🕷
The aftermath of the Washington Monument was hectic to say the least; the decathlon team was interviewed, each giving their accounts of what happened; firetrucks and ambulances were blaring their sirens; the police put up blockades around the monument's entrances and exits; and Spider-Man's popularity rose exponentially.
The next day at school was also crazy. The Academic Decathlon team became celebrities almost – people whispering about them, talking to them, giving them pity looks, trying to be extra nice. Everyone got that . . . all except Peter Parker. But he didn't care, he was on a euphoric high after saving his classmates.
"Dude, dude, dude, dude," Ned rushed, joining Peter and Gwen in the halls. "What is it like being famous when nobody knows it's you?"
Peter's grin never wavered. If anything, it widened. "Crazy, dude," he answered.
"It's crazy," Ned breathed out before asking, "Should we tell everyone?"
"No," Peter and Gwen answered together.
"Should I tell everyone?"
"No." Gwen looked at him weirdly.
"No, dude, no, that's not a good idea." Peter shook his head.
"Okay." Ned shrugged it off. "Come on, we'll be late to class."
"I'm not going to class," said Peter.
Gwen shook her head at the boy's stupidity. "You're already in so much trouble for missing the decathlon."
"Guys, listen, I figured it out, right?" Peter said excitedly. "The wing suit guy is stealing from Damage Control. And what he takes from Damage Control, that's how he builds the weapons. So all I gotta do is catch him."
"It's not gonna be that easy," said Gwen.
Ned looked at his best friend with a weird expression. "But we have a Spanish quiz," he said quietly.
"Ned," Peter sighed, "I'm probably never gonna come back here. Mr. Stark is moving the Avengers upstate, so when I bring this guy in-"
"Dude," interrupted Ned, "you want to be a high school dropout?"
"I am so far beyond high school right now," Peter replied. He turned around to walk out the doors, only to find the principal in his suit, blocking the way.
Principal Morita pointed down the hall with his left hand. "Parker, my office."
Peter silently nodded, casting a glance to his two friends down the hall who shrugged in return.
"Let's go," said Ned.
Gwen nodded and bid her friend goodbye before going into her class. She entered the classroom, it already dead silent as they were watching a video on YouTube. Gwen paused in the middle of the screen when the teacher paused it.
"Why are you late, Ms. Stacy?" the teacher, Mrs. Schneider, demanded, her arms folded over her chest.
"Uh." Quickly, Gwen thought of a lie her friend once used. "Well, Einstein said time was relative. So maybe I'm not late, maybe you guys are just early," she said, sheepishly smiling.
"Detention. After school."
"Okay." Gwen nodded and silently took her seat before the teacher restarted the video.
🕷
Detention was in a random classroom which was supervised by Coach Wilson, even he wasn't paying attention nor caring if people came or left.
At the front of the room, a video was played on the tv cart. On the screen, Captain America showed up, sitting on a chair backwards in an attempt to look cool. "So . . . you got detention. You screwed up," Steve said at a moderate volume.
Peter sighed and looked at his hands in frustration.
"You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you gonna make things right? Maybe you were trying to be cool. But take it from a guy who's been frozen for 65 years, the only way to really be cool is to follow the rules."
Gwen quietly snorted, muttering, "Says that guy who broke international laws to help his supposed dead best friend."
Peter cracked a smile, hearing her words.
MJ was actually in detention as well, sitting next to Gwen. She was drawing in her sketchbook, using Gwen's 'crisis face' – MJ's words, not Gwen's – as inspiration for a portrait. The blonde had never been in detention. Sure, she's missed a few days for Spider things, but either Peter or her dad would call the school and make it excused.
(Her dad did indeed know about his daughter being Spider-Woman. There was a huge lecture involved and she was given a canister of pepper spray – not that it would have done anything.)
MJ showed Gwen the picture of her. She laughed, finding it amusing. Coach Wilson didn't care.
