A/N

well...i kinda forgot to mention the cast for Samantha so here it is 

Zoe Kravitz as Samantha Stan

Peter's POV

"There's something not right here... I feel cold. Death."

"That place is strong with the dark side of the force. A domain of evil it is. In you must go."

"What's in there?"

"Only what you take with you."

"Peter? Peter? PETER?"

"Uh... yeah?" Peter said, pulling out from the trancelike capture of the movie.

"How was patrol today?" asked MJ, adjusting her head on his chest for a little more comfort.

"Nothing much really. Not even the bad guys like to do much shit in the rain," he said while combing her brown curly strands.

"Your weapons, you will not need them."

"I did break your neighbor's window though," Peter said sheepishly, keeping his gaze transfixed at the TV that played The Empire Strikes Back. MJ could've sworn that he had watched this a thousand times.

"They forgot their keys and you decided to break the window for them?" MJ said in between are yawns. 

"Uhh...no, you dummy."

"You a dummy," MJ retorted as she stretched her arms and stifled another yawn. Her sleepy deprived state hit the bowl and the popcorn cascaded down the red velvet sofa. That caught Peter's attention.

"MJ! YOU DROPPED THE POPCORN!" Peter whined, bending over to scavenge whatever was left. He had his priorities straight.

"Dude why would you break their window?"

"Well I kinda got confused and blasted into the wrong apartment," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck and munching on the popcorn.

"Ha, knew it. Parker, after all these years, you don't fucking know where I live?"

"MJ you just got here, it's been two months. Also you live on the most confusing building on the planet, where literally every apartment looks the same."

"Next time try taking training lessons with Bucky to enhance your memory, ok?"

"Yeah whatever."

The convo had died down and Peter had been absorbed back into his world, while MJ just snoozed with her head laid on his chest.

Peter and MJ had be going on and off from the past two years. After Mysterio happened, they had to break up for safety purposes. The drama surrounding his identity was cleared in a couple of months with the help of Dr.Strange and his mentor, Tony Stark who helped fake evidence and clear Peter's name in all the fiasco. They got back together after things were stable but had to break up again since MJ was leaving to UCLA to study journalism and literature while Peter was enrolled in Columbia University, studying Quantum Mechanics. MJ had starkly objected to the idea of having long distance relationships. A year later MJ returned to New York, continuing her studies in NYU and also reigniting her relationship with Peter.

It had been hardly two months, but both of them could sense that things weren't going too good. MJ seemed more interested with her new roommate, Riley and everyone could see it. But Peter knew that MJ wouldn't ever cheat on him. She'd call things off before starting something new with someone else.

With those thoughts overrunning his mind, he fell asleep with the thunder rumbling outside.

***

Mayra's POV

"Should we shoot him?"

"Ed! Shut that fuck up," Mayra angry whispered back.

"Now, no need of all those stupid weapons, you could-um-uh gladly set them aside and arrest me. I ain't gonna uh resi-resist it," replied Blake, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He extended his hands forward, gesturing them to put the cuffs on it. The room fell into thick silence with the unusual scene that unfolded in front of them.

"C'mon guys do it," Blake insisted.

"Do we have your orders ma'am?" a guy from the backup asked Samantha. Samantha inched closer, her golden brown eyes intently staring at his crystal green ones. She raised her hand, motioning to wait.

"Who exactly are you?"

"I'm Blake, the murderer. Gosh you guys really are slow, aren't you? Like I expected you guys to track my number down and instantly pop up at my house and put me on death row but sadly I've been waiting for two whole hours and to tell you I'm fucking tired would be an understatement," a disgruntled sigh escaped his parched lips.

Samantha finally took the handcuffs and cuffed his hands tightly, while he smiled deviously at the action. She pushed him out the doors and ordered an investigation of the house.

"Eddie, Mayra, investigate the house. I need Carl, Derrick and Sheila outside. The rest of the backup can return to their respective offices."

Mayra's thoughts were everywhere, scattered, lost, like the stormy blue waves pummeling into the giant gray rocks. Questions flooding into her mind, decorating every place of her head with blanks. Blanks that desperately desired answers. Questions that's slowly engulfed her brain. And one question rapidly devouring it.

"Why lead us to the warehouse?" Mayra blurted out, instantly feeling a wave of relief washing through her.

"I like my little games," Blake replied with a smirk as he was shoved into the NYPD car.

The car drove off, while his smirk, almost a harmless one and his green orbs left a permanent impression on Mayra's mind.

Stepping back in the cozy house, she joined Eddie to investigate the premises.
They searched drawers, every kitchen cabinet, pantry, closets, shelves. Nothing. Except for his significant other's clothes and makeup.

Rummaged through his laundry, went through the attic, fished through the garage, searched his car. Foraged his study room, tried to comprehend papers. Hunted through his books and files. Nothing. Except for the place he worked at. Buzzfeed.

Tired, they flopped back down on the forest green sofa. It was 4:30 am and Mayra was thirsty. Thirsty for another shot of coffee, of course. Her eyes were drooping low and her head was hazy.

"Bro?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah bro?"

"Why would a serial killer work at Buzzfeed?"

"I don't know bro."

"I'm tired."

"So am I."

Carl stepped in, asking if they'd found anything of importance. The scowl they gave him was enough to speak the truth, and so he left. Leaving them to figure out the tangled mass of the inexplicable house. They had found absolutely nothing. Everything seemed so uncannily normal.

Mayra arched her neck backwards, resting it on the back pillows. Her eyes tracing the intricate floral patterns on the wall. Black marks running across them in a rectangular fashion. She closed her eyes, breathing deep, trying to process and analyze the events of the previous two and a half hours.

It's a Sunday and this bitch can't get a single fucking day to relax.

"It's weird how this guy's a serial killer and has the most coziest house with happy floral patterns on his stupid damned wall," Eddie said, his voice clear with indignation.

"Seems like a perfect disguise," Mayra scoffed. Her brain replaying the images of the stupid floral patterns with black marks.

Black marks. Black rectangular marks. Fuck.

Her eyes shot open. She sat upright on her knees which rested on the top cushions of the sofa. Turning back she traced the black faded marks running in rectangles on wall. She felt like she'd found one knot that she could untangle.

Eddie sat up in alarm. "What is it bro?"

"Bro?"

"Yeah bro?"

"Shut your face, bro."

With that he shut his face. He knew that if Mayra were to be disturbed in her thinking process, she'd be the worst person on the planet to encounter. And so she sat, her nimble fingers delicately running over the marks, her dark eyes, swirling like black holes, trying to devour every inch of history from them. And her mind, the gears in them turning and twisting. Working her way towards untangling one knot of the muddled yarn.