Long ago, Spider-Man had infiltrated this place.
Now, Felix Faeth was here as a suspect. Ah, sorry, person of interest.
The interrogation room was cold, sterile, and eerily quiet. Felix sat at the small, metal table, his hands resting on its cool surface. His Advanced Glasses were activated, giving him a live-feed of every little thing they were learning. A transcript of their radio, a page of their autopsy, everything.
The Advanced Glasses were dilated solely for Felix's pupils. Even if someone were to look at them from an angle, they would not see anything.
Indeed, it was just him, the Advanced Glasses, his wits, and the mounting pressure of suspicion hovering over his head.
Across from him sat Officer Ben Grimm whose rugged face was a mix of sympathy and suspicion. Grimm wasn't pressing him too hard, though. For now, the officer was focused on confirming the details Felix had already shared. He had a tape recorder in his hand to make sure everything was, well, being recorded.
"So," Grimm began, leaning forward with a look that seemed more friendly than intimidating, "just to make sure I'm clear on this, you were in the bathroom for roughly ten minutes?"
"Yes. I had some issues with the sinks—fancy tech setup and all. Then I came out, and she was waiting. She said it was taking Alistair a while, so we went to check on him."
Grimm scribbled a few notes, nodding along. He looked up, his eyes searching Felix's face as if gauging his sincerity. "And when you went upstairs, you hadn't heard any strange sounds? Nothing out of the ordinary?"
"Nothing," Felix replied calmly. "The place was dead quiet."
The officer tilted his head, chewing on the end of his pen. "Right. And you've never seen anything strange at Mr. Smythe's place before, right?"
"I've never been there before, to be honest."
"Your first visit?"
"Yeah. Alistair liked his privacy."
"And I want to confirm, you met Alistair Smythe by sheer coincidence at Black Cat's concert."
"Yes. Coincidence. Really, it was."
"The kid that was with you, Miles Morales, you sent him out…for what?"
"Well, I saw Alistair and then sent him out."
Pretty simple retorts. Nothing anyone could say was a contradiction. Suspicious, perhaps, but they couldn't beat the shit out of him for it.
Grimm grunted, scribbling down a few more notes. There was something uncomfortably intimate in his questions, as though Grimm were a friend just trying to work something out over a casual drink. But Felix knew better; behind the easy manner was a trained cop, one who didn't miss details. Still, Grimm was almost too…nice.
After a few more routine questions, Grimm's earpiece buzzed, and he raised a finger, listening closely. When he looked back at Felix, there was something almost regretful in his eyes.
Felix already knew what was up. The Advanced Glasses had intercepted the transmission and given him a transcript.
"Well, looks like I'm being called out," Grimm said, standing up. "Another detective's gonna take over for me." He paused, his gaze lingering on Felix. "Try not to worry. Just answer everything clearly, alright?"
Felix gave a small nod. Grimm left, and Felix was alone in the room, left to stew in silence. A long silence, at that.
One minute, two minutes, five minutes…
Still not here.
Hrm.
'They're trying to rattle me,' he thought, a flicker of irritation passing over his face. He leaned back in his chair. Alistair was dead. Eleanor, too. Both of them were linked to him in some way—Alistair as a coworker and Eleanor as an ex-flame. The NYPD would dig through every detail of his connections to them. He needed to keep his story consistent, rock-solid.
'The thing with Miles is the only bad part. If they look at the tickets, they'll know that we were on the opposite sides of the stadium. I only have one excuse…'
He adjusted his glasses.
UNDERSTOOD, DR. FAETH. CHANGING CAMERA FOOTAGE. CHANGED CONTEXT INCLUDE DR. FAETH GETTING LOST AND ENCOUNTERING ALISTAIR SMYTHE.
Alistair was dead. He couldn't give testimony. Meaning, Felix could change up what he did through the cameras. Create a false past through generative AI of a supercomputer.
Then the door opened. The man who entered was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore an expression that would send most people scurrying. His dark skin was lit by the overhead fluorescent lights, and a single eyepatch covered his left eye. But Felix's gaze was drawn to his Advanced Glasses' feed, which came alive in a silent flash of recognition.
NAME: Nick Fury
OCCUPATION: Deputy Director of SHIELD
GENDER: Male
AGE: ?
MARITAL STATUS: ?
HEIGHT: 6'2 / 1.87 m
WEIGHT: 221 lbs / 100.24 kg
IRISES: Brown
HAIR COLOUR: Bald
EDUCATION: Unknown
PARENTS: Unknown
SIBLINGS: Unknown
SPECIAL NOTE: Appears to be active in New York and newly promoted.
Felix's stomach tightened. 'The Deputy Director of SHIELD? What the fuck…?'