"We all know what's right. We all know what's wrong. Next time those turkeys try to convince you of something you know is wrong. . ."
Frustrated, Peter picked up his backpack and marched right out of the room. Gwen looked at his retreating back, internally sighing because she knew she would have to follow him.
Coach Wilson peered from behind his computer screen. "Hey," he said, indifferently, "where you going? Get back here."
"Just think to yourself, what would Captain America do?"
"Probably break some international laws for his supposed dead best friend," Gwen muttered, although there was no Peter to smile at her comment.
The coach looked over to MJ, asking, "Why are you here? You don't even have detention."
"Wait," Gwen said, "you don't?"
MJ shrugged. "Oh, I know. I just like to come here to sketch people in crisis." She holds up another page in her sketchbook. "Heh. It's you."
Gwen really tried to hide the snort that came out of her.
"So your body's changing. Believe me, I know how that feels," Steve on the screen said.
"Okay, I'm done," announced Gwen, getting up from her chair and leaving the detention room. Again, Coach Wilson didn't move a muscle when he 'tried' to stop her.
She heard a loud crash. She ran towards the sound of the crash to see Peter walking away from some lockers. She didn't announce her presence; she wanted to scare him. So, instead, she followed him back to the apartment building: on the train, down the few blocks, up the stairs when Peter got in the elevator, and down the hallway.
Peter got out his keys, fumbling around with them to get the right one.
"Where you going?"
Peter jumped about three feet in the air, getting his hand ready to shoot a web. He weakly glared at Gwen when she was cackling obnoxiously at his explosive reaction. "Shut up," he grumbled. "And aren't you supposed to be in detention?"
"I could say the same for you," she countered.
He rolled his eyes, although a small smile was glimpsed on his face. "You comin' or not." He opened the door to his apartment.
Gwen sauntered her way over, dramatically bowing when passing Peter. "Thank you, kind sir."
"My pleasure, kind lady."
Gwen had to admit, Peter's British accent was spot on.
After checking that Aunt May was there, Peter led Gwen to his bedroom (she already knew where it was but didn't remind him) and gave her a half-eaten bag of chips he had for breakfast. Breakfast of champions.
"Hey, Peter," Gwen called out, "is there an actual name for the 'glowy thing' or is it just called 'glowy thing'?"
"It's a Chitauri energy core," he answered, shrugging on his Spider-Man mask.
"I'm sorry, Chi- what?" Gwen laughed, not even being able to say the word correctly. "What kind of made-up word is that?
"All words are made up."
"Just explain."
"Chitauri. A big battle a couple years ago. Aliens and stuff."
"Aliens exist," she said, dumbfounded.
"Yep."
She sighed in irritation. "I was hoping this universe wasn't one of those."
Peter whipped hie head around to face her. "One of what?"
"The universes that have aliens. Mine had a black goo. Tried to infect me once," she said nonchalantly. "Not fun to fight."
He looked at her with a concerned face. Immediately, his mind flashed with every possible way she could've gotten hurt – it could've infected her, it could've infected her through an injury she sustained, she could've died, she could've gotten a concussion, she could've broken a bone, her spidey sense could've failed her. Numerous things could've happened to her and he quickly scanned her up and down for any injuries even though the fight she was in was months ago.
Gwen saw his face and brushed him off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, it's fine. I dealt with it."
Peter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He looked at her one last time to make sure she was fine before moving onto what he actually came to do. Peter sat in chair and spun a few times (Gwen's habit transferring to him) before stopping and placing his feet on the desk. "Hey, Karen," Peter greeted, "what's up?"
"Hey, Peter," Karen replied. "How was your Spanish quiz?"
"Who you talking to?" Gwen asked after she swallowed some chips.
"The AI in my suit," answered Peter. "Gwen – Karen. Karen – Gwen."
"This is Gwen?" Karen asked. A hint of what sounded like amusement in her voice.
Peter ignored the question. "Listen, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who the guys under the bridge were that night, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."
