Peter shook the large man in front of him's hand. His heart was beating so much faster, so much louder, than normal. He had been given limited information on this guy. There were only pictures and Aidan's words to go off of. But the giant was so much bigger and so much stronger than what he'd been told.
This plain guy was sure as hell going to give him a run for his money if they were to fight right then and there.
"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, sir," Peter gave an award winning smile. He had that power to give the most confident of grins even in compromising situations. Such as the very one he was in now.
The man squeezed Peter's hand just the slightest bit tighter, making the teenager flinch slightly, "The pleasure's all mine."
There was a hostility in his voice. This man knew so much more than he was letting on. Maybe he knew Peter lied about not having a clue as to what this company was really behind. Or maybe it was that he knew about Peter's other identity. But as far as Peter knew, only one other person knew, and that was the girl who was telling him exactly what to say and do in the present moment.
"I should really get going now. Have a nice day, sir," Peter charmed his way out. He was given a curt nod before he made his way out of the room.
Any normal person would've left and then evaluated their performance during their interview. But since when was Peter Parker normal? He, instead, went straight to the bathroom on that level. He slipped out of his clothes and pulled his mask over his head. Peter then jumped up into the vents, pushing his clothes to the side and making a mental note to go back and get them later.
"Still able to see, Sunshine?" Peter whispered as he silently crawled his way through the ventilation system. He was headed straight back to the office he'd just left a few seconds ago.
"Yeah," she mumbled, her eyes darting in between the three girls that had just entered the café and her computer screen. "Listen, Peter, I might not be able to talk to you at all for the next few minutes. I'm leaving the place I got lunch and relocating back to my apartment."
Peter furrowed his brows, "Why are you leaving so suddenly? Can't you just wait until our mission's over to go back?"
"'Cause," she started to answer, eyes never once leaving the group. "People."
"People..." Peter murmured. Underneath his mask, he was rolling his eyes. Even he, the least social of them all, wouldn't have been abandoning his partner on a mission because of people. "Wow, such a great reason."
"Shut up," she mumbled, crumbling up the napkins and whatever else she used onto the plate she was given. "It's people from our school. And besides, I can still hear you. Not much can go down in the four or five minutes that I can't see you." He was being irrational over this whole thing.
...Right?
Peter sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Do whatever you want."
So she did. She closed the lid to her laptop and slid it inside her bag. There was now voices wherever Peter was watching them from in the vent. One was obviously King Pin's, but the other— no, others, she had trouble making out. But it wasn't important. If it was anybody who was a somebody to her, Peter would tell her.
She threw her bag over her shoulder and made way straight for the door. She didn't even bother to wave goodbye to the employees like she normally would. Cairo had taught her to do that. He said it was a little rude if she didn't. Instead, her eyes were to the ground, and she was subtly covering her face with whatever she could.
"Oh, y/n!" a sweet voice called her over.
"Shit," she cursed under her breath. She forced a smile onto her face, angling her head so it was level, "Hey, Liz! Funny seeing you here, huh?"
She heard Peter muffle a laugh in her ear, "Never mind what I said about you and people. You had the right to get up and leave."
Liz nodded, "You leaving?"
"Yeah," she got a nod on return as y/n smoothed out her shirt a little. "I was running a few errands and just stopped by here real quick for lunch. But I've taken a while, so I should really be on my way if I want to be back at my home before sundown."
She was praying Liz would take the hint that she did not want to talk to her.
"Oh, really? That's too bad. You could've sat and ate with us," Liz gestured to her other two friends.
She could only recognize one. In third grade, the brunette one on the right of Liz had shoved her down the slide. Not the fondest of memories. The other one was either in a different grade or from a completely different school. Even though she didn't have people swarming her 24/7, y/n was still a pretty popular person within their school.
The fake smile never once left her face, "Yeah, it is."
Then there was a tense silence. If she walked out right then and here, she would be considered rude. If Liz didn't say good bye, she would be considered rude. Who was going to take the first action?