Felix allowed himself one calming breath before settling into a cool façade. Every instinct told him to tread carefully; He did not know this man but if the organization he belonged to was any indication, he would be keen and patient in playing the long game.
"Mr. Faeth," Fury began, sitting down with a blank expression, folding his hands on the table and fixing Felix with that one, unblinking eye. "Mind if we go over some of this again?"
"Sure. Um, you are…?"
"Call me Fury. I'm the hard-boiled detective out of me and the other guy."
He spoke hard and fast and motherfucker-ish…if that made sense.
'The other guy. So he barely knows Officer Grimm.'
This case was special. This case required interference. The transmission he intercepted implied this was all higher-up stuff. The officers watching were puzzled by this man.
"Did you touch the body? Any of them?"
Right with it, huh? Felix was ready.
"I came close, especially with Alistair, but I don't think I touched them. I avoided the bloody carpet too."
"A human reaction." Nick Fury leaned back casually, judging him without judging him. "If you didn't approach the body, it would be more suspicious."
"Oh, okay."
Fury had been holding a folder this whole time. He pulled out a sheet of paper, his single eye studying it before flicking up to meet Felix's gaze.
"Your income statements are quite interesting," Fury started. "Oscorp states your current monthly income is about ten thousand, with bonuses adding another ten grand—"
The papers slid over. Felix was genuinely surprised. These were real. How fast did this guy work?
"But here's the kicker: how did you go from that to buying up nearly all of FEAST? I'm seeing a spike here… thirty million dollars. Quite a jump, wouldn't you say?"
Felix forced himself to smile slightly, as though amused by the question. "Being good at investing isn't a crime," he said with a casual shrug.
Fury's gaze didn't falter, his expression cool as ice. "Certainly. Certainly." He tapped the paper thoughtfully, as if giving Felix's answer all the time in the world to hang in the air, letting the tension simmer. "But I mean…thirty million?"
"Obviously, you don't invest a lot. It's not about intelligence, it's about luck. I got lucky. It's like winning the lottery."
"So if I check your accounts, I won't find anything strange?"
"None at all."
"Great then."
Another folder was pulled out, this time from his trench coat. Fury never broke eye contact either.
"You've been known to attend high-profile events, too. The charity at the Empire State Building. The one with Spider-Man."
"It's not like I saw Spider-Man. I left early."
"An unfortunate coincidence. Everyone seems to have only praise for him."
From the folder, he pulled out a paper, a…witness testimony?
"Enough about Spider-Man. Let's talk about you. It just so happens that on more than one occasion, you've been spotted with Eleanor Bishop."
Gotta explain. "We met at the Oscorp factory—"
"The one that blew up?"
"...yeah, that one," Felix replied, meeting Fury's eye. "We went out on one date. It didn't work out. Happens all the time."
Fury gave a slight nod, a skeptical tilt to his head. "Definitely, I getcha. A girl can be hot for the body but not the mind." He leaned forward, his fingers steepling in front of him. "I heard Eleanor's a particular taste. Tough to impress, isn't she? How'd you get a date after one meeting?"
Felix only smiled politely. "Guess saving her life during a factory explosion would do that."
"Oh yeah? You saved her? What happened?"
"She fell, I carried her out."
Nick Fury looked him over. "You work out?"
"I do my best."
"A scientist and a gym enthusiast…a rare combination. Good for you, brother."
'These guys…' Felix reached over to look the paper over. 'Testimony from her security guards. No amount of camera washing can change what they saw.'
"Did you sleep with her?"
"Huh?" Felix snapped up. "Uh…does that matter?"
"I suppose not. Or maybe it does."
"We…we did, yeah."
"A first date fuck from a woman of her calibre. Good going. I hope I don't find anything else."
Like what?
'Ah, I get it. He's expecting the money angle. He's thinking I might have killed her for money.'
Nick Fury was looking at him. Despite his words, he thought something more was going on. Felix pretended to be sheepish. He doubted the act did anything to deter Fury.
"What about her daughter?"
Felix almost froze up. "Oh, yeah, um…Kate Bishop. I met her."
"Already met the daughter? You really are something. Tell me, do you know where she is?"
"...no clue."
"No clue." Fury repeated the word, drawing it out as if tasting it for the first time. He slid another sheet of paper from his folder, his eye never leaving Felix's face. "Your relationship with both victims is vaguely defined, if I'm not being rude. So tell me, what do you consider them to be? Friends? Lovers?"
"Me and Eleanor were…it was a one night stand. She hadn't been with a man since her husband and I, well…"
"You supplied."
