Friends and Enemies
The couple of days following the debrief passed with no incident.
Peter could feel his strength returning as his pain became more manageable, and he was able to stay at his workbench in the lab for longer stretches of time. Catching up with the R&D lab projects he’d been sent provided him with comfortable challenges, testing his problem solving and intelligence in all the right ways. It felt good to be productive after having to be cared for, like he could actually give back in some way. However, this didn’t stop Tony from dragging him back up to the penthouse on a regular basis, sitting him down with some food and something to watch. He’d go through this whole charade of “I’m bored and I want grilled cheese, let’s head upstairs,” or “I just remembered there’s a new episode of Impractical Jokers saved, you wanna go watch it?”; Peter could see right through what his mentor was doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. As weird as it still was, part of Peter was starting to take comfort in being looked out for.
In one such instance, Pepper had joined them on her lunch break. She’d made casual conversation for a few minutes (or rather, she’d attempted to; Peter could clearly tell she was leading up to something) before she sat down beside Peter on the couch and pulled out her tablet, which had on it a number of pre-loaded clothing sites. She insisted they at least look through them before Peter had a chance to object, but the brand name stores she picked were far to extravagant for Peter to accept buying clothes from. After some tactical debating, Peter was able to sway Pepper into looking at some online second-hand stores. She’d had her doubts at first, but was ultimately won over when Peter pointed out that buying second-hand was ‘more environmentally responsible’. He actually did find some clothes he liked the look of, and reluctantly accepted when Pepper offered to make the purchase. Her excitement, however, was infectious, and he couldn’t help but smile as she started rambling about possible outfits he could put together.
By the time Sunday came around, Peter’s injuries had all but fully healed. There were still a few burns that had scabbed over, but his healing factor had pretty much finished clearing up everything else. As a result, he was cleared for what Dr Banner politely referred to as ‘baseline tests’. At first, Peter imagined something like the puzzles Tony had given him at the beginning of his internship. So, when he found himself in the Avengers’ gym a few floors down, running on a treadmill and covered in wires, he couldn’t help but question it.
“Well, if we want to understand your enhancement, we need a good grasp of your capabilities,” Helen Cho had dutifully explained, her gaze barely shifting from the monitors as she jotted down some notes on her tablet. “Your genes can only tell us so much. We know you have improved metabolism, strength, sensory intake and healing, among other things, but we won’t know how improved these things are until we observe them.”
That morning had consisted of a number of increasingly weird situations. Okay, maybe the situations themselves weren’t weird, but the fact he had not just Tony, but both Dr Helen Cho and Dr Bruce Banner, world renowned scientists, avidly watching his every move and making notes, definitely added a level of strangeness. They had him on the treadmill for around half an hour, slowly increasing the speed over time until they appeared to have what they needed. Then had come the weights, which, much like the treadmill, were easy enough to border on being tedious.
At one point, part way through the reflex tests, Tony had brought up his ‘freaky-sense-thing’ and asked how it worked.
“Uh, I guess it’s like an alarm?” Peter had answered with uncertainty. The three adults had only listened curiously, so he went into more depth. “I get a kind of whole-body sensation when something sets it off, but the degree changes depending on how much danger there actually is – like, if someone was following me, that’d be a low-level, unnerved sort of feeling, but if there was someone about to jump out with a knife, or a bomb about to go off, that’d be pretty sudden and intense. I guess I’d describe it as ‘loud’ in those moments too, but I don’t actually hear anything when it goes off.”
As he had spoken, Tony had wandered outside of Peter’s field of vision. He’d thought nothing of it, until right after he’d finished his explanation and his spider-sense flared up in an instant, urging him to reach behind himself and catch the elastic band his mentor had tried to fling at his head. Tony had seemed impressed at first, but then he jokingly suggested they blindfold Peter and chuck stuff at him to test his freaky-sense-thing. Even though he suspected it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, Peter had agreed anyway, in part because it made him think about the drone bit in A New Hope.
So, there he was, a towel over his eyes, standing in a gym whilst three Mensa-level geniuses chucked ballpoint pens at his head. He caught each one without fail, and listened in amusement as the others discussed how exactly his spider-sense could work.
“Try these,” Bruce suggested after a few minutes, before placing what felt like a pair of headphones into Peter’s hands. Once his ears were covered, Peter was plunged into almost total silence, something he’d never experienced; it was a little unnerving.
