Spider-Gwen

Chapter 4: Investigating

Gwen tried to keep her breath steady as her father, Captain George Stacey, pushed open the door to his office. Thankfully for her, his attention was diverted for the moment, focused solely on the phone that he had tucked against his ear.

"Yes, yes I hear you," he said in to the mobile, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot. In his arms he carried a thick stack of papers and folders.

His eyes fell onto Gwen, and he frowned, but kept his tone level.

"Don't worry Mr Cunningham," he reassured whoever was at the other end of the line, "I can assure you that it will be found as soon as we can."

He deposited the stack onto his desktop, and pulled the phone from his ear.

"Hung up," he tutted, and slid the phone into the interior pocket of his jacket.

"Who was that?" Gwen inquired, hoping that her tone sounded innocent, and desperately trying to keep the folder currently hidden in her bag, out of mind.

"His house was just broken into last night," Captain Stacy explained, leaning down to rifle through the pile he just dumped down, "He's been on my back ever since, insisting that I deal with this case personally. Something about a family ring that he must get back." He extracted a thin brown file and tucked it into the 'out' shelf of his paperwork trays.

"So what are you doing here, in my office?" he said, one eyebrow twitching upwards.

"I was, ya know, around," Gwen explained, "thought I'd just come see you." It occurred to her that the school and the precinct weren't, in reality, that close. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Right," he said, a slight smile twitching across his lips, "Well, I don't have anything else to do here, so how about I drive us home?"

Otto Octavius had retreated to his office to close out his day. He had always been the last of the Research and Development team to leave, however these days, he was uncomfortable being in the laboratory on his own.

It was better this way, really. His office didn't see too much use, far too much of his time was consumed by his lab work.

He drifted over to the window. The sun had withdrawn behind a bank of clouds. He could just about make out a few people below, making their way home. His eyes rose to the skyline. Out there was a cell, and he was in there. Somewhere. Otto shivered, and turned away from the window.

He nearly leapt out of his skin. Osborne was stood in the doorway, arms folded, leaning against the frame.

"Hello Otto."

"M- m- Mr Osborne," Otto stammered, hurrying back to his desk, trying to regain his composure. Osborne didn't seem to acknowledge his shock, or his greeting. Instead, he sauntered into the office, and made his way to the window. He stared out at the skyline, his gaze steely.

"Still here Otto?" Norman asked, his tone even, but edging onto cold. "Good. Your dedicationis inspiring."

Otto swallowed, feeling like he shifted a boulder from his throat. "How- how can I help you?"

Osborne blinked slowly. Otto noticed a muscle was twitching in Osborne's jaw. He'd seen Norman angry before, and never wished to again, but this tension was new. And worrying.

"I have," Osborne started slowly, his gaze still firmly fixed to the horizon, "a job for you."

"A j- a- a job?" Otto stuttered. His hand gripped the back of his office chair, and his nail was scratching at the top of the cushion.

"Yes Otto," Norman snapped. Otto shrank away. It seemed whatever was weighing on Osborne's mind had got his temper flaring. Osborne closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled through his nose.

"This... Project," he continued, "is a family matter. So I assume you will act with discretion." Osborne reached a hand inside his suit jacket, and withdrew a small brown envelope. Completely unmarked.

"Here," Norman said, and held the envelope put for Otto to take. He stumbled forward and grabbed it. He opened it, and his eyes scanned the contents. He felt his nerves rise, causing his stomach to churn.

"Mr Os- Sir," Otto gasped, "This- I can't-"

Osborne glared at Otto out of the corner of his eye, and Otto cowered away, falling silent.

"Remember Octavius," Osborne said, his tone low and dangerous, "Valuable as you may be, no one is irreplaceable." He turned to leave, crossing the room on a few strides. He turned as he reached the doorway.

"I expect prompt results."

He left, once again leaving Otto alone in the office. Otto released a breath that he'd been holding since he took hold of the envelope, and sank into his chair. He dropped the file onto his desk, and put his head in his hands.

Captain Stacy's car pulled up onto the driveway of their house. The sun was still bright above, but had passed the apex of its journey across the sky, and begun it's slow sink towards the horizon.

Gwen sat in the passenger seat, one hand locked around the strap of her bag, the other resting on the inside of the door. She reached down for the door handle, and her fingers brushed against it, when her father spoke.

"Not... Hold on a second, Gwen."