"Alistair and I were just coworkers. You can ask anyone, we talked but we weren't best buddies. My best friend was—"
That was Reed.
Nick Fury squinted.
"Just checking," Fury ended up saying. "Going to a coworker's house after a concert doesn't give us much to work with."
"R-right…"
"You mentioned you were in the bathroom when you last saw Yuri. You even said you had only been in the house for twenty minutes or so."
"Yeah…"
Where was he going with this?
"We're the damn police. We're good at our jobs. The autopsy report states both Eleanor and Alistair died an hour before you arrived. You know how we know that? Rigor mortis."
Rigor mortis, the stiffening of muscles after death that began an hour after death and lasted for over a day. It was a fundamental aspect of autopsies.
"Yet you seemed pretty sure they were still warm."
Nick Fury put three papers down and got them all to smoothly slide halfway across.
'A fake autopsy.'
No question, no doubt, it was fake. The bodies when he got there were probably ten or fifteen minutes dead. By the time the police arrived, maybe an hour.
But an hour? Ha, as if!
"But…but I definitely saw him at the concert. Check the timing o-or you can ask Yuri, she picked us up and twenty minutes later—"
"Well, we haven't asked her, so what you're saying can't be confirmed."
What a fucking liar. What fucking bullshit. Was this seriously an interrogation?
Felix allowed a pause, pretending to mull over the detail as if he hadn't already dissected the situation in his mind. Fury wanted him to stumble, to admit something about the bodies. He came close but did he do something more? Felix wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"Those bodies were as cold as the other side of my pillow."
"I don't think I ever said they were warm," Felix murmured. "When we found them, the blood on the carpet looked fresh. If they'd been dead for hours, wouldn't it have dried up by then?" He kept his gaze curious, not accusatory.
Nick Fury lightly put a fist down on the table. It wasn't violent, it was firm. "What, so you're saying our autopsies were wrong? You've got a lot of nerve."
A normal dumb civilian would get intimidated and spurt out excuses. The killer would come up with an excuse.
As would an intelligent scientist.
"No, but, um, this is just my guess but couldn't someone have planted fresh blood? Doesn't mean the autopsy is wrong."
Nice comeback! Great comeback!
For the briefest second, a flicker of disappointment crossed Fury's face, gone as quickly as it came. "Hmm," was all he said, retrieving the fake autopsy with a nonchalant movement. "You met Eleanor Bishop at Harry Osborn's factory tour."
"Yep,"
"Were you invited there?"
"Dr. Octavius suggested it."
Sort-of.
"Right, right, Octavius." A couple nods. "That doesn't answer my question. Did you ask to go there?"
Damn, this was an annoying line of questioning. He had to be honest. "I wanted to meet investors to help me fund FEAST. I'm rich but not as rich as some people."
"Ah, so I suppose you'd have no reason to kill them, eh? Alistair Smythe and Eleanor Bishop…both are some rich motherfuckers."
He said it half-sarcastically but more importantly, he was showing his hand.
Felix Faeth was a suspect.
"Funny thing, Mr. Faeth," Fury continued, switching tactics smoothly, "is that someone with your background and intelligence would end up at such an unusual place as Oscorp. Your father worked at Stark Industries. Why not there? Didn't want to be a nepobaby?"
Oh. Ohh, he went there. He fucking went there. Talking about his parents—
'Calm down.' Inhale. 'This is just typical interrogation stuff. Trying to get under your skin. Trying to get anything from you.'
"...my dad was ostracized from the company when he was old."
"Ah, is that right?" New information even for the Deputy Director. Probably because there weren't any digital records for it and it had only been two and a half hours since the murder.
This was Felix's chance. It might have been very personal but if he wanted to remove suspicion and take control of the interrogation, he needed to speak. He needed to be completely honest.
"Mm, yeah. My dad was…always on the edge. Always thinking he would get fired, always pushing me to be better. I hated Stark because of it so me joining that company? No way."
Suddenly, Nick Fury received information in his earbud. "Your father is in a retirement home."
"He, uh, suffered a breakdown when he got fired. My mom takes care of him there."
"Life hasn't been so kind to you then."
"Yeah," Felix faked a laugh. "Bad place, bad time. That's always with me."
"And you chose Oscorp out of hate? It is the rival company of the company you hate."
"Honestly? Not really. I was fresh out of college and Oscorp has the kind of tech I'm interested in. They're ahead in a lot of fields. Plus, they give me room to work, no endless red tape."
"Freedom, huh?" Fury mused, tapping the table rhythmically. "Must be nice. Of course, people who like freedom tend to take risks."
"I don't know if I'd call myself a risk-taker," Felix replied lightly, matching Fury's steady gaze. "But I appreciate opportunities where I can make a difference."
