Chapter 10

For once, Peter came home with a genuine smile on his face.

Aunt May didn't ask any questions, but she was pleased to see him actually looking happy. Matt had reached out to her again, and while the case was moving slowly, it was making progress. He had given her the same cautionary note, and she understood that Peter was in for a challenging time.

They discussed school over dinner, but Peter chose to hold back from mentioning he had a job.

He wasn't sure if it was a legitimate position or just a way to get free labor. More importantly, he'd wait until he actually received payment.

The next morning, he made his way to his warehouse first. At this stage, all he could really do was create more lists of the supplies he needed.

With the goal of converting the space into livable units, he added items for plumbing and electrical essentials.

He started by measuring his office and marking spots in the dust on the floor where two units could fit side by side.

The models he found online were modular and designed to be connected with a basic joining kit, which only included a few plates and bolts. As Peter checked his single office, he located the bolt holes, measured them, and figured he could put together something similar for far less than the hundred-dollar kit cost.

After a short rest and a quick snack, he traveled along the waterfront, through light traffic, to Aleksei's place, arriving just as Aleksei was opening the gate to his yard.

Aleksei laughed as he saw him. "Honestly, didn't think you'd actually show up."

Peter shrugged and followed him inside.

"The yard and storage area are for finished goods. You'll be working upstairs, with your own private space," Aleksei said, grinning.

He led Peter past his office and up a set of stairs, unlocking the door at the top. "You can get the key from me before starting each day. This door stays locked, though."

Aleksei opened the door and flipped on the lights. "Nice, right?"

Peter's expression dropped. Whoever had set up this room had done a terrible job. "Disaster" would have been a more accurate word.

He stepped inside, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell of water-damaged electronics, worsened by small black insects darting between them.

He sighed, and Aleksei raised an eyebrow. "What? Not good enough for you?" He wasn't thrilled that this kid was showing disrespect already, especially after his conversation with Bennie.

Peter sighed. "No offense, sir, but, uh…" He moved to one of the piles. "Electronics need to be sorted. What's dirty but still works, what's dirty and doesn't, what's broken, and what's beyond repair." To show his point, he picked up a battered laptop and a game console stacked together.

"This laptop looks like it got run over—it's trash, but this console could be saved with a proper cleaning." Peter shook it, and bugs fell out as he stomped on them. "But keeping them like this makes everything dirty or infested."

Aleksei glanced at the two items. "So, whoever sorted this was lazy, and now it's gonna take what, a few weeks to get this cleaned up?"

Peter nodded. All seven tables were a mess.

Peter continued, hoping the bad news wouldn't cost him his job. "Sorry, but, uh, it's worse. Laptops and phones need specialized tools and take time to repair. Whoever bought these didn't…" He trailed off as he noticed Aleksei clenching his jaw and fists. He looked like he wanted to kill Bennie for this, but there was no changing it now.

Peter lowered his gaze, setting the laptop and console back on the table. "Sorry. I'll just, uh, go."

As he turned to leave, Aleksei put a hand on his shoulder. "No, kid, I'm not mad at you. I was told this stuff was ready to go, so hearing it's not… well."

Peter nodded, unsure what his next move should be.

"Look, there's no money to be made just sorting this mess out. But I'm sure you could pick through it and make a few hundred easy." Aleksei moved into the stairwell, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one, and taking a drag. "So, a hundred bucks. You clean it all up, and I'll pay you a hundred. After that, we go back to the original deal, okay?"

Peter paused. "So, I'm not fired?"

Aleksei laughed. "Fired? You clean up that mess, and you're definitely not fired."

Feeling more confident, Peter asked, "I'll need a toolkit and some money for parts. Consoles might need new drives, plus cleaning supplies." He looked at the bugs crawling between piles. "And gloves. Definitely gloves."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, spend the morning doing what you can, make a list with prices, and I'll look it over, okay?" Aleksei said, taking a last drag on his cigarette and stubbing it out on the wall. "But, kid, I'm not in a good mood. Don't mess this up."

Aleksei gave Peter's shoulder a pat and headed back downstairs.

Peter chuckled to himself as he heard Aleksei muttering, "Dead bug crap," on his way down the stairs.

Good for you, you don't have to clean them, Peter thought. But that's why he's the boss. He went back inside and shut the door.

Peter spent most of the morning cataloging items. After a bit, he went downstairs, grabbed a bucket and a box of latex gloves, and returned to his workspace.

If this was Bennie's idea of organization, Peter would hate to see his apartment. He inspected the corroded cables and broken devices stacked on top of filthy consoles. Everything had been thrown together—phones, various electronics, and mechanical items.

Even large items, which could crush smaller electronics, were mixed in without thought. Grumbling, he pulled on gloves and got to work.

He sorted items onto tables. The room was plain white, with a simple gray carpet and eight office-style desks—basic rectangular tables with steel legs.