She withdrew her hand, and turned to look at her father. He'd half twisted around in his seat, his body facing her, but his eyes lingered on their house through the windscreen.

"Everything okay?" Gwen inquired, trying to keep her tone innocent, even as her heart leapt into her throat.

Her father heaved a sigh, and rested his gaze onto her. "I had a phone call from school earlier. From Professor Warren."

"Oh." She felt her knuckles clench on the bag strap, and she swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

"He's... A little concerned," her father said. One hand was resting on the steering wheel, and his fingers were drumming lightly on it. "He said you're not in trouble," he continued, "Just some unprecedented- no, unusual behaviour. From you."

His gaze was meeting hers, and his voice was calm, and even; not accusatory or angry. That at least made it a little easier.

"Yeah, uh," Gwen started, running her free hand through her hair, "I uh, missed some homework, and was late earlier. Like, pretty late. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," He reassured her, placing one hand on her shoulder, "We're just looking out for you. We only want the best from you."

"Yeah," A smile twitched the corner of Gwen's lips. "I guess I'm having some problems coming back after summer," she shrugged, "You know?"

"All right then," Her father seemed satisfied. Or at least, willing enough to take her at her word to drop the issue for now. "If you do have any problems though, you would come and tell me, yeah?"

Gwen met his eyes, and smiled. As if she could tell him exactly what was going on. "Of course."

"Okay," He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and then pulled his hand back. "These next few years are so important Gwen. You're going to have to make some critical choices soon. You'll need to know what's important to you."

"Yeah," Gwen said, her smiling slipping a little. Her gaze dropped, and she turned to stare out the windshield.

"So," Her father clapped his hands, and pushed open his car door, "How would you like Chinese tonight?"

Night had long ago closed in, and Gwen and her father had said their goodnights, and retreated to their bedrooms. A half eaten box of Chinese takeout sat on Gwen's desk, partially covering the, already late, homework that she had yet to start. Next to them was the police file she had taken, and her mask. She had spent the last hour or so poring over it, trying to glean any useful details from the rather sparse arrest report. She had managed to attain Toomes' home address, and the police building in which he was currently held.

Gwen stood in the middle of her room, pulling on her costume. She had some investigations of her own to make tonight.

She cracked open her bedroom door, and out her ear to the gap, listening intently. Her fathers snoring rumbled through his closed door, and she nodded to herself. The coast was clear.

Grabbing her mask from off her desk, she crossed her room in a few strides, and pushed open her bedroom window. The night air flooded in, still faintly warm from the sun of the day earlier. She pulled her mask over her hair, one foot one the window sill. She threw a guilty glance over at the homework on her desk, and then pulled her mask down, and she was gone, away into the night.

It took her the best part of an hour to reach Toomes' address. He lived in an apartment block, one of many that dotted the city. It wasn't much to look at. Shabby, and old, with peeling wallpaper and damp woodwork.

She had scaled the soot-stained brickwork up to Toomes' floor, and mananged to slip into the corridor through an unlocked window.

It was gloomy inside. Only a few of the ceiling lights still worked, and they did little to combat the darkness of the night. Gwen had concealed herself in the shadows of the ceiling. Toomes' apartment door was at the other end of the corridor. Since his arrest, an officer had been stationed outside, keeping watch for anything, or anyone, unexpected.

Luckily for her, there was only an empty chair, sat just outside the door. A faint voice from the stairwell, and the occasional tendril of cigarette smoke were the only evidence that someone was here at all.

Silently, Gwen crept towards the door, taking care to skirt as close to the wall as she could when she passed the lights, so her shadow wouldn't give her away. With one hand, she pushed the door open, and cambered inside. With one foot, she gently pushed the door shut, and, when she was sure she was alone still, dropped to the floor.

She landed lightly on the dusty carpet, small clouds billowing around her boots. She had to work quickly. There was no telling whether someone else would turn up to investigate. The problem was she had no idea what to look.

She cast her gaze around, hoping for inspection on where to start to strike her. The appartment was small, cramped even. Only two rooms, separated by a partition wall. One was a tiny kitchen, with a single chair and table squeezed up against the wall. The other was a makeshift bedroom, made up of a dresser drawer and sofa bed. She grimaced. It wasn't surprising that Toomes' had gone over the edge. Anyone would probably go mad living in a place like this.

She tugged a small flashlight off her leg. She'd stuck it to her thigh with a small amount of webbing. She clicked it on, and it threw a small circle of light into the room. She sighed, and got to work.