The silence between them stretched taut, each waiting for the other to crack. Fury was as composed as ever, but Felix saw the gears turning in the man's mind, constantly recalculating, assessing every tiny movement.
"May I inspect your glasses?"
He was going to confiscate them. This was bad…
"Sure."
…or was it?
Felix took off his glasses, thumb discreetly pressing the left side. The last thing he saw on the glasses was this:
SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ACTIVATED. CHIP WILL QUIETLY SHORT CIRCUIT, MELT, AND LIQUIFY ALL WIRING.
THANK YOU, DR. FAETH.
In one minute, any evidence that these were anything more than normal glasses would be gone. The wiring and hollow portions would turn solid.
"They're custom made," Felix said, handing them over.
"Ah, I see. So if I tried to search this up on eBay, I wouldn't find it."
"Nope."
"And if I opened it, I wouldn't…oh, discover that it had technology inside?"
"Nope. Just normal glasses. I'm far-sighted. I can still walk without them. But in my field of work, it's important to be as detailed as possible."
"I'll keep these then, if you don't mind. I doubt you noticed but…" Nick Fury turned the glasses and tapped at the back. "There's a bit of blood."
'Fuck. Must have been from when I was with Yuri.'
Nothing important happened other than him hovering around Yuri who was trying to resuscitate Alistair. Some blood flinging over was natural.
Finally, Fury leaned back. "You're free to go, for now. But know this, Mr. Faeth—if I find anything, anything that points to you being more involved than you're letting on, we'll be having another chat. A longer one."
Felix nodded calmly, standing up and straightening his jacket. "I'll be here, Mr. Fury."
And with that, he got up. The door was opened by another police officer. His heart drumming, he strode forward and—
"Oh, one last thing."
Felix turned. Nick Fury did not and fiddled with the folder in his hand.
"That autopsy report we gave you wasn't wrong. Rigor mortis definitely kicked in. They were stiff as nails." Nick Fury stopped and read it. "When our people got there, the blood was dried. When you were there, it was fresh. That's a really good point, so what's going on here?"
Felix blinked and glanced over at the officer who seemed equally puzzled.
"You're a scientist, aren't you? Think as a scientist, not a witness or suspect. Is there a way to get muscles to become stiff after the matter?"
"For sure. There's chemicals out there that can do it. An injection or a drink—"
"Ah-hah. So that means someone could have killed him ten, fifteen minutes ago like you said and pumped some chemicals to make it look older. Hell, if we go that far, we can assume that the whole crime scene was changed." A long, long pause. Felix really didn't know what to say or how to interrupt. Nick Fury spoke again as he put the folder down. "You were friends with Alistair and acquainted with Eleanor. Tell me, if you were in my shoes, who would you suspect?"
Who to suspect?
"I…don't know."
"Is it a one-man job? Two-man job?"
Wait…
Fury finally looked over, eyes boring into his soul.
"The cameras in the mansion were disabled save for the one at the front entrance. The two primary witnesses were closeby. So if I were to say this was a two-man job, what would you counter that with? What would be your alibi?
Not one killer but two? That Felix and Yuri were responsible for these kills?
Felix should panic. Indeed, his eyes widened and he stammered over his words. "That's not…it's impossible."
"Is it? You don't think you and Yuri being suspects is not a possibility to us?"
Act.
Act.
'Fake it till you make it!'
Gulping, staring, arms crossed, thinking and then speaking with your heart.
"I don't know, it just…isn't. Me and Yuri, we don't know each other, we just met today. We don't—"
Nick Fury clicked his tongue. "You can leave now."
And so, Felix was taken away. If he were the suspect or an ordinary civilian, being sent away like this would be the worst outcome. For a simple witness, it would force them to tell everything. For the killer, it would get them to make a mistake. To overextend.
It was the perfect move. Felix had to give props to Nick Fury. He knew how to lay the pressure thick.
Luckily, a certain shade of the truth was already made aware to Felix. He saw the recording at the front door camera. He saw who was responsible. He understood what exactly Nick was doing.
Nick rejected it. He rejected what he saw at the front porch, the same way Felix did. Something was wrong with this case and they would get to the bottom of it. On that front, they were the same.
Felix walked through the halls of the NYPD Police Department. Long ago, he had infiltrated this place. Now, he walked with an officer behind him. Suspicion was sent his way. Felix was being released. He was being spared. He was a freeman.
But he knew for sure that SHIELD would be keeping close tabs on him.
This case, the deaths of Eleanor Bishop and Alistair Smythe, was deeper than it appeared to be. Horrific powers were at work.
For the first time, Felix would be coming in close contact to those powers.
To what started all this.