The List
A few days later, the following Sunday, I sit in the compound with Ned, MJ, and Mr. Stark in the lab. Ned and MJ were allowed to come here to help look into my parent’s…murder, and I think Ned is about to spontaneously combust from excitement. MJ is thoroughly unimpressed, but I expected that much. It’s awesome how nothing fazes her. Still, I can tell she’s a bit excited, especially earlier, when she stammered introducing herself to Ms. Romanov. Black Widow has been her hero for a long time.
Now, I dangle from a web on the ceiling, looking upside down at the other three as we surround a hologram listing all that we know about my parents so far. It’s not much, and most of it is just information about their lives. Right now, I’m more interested in how they died. Mostly who did it.
“So we know it was murder,” MJ says, biting her lip.
“Yeah,” I say in agreement. “The question is—”
“Who did it?” Mr. Stark finishes, swiping through internet articles and photos. “We can rule out plenty of suspects. They didn’t divulge their research with many people. I think they had plans to do that later, if they’d lived.”
“So whoever killed them wanted their research?” I ask.
“Probably,” Ned says. “I mean, it’s like, the biggest reason for stuff like this. Someone was probably jealous.”
Mr. Stark speaks up, saying, “Your parents didn’t make many enemies. They were nice people, made friends easily.”
I hum in agreement, pulling a tab over to me and flipping it upside down to read it. It’s an article from Wikipedia about Richard and Mary Parker. I scroll through it until I get to the part about their work. The biggest thing I can glean from it is Oscorp.
“What if whoever did it worked as Oscorp? They’d know about my parent’s research, maybe jealous enough to…kill them,” I say.
Mr. Stark nods. “That’s smart, actually.” A bubble of warmth builds in my chest at his praise. “FRI, pull up a list of all Oscorp employees.”
A hologram tab appears in front of Mr. Stark, and he scrolls through it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s find out how many of these people knew your parents. FRIDAY, eliminate all who didn’t have a close connection to Richard and Mary Parker.”
His list nearly vanishes, narrowing down to two names. Mr. Stark sighs deeply, pushing the list over to me. I flip it upside down, and my heart nearly stops.
Dr. Curtis Connors. Norman Osborn. Those are the only two names on the list.
“So they’re both suspects?” I say softly. “But…they’re both so nice.”
“You never know,” Ned says, sounding unsure. “But from what you said, they don’t sound evil. Maybe the list is wrong.”
“Trust me, FRIDAY is never wrong,” Mr. Stark says. “Most of the time.”
“Hey,” the AI says. “I take offense at that.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” Mr. Stark says. “But Pete, at this point we have to consider everyone a suspect.”
“But, I don’t understand. Why would either of them do something like this? They were my parents’ friends. Really close,” I say.
Mr. Stark takes a heavy breath. “I know, Pete. But…”
“I know.” With a grimace, I open a new file and type the names in. “All right, consider this our list of suspects.” I flip it right side up and send it over to Mr. Stark, Ned, and MJ. “What do you guys think?”
“I think it’s short,” MJ says. “Are we sure about this?”
“As sure as we can be. Not many people knew about this research. This stuff was top-secret,” Mr. Stark says. Suddenly he frowns, then curses. “Wait.”
“What?” I say.
“I’ve got one more name we can add.”
“Really? Who?” I perk up.
He closes his eyes, opens them, and says, “James Buchanan Barnes.”
“What?” I drop from the ceiling, landing on my feet. “You can’t be serious.”
“I wish I wasn’t. But we can’t rule out the possibility.”
MJ bites her lip and says, “He’s right. That guy was the world’s top assassin for like, fifty years. Up until really recently. Could he have known about the research?”
“Maybe, but what would he want it for?” I say.
“Weapons, probably. I mean, cross-species genetics? Imagine if you could give a human a lizard’s regeneration abilities, or a cheetah’s speed. It’s weaponizable research,” Mr. Stark answers.
