn’t remember doing anything illegal recently, or anything that would merit a chase like that. Unless, unless , it was that typo?

You laughed out loud, the sound audible and shocking in the otherwise silent room. There was no way Stark Industries would do something like that for a mere editorial fix right? It was just a typo, it’s not like you broke in to search confidential information.

No, it definitely wasn’t that. You rationalized, shaking your head in humor again. Slowly drifting off into a dreamless sleep, you kept the thought in the back of your mind. However unlikely, you would have to keep yourself alert.