It took her a few hours to search everywhere, taking care to be thorough, but also to leave as little trace that she'd been there as possible. However, she hadn't turned up anything. Any hiding or even storage spots, what little this apartment had, had yeilded nothing. She had unearthed a few unfinished research papers, but they were all from over a decade ago.

Currently, Gwen was led on her stomach next to the sofa bed. The flashlight was on the ground next to her, and she was reaching into the gap beneath the furniture. There was a small box that was tucked under, just out of Gwen's reach. It was the last thing she had to search. Gwen stretched her arm and fingers as far as they would go, and her fingertips brushed the corner of the box. But that was enough, as her grip latched on.

"Finally," she muttered, and dragged the box from it's hiding place. She took it in both hands, and sat back, so she was squatting with the box on her lap. She tugged the lid off, releasing a small cloud of dust into the air.

Inside was... What looked like photographs. Hundreds of them. Gwen's brow furrowed. Why had they been hidden under the couch? Judging by the dust, these hadn't been touched for quite a while. She rifled through, not even sure what she was looking for.

One photo caught her eye. While the rest were still in fairly good condition, this one in particular looked a little more worn. She slid it out. It was what looked like a graduation photo. The edges of the photo were creased, and the colors had been bleached a little. It was Toomes. Even back when this photo was taken, he looked a bird of prey. It looked like he was smiling, but the damage made it hard to tell.

There was someone with him. A shorter figure, with dark hair, and thick glasses. He had a hand on Toomes' shoulder, and looked ecstatic. Even the faded colors couldn't hide that.

Gwen scowled down at the photo, her mind racing. Who was this? This photo must be important. It was so much more dog eared than all the others, it had probably been framed at some point judging by the bleaching.

After a moment, she folded the photo in half, and stuck it securely to her thigh, along with the flashlight. She slid the lid back onto the box, and shoved back into its hiding place. She stood, and cast her gaze around the room. She could continue looking, but whether it would yeild anything was another matter. Besides, she'd already been here for hours, and it was a miracle she hadn't been discovered yet.

She crossed to the window, and pushed it open. The cold night air roughed in to greet her, and her gulped it down. After spending so long here, she hadn't realised how stal the air was. She cambered through, and perched on the sill. After a brief glance over her shoulder, she pushed herself forwards, and was away.

A moment later, the door to the apartment swung open. A police officer strolled in, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He lazily scanned the room, his eyes stopping for a moment on the disturbed dust around the couch, and then the open window. He retrieved a bulkly cell phone from a pouch on his chest. It only took him a moment to dial, and was answered only a second later.

"Officer Davis," he spoke into the receiver, leaning forwards out of the open window, "I've been watching the VIP's apartment."

He listened, the voice on the other was speaking. The tip of his tongue ran across his bottom lip.

"Yeah," he said after a moment, "Yeah they've been." He turned away from windo, his back now to the night sky. "Don't worry. Couldn't have found anything. Anything was left behind here has already been uh, taken care of."

Another pause. Officer Davis' eyes tracked across the apartment again. "Yeah, I got this under control. And if anything else happens, you'll be the first to know."

Gwen wasn't where she should go from here. Toomes' apartment had been something of a bust, revealing barely anything about the man who had lived there. And while she had obtained the photo, until she knew who it was that was in it, that was a dead end as well. And so, she had come back here, to her father's precinct.

Not to the front door though, as she had before. A few years ago, this precinct building had been expanded. A promise made by the mayor for more aggressive arrest rates had meant that already overcrowded cells couldn't handle the influx of the newly arrested. And thus, several precincts had been expanded to relieve the pressure, with cell blocks being added to almost every police office in the city.

Her father's precinct was one such office. She had hoped she wouldn't have to come here. The less time she spent around any police building in costume, the less chance of getting caught. And she imagined that hanging around the cells wouldn't be a particularly good look.

But, it was her last chance to find anything out. This was where Toomes was being held, as he awaited his trial. After finding dead ends everywhere else, maybe the man himself could illuminate some things.

The window below her was his cell. She had found him not long after she arrived, but hadn't found the courage to get his attention yet. When she had spotted him, he was simply lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Gwen sighed heavily through her nose, and swung down over the edge of the roof. She slid down the wall, stopping herself once she was level with the window. Although, it would be more accurate to descripe it as a square hole, with thick, heavy iron bars sunk into the bricks. After a moment, Gwen called out.

