Chapter 7
That morning Peter had gotten out of bed and jumped straight into planning. Karen helped him find all the information on Wesley Stubbs that he needed, and now he had the name and address of a law firm—It was ironic to Peter that this man worked as a lawyer of all occupations—written on his cell phone screen in hand.
Peter was walking blindly down the street, his eyes glued to the map on his phone. He followed it until he was standing in front of a large office building, the name of the law firm written in large letters across the front doors.
Peter stayed outside of the building, his hood pulled over his head and his hands in his pockets. He looked at the doors, wondering how easily he could get in. He hadn’t worn his suit because if he had been spotted as Spider-Man it could make the news. Besides, Peter didn’t exactly want Tony to be able to track him at every moment of every day. He was trying to hide in plain sight. It was a smarter ruse than Peter chose to acknowledge, as he still felt pretty obvious standing outside of a law firm in his regular clothes.
It was still early in the day, and Peter stood leaning against the wall outside, watching all the people in suits enter and leave the building. He had Wesley Stubbs’s face memorized, and what frustrated Peter most was that he was a relatively normal looking guy. Peter stood, waiting, constantly checking the time on his phone. It read close to nine in the morning, and Peter assumed that the work day would be beginning at any moment.
When Peter first spotted him walking down the street, he immediately wanted to web the guys hands to his sides and knock him out. The man was going about his life like he hadn’t recently killed a young woman, as if he hadn’t ruined a teenage boys life. Though he chose to leave the situation be, he felt more like observing rather than acting today, anyway. Peter watched Wesley walk up the side walk, and Peter caught his eye. He stared him down until Wesley was forced to look away, giving Peter the confidence that he’d left him with an uneasy feeling.
Peter ultimately decided he wouldn’t follow Wesley into the law firm. He knew he would be denied access to the building the minute he stepped foot inside without any type of ID. So instead, he headed toward the Brooklyn address Karen had given to him.
Peter took his time as he was not in his suit and knew it would be a bad idea to swing through buildings without at least his mask. It didn’t take him long, and Peter soon concluded that Wesley Stubbs walked to and from work. It only took him about twenty minutes to get there, and suddenly he was standing in front of a suburban looking townhouse.
Peter took his plan to the back of the house, because breaking and entering in broad daylight through the front door had him bound to get caught. He went up to the back door of the house, which was locked, but to Peters delight his super strength made it easy to pull open the door and snap the lock in half. He was confident nobody was home, given that all the lights were out and there were no cars left out front. He listened closely once he stepped inside, and no noise came to his ears. Peter pulled the door shut behind him, of course it didn’t close all the way due to the broken lock, but Peter wasn’t too worried. He would be out of there in no time. He chose to ignore that what he was doing was illegal, but he had no criminal intent. He was technically only trespassing.
Peter was brought immediately into the kitchen of the house. It was modern, each the appliances were silver and shiny, as if brand new. Peter took a few steps inside, placing himself in the middle of the kitchen. The counter tops were marble, they looked cold and uninviting. The colour scheme of the room was nearly all grey, it made Peter think about the compound. The difference was that the compound was modern, yet inviting. This room made Peter want to shiver, but maybe that was just because he was in the home of a man who murdered his aunt.
Peter took a closer look at the photos stuck on the fridge, he identified Wesley in a few of the photos, many with a woman Peter determined was his wife. Peter barely took note of the other photos, some with an older couple, some with two small children. He moved on, making his way to the next room of the house.
He found himself entering a living room with two couches, a television set, and a fire place. There were toys scattered around the floor and Peter realized with a sickening feeling that the children in the photos were Wesley’s children. He had a family with lives to raise, yet he was still reckless enough to throw someone else’s away. Peter continued down the hallway, passing a bathroom and what looked like a laundry room. He came to the foyer of the house, to his right was a staircase.
In the foyer sat a small rack with many small pairs of shoes in it. Next to which was another with adult-sized shoes. Peter vaguely noted the absence of keys and jackets on a pair of hooks hung next to the door.
Peter turned away and climbed the stairs to the second floor, landing himself in another hallway. The first door on his right was a little girls room, and Peter stepped foot inside the pink walls. There was a shelf filled with books and toys next to a child-sized bed, and Peter frowned. It was upsetting to Peter that this little girls father had killed his aunt. If her dad went to jail her life could be ruined, she would grow up knowing her dad as a criminal, rather than a father. Peter pushed those thoughts away, leaving the room and making his way back into the hallway.