"I can run facial recognition on the footage of that encounter," Karen said.
A string of data appeared in front of Peter's eyes. Files all numbered and dated in chronological order.
"Footage?" Peter asked worriedly. His voice was a little too high-pitched for this kind of question, and Gwen wondered what was possibly on that footage.
"Yes, Peter. I record everything you see."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"Like all the time?"
"It's called the Baby Monitor Protocol."
Peter threw his pen in irritation; Gwen snickered. "Yeah, of course it is. Uh, yeah, just roll it back to last Friday."
"With pleasure."
"Hey, can you project it?" Gwen said. "I want to see it too."
"Of course."
Footage popped up on the wall, using Spider-Man web-shooter as the source of projection. Peter was shown on the video in his Spider-Man mask while he was standing in front of the mirror in his room. "Hey, everyone. Yeah, kick-ass party. Hey, what's up, Liz? Peter's told me a lot about you." The Spider-Man masked winked at himself in the mirror.
Gwen silently laughed, her body shaking.
Peter cringed at himself, taking a slight glance at Gwen who was trying so desperately hard not to laugh. "No, no, no, no, no, no. This is just me messing around. Go later in the day, later in the day."
Karen fast forwarded the video.
This next one was Peter – still in the Spider-Man mask standing in front of the mirror – but this time, he held a wooden hammer in his hand. "It is I, Thor, Son of Odin!" Past Peter was shown bringing the hammer into the ground like he was landing with immense power.
"No, no, no, no, no, no. That's definitely . . . no. That's definitely not what we wanted to watch. Just. . ."
"Your impressions are very funny."
"Yeah, Peter," Gwen said, snickering, "they're very funny. Best I've ever seen."
He glared at her. "Stop."
She grinned in reply.
"Just fast-forward to the arms deal."
The next video was at night and showed three people meeting at a van while under a bridge. One of the guys – the one buying something – looked like someone Gwen recognized, but she couldn't place who it was.
"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" Peter asked.
"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said. "No records found for two of the individuals."
"Nothing?" Peter's voice held a little disappointment.
"One individual identified. Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."
A projection of Aaron Davis was shown, along with his criminal record.
Gwen now knew why he looked familiar: In the last universe she went to, Miles' one, Aaron Davis was Miles' uncle, aka The Prowler.
"Let's pay him a visit," said Peter, getting up from his chair.
"Would you like me to activate Enhanced Interrogation Protocol?" Karen asked.
"Uh." Peter hesitated, remembered Enhanced Combat Mode. "Yeah."
"I'm coming," Gwen stated, standing up from Peter's bed, leaving the finished chip bag on the sheets.
Immediately, Peter violently shook his head in disagreement. "No. No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not."
"Why not?"
Peter opened his mouth, only to close it. He couldn't exactly say that the reason was because he didn't want her to get hurt. After all, he's only known her for a few weeks, well months if he counted when they met at the airport in Germany. But he didn't count that, so it didn't matter.
"I'm coming with you, and that's final," Gwen stated. She walked to Peter's bedroom door and opened it, walking towards the apartment's front door to open it. Peter followed behind after hastily pulling off his mask. Gwen unlocked her apartment before turning back around sharply. Peter almost stumbled into her. "Give me three minutes." She shut the door to change into her suit.
Peter really didn't want her to come, and he had three minutes to prevent her from doing so. First, he shot a web on the handle, preventing her from opening it. And she couldn't melt it off because the web was on the outside of the door, not the inside. Quickly running back to his room (after locking his front door of course) he took off his clothes and put on the Spider-Man suit. It shrunk to his body when he pressed the emblem with his hand.
The eyes adjusted themselves to his eyes before displaying things on the screen. "Karen, you gotta help me stop Gwen," Peter said, opening his bedroom window.
"May I ask why?" Karen asked.
"Because she'll get hurt, and I can't allow that." Peter climbed out, closing his window, and made his way over Gwen's apartment.
