The bell rang for the end of the day and Peter Parker stomped out of the school, a warning slip in his hand. One more late arrival and he would have detention. Again. He scowled loudly as someone snickered beside him.

"A warning slip? Has someone been naughty?" his friend grinned. When Peter glared at him, he feigned pouting before a smile sneaked itself back onto his pointed face.

"I have to stop missing my bus, Harry."

"No kidding. 'This is the fourth time this year that you have been tardy. You know the rules. You can't be late anymore without getting detention,'" Harry recited with an exaggerated wave of his hands, mimicking their strict mathematics teacher.

Peter shook his head and smiled. "I've got to get home, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure thing, juvenile delinquent," Harry paused and then added seriously, "And get some sleep. You look like you got hit by a train."

The stormy glower on Peter's face was accompanied by slumped shoulders and dark bags under his eyes. He needed sleep, time to do his work, and time to think. The school bus' windows rattled as it traveled over an uneven section of road. His mind began to drift.

All throughout the day, he drifted from classroom to classroom, his mind disconnected from reality, thinking about one thing: the art thief. As he thought of the thief again, the memory of earlier that night broke into his consciousness.

The buzz of police radio chatter played in the background at seven at night. Next to Peter was a notebook, chemistry equations scribbled across it in a slightly unruly handwriting. He tapped his foot impatiently on the leg of his chair and closed the notebook. He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and planted his face on the desk in front of him. The police chatter continued to play, and as Peter really focused on it, his eyes widened. "We have a 10-30. I repeat, we have a 10-30 at the Met. We require backup."

Peter shook his head and tried to clear his mind. If he was going to find this thief that so easily evaded him the night before, he was going to have to be clever.

But even before that, he had some chemistry homework he should finish before he failed the class.

Loki rolled up the dirty newspaper and tucked it underneath his arm. He turned into a food plaza and sat down at one of the empty tables and opened up the newspaper. The headline that he was so fixated on earlier. Metropolitan Museum of Art Vandalized After Costly Robbery. Loki read through the rest of the article. It went on to explain that after the museum was robbed of an old art piece worth a thousand dollars, something large and horrible-looking trashed the place. It entered through the doors at the entrance and entered the second floor, miraculously only damaging the tiled floors. On the second floor, however, police were astonished to see the creature tearing at their equipment at the crime scene. After they began firing at the creature, it escaped through a large window and disappeared into the city.

If Eddie Brock is anywhere, he'll be at that museum.

After politely asking a young woman where the 'Metropolitan Museum' was, he went on his way. You're quite messy, Eddie Brock. I would be inclined to believe that I can do the same thing you tried last night, but I won't be the headline in tomorrow's news.

Loki slinked into the shadows, the spell around his skin wavering his figure into a nebulous shape, invisible to anyone not looking directly at him. The entrance of the museum seemed untouched, so he moved beyond it and studied a map of the premises for a moment before heading upstairs. That was where the traveling painting exhibit was stationed that was mentioned in the papers.

After aimlessly wandering for a while and wondering how the people on Midgard managed to navigate through the endless museum, he came up on the crime scene. Unlike the rest of the museum, it was absolutely trashed. A window on one side of the room was shattered, presumably where Venom had broken in the night before. Bits of plaster and bricks were littered all around the floor from deep gouges in the ceiling and walls.

Loki slinked back into a corner, relying on his spell to avoid detection from the police on the crime scene. Three police officers and two men with black suits stood around the scene and put objects from the scene in clear plastic bags. He let his eyes wander and examined the walls. A few paintings had been torn off of their places on the wall and a few were completely ruined, which was a bit saddening for Loki, as he appreciated a good piece of artistry. But there was a place on the wall completely devoid of anything. There was no damage to the hangers there, so nothing to suggest it was ripped off. It seemed that whoever took that specific painting did so meticulously and carefully. That must have been the only thing the thief stole.

There was a plaque still intact underneath where the painting used to be, but Loki was a bit too far away to read its writing. He squinted and inched closer to it, but his boots scraped against the plaster covering the ground. A few investigators looked in his direction but soon looked away, their eyes drawn away from his corner.

I need to read that plaque.

He waited minutes, and then half an hour for the investigators to pack up and leave a single guard to protect the scene. Really quite a stupid move. I would have had at least three.

With the guard looking out the room in the hallway, Loki carefully stepped over the plaster and bricks on the ground and squinted at the writing on the plaque.

The Manipulator by Charlie Verantica, the plaque read in machine-precision letters.

Loki had to quickly retreat into the shadows when he heard the guard coming back his way, but he kept the name of the painting and its artist in his mind's eye, mulling it over. He wondered why, of all the paintings and art in the Metropolitan Museum, the thief would choose to steal this particular painting. It struck him as odd, and as he was leaving the building, he made a mental note to try and investigate it.

He made sure to over exaggerate his steps and smirk every time he stepped over debris on the ground as he quietly left.

It only occurred to him after he left the museum that he didn't find Eddie Brock at the scene. He had thought before that based on Brock's phone conversation that he would be desperate for information and would be at the crime scene, but he seemed to be mistaken. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. Things always had to get complicated. He may have had more information in his hands, but he still didn't have what he came for. And truthfully, he was out of ideas on how to find Eddie Brock.

Maybe he would just get a sandwich nearby or buy some new clothes.

Thank you all for reading my story and keeping up with my updates. I am very sorry for not updating in a long time, but I've had a bad writing block recently. Hopefully I've broken through it! Anyway, thank you all so much for taking to time to read my work. It honestly means so much to me. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the ones to come!