“Are these noise cancelling?” He asked, but the precise moment he finished speaking, his spider-sense flared. His hand jolted upwards to catch whatever was approaching him – but it was just a moment too late; his fist closed around it, but his grip faltered, and the pen bounced off his chest before he was able to catch it properly.
Peter tore off the headphones and towel, and gave a slight chuckle. “I guess not being able to hear makes a difference.”
“But you still had a warning?” Bruce had asked with intrigue.
“Yeah, but I think it was delayed?”
“Interesting,” Dr Cho had hummed, making yet another note on her tablet.
“Well, I’m sure that’s enough for one day,” Tony announced. “We’ll take you up to the compound during the week if that’s alright? We’ve got some super-soldier gym equipment you can try out there, really see what the ol’ spider genes are capable of, sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Peter confirmed, giving a polite nod to Dr Cho and Dr Banner as they left the room, pouring over their notes. Overall, it had been a slightly uncomfortable experience, but then he’d probably be curious too, if he was them.
Then, Tony had started ushering Peter in the same direction. “Alrighty, padawan, we should probably get you back upstairs so you can get changed. Wouldn’t want to make you late, would we?”
“Late? Late for what?”
Tony’s brow furrowed. “For lunch? Peter, it’s Sunday – don’t your little intern buddies have their break soon?”
Oh.
Oh shit.
-
So much had happened, that Peter had all but forgotten about Ned and MJ.
…Oh crap, MJ!
Their last conversation had faded to the back of his mind, but now it was directly in the forefront, with every knew recollection causing that pit of fear in his stomach to grow even deeper.
“I think you’re hiding something,” she’d said. She’d been concerned over his injuries, and as to why he was living alone at just 16 years old. Peter had known that trying to lie to her would be absolutely pointless, and had instead opted to tell her part of the truth.
“Mr Stark doesn’t know I was hurt,” he’d said. “…But I am going to tell him why I get hurt.”
“So, this has happened before? And… it’s going to happen again? And you’re okay with this?!”
He’d been so tempted to just come clean, and admit to being Spider-Man. That selfish part of himself wondered if she’d be able to help him talk to Mr Stark.
But that wouldn’t have been fair on her.
“It’s not that I’m okay with it, it’s that I can’t always avoid it. But I’m going to tell him, Thursday. I don’t know what’ll happen, or how he’ll react, but at least then… someone will know.”
She’d looked so concerned for him in that moment. “Peter, if someone is hurting you-“
And then Ned had arrived, and they were cut short. But, in the last second, Peter had whispered something that at the time felt right, but now just presented a whole new pile of issues.
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
As those words played over and over in Peter’s mind, the elevator was quickly bringing him down to the cafeteria, where he’d been meeting Ned and MJ every week. He had no clue what he would say, if she’d even bring it up… maybe, with Ned there, he could have a little more time to figure it out.
Should he tell her he’d moved into the tower? What about the fire? The talk with Mr Stark had gone terribly wrong, but the outcome was good, so should he lead with that? Maybe she’d forgotten?
Oh, who was he kidding – MJ never missed a thing.
The doors slid open, and he dragged himself down the familiar hall. He might be dreading this lunch, but making himself late would only make things worse for him
The cafeteria wasn’t too crowded – it never is – meaning he could clearly see where Ned and MJ were waiting for him at their regular table. And, naturally, they could clearly see him.
“Peter!” Ned called, face lighting up as they made eye contact. MJ only stared at him, her face impassive as usual. Peter gave them a polite wave, then joined the queue for food. Through his entire wait time he could hear Ned’s continued rambling as he told MJ about something he’d been working on in R&D. MJ herself said nothing; and, when Peter flicked his gaze in the direction of the table as he was being served, he saw that she was staring at him unapologetically.
That’s… unsettling.
Still, he picked up his tray and headed over to where they were sat, taking his usual seat and digging in like everything was right with the world.
“Hi guys,” he said with a breezy smile. “Everything good?”
“Awesome! Today’s been great so far,” Ned replied, but something in his tone seemed off. Peter gave him a quizzical look, and Ned hesitantly continued, “We were thinking about texting you, but we weren’t sure if it would be weird.”