"I would suggest having her come because she could help you - partners."
Spider-Man shook his head. "No. Absolutely not." He climbed over the brick wall of the building and found the windows to her apartment. He quickly webbed them shut. He nodded in approval of his handywork before swinging away towards Aaron Davis' current location.
When Gwen came to her front door twenty seconds later, she found she couldn't open it. She did the same with her windows and couldn't open them either. She yanked back the curtains and saw the spiderwebs around the bottom of the window. She groaned and cursed Peter out.
It would take at least two hours for the webs to dissolve by themselves, and she couldn't just use her spray because she couldn't reach them. If she wanted to, she could break the window or door, but what lie would she tell the apartment building's manager? A giant spider got in so she threw a rock to kill the bug? It wouldn't be technically wrong, as she is a bug – or at least kinda related to one – but that wouldn't go over well.
All Gwen could do was wait. And eat food. Food was very important. Or she could clean up the leftover boxes still hanging around from her move-in day four weeks ago. Gwen decided to be at least somewhat productive for the next two hours, so she changed out of her suit and into some leggings and sweatshirt and started to pull things out of boxes and place them somewhere in her apartment.
Gwen tried to call Peter, but he didn't pick up, declining the call immediately when it popped up on his screen under the mask.
Peter Parker aka Spider-Man found out the location of Aaron Davis which led to a garage where Aaron Davis was there getting grocery shopping done.
Aaron Davis is a tall, darker-skinned man with his hair twisted up out of his face. His oversized, white shirt clung to his body, shifting with every step he took.
"Remember me?" Spider-Man asked. His voice changed from his normal one to a deep, metallic one, the one that came with Enhanced Interrogation Protocol.
Aaron, standing next to his car while loading grocery bags into the trunk, looked up at the voice. His hand got webbed to the trunk. "Uh, hey. . ." Aaron awkwardly greeted.
"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," demanded Spider-Man. The little drone on the Spider-Man emblem was flying around his head.
"All right, chill."
"Come on!"
He looked at the superhero with almost a teasing glint in his eyes. "What happened to your voice?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"
"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sounds like."
"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy." Spider-Man quickly backtracked his words. "I mean, I'm a . . . I'm a man."
"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl . . . something else." Aaron shrugged.
"I'm not a girl! I'm a man. Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names or else."
Aaron slammed the trunk shut, the sound startling Spider-Man wo stepped back and looked around, checking to see if anyone saw him get scared.
"You ain't ever done this before, huh?" Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow.
Peter sighed. "Deactivate interrogation mode." The little spider drone flew back to the emblem on his chest. Aaron laughed heartedly. Spider-Man's voice went back to his normal one when he said, "Normally, someone else would do this part. She's much better as she always tells me." He rolled his eyes in irritation at the thought of her. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half. . ."
The entire time Spider-Man talked, Aaron Davis picked at his fingernails, sniffing, not amused. However, when Peter said Mr. Delmar's name, his interests piqued.
"You know Delmar's?"
"Yeah," answered Peter, "best sandwich in Queens."
"Sub Haven's pretty good."
"It's too much bread." Peter shivered as if he was remembering all the bread.
"I like bread," Aaron retorted.
"Come on, man, please." When Aaron didn't reply, Spider-Man sighed, giving up on the whole thing, walking away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again." He kicked at the ground in frustration.
"The other night," Aaron said, making Spider-Man pause his walking away, "you told the guy 'if you shoot somebody, shoot me'. It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who lives here."
Peter walked back to Aaron. "Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with wings?" he asked, leaning against Aaron's car.
"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon," Aaron said, shrugging, "nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is."
Peter put his head on the car, sighing.
"I do know where he's gonna be."
Peter lifted his head up with hope. "Really?"
"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."
"Yes!" Spider-Man cheered. "Yes. Thank-" He started to walk away happily, giggling to himself like a child.
