I leave the train station, carrying my only shoe. It is easier to walk home in nothing but socks rather than with one combat boot. Besides, Anthony only lives a few blocks from the station. I pull out my watch, checking the time.

I'll get to his place by 3:30. He probably won't mind waking up to help me. I mean, he's going to be so pissed off, angry unlike anything I've seen out of him. Once he sees this, he won't be able to get his fingers off it. That's the benefit of going to a science and tech school.

I begin my second climb of the night. Thankfully, this fire escape is attached to the ground. Anthony lives on the eighth floor of his building, which is a less than pleasant climb. My knees ache with each step. When I begin to wince at the spiked ground, I take a pause.

Being four floors high isn't high enough for my likings. I can still make out the faces of a few passersby, most giggling, half of them wearing sparkly little black dresses. Someday, that'll be me. Hopefully not the part where I am carrying ridiculously high heels and walking around New York barefoot, but everything else.

I'm not very good at make-up, and the most jewelry you'll ever catch me wearing are hoops of a variety of sizes. However, all the hassle seems worth it for a night of champagne and cute guys with stubble. God, I can't wait to get out of high school.

Finally, I keep going. The wind is getting colder the higher I go up, blowing my hair all around. Three weeks ago I cut off my long locks for a bob, which keeps stabbing my eyes. Actually, I should just pull the mask on to keep my hair out of my face and my skin warm.

Finally, I'm at Anthony's window. Only bothering to knock once, I pull at it. Though he promises to lock me out every time, he never does. His window is much wider than the one from earlier, so I am able to pull myself through and land on my feet.

I walk across the room. With a simple flick, I turn the light on. Anthony begins to groan, before I hush him. One of his eyes slowly opens. He frowns when he sees me.

"Seriously Darcy?" He musters, turning his face back into his pillow. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

I pull the black box out of my pocket, holding it forward. "I've got a job for you. Just, don't touch it with your hands. No fingerprints."

Anthony buries his face in his pillow, refusing to listen to me. He's such a baby.

"Come on," I manage, staring him down. "Don't let the day waste away."

"I'm not going to," he answers, biting his lip. "Sleeping at night lets me stay awake all day."

"This can't wait until the morning," I manage. "I need a cord. I don't know what cord, but I need you to open this hard drive and tell me what is on it."

He peaks up at the box, rolling his eyes when he sees it. "That's an SSD. Er, a solid-state drive."

As he rambles on, I begin to dig through his drawers, until I find a long black cable. I close the drawer and grab his laptop. He pulls himself to a sitting position as I plop the electronics down on to his lap.

He looks up at me, so I nod at him to continue. Leaning back, he sighs out a breath.

"Come on," I beg, even though I know he is three seconds from giving in.

"Now?" He asks.

I nod.

He begins to plug the wires into his computer. I toss him the glove on my right hand, to protect his fingers. The drive hums next to him as it turns on. His eyes twitch across the screen as he clicks open the file folder, or whatever it is he does.

"Turn off your internet connection before you open that. I need you to tell me if you can get the IP address that last accessed this."

"I don't understand why you still need my help," he rolls his eyes, but listens to me. "You do better than me in computer science."

"You don't need to know computers to do well in that class," I counter, feeling my throat tighten. He doesn't know, but he's been getting more suspicious over the past few weeks.

"Well, I just want to know exactly what part of science and technology got you into Midtown, because it feels like I'm the reason you ace every single class." He clicks once more, typing something in on my computer. "Call me cur- holy shit!"

He practically throws his computer off his bed. I manage to catch it with my foot, saving it from certain death. Meanwhile, Anthony is huddled up in the corner of his room, pointing at the hard drive.

"Where the fuck did you get this?" He demands, pointing at the computer. "Those are kids, right? Why the fuck did you bring that here?"

"I need you to tell me if you can figure out who downloaded that content."

"I can tell you what IP address downloaded it, but not the name of the son of a bitch. I take it you know him and want to bring it to the police? Oh God, please don't tell me it's your Dad's."

I don't answer, grabbing the drive with my gloved hand. I put it back inside my jacket, before shrugging the material off my shoulders.

"Wait," he looks down at me. "Again? I thought you weren't breaking into people's houses."

"I don't need a lecture, Tony," I sigh, sitting down on the end of his bed. "And it wasn't a house. It was an office building."

I'm doing good work, even if it's illegal. Three cheaters, and this one supposed to be the fourth. Tonight was the first time I got even close to getting caught. I decide not to mention spider-twerp to Anthony.