At face value, that could have just been the words of a socially anxious, insecure teen who wasn’t sure where the boundaries of their friendship were. However, this didn’t quite seem like Ned’s approach to communication, which led Peter to believe there was something else at hand.
“Why would it be weird?” he asked, as casually as he was able.
Clearly it wasn’t casual enough, though, as Ned’s face dropped. “Oh, no! No, it wouldn’t be weird exactly,” Ned rambled defensively, holding up his palms, “Well, not messaging you in general, just-“
MJ cut him off. “Did your apartment burn down?” she asked bluntly, causing Peter to nearly choke on a mouthful of pasta.
“MJ!?” Ned blurted incredulously, but the girl merely shrugged.
Even once Peter had cleared his throat, his voice still came out strained. “Uh, whu- why would you think that?”
“The news,” came MJ’s matter-of-fact reply. “I said it looked like your apartment, but Ned wasn’t sure. So – was it?”
Now Peter knew how roadkill feels. He wanted to divert his gaze from her piercing eyes as they bore down on him, but he was stuck, scrambling for an excuse or a way to change the topic.
It was no use – there would be no shaking MJ’s determination. “Uh… yeah,” Peter eked out uncertainly. Ned’s hand flew to his mouth in Peter’s peripheral, but all MJ did was widen her eyes slightly. “Yeah,” Peter repeated with more certainty, surprised to see the traces of shame that crept into the girl’s expression. “It was. That was my apartment… that burned down.” Funny – he’d never actually said out loud before, either time that it had happened. He’d been so prepared to bury the memories that it was easy to overlook just how horrifying it must sound to someone hearing about it.
Ned’s creeping panic finally tore Peter’s eyes away from MJ’s shifting expression (it was so easy to get swept up in the myriad of emotions he could see there once she allowed him past the façade of stone-cold apathy). “Shit,” his friend gasped, “Are you okay- were you hurt??”
“No, don’t worry, I wasn’t there,” Peter quickly reassured. “I was at that gala-thing, over at the Plaza? I didn’t find out until the next day.”
“Woah… That sucks, dude.” He’d never heard Ned sound so serious. It felt wrong coming from someone who was usually so upbeat. “I mean, I can’t imagine what that feels like.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad,” he was quick to dismiss. “Well, for me, at least. It’s gotta be bad for my neighbours, they lived in that building for years, but I didn’t exactly have a lot of stuff. That place was just somewhere warm and dry.”
He didn’t miss the concerned glances both his friends shared, but thankfully neither of them commented on what he’d said.
“So where are you staying now?” asked MJ, pragmatic as ever.
“Uh…” Oh God do I tell them the truth or do I lie, or would it be too obvious? Or would Tony be mad if I- Oh crap I’m taking to long to answer- “here?”
MJ blanched. “Here?” she repeated incredulously.
“That’s so sick,” Ned immediately gasped in awe, but clearly MJ was trying to sus out any hint of a lie. She wouldn’t find one.
“Yep. I…” In for a penny… “I was kinda already staying here weekends? Part of my… internship.”
Both of them gawped at him, until MJ spluttered out, “That definitely violates several labour laws.”
“Well, technically I’m not an official employee,” Peter said, because for some reason he thought it would help. It did not.
“Right, but that’s worse – you see how that’s worse?” MJ objected, looking to Ned for backup.
He looked like he wasn’t paying attention. “Oh my God I’m friends with a criminal,” he whispered, sounding like he was both horrified and awed at that fact.
“Look, it’s fine,” Peter insisted, cutting both of them off. This was going horribly wrong, and he needed to get them on the same page. “We’re not breaking any laws – well, not any serious ones at least.” MJ glared at him. Peter dropped his head, allowing just a trace of vulnerability to enter his tone. “I… won’t be able to get a job at 18, not without formal qualifications and some kind of reference. And I was lucky enough to find that apartment, but now it’s gone, and if CPS find out about me, I’ll get put back into care, which I absolutely refuse to do. So, that’s why I’m here; I’m getting real experience, so that by the time I’m a legal adult, I won’t be completely screwed over by my crappy teen years. I can get a real, totally-on-the-books job, and an actual place to live. C’mon,” he pleaded to MJ, given that Ned seemed to have been rendered completely speechless. Peter needed to bring back that same person he’d defended at that protest, who strove to stick up for what was right. “I figured you would understand that laws don’t necessarily reflect what’s morally right.”