"Hey. Hey. Hey," Aaron called out, gaining the attention of the spider again. "I didn't tell you where; you don't have a location."
Spider-Man slapped his forehead comically in the realization. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just. . ." He leaned towards Aaron, resting his body on the car. He put his hands on the car expectantly. "Yeah. Where is it?"
Instead of telling him where the location was yet, Aaron decided to offer some advice. "Can I give you some advice?"
"Hmm?"
"You gotta get better at this part of the job."
"I don't understand. I'm intimidating." Peter demonstrated his 'intimidating' pose, crossing his arms over his chest. He almost tripped over his own feet when trying to get into the pose, but Aaron didn't notice.
Aaron repressed a sigh before saying, "Staten Island ferry, eleven."
"Oh, that's soon." Peter looked down at his nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."
"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."
"Two hours." Peter held up the number two in his fingers to further prove his point. "You deserve that."
"I got ice cream in here!"
"You deserve that," said Peter, walking away. "You're a criminal. Bye, Mr. Criminal!" Spider-Man waved his hand at Aaron Davis before jumping out of the parking lot and swinging away to the Staten Island ferry.
🕷
Getting onto the ferry wasn't hard – just jumping about fifteen feet over a twenty-foot drop over water. Remembering the whole lake dropping thing, he didn't hesitate for a second before leaping off. Peter managed to stick to the outside of the orange ferry.
Spider-Man climbed the outside, talking to Karen about keeping an eye out of people, specifically people that he recognized under the bridge along with people he's never seen before.
Karen suggested to use Instant Kill.
Peter quickly shot down the idea to use Instant Kill. He briefly wondered why Karen was so obsessed with Instant Kill.
Aunt May tried to call, but Peter just declined. Gwen also called, and he declined that too. Then a text popped up on his heads-up display: Imma kill u spiderboy. Peter cringed at the text, but ignored it to focus back on the task at hand.
He instructed the drone from his emblem, rightly named Dronie, to keep an eye out for the people he saw within the ferry's passenger deck. When a white pickup truck was mentioned, he had Dronie scan the car deck for a white pickup truck.
"Incoming call from Tony Stark," Karen announced.
"No, no, no. No, no, don't answer," said Peter fearfully. He was really hoping that Gwen didn't tattletale and tell on him to Tony Stark.
Karen didn't answer and put Tony Stark on the call. "Mr. Parker," said the billionaire. "Got a sec?" He was seated in what looked like the backseat of an expensive car, and knowing the billionaire, it probably was.
"Uh." Peter quickly made up a lie. "I'm actually at school."
"No, you're not," Karen said.
"Nice work in D.C."
"O-Okay."
"My dad never really gave me a lot of support. . . And I'm just trying to break the cycle of shame."
"Uh, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." Peter didn't want to be mean or rude to his idol, but he really needed that call to end so he could get back to spying on the bad guys.
"Don't cut me off when I'm complimenting you. Anyway, great things are about to-" The ferry horn blared loudly, the sound making Tony wince on the other line. Frowning, he asked, "What was that?"
"Uh, I-I'm at band practice." Peter nodded in head (though Tony couldn't see him) in confirmation at his own lie.
"That's odd," Tony mused. "Happy told me you quit band six weeks ago." Peter internally cursed at himself for not remembering that. "What's up?"
"I gotta go. Uh, end call."
"Hey-"
Karen shut down the call before Tony could get another syllable in. "I'll take those!" Peter shot a web at the keys to the white pickup truck. "Yoink!" he sounded out when the keys landed in his hand. All heads snapped over to Spider-Man as he landed on the car deck. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."
Two of the four guys tried to pull their handguns out, but Spider-Man shot two webs, pulling them forward while he flipped over before kicking the third guy in the face. He shot a web at the ferry, keeping him there, and another at the third guy to stick him of the end of the ferry. Saltwater is not fun to drink the third guy found.