First, anything with corroded cables went straight into the trash. Mixing electricity and corrosion wasn't smart, and he didn't want to risk electrocution, even with his powers.

Items that were clearly broken went on the floor. Then he separated the clean from the dirty, though Bennie's carelessness made it tough.

At lunch, he peeled off the gloves, grabbed his bag, and headed downstairs, looking for a spot to eat his small lunch.

"Hey," called a tall, square-faced man. "You can clean up back there," he said, pointing to the building's first section.

Peter waved his thanks and washed his hands before settling on the building's steps.

Aleksei came out of his office, tapping a cigarette on its box. "Most of the guys order out. Want anything?" Peter shook his head, taking out his sandwich.

Lighting his cigarette, Aleksei exhaled a puff of smoke. "So, how bad is it?"

Peter sighed while chewing. "Not as bad as it looks. I wouldn't bother with the cables, but…" He glanced at Aleksei hesitantly.

Aleksei laughed. "Come on, let's hear it."

Peter sighed. "To test the consoles, I need a TV. Nothing fancy, just something modern enough to connect them. I also need a toolkit and cleaning supplies."

"Take a TV from box four. There's a vacuum in there too, if you need it. And you need one of those repair kits, right?" Peter nodded. "Yeah, Bennie left his. Go ahead and use it—he's not coming back. Some family thing."

Aleksei put out his cigarette. "Hey, Flint!" he shouted, and the same man from earlier appeared. "Show the kid the locker, and let him take what he needs."

Peter raised an eyebrow, and Flint said, "What? You think we leave this stuff out where anyone could snatch it?" Peter only shrugged.

"I'll need isopropyl alcohol and, uh, dish soap."

Flint thought. "Yeah, we got that. Might need to restock if you take it upstairs. Need buckets? We've only got small ones."

Aleksei waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get him what he needs."

Peter nodded and followed Flint to the storage cage, where he grabbed what he needed: a bottle of isopropyl alcohol labeled "IPA" and some bleach for the bugs.

When a delivery guy arrived and handed Aleksei a bag of sandwiches, he left after getting paid and tipped.

"Sure you don't want one? Some of the food around here is pretty good," Aleksei asked, but Peter shook his head. "Your loss, kid, your loss."

Peter finished his lunch, collected the IPA and Bennie's toolkit, and returned upstairs.

There wasn't much he could do while waiting for the TV, so he poured out some IPA and started cleaning the ports on the consoles that looked salvageable.

He was in the middle of wiping down one console when the door opened, and a muscular Black man entered. Tall and bald, he had a fern-pattern burn on one side of his face. He held a TV under one arm and a handheld vacuum under the other.

"Peter, right?" he asked. Peter moved his bag so the man could set down the items. "I'm Max," he said, offering his hand, and Peter shook it. Max glanced around, nodded, and said, "See ya later," before leaving.

Not much of a talker, then.

Peter moved from cleaning to setting up a proper workstation.

It was nearly four o'clock when Aleksei came up. "So?"

Peter put down the console he'd just finished inspecting, added a label noting its issues, and tore off a list from his pad.

"I put post-its on what's broken, what's really broken. Yellow means 'needs cleaning but works,' pink means 'repairable,' and blue is for either 'broken' or 'I can't fix it.'" Peter sighed. "I tried with the phones, but I'm not great with those. Even if they power on, I can't fix their issues."

Aleksei looked at the stacks with post-its. To be fair, it didn't seem like much, but the bugs were gone, the corroded cables were in the trash, and the room looked much better. It was only Peter's first day, and Aleksei remembered the mess it was before he started.

"Write that down and pin it to the wall. My guys will keep track and won't mess up your system. So."

Aleksei leaned on the table. "I know you're supposed to be in school—my tax guy checked your social security. What's going on?"

"Suspended for fighting," Peter admitted.

"Did you start it?" Peter shook his head. "Cause you don't strike me as a fighter, Pete."

"Bully," was all Peter could say, and Aleksei huffed, taking a breath.

"Here's some advice, Pete. Nobody cares if you're the little guy. You get mad and bash his skull—they won't care that he's harassed you for years. Either toughen up and make sure he leaves you alone, or find someone to handle it for you." Aleksei reached into his pocket, pulled out some cash. "Here, your pay. Good job—don't let some punk ruin your life, kid."

It wasn't the first time someone had told him that bullies only respond to strength. But Peter knew better.

Flash didn't torment him because he was just an arrogant jerk. He did it for the twisted thrill. Fighting back only made things worse. Peter might be stronger than Flash, but he couldn't stand up to his father—or his father's money.

He grabbed his bag and prepared to head home. Talking with Aleksei reminded him of how powerless he felt with Flash, but he was still happy.

He'd just earned his first paycheck—legally and honestly—and now he could tell Aunt May about it.

At least, the job part. The warehouse wasn't anywhere near ready for her to find out about