She stared him down for several tense seconds before dropping her gaze at long last. Relief flooded Peter’s chest.
“I know it was kinda implied – y’know, circumstantially, but… you never said you used to be in care,” Ned muttered quietly. Peter could hear the question lingering just underneath his words.
“I’m… not used to talking about it. Actually, I’ve only ever told Tony Stark, and even then I didn’t actually tell him – he just kinda found out about it, because it’s him and of course he did. I… I did consider telling you guys,” Peter admitted, keeping his eyes locked on the table. “But, like I said, I’m not used to talking about it, and if it wasn’t already painfully obvious, I’m also not used to talking to people my own age. I’m not in school, so I don’t actually know how to make friends, and I didn’t want to say anything that would scare you guys off.” Peter cringed at himself. “I guess I thought holding off on the bad things was the best way of doing that. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” MJ stated plainly, and Peter finally lifted his gaze. She seemed equal parts confident and… remorseful? “I can see why you’d want to keep something like that under wraps. And… we know now.”
“But it doesn’t change anything,” Ned quickly added, and MJ nodded in agreement. “And if you want to talk about it, we’ll listen, but also we could just talk about the regular stuff, if you’d prefer?”
That uncomfortable warmth filled Peter’s chest again. He’d been feeling it a lot lately; it felt like fullness where he was used to feeling empty, filling him up sheer to the brim until there was no more space inside him for the sensation to flow. “I… thanks guys,” Peter choked out, before quickly clearing his throat. “So, uh… what have you two been working on today?”
His friends each shared a grin, before launching into an enthusiastic account of their work upstairs.
-
“Ah, shoot,” Ned muttered, frowning down at his phone. “Gary says their having a problem with the program, apparently its skipping like half its functions and they can’t figure out why.” He glanced at both Peter and MJ, looking somewhat guilty. “D’you guys mind if I head up early?”
“Not a problem, dude,” Peter answered readily. Upon receiving a confirming nod from MJ, Ned bustled out of his seat and picked up the tray.
“Okay, uhh… see you next Sunday? Unless…” Ned trailed off; him and MJ appeared to have some kind of private conversation using only their faces, so Peter busied himself by scooping up his last bit of pasta until they were finish. “Right then,” Ned continued, “…Bye guys!” And with that, he was off.
Peter frowned over at MJ, who gave him a polite smile. “Okay… what was that about?” he asked.
MJ sighed. “Right… so y’know how Ned and I go to the same school?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, we were kind of friends? I mean, we shared a few classes, and we used to sit next to each other at assembly and lunch and stuff, but we never really hung out - y'know, outside of school.” She then gave Peter an expectant look, as if she was asking permission to keep talking.
“Okay…?”
“Well, then we both got this internship, so we started working on the same floor every weekend. And sure, technically we do different things – we both do math, but he does coding and I’m more here for biology - so we never share projects, but still, it’s a familiar face, and -and I will never repeat this- all these highly qualified professionals were kind of intimidating at first.”
“What, like they were rude?” Peter asked, concerned.
“No, no, not like that. More… they were impressive, and unlike anything we’d seen before. At school we’re the smart ones, and at Midtown Tech, that makes you impressive. But here? We’re just a couple of rookies. So… we kinda gravitated towards each other?”
“Right…”
“Right. So we didn’t used to hang out – we still don’t have much in common – but we don’t mind each other’s company, so… a few weeks ago we started hanging out after school.”
MJ paused again, but in truth, Peter had no idea how to respond to whatever he was hearing. “Oh?” was what he settled on.
“Yeah. It’s… pretty chill. Mostly we just talk about school stuff, or the internship, sometimes science-y things, or homework… and sometimes we just kinda chill on our phones.”
“That… sounds nice.” Peter was not at all certain about that assessment, but it did seem like a positive development. Yeah, he supposed it did sound nice to find someone who you could just talk aimlessly with.
“Yeah?” MJ asked.
She seemed to be looking for agreement, so Peter echoed back to her a more resolute, “Yeah.”
“Okay… so… would you want to join us?”
“…Huh?”
“After school?” MJ clarified. “I don’t know what your schedule’s like, but you said you’re not in school, and I hope you aren’t working here full time, so if you’re free…”
Oh! “As in… tomorrow?” Peter managed, somewhat perplexed.
