dynamics, 4
Shame I don’t have more time here, Daisy mused as she watched the blocks of the small city of Harrisburg roll by from within the late-night bus. She’d heard some good things about Harrisburg’s ballroom scene and had been curious to check it out. Maybe one day she would. Right now, all she had time for was to meet with Cailan and raid the base that Hunter’s friend had found and get straight back to Boston for Gwen. With how her priorities had shifted in the last few weeks, it was a rather easy decision; Gwen was her priority.
According to the intel Daisy had received, there was a singular warehouse on the waterfront of the Susquehanna River that was connected to an underground tunnel network where the supply of terrigen crystals were more likely being stored. It was honestly kind of scary that this ‘Manufacturer’ had been able to source so much terrigen, considering the outbreak that had been caused years ago by just a few cases. Daisy had a few guesses on what the Manufacturer’s endgame was, and none of them were good. Plus, Daisy had to acknowledge that this Manufacturer knew what they were doing. This base had been established sometime in the last couple of months, after the Manufacturer had clearly caught wind that Daisy was on their trail. Setting up underground was a good way to prevent Daisy from utilising the full strength of their abilities.
But it wouldn’t be enough to stop her. Especially with Cailan teaming up with her, having now mastered the use of their powers with considerable practice on their own. Underground tunnels may be a place Daisy had to hold back, but they were also a place that Cailan could wreak a lot of havoc, now that they had learned to extend their gravity manipulation beyond just their own body. Small confined spaces were not a good place for any other than trained acrobats to take them on. This might even be fun.
Right now, Daisy just needed to get to the meeting point with Cailan at the John Harris Memorial Bridge, and then they’d walk in through the front door. She’d already flitted about around as many of the back exits she could identify and sealed them in. Well, no. Daisy had rigged them up so if anybody tried to escape through the ‘secret’ exits, the pathways would cave in. Just a little bit of destabilization was all it took. Wouldn’t want them escaping with any terrigen or getting away before Daisy and Cailan could secure some answers, after all.
Because the Manufacturer needed to be shut down. If they spread their network of terrigen far enough, the Manufacturer could trigger a wave of near-genocide for non-inhumans. Something perhaps equivalent to what Jiaying had tried to accomplish, but on an even larger scale. If the ‘basilisk egg’ trade went global, shit was going to go down regardless.
The bus pulled up just near the bridge. It wasn’t going to cross to the other side of the river, and neither was Daisy. She got off, and started making tracks along the riverfront until she saw a small golf buggy. Of course. With a sigh, Daisy approached the buggy and swung her backpack into the back. “Really, a golf buggy?”
Cailan laughed. Of course they’d stolen a golf buggy from somewhere to use as slightly-faster-than-on-foot transport. It was just Cailan’s style to do something so absurd. “Sure, why not?”
Cailan stood shorter than most, and got underestimated for it. They had a messy scruff of short green hair with colour that was starting to fade, and the barest wisps of a beard starting to come in. Their leather jacket had yet another patch added to its array, and Daisy had to take a moment to acknowledge how impressive it was that Cailan had kept this jacket going. It had been cut at, shot at and even burned once and the ever-persistent Cailan had just continued to mend and add to it. They had two not so concealed Icers holstered on the insides of the jacket, and a couple knives poking out from their boots. Well, maybe Daisy could teach Cailan a few more things about stealth. Later, though.
“Eh, saves us some time,” Daisy relented. “Not like they’ll be able to run when they see us coming.”
“You really are something,” Cailan remarked, a growing smirk illuminated by the approach of the street lamps they were driving towards. “Oh, you’ll love this. I swung by my mothers place last week to check on my little sister.”
Daisy eyed her friend and student warily. Cailan wasn’t someone who was especially familiar with restraint, and even if what Daisy knew of their family decision made clear that any action they took was well justified, she also didn’t want her friend getting into too much trouble with the law. Not again. “Oh?”
Cailan huffed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go too ham on her. Let’s just say that chancla of hers is probably floating around near the International Space Station now, what with how long I held its gravity flipped. Lucia’s almost old enough for emancipation now, and then I can swing by and pick her up for good. Get her away. For now, I plan to be a friendly neighbourhood menace!”
“Heard about that, did you?” Daisy snorted.
“You teaming up with Spider-Man? Heard the rumours, wanted to know if it was true.”
Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. Well, helping shape up Spider-Man’s new friends and making sure they all know how to take care of themselves. Especially since one of them is my little sibling.”
Cailan slammed their foot down on the brakes, and Daisy quickly braced against the nearest thing in front of her. “You found them?”
“Yup,” Daisy confirmed as she regained her posture and composure from the sudden stop. “Gwen. Good kid. Got hit by a terrigen crystal the night I met her, and we’re actually really connecting.”
“Huh. Well, good for Gwen to have a sister like you,” Cailan smiled. “Her dad’s a cop, right? That’s what Calvin told you?”