"Toomes."

Toomes started, and looked around. After a brief search, his eyes fell on Spider-Woman, hanging outside the cell. He sat up, and pushed himself from the bed.

"It's you." His tone was flat. No anger, no resentment, just nothing. He strode across the room to the window, and stood before it, his arms folded. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help you," Gwen replied, shifting away subtly. She may be here to try to help him, but he had already proven he was good at getting weapons where they weren't supposed to be, so keeping out of arms reach for now wasn't a bad idea.

"Help me?" He scoffed, raising an eyebrow, "Why would you want to help me? You put me here."

"This doesn't feel right," Gwen said. Toomes tutted and stepped away from the window, out of sight. Unabated, Gwen continued. "I know what I've been told, and what the news has said. I don't think it adds up. So I want to hear it from you."

"How can I trust you?" Toomes voice came from inside the cell, "How do I know this isn't Osborne just trying to mock me?"

Gwen sighed. "I guess you can't. But if you want to get your side out there, you have to. I'm not Oscorp. I'm not the Police. I'm the only chance you've got." She reached out, and took hold of one of the bars, gazing into the cell. "Please," she added softly.

A belaboured sigh came from inside, and the sound of Toomes slumping against the wall. "Fine."

And so he explained, and Gwen listened. To everything. About Techflight, and about Osborne. After a while, he feel silent. Gwen had retreated from the window, and was sat with her back to the wall, her feet flat against the brickwork to keep her in place.

"And that's everything," Toomes spoke

His voice was slightly hoarse from talking for so long.

"Oh my God..." Gwen whispered, "I had no idea."

"Well," Toomes said, as he cambered to his feet, "Now you know."

"I do," Gwen murmured, her mind racing.

"I don't even know why I told you," Toomes sighed, as he sat on the edge of his bed, "It won't help."

Gwen leaned around, and grabbed ahold of the bars again. "Why don't you tell them? Surely-"

"Why?" Toomes interrupted, raising his gaze to the window, "It wouldn't change anything."

"But, your trial," Gwen protested, "You should say! It wouldn't be fair if-"

Toomes burst out laughing, but there humor to it. Just bitterness and anger.

"Fair? Oh you must be younger under that mask than I thought, so naive." He shook his head, and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Fair doesn't matter. This is Osborne."

"But-" Gwen tried to interject, but Toomes ignored her.

"I'm old already. So, to be honest, I'd be suprised if I saw the outside of a cell before I die. But I doubt it."

"Then," Gwen asked, "Why tell me?"

Toomes breathed heavily though his nose, keeping his eyes to the ground. "I don't know."

Silence fell again. It felt oppressive this time.

"You should go," Toomes spoke after a time, "I'm done talking."

"But-"

"Just... Go," Toomes said, turning his head away from the window, "Leave me be."

"Okay," Gwen breathed. She retreated from the window, returning to how she had been sat before. The rough brickwork scratched at her back. She looked towards the sky. The moon shone high above, its silvery light, its silvery light piercing through the New York pollution.

She stared up at it flor a moment, as she allowed her thoughts to gather and coalesce. There was more she wanted to ask, including the photo secured to her leg, but she let it go. Pressing him further didn't seem like a wise idea; he may just decide he's through talking for good.

After another few moments, she released her grip on the wall, and silently dropped down into the shadows below.

It took her nearly an hour to return home. While she could have made the journey back in much less time, shed lingered on the rooftops as she made her way across the city. Her mind was still racing, and refused to stop no matter how many times she attempted to straighten out her thoughts.

She cambered through the still open window to her bedroom. It was still as she had left it. It would seem her father hadn't noticed she'd been gone. She pulled of her mask, and tossed it onto the bed, then sank into the chair behind her desk. She tugged the photo from her thigh and examined it again. Two people. One of them was definitely Toomes, but the other... Maybe finding out who they were could be a major piece of the puzzle. But for now, it would have to wait. She slid open one of her desk drawers, and tucked the photo beneath a pile of old school books, and then pushed the drawer shut.

The still incomplete homework in her desk seemed to glare up at her. Gwen sighed. Her body cried out for sleep, but she had her regular life to attend to. She forcibly shoved the Toomes information to the back of her mind. Taking a pen from her desk, and supporting her head in her other hand, she gazed down at the text book in front of her. She twirled the pen between her fingers, and got to work.


I finished another chapter. Hooray. Go me. Argh.