“Well, yeah – but if you can’t make it, it could be another day. So far I’ve been meeting Ned every day unless one of us is busy, so, like, we’d tell you if it wasn’t happening, but nothing’s on tomorrow, so…”
“Uhh…”
Was he being asked… to hang out?”
“You don’t have to,” MJ rushed, “But we were talking after school on Friday about something we looked at in our AP physics class, and Ned was all ‘oh I wonder what Peter would think,’ and I kinda thought the same, and then we realised we could just invite you to come hang with us. If you want to.”
Peter tried his very hardest to respond in a normal way. “I… would love to. I’ll have to ask,” he quickly added, “But if I’m free, then… yeah. I mean, I always enjoy hanging with you guys, so… yeah.” Awkward and stilted, but it seemed to do the job based on MJ’s relieved smile. Peter smiled back, and they started to lapse into a comfortable silence, when MJ quietly spoke up.
“You seem… happier.” There was a hidden meaning lingering just under the surface – this, Peter grasped, was her way of bringing up their last conversation.
“Oh, uh… I guess I am?”
“So you spoke to them, then?” He couldn’t tell if she sounded relieved, or just curious.
“Yeah,” Peter replied truthfully.
MJ raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“…And… we’re all on the same page. And I’m safe.” He’d already shared a lot of truths with her and Ned for one lunch break, but all the stuff about his apartment, about being in care – those were his truths to tell. All this recent business with his alter-ego, however, was another matter, something he could never be too discrete about.
Still, there was no getting past MJ. “So you admit that you weren’t before?” she pried, and Peter could only laugh.
“Fine,” he chuckled in admittance, “You were right. But they’re helping me,” he promised earnestly, pleased to see her slight frown smooth out. It made him feel assured enough to continue a little further. “For a long time, I didn’t want to accept that help, but I think we’re past that now. It... actually feels a lot better, being honest with people. I never liked hiding things, I just don’t think I ever believed there was another option.”
“But you know there is now, right? Another option?” Her warm brown eyes bore into him – not piercing like they had been before, as if they could root around inside him and dig up anything he’d ever buried – but gently, like fingers combing through his hair, reassuring him.
“Yeah,” he said, with full conviction. “I do.”
*
Nat scratched her scalp, but the motion provided little relief through the wig – she couldn’t get her fingers underneath it without risking making it look weird, but there was a pin digging into her skin, and she couldn’t get it to lie flat.
Sunday night, as her cursory investigation uncovered, was to be the The Arena’s 30th anniversary celebration event – a night of raucous bot-fights, ill-advised wagers, and $1 shots of tequila. She’d decked herself out in full-Melissa-attire, Bucky was on comms in the car a block down, and Tony was patched in back at the tower.
By around 9:30, the venue seemed to be filling up, so Melissa eased her way into the crowd, and followed the path she remembered that perverted asshat Matt taking the last time she was here. It lead her to the main stage, that old catwalk that had been decked out with chicken wire and barbs to provide some rudimentary protection for the audience as the robots did battle. There were no lists of competitors or programmes that she could see, so Melissa resolved herself to wait for the opening announcement.
After a few minutes, a vaguely familiar man stumbled onto the stage. Caucasian, with a torn jean-jacket and a very questionable mullet. He rattled off a grandiose speech about the establishment and the celebration, before finally coming to the evening’s competitors. “Now it would seem that our ol’ friend The Prowler has pussied out of tonight’s festivities-“ The crowed booed loudly, “- I know, I know – But! Without Ankle Biter, our undefeated champion, will Juggernaut finally be able rise to the top of the ranks?”
‘Pussied out?’
Nat pushed her way through the crowed, making it to the stage doors. Once the coast was clear, and everyone around her was suitably distracted by the evening’s first match, she slipped her way backstage to the now empty workshop area. “He’s not here,” she whispered into her comm.
“I heard,” came Bucky’s crackling reply.
“I can pull up his address,” Tony chimed in, but a noise in the distance distracted Nat.
“Radio silence,” she hissed in command. They shut up without complaint, thankfully, allowing her to head deeper into the workshop.
