CHAPTER 6
BEWARE THE JAWBREAKER

SLOANE WANTED TO BANG her head against her keyboard.

After finally importing her phone files to her laptop, she looked through the photos she took of the autopsy reports and realized almost all of them were blurry. She could hardly even read what was on the page. And what parts were readable, she noticed that they hadn't been filled out. Larry hadn't even recorded what he thought the murder weapon was because the report was still ongoing.

Sloane grabbed her pillow and screamed into it. She would've screamed into the actual air if it wasn't seven PM and her mother hadn't already started getting ready for bed. Taking a swig from her Grey Goose, she sniffled and had a good, quick cry. She wasted all that energy for absolutely nothing. And it wasn't like she could go back to the precinct after that stunt she pulled. It was no use going to another station when the lead investigator didn't work there.

How had she fucked up this royally?

She leaned forward, staring at the blurry picture on her laptop screen, and rested her chin on her fist. What the fuck am I going to do now? She thought. Should I call Larry and beg for his forgiveness? No, that could get her arrested. Maybe.

Sloane looked to the Jawbreaker candy sitting patiently on her nightstand, haunting her like a ghost. She picked it up between her thumb and pointing finger and examined it. What a silly alias for a serial killer, naming yourself after a children's candy. But someone, it still struck a chord within her.

In the mood for a distraction, Sloane thought of Peter Parker, the boy who liked swirlies, and wondered if he had any connections that could be useful to her. He didn't seem like a creep like Flash. He was genuinely friendly and his smile was infectious, if not a little cute. But she wouldn't get into anything of the sort right now. Sloane took a big gulp from her bottle and placed it in between her legs. She logged into the graveyard that was Facebook.com and immediately was greeted with at least a dozen baby pictures from people she hadn't spoken to in who knows how long. She went to the search and typed in his name, clicking on the first result.

His profile was a barren wasteland, like most twenty-somethings who couldn't delete their Facebook account or else they would lose their stalking privileges. Sloane was also one of those people. Despite there not being a lot of posts, his entire profile was public, so she was able to see his current residence, where he was born, and his occupation. She chewed on her bottom lip, combing through the information. He was born in Queens and has lived here since. How boring. He listed out what years he went to Midtown High and actually went to Columbia after, graduating with a dual degree in Art and Science. In the past, he'd worked as a photographer for a magazine. Right now, he worked as a researcher at Horizon Labs in Manhattan. Peter had quite the skill set, but none of that was going to help her with her current problem.

She admired his profile picture for a moment. It was definitely old, probably taken in his freshman year of college, but he was holding a puppy in it, grinning from ear-to-ear, and looking so incredibly innocent. Somehow, Sloane could tell he'd lost that over the years. Growing up did that to you, and she'd seen it in his eyes when they talked at the skate park days ago. Something had changed in him, and it hadn't been for the better.

Sloane exhaled loudly and flopped back against her pillows, closing her laptop with her foot. What the absolute fuck was she going to tell Bobby?

━━━━━━

"I have bad news," Sloane said, rubbing her forehead as a headache began to emerge.

"Let me guess," Bobby said through the speaker, "you still haven't gotten your ass to that station to speak with Fogelman."

She feigned a chuckle and looked at the blurry pictures still haunting her laptop screen. The throbbing in her head only got worse, a punishment for her late-night drinking escapades, but she knew she had to look as normal as possible in public. She was currently sitting in the City Brew, a local coffee shop just down the street from the Rosewell. Sloane picked a table in the back and turned her laptop away from any prying eyes, but it wasn't like anyone could decipher these autopsy reports anyway.

"I'll have you know, I did visit our good friend, Larry." She took a sip from her strong, black coffee. "And it went absolutely horrible. That shit stick wouldn't tell me anything. He gave me the whole 'classified information' excuse."

"Well, I could've told you that would happen –"

"– So then, I looked through his files when he went to get a security guard."

"Oh, no."

Sloane leaned back into the booth's soft cushions and lowered her voice. "Did I almost get arrested? Kind of. But I found the autopsies for the two victims and took pictures for my research."

"Okay, that's –"

"– Not a good idea," she finished for him, "because I was in such a rush so all my images turned out fucking blurry."

"I was actually going to say illegal," Bobby laughed.

Sloane didn't find it as funny. "I'm glad you think this is so hilarious. I have fucking nothing to go off of now, Bobby. And it's not like I can go back to that precinct. Larry is never going to speak to me, even if I hadn't pulled that stunt."

