Theft of a Life

Ch9

"Where you from? You remind me of someone,"

"I was going to ask her that last night, actually," May notes quietly.

"I need a freaking tape recorder tonight- I don't know,"

"May, what do you think?" Stark glances to her as he sorts through some files and types something on one of his weird tables.

May sighs and runs a hand through her hair, staring at me, before nodding.

"Do it,"

"Done," Stark declares, half-jogging over to a printer and handing me some papers.

"Sonder Elizabeth Mainard, congratulations on your new foster home," Stark says. The top paper is a birth certificate, making me 15. Foster home.

"Better than Elaine," I stick my tongue out at Peter.

"May, congrats on getting licensed in the hideous state of New York as a foster parent!" May nods, biting her lip. She seems...nervous. This means May is my legal guardian. And that if I leave, she can send the cops after me. It also means that I have a... no. A place to stay.

"Peter, you're still grounded, but you're slightly less grounded if you tell me what you did that the trackers work on Hyperspace over here," Stark points to a rolling chair and crosses his arms to begin chewing out Peter.

I wander a bit, finding myself in some form of kitchen, but it's covered in dirty dishes, mostly coffee mugs. On the fridge is a picture of Peter...standing awkwardly behind a birthday cake with candles saying '15.' This is absolutely golden.

"Peter, why is your birthday cake on Tony Stark's fridge?" I laugh as I call back to the other room.

"Mr Parker is unavailable," Stark shouts back to me. "He's busy being sentenced to life!"

"Come on!" Peter cries. "She's a criminal- it's my job!"

I frown and port back around the corner, on top of one of the tables. I cross my arms at Peter.

"That's a little rude," I pout. Despite the renowned Peter Tingle- as May calls it- he still jumps and squeals like a little girl.

"She's right, you know," Stark points to me. I grin in satisfaction. "But, Parker numero two, the adult- me- is speaking," He points out, calling me number 2. Peter huffs a satisfied breath and makes a face as if he were resisting the temptation to stick his tongue out.

"I don't know if you heard, but Stark Industries- me, again- has been doing quite a bit of funding to cover for some kid who can't keep his hands to..." I tune out Stark, wandering away again and touching things I shouldn't.

On top of a very messy table is an open file, with pictures of... some sort of lab. A dirty one. Underground. In the photos it looks deserted, barren, almost distraught. But it's easy to see it full of people, full of life. So easy...an image that comes unprompted.

My head explodes in pain and...and...memories.

I stumble backwards, trying to get away from it. I feel myself glitching all over the place, knocking into a desk. I focus for a split second long enough to port somewhere with meaning.

"Peter," I barely manage to mumble out the word, my body feeling like it's on fire. My heart is racing, I can't catch a breath, I've never felt so sweaty in my life, I can't think. Flashes like they're from my nightmares. Power. People. Running everywhere. Always terror, but I don't know why. Pain everywhere. These, these are the dreams I can never remember.

"What's wrong with her?" Stark asks. He sounds serious. I'm still glitching everywhere. In and out, trapped in my mind, I slam into a wall.

"Hey, hey, hey," Peter reaches for me cautiously. "I don't know, it's never been this bad before," I stretch out a hand for Peter, looking for something to ground me, but I glitch again before I can touch him. I tuck myself into a corner, my hands scraping at the wall.