Down the hall and to his left was another bedroom, Peter stepped in and took note of the grey walls. The bed was a little bigger, probably to fit a ten or eleven year old. Peter looked around the room, figuring it was probably the sons room. He had action figures set up against the window sill. Peter took a closer look, and he immediately recognized a small version of himself as Spider-Man, and a small Iron Man figurine. Peter sighed sadly, and all the anger and hatred he had felt melted away into something vulnerable. He almost felt like crying, but he mentally shook it off, leaving the action figures in their places.
As Peter stepped back into the hallway he considered leaving. There was a family that lived here, and Peter had genuinely toyed with the idea of killing these poor children’s father. He knew how it felt to lose his parents, and he wouldn’t wish it upon anybody. At Peters decision to back off, his following thought was about Tony and what he would do if Peter gave up. Would he welcome Peter back with open arms, or would he hold a grudge?
As Peter was thinking this over in the Stubbs’s empty hallway, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked.
“Shit.” Peter hissed, slipping into the first room he could. He cursed again when he realized it was the bathroom, and there wasn’t a single window in sight.
Peter heard heels clicking against the hardwood floors downstairs, making their way to the back of the house. He thought about the open back door. Shit. How could he get out of this situation?
“Wes?” A voice came from below, calling out into the empty house.
Peter didn’t move.
Peter heard the heels again, this time coming closer to the foyer of the house.
“Hello?”
Peter looked around wildly, figuring his only current option would be to stick himself to the ceiling, but if she found him like that he would have even more explaining to do than he did already.
The sound of heels disappeared, and Peter determined she had discovered his presence. He heard murmuring from the floor below him, and Peter tried to focus, picking out words.
“I think someone is in my home.”
“Shit.” Peter hissed again. He felt panic rise up in his chest, and he stood where he was, trying to even out his breaths. He didn’t know what to do other than pray he got a chance to escape. Peter heard a creaking sound come from what he assumed were the stairs. He was trapped. There was no way for him to get out now without being seen. Peter realized with annoyance that he should have warn his suit.
Peter was busy having an inner freak out when the bathroom door swung open, revealing a petite brunette woman who wouldn’t be so intimidating if it weren’t for the knife she was holding pointed at Peter. He immediately identified her as Wesley Stubbs’s wife from the photographs.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” She snarled, staring him down with hard eyes.
“I- um, Mrs. Stubbs, I can explain.”
She raised her voice then, yelling at Peter. “Explain then, dammit! Who the hell are you!”
Peter flinched, launching into explanation.
“I’m-I’m sorry. My names Peter. My aunt was killed in an accident a few weeks ago and I know it was your husband driving the other car.”
“What the fuck? You don’t know a damn thing about my husband!”
Peter raised his hands in defense, attempting to explain more. But before he could, Mrs. Stubbs continued.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are kid, but I’ve got a weapon, and you don’t. I won’t hesitate to use this damn thing!”
“Whoa, whoa, I’m not here to hurt you, or steal or anything. A few weeks ago I was in the car with my aunt and a drunk driver hit us, sending us into oncoming traffic. We were hit by a semi truck and my aunt was killed. Your husband was the drunk driver of that vehicle, he killed my aunt. I just wanted to get some justice.”
She stepped forward, the knife still pointed at Peters chest. “Justice? Are you serious? What right do you have to come into my home and accuse my husband of murder? Are you kidding me right now? I’ve already called the police on you.”
Peter could feel his breaths getting shallow and erratic, and he suddenly wished he had never left his home that morning.
“I-I’m not accusing you Ma’am. I could call the police too, you know, but I haven’t..yet.”
Mrs. Stubbs raised her voice again, her face was red from anger and Peter could see that the knife in her hands was shaking.
“Who the hell are you to accuse my husband of such a thing?! Huh?! You’re just some stupid kid! My husband would never drink and drive! He has a family for Christ sake, you’re the one breaking the god damn law!” Her chest heaved for breath, her eyes glared daggers at Peter.
Peter raised his voice a notch, attempting to make himself sound less afraid than he actually was.
“I’m not accusing him I know for a fact-“
“You don’t know shit!” She took three steps forward, pressing the tip of the knife into the center of Peters chest, and he froze.
Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore, the only choice he had was to use force on the woman, otherwise he could be injured, or even killed. He didn’t know how strong she was.
Peter stepped quickly to the side, he attempted to push past Mrs. Stubbs, but she whipped around, grazing his arm with the knife. Peter hissed and he watched as blood accumulated on the surface of his skin. It wasn’t very deep and he knew it would heal quickly, but Peter still looked up at her with shocked eyes. Her face still read anger, and Peter lifted his hands to push her backward. Peter wasn’t expecting to use much force, but he sent her backward into the door frame. Mrs. Stubbs screamed out as if Peter had really hurt her, and she landed on the floor with a thud. He didn’t hesitate when he leaped last her, running down the hall and toward the stairs of the house.