"I'm gonna give your dumbass a lecture whether you like it or not," Anthony continues on. He closes his laptop, putting it on the end table next to his bed. "I mean, suddenly you've gone all vigilante. What if this guy caught you, or had an alarm system?"

"He didn't," I roll my eyes. "I checked."

Anthony pauses, staring at me. He isn't amused. There are bags under his eyes, and his lip is busted open from biting it. He shakes his head, getting out of bed. His feet stumble around in circles until he finds a shirt on the floor and pulls it over his head. He pulls up his khakis too, buttoning them tightly before turning around to face me.

"Who would've hired you to break into that guy's house?" He asks. "Don't you think they're at least a bit fishy?"

"It was his office building," ," I counter, picking up my stuff off the ground. I need to go home before I go the police station. All black is possibly the most conspicuous thing I could be wearing right now. Plus, I only have one shoe. "I get cases all the time, this guy just happened to be looking at kids instead of having sex in a car in an abandoned parking lot. If anything, photographing Cheaters is more dangerous, because they could see me, chase me down, and murder me. A little b&e never hurt anyone."

"So, what? You're just helping a bunch of rich white ladies get back at their sloppy husbands."

I glare at him and he lowers his eyes.

"You know I didn't mean that," he shakes his head.

"Yes, you did," I pull my jacket back up over my shoulders, refusing to look him in the eye.

Sometimes I wish I was deaf. I mean, I never actually do, because that would suck, but sometimes I just wish I wasn't so good at telling what people really mean. Usually, I listen even when it does me dirty. I make a good PI, at least.

"I'm serious," he tells me, grabbing my arm. When I look to his eyes, they plead with me. He knows he's messed up. "You've got bigger balls than me. Everything you do is wack. Plus, you get paid a crap ton of money for it, so I've got to respect the hustle."

I eye him up suspiciously. I know he means it, but I don't want him to think that I'll give in so easily to his stupid puppy dog eyes.

"Darcy, come on. You know I respect a good hustle," he whispers, glancing over his shoulder as if he expects his Mama to burst in through the door.

"Fine," I roll my eyes. I would offer him a cut of the money, but he thinks I'm going to the police with these videos. Hopefully, he'll still respect that part of the hustle. "I've got to go, though. I've got work in the morning, and I've still got to go to the police station."

"Deal," he tells me, finally letting go of my arm.

I roll my eyes, opening the window.

"Just be careful. You never know where that Spider-man is hanging out." Anthony warns me.

I spin my head around to get a better look at Anthony, scanning his face. He can't have any inkling of our little encounter. He's as easy to read as a book, has been for years. "What, is that weirdo hanging around Queens now?"

"Yeah, and about every other burrow," he tells me. "So, if you are climbing in buildings in all-black, that's gonna catch his eye."

I shrug, because I can't make Anthony stop worrying. No matter how hard I try. He's about as conniving as I am, and one wrong word will set him off.

"I'd better get going," I remark. "I've got to go change, deliver this to the police station, and be home by 6:00 am. I work on a strict timeline"

"Okay," Anthony nods, leaning against his wall. He won't be able to fall asleep until I tell him I've done all of that, and that I'm back at my home, all snuggled up in bed.

My estimate was that I'd be home by 4:00 AM, with three hours to sleep. Now though, with one shoe and Spider-man still hanging around, I'll be lucky if I'm back by 5:00 AM. I'll just have to bring my work stuff with me.

Anthony doesn't care about any of that. He stands with a jittering leg, waiting for me to go. I'm just happy his Mama is knocked out on sleep meds. Otherwise, she'd wake up from the impending earthquake Anthony's shakes will cause.

I cross the room, grabbing Anthony in a hug. "Thank you. You are the best."

"Yeah, whatever," he lets me go, smiling. "Now get out, before I have to call the cops on you for breaking and entering."

"Twice in one night? Just my luck," I wink.

Anthony sighs.

I quickly make my way out of the window, exhaustion plaguing me. Anthony's light shuts off as I make my way down the stairs, but I know him. He can pretend to sleep for hours, but he'll be as sluggish as I am by dawn.

As I make my way back to my apartment building, about a dozen blocks away, I can only think about how much I hate that Spider-shit.

I'd better try my best to avoid him before he gets me in more trouble.

~~~~~

I'm getting excited with this! Finally, we get to meet Darcy and Anthony, like really meet them. Maybe Peter will be next?