Years of training and honing her skills had granted Nat the ability to move relatively silently when she wanted to, which also gave her the benefit of being able to listen to her surroundings with minimal interruption. Someone was definitely here, and from the frantic rustling sounds and the muffled whispering, she got the impression they weren’t supposed to be.
At the end of the hall, Nat came across the source of the noise – a man with a balaclava fixed over his head, stood inside one of the booths, routing through a pile of blueprints and muttering to himself.
Right as she went to speak, the man bolted upright and span around to face her (an odd occurrence given that people didn’t usually see her coming). Only the man’s eyes were visible to her, dark brown set in equally dark skin, and they stared back with all the intensity of a frightened bunny.
“You lose something?” Melissa asked casually, jerking her chin over at the pile behind him. The man said nothing, but raised his shaking hands into a gesture of surrender. Melissa rolled her eyes. “Chill out, dude – I don’t work here.”
“I’m just-“ he began in a slightly squeaky voice, before he jerked up one of his hands to rip the balaclava off his face and revealed, not a man, but a teenager underneath. “I’m just looking for something my uncle left,” he explained in a pleading tone.
“Right… and why are you dressed like a ski-instructor?”
His response was sheepish. “So no one would know who I was if I got caught.” Nat said nothing; she simply stared at him, waiting for a more complete answer. It took a moment, but eventually he continued in a nervous voice. “A week ago, my uncle- he started complaining about some blueprints for an upgrade on his bot, said they’d gone missing and he was sure it was one of the The Death Squad who took it since they’ve been trying to beat him for months. Well, he was gonna get it back tonight, but he's been kinda down these last few days? Anyway he said he wasn’t coming, and I thought it might cheer him up if I got them back for him.” By the end of his explanation, the teen had to gasp air back into his lungs because of how quickly he’d been talking.
“And you couldn’t just… walk in?” Nat asked, but the teen just shook his head.
“No ma’am, they don’t allow under-18s.”
Ma’am? How old did this kid think she was?? “And how old are you?”
“I’m 14.”
Even younger than Peter.
Then something registered with Nat. “You’re uncle… is he the guy who didn’t show tonight? What was it… The Pouncer?”
“The Prowler,” the kid corrected with a hint of pride. “Yeah, that’s him – he’s my uncle Aaron. I’m Miles, by the way,” he added somewhat awkwardly, holding out his hand for Melissa to shake. She did; Miles seemed nice enough.
“Nice to meet you, Miles – I’m Melissa. Y’know, it’s a good thing I bumped into you.”
Miles’ eyes widened. “It is?”
“Yeah – a couple months back, your uncle did me a really big favour – I’d come to find someone to fix my laptop, but then there were these guys…” She allowed herself to seem shaken for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, Aaron helped me out. He was really nice to me, and it’s been a while but I can’t stop thinking about it and I’ve been wanting to thank him properly. Y’know, for what he did.”
“I think I might’ve heard about that,” Miles replied thoughtfully. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright now, thanks,” said Melissa with a tentative smile. “Look, since he’s not here, d’you know where he’s at tonight? I start my new job tomorrow, so I’m not sure when I’ll next have the time.” The lies came as easily as breathing.
“Yeah, yeah – he’s at the gym over on Broadway, between 31st and 32nd. If you talk to the owner Marty, tell him I sent you – he’ll let you right in.”
“You guys close?”
“Not really? I mean, my uncle’s there a lot, but Marty’s daughter Grace is in my homeroom. If you see my uncle…” Miles trailed off, glancing regretfully down at the cloth in his hand. “…Could you not tell him about this?”
Melissa chuckled. “Don’t worry – I’ll let those blueprints be your surprise. You gonna be able to get out okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miles dismissed, “Getting in was a piece of cake – besides, Death Squad are in the first three matches, so they won’t be back here for a while.”
“Alright, well… it was nice meeting you, Miles,” Melissa said with a smirk, tipping her head to him.
He jerked his chin in fond acknowledgment. “You too.”
-
It didn’t take long to find the gym, and getting in was even easier; ‘Marty’ barely even glanced up from his crossword puzzle as Melissa strolled in through the front doors.