“Do people ever stop trying to make super soldiers?” Ned asks.
“Not really, no.”
“Oh.”
I cross my arms. “I still don’t think Bucky did this.”
“Bucky didn’t do what?” Mr. Rogers’ voice comes from the doorway. All four of us turn to look as Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Wilson enter.
“Um, hey guys,” I say, foot tapping nervously. Having Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark in the same room these days is never a good idea.
“Oh, nothing, we just think your Bucky over there may have killed Peter’s parents,” Mr. Stark says.
Case in point.
Mr. Rogers blinks and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you what?”
“Sorry,” I say, stepping in before Mr. Stark can. “It’s just uh, my parents were really smart geneticists, and we just uh…have to consider all the suspects.” My voice trails off until I’m barely whispering.
Mr. Rogers looks from me to Mr. Stark. “And let me guess, you put this idea in his head Tony?”
Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows. “And so what if I did?”
“So, it means that—”
“Hey,” Mr. Barnes puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.”
“Yes, it is.” He sighs. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened when I was under HYDRA’s control. There’s no telling who I did and didn’t kill.”
At his side, Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “Hate to admit it, but Bucky’s right.”
“What?” Mr. Rogers says, turning to him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Look, we all know Bucky did a lot of bad stuff in the past. He could have done this too.”
Mr. Rogers takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. “Fine. But first, you four have to tell me what’s really going on here. What are we trying to do?” He looks from Mr. Stark, to me, to Ned, to MJ.
I nod and begin to explain. I tell him everything from my parents’ disappearance when I was four to meeting Dr. Connors and Mr. Osborn. Mr. Rogers keeps a stoic expression throughout it all, but I see something like empathy in his eyes when I talk about my parents’ disappearance.
“Jeez,” Mr. Wilson says when I finish. “Sorry, kid. That’s rough.”
“Thank you,” I say, bowing my head. “I just um, really want to find out what happened, if that makes sense.”
Mr. Rogers nods. “That makes sense. If I was in your shoes, I’d do the same thing.”
“Oh?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
“Yeah.”
“So you have to consider me a suspect,” Mr. Barnes says quietly. Begrudgingly, I nod.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay. I understand,” he says.
“Well, good.” Mr. Stark claps his hands together. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get back to work kids.” He looks at me and my friends.
My phone dings in my pocket, and I jump. I pull it out, and bite my lip.
“Actually Mr. Stark, I think we should be getting back,” I say.
“Already?” he asks, then look at his watch. “Oh, yeah. Okay then uh, Happy can take you home.”
“Thank you,” I say, then begin walking out. On my way, I look at Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Wilson, and say again, “Thank you guys too.”
Mr. Barnes gives me a nod.
In moments, Ned, MJ and I are walking out of the compound and getting into Happy’s car.
“Well that didn’t go as bad as I thought it would,” MJ says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, getting Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the same room. They didn’t immediately start a fist fight. I’m impressed. “
A smile finds its way onto my face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You first,” I say, gesturing for her to get in the car. She does, and Ned follows. I’m about to get in, and that’s when I feel it.
A slight tingle on the back of my neck.
I straighten and look around. Nothing. Huh. Shrugging, I get in the car.
“So how’d it go?” Happy asks as we drive down the highway, passing car after car.
“Pretty all right,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. That tingle still hasn’t gone away. Usually that means my spider sense is telling me about danger, but I can’t think of anything that could go wrong right now. In fact, today’s been good. Maybe it’s not working right now.
I lean against the window and stare at a black car adjacent to us. A man with pale skin and dark hair drives it, and he catches me looking at him. He gives a small smile, and I give one back.
Then he pulls out a gun.
“Get down!” I shout. Happy swerves as the man fires. We slam into another car, the impact slamming us all together. I turn and look at the pale man with the gun, and gasp as he yanks out the pin on a grenade, then tosses it toward us.
Before I have a chance to shout, it explodes.