His senses tingled, signaling him to duck. Which he did. An electric fist came into a hook over Spider-Man's head. The fist caught on the metal gate of the ferry.
Another tingle. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He whirled around enough to shoot another web, pulling those two guys from earlier and knocking them into the metal barrier of the ferry. Peter cringed when he saw one of the guys stagger against the railing. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard."
He quickly webbed the electric fist to the metal barrier.
"I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing," Spider-Man said. The cartridges of web fluid popped out of his shooters. Grabbing two off his belt, Spider-Man replaced them with new ones as Dronie came back to the emblem. "I'm honestly, I'm-I'm shocked." The tingle signaled again. He didn't even look behind him to shoot a web grenade at the person yelling some sort of attack towards Spider-Man.
The web grenade exploded, sticking the yelling dude to the side of the wall.
Under the mask, Peter grinned at his handiwork.
His grin fell when he saw the unknown guy from earlier staring at Spider-Man from the other end of the boat.
"Freeze! FBI!" one person yelled out.
"Don't move," another instructed.
"Get on the ground," a third ordered.
"FBI!" a fourth called out.
All the FBI agents were undercover and had all their guns trained on Spider-Man.
"Wait," Spider-Man said, "what do you mean 'FBI'?"
"The FBI is the Federal Bureau of Investigation," reported Karen.
"I know what the FBI means, but what are they doing here?!"
A mechanical wing exploded from a white van. All attention was turned towards it. The winged man was the same guy Spider-Man fought numerous times – at the truck, the lake to name a few.
Spider-Man tried to get all the FBI agents to safety by shooting webs and yelling out, but none of them paid any attention, all of it completely focused on the winged guy. He also tried to catch the last few bad guys that were still straggling around, but the webs Spider-Man used were all shredded with a purple alien tech gun the wing guy had.
(The guy that was stuck to the end of the ferry managed to pull himself up out of the saltwater, only to get knocked back into the water by his boss, the wing guy.)
The vulture dude shot his purple gun at everybody – Spider-Man, the FBI agents, and a car just because he felt like it. A few cars got destroyed; a few people within the ferry screamed; a few support columns got obliterated; Spider-Man was stupid.
Spider-Man managed to web the purple gun by using the taser web (Peter was quite glad to have had run through the refresher course) and yank it free of the vulture dude's hands. Unfortunately, the gun kept firing purple beams of energy which forced Spider-Man to use up a lot of his web fluid just to cover the damn thing.
The vulture guy flew off with one of his men on his back. Spider-Man watched them leave. He turned around quick enough to see the purple energy being built up under all the webs and cut through in shards of light, cutting through the metal layers of the ferry, dividing the entire boat into equal halves.
The ferry sprouted jets of saltwater from the car deck – the lowest deck and where the bottom of the boat was. People were screaming around, dodging some pieces of metal that was falling. Sparks flew in every direction. The whole ship creaked under the strain of the weight and damage.
"Oh, my god. What do I do?" Spider-Man whispered to himself in disbelief. Could he really have caused that much damage? "Karen, uh, give me an X-ray of the boat and target all the strongest points!"
On his heads-up display – HUD – it showed all the main support columns, some of them were missing as they were already disintegrated earlier into the fight.
The average length of a ferry was seven hundred feet. Spider-Man had seven hundred feet to web up. Peter had seven hundred feet of ferry to web up, or the entire thing will go down.
Peter Parker covered seven hundred feet of ferry in spider webs in under eight seconds.
When he turned back to look at his work, he saw his numerous spider webs all connected, crisscrossing with each other, forcing the two halves of the boat of rely on each other for support.
"Great job, Peter," Karen said. "You are ninety-eight percent successful."
"Ninety-eight?" repeated Spider-Man.
The strands of the webs started to snap one by one, the sound echoing in his head. The echoes of a job done badly.
Water started to flood back into the decks, sweeping most of the cars away into the water. The two halves creak and fall away from each other down into the water.