Finding Davis was also easy. There were a few people in one of the rooms having some kind of late-night yoga session, but apart from that the place was pretty empty except from him. He was in one of the farthest rooms, surrounded by weights. When Nat crept her way into the room (still wearing the blue wig, mind), Davis’s attention was firmly centred on a punching bag. He’d clearly been at it for some time, judging by the sweat that soaked into his grey vest. The muscles on his shoulders were taut, and his head was bent low in concentration. As his fists pounded against the bag, Nat could hear how strong they were, but also how intense. For as precise as he was, there was also an irregularity in pace that made his movements seem somewhat feverish.
He was angry.
“Uhh… Davis?” Melissa spoke up with uncertainty. The man wheeled on her, face still scrunched in biting frustration, until a wave of recognition swept over him and he straightened up.
“Melissa?” he panted, wiping his forehead with his gloved fist. “What are you doing here?”
As risky as it was, Nat knew there was no sense in keeping up the act now that she needed information. So, without breaking eye-contact, she slowly reached up and peeled the wig off her head, revealing the bright red plait underneath. When she spoke, she dropped the whiny accent she’d been using for Melissa and instead used her natural, deeper tone. “I wondered if you’d be willing to answer a few questions.”
Immediately, his body language turned stand-offish. “You a cop?” he accused, holding his ground.
“Nope – and I’m not here for you. I just need information.”
It didn’t seem to appease him. “What about?” His voice was gravely, and unmistakably hostile.
Nat opted for a slightly softer approach. “The night we met – Spider-Man showed up.” She took note of how Davis’s nostrils flared at the mention of the vigilante. “That wasn’t your first time meeting him, was it?” Aaron said nothing, so she pressed further. “Like I said, I’m not here for you – but I know, for a fact, that it wasn’t. You were the one who warned Spider-Man to be careful. It had something to do with a man named Mac Gargan – would you mind telling me about him?”
As she’d been speaking, Davis had only grown angrier, but rather than explain why, he spat, “Who the fuck are you? 'Cause you sure as shit don’t seem like a student to me.”
“Natasha Romanoff,” she stated simply. This seemed to abate his anger for a moment, through sheer surprise.
Perplexed, he verified, “Black Widow?” She nodded. He seemed to consider this for a moment, eyeing her up and down with intense suspicion. “Why? What’s this got to do with you?”
Nat shrugged. “You were right to warn Spider-Man, and the Avengers have taken an interest in his situation, but if we’re to help then we need to know more.”
At this, something in Davis snapped, forgetting his previous confusion entirely. He marched a couple strides towards her. “You don’t need shit – I tried getting through to that fucker, and it didn’t work, so save yourselves the trouble and let him die.” Just as Nat tried to formulate a response, something crossed over Davis’s face, something dark. “That night at The Arena – you were looking for Peter. What did you want with him?” he asked softly, but it was the most threatening he’d sounded yet.
As much as Nat wanted to keep her cards close to her chest, she figured the truth might help more than a lie in this situation. “Tony Stark asked me to find him – he was involved in a car accident but ran off, and they wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Aaron’s eyes bore into her for a moment as if trying to search for a tell, but eventually he must have realised it was the truth, as he backed off, dropping his gaze down to his gloves. “Yeah, that sounds like Pete,” he muttered. There was something in his voice…
“You liked him, didn’t you?” It was tenderness; and based on the way he shrugged at her question, Nat had guessed correctly.
Davis gave a dry chuckle. “Everyone liked Pete. He was a good kid.” His expression darkened once more. “And he didn’t deserve what he got.” Nat deliberately said nothing at this, hoping Davis would explain further. It paid off; shaking his head in contempt, Davis muttered, “That useless spider just couldn’t leave out of it, and he went and got Peter killed.” He turned back to her then, lifting up a glove and pointing directly in her face. “I know you hero-types think you can fix everything, but trust me when I tell you to save yourself the bother and let the bug deal with this himself. Clearly he knows best, right? Besides… Gargan’s coming for him, and there ain’t nothing gonna stop him now. Good riddance.”
He thinks Peter is dead. He thinks he died in the fire.
And… it wouldn’t make sense for Nat to correct him, not when that could work in their favour. If Gargan thought the same… well, anyone having information to the contrary would be a risk. Better to let Davis believe Peter was gone, rather than there be a chance that news about his survival would fall into the wrong hands.