"FUCK!" Peter yelled in her ear, causing her to flinch slightly.
Looks like Liz didn't have to do anything.
She gave one final forced smile before turning off to go straight to the exit.
Peter hadn't been paying attention to what was going on at the other end of the line since the last time he'd gotten a direct response from his partner. He didn't care about Liz or how un-smooth their interaction was going to go. Peter was in enemy territory after all; he didn't exactly want to die from listening to some awkward conversation and not paying attention to his surroundings.
But it didn't matter what he did. He was destined to be found out either way.
The vents had proved to not be sturdy.
So now, here Peter was. Running with the most panicked of looks on his face, and an army of guards right on his tail. Oh, how he wished he was the one that could've had the strained conversation at a café instead of the one running through an unfamiliar building with an unresponsive partner.
He took a sharp turn, using one of his hands to help him when he almost fell to the ground. Peter was determined to get away. He had to. He'd make sure of it— no matter the cost.
"Oh, shit."
But then Peter hit a dead end. In front of him was a wall with a painted picture of what he assumed was the construction leading up to the marvelous building he was currently stranded in. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footsteps of his pursuers, making his heart pump faster and louder within his chest. His palms had started to get sweaty underneath his suit; as had the rest of his body. Nerves were starting to take over.
His head shot in all directions, looking for a new angel to approach his escape "plan" with. Then his eyes glued to the ceiling tiles.
Call it cliché, but that was the only thing he could think of in his high pressure situation. He jumped up, gluing his fingers to the nearest tile. Both his feet swung up to the same one while one of his other hands reached for the tile to the left of it. He pulled the board back, slipping into the ceiling and sliding the tile back into place.
He did a pretty good job of covering up his tracks. Right in the nick of time too, for security had made it to the edge of the corner right as he put the tile back in place. Peter was so glad he was a lucky son of a bitch. Had he not been, who knows where he'd be?
"Where'd he go?!" the one leading the pack searched around with a vicious look.
Peter panted in the ceiling. He sat with an exhausted look, one hand coming up to pull off his mask. It had to have been at least 100 degrees celsius right now. Right? It was way too hot in that building for the vents to not be blasting out scorching hot air. Peter was on the verge of passing out from heat exhaustion at that point.
The hand that wasn't already tightly clutching on to his mask was over the wound he'd gotten. Well, less gotten, and more so reopened. His stitches had managed to bust sometime during his great escape plan.
Maybe Peter as much of a "lucky son of a bitch" as he'd thought moments prior.
He started to crawl his way through the ceiling as quietly as he could. Peter didn't quite know which way he'd originally came from, but he could just barely navigate his way to the nearest vent system.
When he got inside that, everything got just a bit easier. Even if the maze had been the very reason for his downfall to begin with, he still felt better when he was inside them. His information was vague on where certain paths lead to, but he knew them just a little more than he did the ceiling itself.
As he'd promised himself, Peter lapped back around to where he left his clothes. He clutched his wound in one hand, and his mask, clothes, and glasses in the other.
"What's wrong?" she asked as soon as she'd had the chance to make it a block away from the café. Her brows furrowed as her nails started to press into the palms of her hands, "Parker, are you okay?"
"No; I need you," Peter rasped, jumping down into an empty conference room. He wobbled his way over to the window, forcing it open by throwing his shoulder into it. "Listen, my stitches opened back up, and I'm being chased. I'm about to escape through a window about seven floors from the ground. And I'm—" Peter was cut off when he heard her start to ask him questions.
His teeth ground together, and his brows furrowed, "Y/n! I'm not finished." Peter took in a deep breath to calm himself. He was getting frustrated with himself, and he was taking it out on the wrong person. "I'm sorry— I just—" Peter sighed. "Meet me in The Alley."
She started to ask him something, "Peter—"
"Please..." Peter whispered. He started to climb onto the windowsill. "Just do it."
"Alright."
"Thank you. I'll be there in a few."