Bobby paused, and then said, "There are other precincts you can go to. There's so many in Queens, let alone all over the city."

"But what's the use in talking to them when the lead investigator of this case is at the one I ran away from like a convict." She sighed and looked around the restaurant, wondering if anyone was listening in. The few patrons that were sitting in the store were entirely focused on their own laptops, typing away with their headphones securely in their ears. Sloane rubbed at her aching temples. "I spent most of last night looking into all the articles about the case again. It was a waste of time because the police just keep giving the same information, which is nothing. If I can't get Larry on my side, I'm at a loss to even start this assignment. I got the introduction done because that was easy. It was just explaining the case and –"

"Okay, I need to stop you," Bobby interrupted. "While the details are important, and you will need to find the answers in order to get to the bottom of the case, have you forgotten the main point of this article is to show your connection to it?"

Sloane scratched the top of her head. "Well – yeah, of course, I remembered. Obviously."

"Yeah, obviously," he snickered. "If you're struggling to get information this much, you need to find yourself a partner. Someone who knows the ins and outs of all crime in the city."

"Oh, yeah, I'm just gonna go walking down Murder Alley and ask the first felon I see to help me with a homicide investigation."

"That's not what I'm suggesting at all," Bobby defended. "I actually did some research of my own last night ..."

Sloane heard his keyboard clicking on the other end. She noticed someone sit down at the table next to hers, and even though her screen was turned away, she still closed out the window with the autopsy pictures.

"You know, you got quite the hero swinging around Queens," Bobby laughed. "Has he retired? It looks like he hasn't been talked about in a few years."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Suddenly, an email popped up from Bobby on her screen. He sent her a link from the Daily Bugle, and when she clicked on it, an article from 2014 opened up. The headline read: SPIDER-MAN ALLOWS CITY TO BE SET ON FIRE WHILE VILLAIN GETS AWAY! Under it was a blurry photo of Times Square in ruins as a figure in a red and blue suit flew away, looking over their shoulder at the camera.

Sloane slapped her back against the booth cushion once again, exasperated. "You gotta be kidding me."

"He's supposed to be some kind of hero. Flies around the city on what looks like Silly String. Helps with the police sometimes, but usually investigates all on his own," Bobby's gruff voice said through the phone. "Name's Spider-Man."

"Oh, okay." She released a fake laugh. "Want me to consult with Superman too?"

"Don't be smart. It's legit. Try to find him and I bet he would help."

"I'm not being smart. This plan just sounds ridiculous."

"What? Is this Spider-Man fellow not real?"

She shrugged. "I mean, from what I remember he was real."

Sloane didn't retain many memories from her formative years, but she did remember seeing a bright spandex suit fly by her bedroom window a few times while she was in a drunken haze. Once, she could've sworn he stared at her as he passed by her window.

She shook the memory away and said, "Gonna be honest: I was drunk most of the times he saved the city. I can't quite remember much about him." Which was the truth. The biggest instance she could actually conjure up was when he stopped a masked gunman from getting into their prom, and that was only because she hadn't spiked the punch bowl yet and was, unfortunately, sober enough to see the hero arrive.

Bobby could be heard clicking away with his mouse through the speaker. He hummed softly. "Last article about him anywhere is from 2019. The guy hasn't been seen since he fought Kingpin."

"So he's retired," Sloane concluded. "Finding him would just be another waste of time. I need a plan that will actually work or I'm better off just coming back to Vermont."

"Just because he hasn't been seen out publicly doesn't mean he isn't still around. He's hiding out." Bobby chuckled then. "It can't be that hard to find a guy dressed like a spider, Bernstein."

She rested her forehead between her thumb and pointing finger, rubbing at her temples. "Fine. Whatever. I'll give it a shot."

"That's my girl!"

Sloane made a gagging sound. "You're lucky I like you." She began tapping her pen against her keyboard. "By the way, how's my cat?"

"Happy as a clam. I think he likes that my place doesn't always smell like vodka and Doritos."

She scoffed, "Fuck off, Reyes."