Peter heard her get up behind him, but he still fled down the stairs, finding the foyer of the house and yanking the front door open.
Peter was met with two police officers, one with his hand raised to knock on the door.
“Hello, we were given a call regarding a home intruder at this address. Do you have any-“
“That’s him!” A voice behind Peter screeched, and Peter was too shocked at the sight of the two officers in front of him to do anything.
The policeman in front of him adopted a serious expression, and he glanced from Mrs. Stubbs to Peter a few times, looking for come clarification.
“Ma’am can you please explain the situation at hand?”
She stepped forward so she was standing just behind Peter in the doorway, sandwiching him in.
“I came home after dropping my children off at school, and I found the back door open and the lock busted. My husband is at work so after calling for him I realized there was somebody in the house. I called the police immediately since I didn’t know the level of threat on my life. I went upstairs and he started threatening me!“ She cried, obviously trying to gain the officers sympathy. “I tried to get him to stop but he shoved me into the door and ran down here.”
Peter briefly wanted to roll his eyes, but quickly considered the consequences. The police officers nodded their understanding toward Mrs. Stubbs, and then switched their attention to Peter.
“Son, how old are you?”
“Um, 15, sir.”
The policeman reached forward, grabbing Peters arm.
“We’re going to have to detain you until a parent or guardian can get you. Please come with us, and don’t fight it otherwise we’ll just have to cuff you and make things more difficult.”
Peter felt defeated, he didn’t bother to argue. He knew he had no chance and he didn’t think making a run for it was the smartest idea, even if he knew he could get away.
The officers escorted him off the property, and Peter stared at Mrs. Stubbs’s car as they passed it in the driveway. It was a black, 1997 Mazda Protege. The bumper was barely hanging onto the front of the car and there was a clear dent below the right headlight, which was cracked as well. He knew where that car had gotten that damage, he’d felt it ram into the back of Mays old car.
Peter bitterly let the officers push him into the backseat of their police car, the letters NYPD plastered across the side. He felt tears fill his eyes, and he wasn’t sure whether it was due to embarrassment, defeat, or just overall hurt.
To Peters surprise the officers didn’t say much during the drive to the Brooklyn police station. They only asked him standard questions, like his name, where his parents were, and whether or not he was suppose to be in school.
Once Peter was brought to the station, they explained that no matter what the end result was, they would have to detain him.
“At least until a guardian can come and retrieve you.” An officer had told him, her eyes had been filled with disapproval and it had ultimately only served to make Peter feel worse about the situation.
So he sat alone in a cell, with no phone, no keys, no nothing. He didn’t have any cell mates either, and he spent hours sitting on the cold bench, staring at the ground below his feet.
Peter lost track of the time, he answered questions as he was prompted, giving honest answers. He was never questioned about his intent of breaking and entering in the Stubbs property, however, and he had no idea why not.
There was no clock in sight, and Peter stared at the bars in front of him, feeling as if he had finally reached an all time low. It must have been hours later when an officer finally approached his cell again, making it sometime in the late afternoon.
The officer that addressed him was a young woman, she had kind eyes and she looked as if she pitied Peters situation.
“It’s Peter, right?” She asked, offering him a polite smile. He nodded solemnly, opting to stand up from his spot on the bench.
“We’ve reached out to your guardian...Mr. Tony Stark? At his request you will be held overnight. He will be here in the morning to retrieve you and take you home.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “No Tony’s not- he’s not my guardian.”
She took a look at the file in her hands, reading over it for confirmation. “I have it listed that he filed for legal guardianship a few weeks ago.”
“What? Is that even allowed?”
She nodded, offering to explain. “If your parent or guardian who passed recently put his name in his or her will, then he is legally allowed to file for guardianship over you, as you are a minor and would be put through an orphanage system without a guardian. It’s a good thing, Peter. You’re lucky to have someone to look out for you.”
Peter shrugged, not really feeling the luck she was talking about. In fact, Peter felt quite the opposite. He felt like he had just tripped and fallen into a well of bad luck.
“He specifically requested for me to be held overnight?”
“Yes. It’s not uncommon for parents to request such a thing. It’s typically meant to teach the child a lesson.” She shrugged, showing Peter that she didn’t quite agree with the method.
This time Peter did roll his eyes, and the officer in front of him chuckled.
“Don’t worry Peter, it’ll go by quickly. I’ll come by again to see how you’re doing later and check if you need anything.”
“Thank you, officer...”
“Nicholson.”
She turned away, leaving Peter to himself in his cell. He took a seat again, thinking about what the hell he was suppose to do for twelve or more hours, and what the hell Tony was going to say about this.