"NO!" Peter jumped into the air to catch the last remaining the strand together. His arms strained under the weight of the boat. He tried so desperately hard to pull the two pieces together, but he couldn't. He screamed out.
A black, white, and pink figure jumped over him and webbed up the seven hundred feet of ferry together. Peter tried to twist his head around to see who it was, but he already knew: Spider-Woman.
The two halves of the ferry came together.
Spider-Man dropped onto the ground when the two halves met in the middle.
"Hi, Spider-Man," Iron Man said through the suit. He was pushing the two pieces together. "Band practice, was it?" Under Iron Man's command, little drones came and placed themselves against the sides of the orange ferry and fired up to push the two halves together.
Spider-Man quickly followed to see Iron Man flying around using a laser on his arms to solder the metal together. Spider-Woman was around helping people buy comforting them or getting them to a safer spot.
"Uh, Mr. Stark? Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?" Spider-Man asked.
Iron Man barely glanced back at the kid when he replied, "I think you've done enough." He flew away leaving Spider-Man on the top of the ferry.
Smoke poured out of the crack that was now soldered together. Helicopters belonging to police, coast guard, and news stations circled around. The blades whipped through the air, masking over the shouts from frightened passengers and rescuers who were coming towards in boats.
"I'm gonna kill you."
He whirled around to see the voice – Spider-Woman standing in front of him with arms crossed over her chest. He couldn't really see her glare, but he felt it; it sent shivers down his spine.
"You locked me inside my apartment," she stated.
"Yes. I did do that." Spider-Man nodded.
"Why?"
He cringed again. He knew that question was probably going to come up, but a small part of him hoped it wouldn't. "I, uh . . ." He didn't really know how to answer that.
Gwen sighed. "Look, Spider-Boy-"
"Spider-Man," corrected Peter.
She ignored him. "Look, Spider-Boy, I get that being a hero is exciting and all, but you really need to learn when to accept help from other people," she said.
Spider-Man frowned under the mask. "I accept help," he defended.
"No you don't. You locked me in my own apartment to keep me from helping you."
At least Peter had to decency to look a little guilty. But then he puffed his chest out a little. "I was keeping you safe," he said.
"I don't need to be kept safe. I've been doing this a lot longer than you have. I know what to do."
"Yes, as you keep reminding me every chance you get," Spider-Man snapped back.
"You need to learn how to restrain yourself, Peter," Gwen said, "or one of these days someone is going to get hurt and that's gonna be on you."
"I don't need your help," he stated.
"You don't understand, Peter! You have great power, and with that comes-" she panted. She couldn't even bring herself to finish what her Peter always said. Tears brimmed her eyes under the mask. She took a shaky breath. "You need to stop getting yourself into these situations. Situations where I cannot save you."
"I don't need to be saved!"
"Yes you do!" she snapped. "You do need to be saved because you cannot handle the responsibility of your powers! You're a child, not a superhero! Just because you have powers, doesn't make you a hero. My dad is a hero, and he doesn't have powers. But you have powers and because you have them, you think you're invincible . . . but you're not, and the quicker you learn that the safer you will be."
Peter scoffed. "Yeah? And why are you so set on saving me, huh? Answer me that!"
Peter Parker struck a nerve in Gwen Stacy, but he didn't notice it.
Gwen flinched back and that broke Peter's heart for some reason. "You want to know why?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes."
She looked at him, tears brimming at her eyes under the mask, but he didn't know. "I'm dead set on saving you because I couldn't save my Peter Parker." Her voice cracked. "And I'll be damned if I let another die on my watch."
Peter stopped. He stared at her, unmoving. He didn't know to respond if he even could. His mind whirred with things he could say, but he never said any. He couldn't bring himself to open his mouth or produce a sound. He just continued to stare at her.
"Come on, sweetheart," Gwen said, "get a move on." She shot a web out and swung into the city streets. By then, the ship has docked into the harbor and the passengers were being taken off and into ambulances.