━━━━━━

Looking for a masked vigilante who, apparently, went into retirement in a city as big as New York seemed like a daunting task, so Sloane decided she would start her efforts tomorrow. For most of the day, she sat in her bedroom and combed through article upon article about Spider-Man, even the ones dating back to his first appearance in 2012. Back then, he was being hunted by the police, but they quickly began to understand he was helping New York rather than terrorizing it. Spider-Man and law enforcement had a good relationship. They worked together to take down the city's growing problems, whether it be a man with robotic tentacle arms or just a run-of-the-mill serial killer. That was until the Molten Man incident in 2014, where he had let the villain get away and left all of Times Square completely burnt to a crisp with severe casualties. After that, Spider-Man was left on his own.

Sloane yawned while reading through one of the early stories on him. It was from a thread on Reddit where former students from Midtown High were talking about when a gigantic lizard attacked the school and Spider-Man arrived to save the day. For a split second, she remembered Julia Winthrop telling her about it.

"You're so lucky you were home sick," Julia cried, slamming her locker closed. "A lizard the size of a dinosaur came through the sewer system and attacked the school! I thought I was going to die, Sloane!"

Sloane, already in a semi-drunken state, just blinked in her friend's direction.

Julia groaned. "Ugh, are you even listening to me?"

She blinked, looking away from her bright laptop screen to see her mother poking her head through the cracked door. Sloane shut her laptop and asked, "What?"

"I asked, 'Are you even listening to me?'" Sabrina shook her head. "I swear, you get your absent-mindedness from your father."

"Oh," she replied. "Sorry, Mom." She slipped the flask in between her crossed legs underneath one leg and thanked her lucky stars she had hidden the other bottles.

"Not that I should have to repeat myself," Sabrina sighed, "but we're all going to bed. Make sure you keep this door closed if you're gonna be up working so late. I don't want to see the light shining all the way down the hall."

Sloane got up from her spot on the bed and gripped the edge of the door. "Sure thing."

To her surprise, Sabrina paused for a moment, leaning against the frame. "What are you working on?" She asked kindly.

Sloane opened her mouth to answer, and then her words halted. She said, "I thought you didn't want to know about what I was working on."

Sabrina's mouth slowly twisted into a cruel smile. "I don't. I was testing you to see if you remembered my wishes." With a flip of her hair, she strolled away, her silk nightgown flowing behind her. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Night," Sloane spat before slamming the door closed. Maybe she should've thought about hitting the hay earlier too. She spent almost every night on her computer researching or watching old episodes of Seinfeld. Going to bed at a decent time would help her think better the next day. Which was only true if she held off on the booze, and she wasn't about to do that. Such is life, though.

Despite the cold weather outside, the penthouse was as warm as a desert. Sloane often woke up sweating. So she simply pulled on a large t-shirt with holes in it and kept it classy with a pair of boy brief underwear. Closing her door with a soft click, Sloane padded her way to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her eye bags were horrendous. This extra sleep better do her some good.

After brushing her teeth and pulling her hair back into a sloppy bun, Sloane stepped out of the bathroom and began to head back to her room. But upon ambling into the hallway, she began to shiver and heard the sound of the whipping wind outside. This apartment was always warm; there must be a window open.

She walked past Everett's room and noticed the door was slightly cracked. Sloane's curiosity got the better of her and she peered inside, realizing the open window was the one in his room. And the space was empty. Again.

Sloane opened the door further and walked inside the dark bedroom. The only source of light came from the moon shining inside. She tip-toed through the open space and shut the window. Looking around, she whispered, "Everett? Where are you?"

Silence answered. He wasn't here.

Sloane looked back at the window, brow furrowing. It didn't take an idiot to realize he was sneaking out. The fire escape was connected to both their windows, giving him easy access. This fucking kid, she thought to herself, stomping back to her room.

She had gone to bed angry, but woke up at six AM even more confused. As she sat across from Everett and her mother at the kitchen island, drinking her coffee, she saw on the news that two cars just three blocks from the Rosewell were vandalized. In bright red spray paint, someone had written in huge letters, BEWARE THE JAWBREAKER. The police were going to start an investigation, but said that they didn't think the vandalism was connected to the murders in any way.

Sloane glanced up from her mug, and she was met with Everett's dark eyes glaring back. For a moment, she could've sworn she saw red paint on his fingertips.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: WE'RE GETTING INTO THE MEAT OF THIS, FOLKS!!! I can't waittttt for sloane to meet spider-man for the first time 😋 😋 😋

btw just forewarning now, updates could become a little sporadic bc I got a new job and I'm still learning this new schedule! idk if updates will actually become random, but I thought it would be good to tell you guys beforehand in case that happens