She gathered her supplies and made the trek into the building. Nobody moved to stop her as she strolled past security and let herself into the stairwell. Three flights up, a left turn, second door on the right. She pulled the mop out of the bucket and made her way around the lab, then once more, dusting the surfaces. An hour later, she walked right out of the front door unopposed, bag full of priceless tech.
She was almost offended it had been so easy.
~
"I heard there was an attack," Natasha said quietly as she joined Tony where he was nursing a mug of coffee. "Was anybody hurt?"
"No, thank goodness. But over three million dollars worth of tech and numerous patents have been taken."
"Is there any footage?"
"None. The camera circuits were tripped for an hour, and in that time all the tech disappeared. Security said they didn't see anyone suspicious come in the front, and none of the employees with access to that floor were meant to be in at that time."
"Do you think it was Stickyfingers?" Bruce was sat across the table, listening intently.
"It had to be. I just wish I knew how they did it, especially even after I got that tip-off and installed all the extra security measures."
"Unless they already knew about the security and were able to avoid it."
Tony scowled, immediately realising what Natasha was implying. "It wasn't him."
"Do you know where he was last night?"
"At home, I'd imagine, although I can't say I keep a tracker on him at all times." He did, actually, but Nat didn't need to know that. Peter had been very clear about not wanting SHIELD to know his identity, and Tony agreed, which meant telling as few people as possible about Spider-Man.
"So you have no proof."
"Nat, I know he's not Stickyfingers."
"How?"
"He's my intern!"
"And? He obviously has enhancements, including the same rare mutation that the thief has. It's the obvious conclusion."
"Who are you talking about?" Bruce looked between them with confusion.
"Peter. You don't know him," Tony dismissed.
"Peter?"
"Peter!"
Peter's head jolted up. He must have dozed off in the middle of class - it had been a late night spent searching in vain for the real Stickyfingers so he could prove his innocence to the Black Widow who still obviously thought he was the thief.
"Glad to see you've joined us again, Mr Parker. Now, as I was saying..." Usually there would be a round of snickers but now everyone just stared at him. Ever since the trip to Stark Industries earlier in the week, whispers had followed him in the halls. After all, his entire class had seen him stick to a specially designed trap for an infamous thief and be escorted forcefully away with a bag over his head, only to rejoin the class twenty minutes into the lecture.
He'd given a basic explanation to the first person who asked what had happened - some kind of malfunction had caused the chemical trap to work on him, and they'd let him go after realising their mistake. Still, it would take a while for all the speculation to die down; he'd overheard rumours ranging from him actually being Stickyfingers to being some kind of mutant or alien in disguise.
"Ugh," he complained as he got his bag out of his locker at the end of the day.
"That bad, huh?" MJ raised her brows from behind her own locker door.
"Ugh," he agreed.
Away from the prying questions and unshakable stares of his classmates, Peter felt himself starting to relax on the walk home. He put in his earbuds and tuned out of the world as he swayed with the rhythm of the train. It was only when he got off at his station that he became aware of the prickling of his spider sense. He was being followed.
Thinking quickly, Peter changed his route so he led his stalker to an abandoned park instead of his house. He sat down on a bench and waited. A minute later, the Black Widow sat down next to him. He feigned surprise, putting away his phone.
"Miss Black Widow!" His mind whirred, trying to figure out why she'd be following him.
"Drop the act, kid."
He blinked at her. "What do you mean?"
"You have an internship at Stark Industries, why would you need to steal from them?"
"What?" Peter got his phone out and checked the news. Stickfingers had struck again. "I already told you: I'm not that thief."
"And you already know I don't believe you. Where did you put the stuff? Some of that tech could save countless lives."
"I know, I helped make it. But I don't have it, because I didn't steal it, because I'm not Stickyfingers."
She fixed him with an unimpressed glare. "Yet you have no proof, and the evidence is all against you. I know you're enhanced and you have sticky abilities, and you somehow expect me to believe that you're not the criminal?"
Peter swallowed, searching desperately for a way out of this situation. Someone must have heard his prayers because mercifully Natasha's phone began to ring. She answered it with a scowl.
"What is it, Barton? I'm in the middle of something."
Peter caught snatches of Hawkeye's voice on the other end, something about kids and and emergency and babysitting. Natasha's features softened minutely. "Fine. I'm on my way." She turned her paralysing gaze on Peter as she hung up. "This isn't over."
The tension didn't leave Peter's body until he'd reached his home and his senses were finally quiet. Immediately, he called Ned. "Dude, we need to catch that thief Stickyfingers as soon as possible. What have you got for me?"
Ned had not a lot - the thief's skills were impeccable and they didn't let a single clue about their identity slip. The boys stayed up for hours brainstorming and cracking into security footage from all the reported crimes so far. Nothing: there was no suspicious activity before or after, and more often than not the video was corrupted during the theft itself.
Peter flopped back against his headboard with a sigh. On the other side of the video link, Ned was shaking his head in disappointment. "It's impossible. They're too careful once they're in position, this is hopeless. If only there was a way to..." Both of them perked up at the same time, having a simultaneous idea.
"The lobby feeds," Peter blurted. Ned was already typing, pulling up security footage from the big companies with cameras at the entrance. Another hour was spent running facial recognition and cross-referencing data from each former target location.
"Anything?" Ned asked with a yawn. They'd split the manual processing task, and had been scanning through the data looking for anything suspicious.
Peter squinted at his screen, flicking back to the previous image. "Maybe. The same woman shows up at three of the sites."
"Does she look suspicious? Did anyone try to stop her?" Ned sat forward eagerly.
Peter went back to watch the footage of her arrival and departure at each site, and told Ned who he was looking at. "Looks like she's a cleaner. Maybe she just works for all the companies," Peter said, disheartened.
"No, take a closer look at her stuff before and after each one," Ned replied hesitantly. Peter did, and saw that her bags were noticeably larger and seemingly heavier when she left each time. "Do you think this could be her?"
"Hang on, we should make sure," Peter stalled, pulse racing. They went back through all the footage not on the day of the crime. The woman never showed up. But just before and just after the reported time of the theft: there she was. Peter breathed a laugh. "I think we've done it, Ned."
"Great," Ned gave a tired smile. "Now I'm going to bed. We have school in the morning." He ended the call. Peter knew his friend was right, but he was too relieved to sleep - and too stressed about what might happen if the Black Widow cornered him again. Instead, he idly opened the live security feed from a company he and Ned had guessed might be Stickyfingers' next target. His heart leapt into his throat. On screen, a woman in lugging cleaning equipment was giving a friendly smile to the security team, who nodded back respectfully and let her walk right in. Peter bolted to his feet, almost tripping in his haste to get his suit on.
It was time to clear his name.
Just a short one this time... pt 3 coming soon!