“Still,” Nat began, changing tact, “We’re the Avenge-rs. We avenge. And Pete… I didn’t know him long, but you’re right, he was a good kid, and if we had any idea he was involved with Spider-Man then we would’ve done a better job at protecting him.” Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. “And as it stands, right now we have the chance of saving a life, before they need avenging. I know you… blame Spider-Man for what happened, and far be it from me to try and convince you otherwise, but I think you know the stuff with Gargan is bigger than that, and a lot more people could end up getting hurt if we don’t do anything.” Davis said nothing, but she could see he was considering her words, so she pushed a little further. Speaking in barely more than a whisper, Nat continued, “You’re right. Peter didn’t deserve what happened to him. So help us get the guy who did it.”
After a pause, Davis grimaced and shook his head, causing Nat’s heart to sink a little. “I… I agree, but if you talked to the spider, then it sounds like you know everything I do. I can’t help you.”
“There’s nothing you can think of? It doesn’t have to be definite, just anywhere Gargan might go, for example. Maybe people he could be connected to?”
Davis was shaking his head before she even finished talking. “At this point, Gargan’s pretty much a ghost story. He don’t have people, and no one knows how to find him. The moment someone gets on his trail, they’re pretty much signing their own death warrant. Tombstone sent enough guys to their graves try’na find him, and each body came back worse than the last. The only way you’d ever get your hands on him is by going after the ones who hire him.”
“Hammer Tech?” Natasha asked. Davis gave her a curt not.
“They’ve been managing him for years. Payin’ him, probably, protecting him – they helped him in prison. I can’t prove that, but it’s the only thing that makes sense, ain’t no way he’d get on no work schemes with charges like that. You can’t catch him, not without making a mess, but you can go after them. Hammer Tech is up to something, I’ve seen it myself. I ain’t about to stir shit up, but you can be my fuckin’ guest – if that isn’t too difficult or legally questionable for ‘Earth’s Mightiest Defenders’,” he quoted sarcastically.
Nat rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll manage.” Then, she frowned. “…What did you mean, ‘you’ve seen it yourself’?”
Davis scoffed. “I ain’t sayin’ shit.”
“I don’t need details, and I’m not going to take time out of this investigation to verify what you say, but it’ll help us figure out our approach if we have more information.” For a moment, it didn’t seem like he’d budge, so she added a gentle “Please?”
Davis rubbed his eyes with his gloves and cursed under his breath. “Fine, fuckin’ Christ – they’re makin’ stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Unnatural stuff.”
“Unnatural in what way?”
“Shit, lady! Unnatural like it’ll fuck up your whole life. Unnatural like it’ll turn you into somethin’ else, somethin’ wrong, and you won’t even get it ‘til it’s too late. And what’s fuckin’ worse, they ain’t even keeping it as contained as they think they are.”
“…So, some of this ‘stuff’ made it outside the facility and… changed someone? Who?” Davis fell silent, clenching his jaw and glaring daggers at the floor. “Davis.” He looked up. “Answer me, yes or no – do you think they’re trying to make super-soldiers?”
“I don’t think they are. I know they are.”
Nat spoke very cautiously, like Davis were a bomb about to blow up. “Davis, do you know someone who has become enhanced because of Hammer Tech?”
“If I did, you think I’d tell you? Little miss double agent? Stay outta my shit, and I’ll keep out your way.”
“We could help.”
“Oh yeah? Put ‘em in a leather-bodysuit and make ‘em fight for you guys instead of the assholes? That the kind of help you mean?”
“I mean we could try to find a way to reverse-“
“Ohhh no no, you ain’t turning no one into some guinea pig. Once is enough.” Nat went to speak but he held up his hand and cut her off. “You let me take care of mine, ya hear? Look, you got what you wanted, I told you what I know, so now I think it’s best you go back to that ugly-ass tower and tell your boss he ain’t getting’ nothing more from me.”
Nat gave him a gentle nod, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a notepad and pen. She scribbled down her phone number and handed it to him. “Whoever you know, the one who’s been enhanced – talk to them. And, if they decided they’d like to try and reverse whatever’s been done to them, give me a call. They can take some time to think about it – that offer will still stand if they change their mind."
He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, long enough that Nat started to think that he wouldn’t take it, until he yanked off one of his gloves and accepted the small slip of paper. He kept his eyes fixed on his as he quietly spoke. “You do me a favour?”
“…Depends.”
“Tell the wall-crawler that if I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.”