He followed obediently, shooting a web of his and swinging down the city streets. He followed her to a rooftop she was waiting at, her knees pulled up to her chest, head on her knees and mask off. He sat down a few feet away from her, not wanting to poke the bear with a stick. He took off his mask and looked at the destruction he caused.
"I know you thought you were doing good," Gwen said softly. Peter turned his head to look at her, but she kept her gaze forward at the ferry. "I get it; you want to prove yourself – badly." Peter didn't say anything because she was right. "But you do really need to learn when to allow others to help you. You're not alone in this world – hell, you're not alone in this universe. I'm here. I'll always be here. I'm going to be able to help . . . if you allow me." She glanced at him, catching his eyes. She was smiling a little. "And if you ever lock me in my apartment again, there will be hell to pay." She softly laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. Peter laughed a little too.
"I promise I won't lock you in your apartment ever again, Scouts Honor," Peter swore with a small smile.
"Were you even in the Scouts?"
"Nope," he answered, making her laugh.
Tony Stark watched the whole conversation. He thought it was kind of adorable that they were getting along nicely. Sure, he's heard about some of their arguments – like the one on the ferry about three minutes ago – but he was still glad to see his two arachnid people getting along.
But Tony decided to break the tender moment. "Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch: I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."
Peter's smile he had on melted off his face. "Is everyone okay?" he asked quietly.
"No thanks to you. Gwen here had to do all the work."
"No thanks to me?" Peter repeated, angered. He jumped off the ledge of the roof and onto the rooftop. "Those weapons were out there, and I tried to tell you about it. But you didn't listen. None of this would've happened if you had just listened to me." Peter looked at the Iron Man suit in an emotion Gwen couldn't place, maybe it was disappointment. "If you even cared, you'd actually be here."
The suit's mechanics retract to allow Tony Stark to step down. Peter took a few steps back in shock. "I did listen, kid. Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know that I- we were the only one who believed in you?" Tony's eyes quickly flickered to Gwen. "Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid."
"I'm fifteen," Peter weakly corrected.
"No, this is where you zip it, all right?" Tony snapped. "The adult is talking. What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right?" Peter didn't answer. "'Cause that's on you. And if you died, I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."
"Yes, sir." Peter nodded.
"Yes."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it."
"I understand." Peter quickly looked at Gwen as she hopped down from the ledge. "I just wanted to be like you."
Both Tony and Gwen didn't know if that was directed at themselves or the other.
"And I wanted you to be better," retorted Tony. "Okay, it's not working out. I'm gonna need the suit back," he announced.
"For-For how long?"
"Forever."
Peter shook his head in denial.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's how it works."
"No. No, no . . . please, please, please . . ."
"Let's have it."
"You don't understand. Please. This is all I have," Peter pleaded. "I'm nothing without this suit." The suit gave Peter a confidence he always wanted. It gave him a layer of protection from the things he fought on a daily basis. He always thought that being a superhero was something only in his wildest dreams, but when Tony Stark gave that opportunity to him, it made him into something – a symbol of good. With the suit added, it meant that Spider-Man could be a symbol of good and justice and not just some kid who decided to wear spandex and march across the street holding a baseball bat. It gave Peter a sense of identity, and to have that be taken away from him felt like a piece of himself was being ripped away.
"If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. Okay?" Tony snapped. He then sighed. "God, I sound like my dad." Tony really didn't want to do what he did, but he didn't know what else to do. When he asked Gwen why she was locked in her apartment, she replied with that she wanted to test how strong her webs are compared to her enhanced strength. (Her webs came out as the winner in that test.) Tony didn't buy it, but he didn't question any further.
Peter looked heartbroken. "I . . . I don't have any other clothes," he admitted. His ears tinted a little pink at the admittance. He quickly glanced at Gwen to see her hiding a smile; he turned redder.
"Okay, we'll sort that out."
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A/N- THANK YOU FOR 600 READS!