Revealing the Cold Truth
“You were right,” I say as I slam my bag onto the table as I enter the compound that Friday.
“Peter?” Mr. Stark asks.
As he looks at me, my throat closes up and I remember the harsh words I gave him. I bow my head and sigh.
“First, I should say I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For shouting at you. I didn’t mean it.”
He looks at me with a wry smile and says, “Hey, don’t sweat it. You were pissed. I get it.”
“Still…”
“It’s okay. All right?”
I bite my lip. “All right.”
“Now, what were you saying?” Mr. Stark asks flippantly from his seat at his own table. “What was I right about this time?”
“My parents. You were right. Someone killed them.”
His face falls. “Peter,” he says. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”
My eyes sting, but I wipe them furiously, refusing to cry about this again. “You were right, and I didn’t believe you.”
“You didn’t want to. Believe me, I get it.” He rises and walks over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.”
“A lot?” he says with a frown.
“I told Ned and MJ. Well, they told me. I asked Ned to look into the plane records. There was nothing wrong with the plane, no reason for it to go down before takeoff. It had to have been sabotage. Oh, and May knows too.”
Mr. Stark sighs, and asks FRIDAY for some lemonade for me. “You’re gonna need it,” he says. “Cause I’ve got some stuff for you too.”
“Oh?” I ask, and we move to the center of the room, where he pulls up a hologram.
“Yep,” he says. “Take a look at this.” He waves his hands, and a whirlwind of files comes up, all with a note that says, ACCESS UNAVAILABLE.
I frown. “What is this?”
“It’s what I found. I looked into the investigation of the crash, but I couldn’t find anything. And you know how much that pisses me off. These files are frickin blocked. From me.” He scowls.
“Blocked? But how?”
“By a damn good hacker, that’s how.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “And that’s just suspicious as all hell. Somebody doesn’t want these files to be seen.”
“You think…you think you could send those files to me?” I ask. “I could try and open them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I can try, at least. I’m a decent hacker.”
He smiles and says, “Don’t downplay your skills, Pete. You’re more than a decent hacker. And that friend of yours, Ned, he’s good too. Too good, if you ask me. You two make me worried for the safety of the next generation.”
I laugh and say, “Hey! That’s mean.”
“Is it though? Or am I just telling the truth?”
We share a laugh for a moment, then quiet down. “Sure, I can send you these,” he says. “Don’t take too long opening them, though.”
“I won’t,” I say, opening my phone as Mr. Stark sends the files over. “I can take a look at these later.”
“Later?”
“I’m meeting Mr. Osborn. Again.”
Mr. Stark scowls again. “Oh, great... him.”
I chuckle. “What’s wrong with Mr. Osborn? He’s been really helpful.”
“Tell you what, when you have a company rivalry with the guy, you tell me that again.”
“Ha, all right,” I say.
“When are you meeting with him?”
“Monday afternoon.”
“Okay. Good luck, kid,” Mr. Stark says. “Now let’s get to work on what we usually do. I’ve got some old suits I think you’d like to look at.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”
“Sure.”
---
That Monday afternoon, I walk into Mr. Osborn’s office with purpose. I stop at the door however, when I see him occupied with something on his computer. I tap on the doorway, and he looks up and smiles. “Hey, kiddo,” he says. “Sorry, I was just checking on some things.” He clicks on something, probably closing a window, and walks over to me, shaking my hand. “Good to see you again.”
“You too, sir.”
“So what shall it be today? I’ve got some old research of your parents that I think you’d really enjoy.”
“Actually…” I swallow and take a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you I figured something out. About their deaths.”
His eyes sadden, and he sighs. “I see. And what did you find?”
“I’ve been pretty stupid. I thought it was just an accident that killed them. But there was nothing wrong with the plane. I checked into the records, and it was all fine. I mean, I checked into most of them, cause the private investigation file is all blocked, but I’m working on that. Anyway, somebody told me to look into the plane records, so that’s what I did. And it had to have been sabotage. My parents were…they were murdered.”
For several moments, Mr. Osborn doesn’t say anything. Then, he puts a hand on my shoulder, and says,
“Oh, Peter. I am truly sorry.”
“Thank you, sir. That…that means a lot.”
“I’m curious though,” he says as he goes back to sit at his desk. “How did you know to go for the records? You said someone told you to.”
“Yeah. It was this guy who was friends with my parents; Curtis Connors.”
Mr. Osborn’s eyes darken, and he mutters, “Ah, him.”
I frown. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Connors and I haven’t always gotten along swimmingly, I guess you’d say.”
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Yes, well, I suppose some things can’t be helped. Anyway, would you like to look at that research now?”
I nod. “Actually, that could be fun. Thanks, sir.”
He smiles. “No problem. Here it is.” He slides a file over to me, and I take it gratefully.
Mr. Osborn and I spend the rest of the evening in a companionable silence, each looking through our own files. After several hours, it begins to get dark, and Mr. Osborn says,
“You should probably be going home. The city isn’t too safe at night these days.”
I nod. “Well, thanks, Mr. Osborn sir. I really appreciate all this.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Parker. Can I expect you again soon?”
“Um, yeah. Can we do next week, this same time?”
“Of course. See you then.”
“Thanks, Mr. Osborn!” With that, I rush into the elevator and down onto the street, into the open air. The darkness seems ominous tonight, and I’m grateful that Mr. Osborn let me go.
He’s right. The city isn’t safe at night.
Before long, I’m on my way home, and that’s when I feel it. A slight tingle at the back of my neck. I stop walking, and a second pair of footsteps stops behind me. I let my breathing slow, and pick up the sound of someone else’s breathing. Shit. I take a step forward, and the stranger takes a step too. Then my spider sense flares, and I duck as a shot rings out.
The person fires again, and I leap out of the way just in time. In the dark, I can just see a strange man clad in black, holding a small gun. Oh, fuck. I’m not wearing my suit, so I can’t risk fighting him off. Cameras could catch me.
He moves in with a punch, which I dodge. He tries again, and again, and on his third time, he hits my stomach. I crumple to the ground, coughing and clutching my stomach. Ow, that hurt. I scramble to my feet as he shoots again, right where my head just was. Cursing under my breath, I rush into a nearby alley. As he follows me, I web his gun hand to a garbage can. He swears, and takes out a knife, cutting himself free. Well shit. At least he’s dropped the gun, though.
The man runs at me swinging the knife, and I grab his hand, only for him to grab my arm and flip me over his shoulder, slamming me into the concrete. All breath leaves me in a rush. The stranger looms over me, knife raised, the blade gleaming in the city lights from the alley entrance.
Is this it? Is this how Spider-man goes down?
The man puts his boot on my chest, preventing me from getting up. He raises his knife to attack, and I close my eyes—
SLAM.
My eyes open and I see something ram into the stranger’s chest, forcing him backwards into some garbage cans.
“What the hell?” I mutter, but cut off as I see what just hit the man. A round shield, with a star in the center.
Holy shit.