“I dunno if he’ll be her dad for long. I’ll need to be back to Boston by tomorrow afternoon to go with her to confront her parents. Should be fun!”
“Man, I wish I could swing by and just, you know, float him in the sky a little,” Cailan sort-of joked.
“Gwen would love that,” Daisy provided as Cailan pulled up a short ways from the warehouse. There was a little bit of tree cover to help obscure their entrance, and Daisy could already see two guards out the front. “You might get to meet them when we find the Manufacturer - they want to help. With how quickly she’s getting the hang of her powers, I have no doubt she’ll be ready.”
“Fun, that’s definitely something to look forward to. Alright, let’s get this show on the road?” Cailan suggested, and parked the buggy right behind a tree so it could possibly serve as a getaway vehicle if it wasn’t spotted.
“Yeah, I’ll just go take care of those guards and we can head in,” Daisy said, and readied her hands behind her back so she could blast forward before the guards would react.
Cailan smiled, looking rather suspect. “Sorry, what guards?”
All Daisy had to do was follow the sound of screaming and look up to see the four guards falling into the sky. She sighed, and blasted forward anyway.
Several hours later, Daisy picked up a binder with just a scant few documents in it. She smiled, knowing that this was a lead that could really amount to something. Sooner rather than later, she was going to find the Manufacturer and put an end to their plans. Even if the raid had taken longer than intended, she and Cailan had succeeded.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
Gwen stared harshly at the plain wooden door in front of them, momentarily wishing that they had come out of their terrigenesis with the ability to set things on fire with their eyes. Not that being able to manipulate electricity and run really fast weren’t both really cool abilities, but heat vision would serve so well right now.
She’d walked in and out of that door countless times in her life. She’d run in and out of it countless more. Once, it had been home. Not the quaintest of homes, but home all the same. Well, Gwen was glad to have a new home now. One devoid of the bastards who’d done a shit job of raising them. Though… in technicality, Gwen was the bastard in this situation. Which was surely information she should have been entitled to long ago.
But right now, all she needed to focus on was the brown wooden door and the plainly coloured bricks and the slanted tiled roof and nothing else. They didn’t need to think about all the anger, it would come naturally as soon as Gwen let the flood gates open. So, Gwen continued to focus on just the house itself. She focused on the distorted glass windows that blocked any view into the front study - something Gwen now knew was far less innocuous than she had once believed when she was younger. They focused on the ‘live laugh love’ door mat outside the front of the house, because the Stacys unironically had one of those. They were probably the most stereotypically white people on the block, and that was saying something given that these people had not so unintentionally chosen a rather racially undiverse neighbourhood to live in. They were white as shit, but Gwen sure wasn’t. And that was still rattling around in their brain as something to come to terms with; all the pain from the lost time that could have been spent learning about their real heritage. Being Inhuman, being Chinese. Damnit. It was going to be a fun time in therapy, unpacking just how much gaslighting was required for Gwen to never have figured that one out on their own.
“Sorry I’m late,” Daisy called as she rounded a corner behind Gwen. They didn’t startle, perhaps only because Daisy had sent a text ahead to say that she was running late, along with her ETA. “How are you doing?”
Gwen mustered up a shrug. Any moment now, anger would surge back through them, coming in the strongest wave yet. “As okay as I can be, I think.”
“Hug?” Daisy offered, joining her younger sibling by their side.
A nod later, Daisy wrapped an arm around Gwen and pulled them into a side hug, which Gwen then curved into so that they got the full, two arm package and all the comfort and reassurance that came with it.
“Thanks.”
“Always,” Daisy responded. “You’ve got me now. And I’ve got you.”
Another deep breath in.
Another deep breath out.
Gwen fished for the keys in her pocket, pulled them out and slotted the right one into the front door. They hadn’t called ahead – of course they hadn’t – but they knew George and Helen Stacy’s schedules well enough to know they’d be home now. 5:15pm on a Tuesday was prime time for George to be home from his station, and Helen to be back from her gossip circle.
A small part of the back of Gwen’s mind imagined the lock not opening when it did. Maybe it would have been easier then, for George and Helen to have suddenly, without explanation, cast Gwen out. But no, the lock twisted open, and Gwen led Daisy inside. Their older sister glanced around as they entered, and neither made any move to take off their boots even despite the large and very visible shoe rack at the front. The Stacy household’s cleanliness wasn’t worth shit to Gwen right now. Nor were the photos up on the wall, very few of which featured Gwen. The only ones that did were from when Gwen was younger, and not presenting themself so queerly. It was - very explicitly, and Gwen knew this because she’d been told as much - an act of resistance against Gwen’s identity, to try and force them to be more of a ‘good obedient girl’. As if that was ever going to happen. As if it had ever happened.
“Who’s there?” a voice barked out from further inside. George, Gwen’s so called father. Well, at least he had it in him to be slightly paranoid through his corrupt career within an already corrupted institution.
Gwen ignored the call, and walked further inside. Daisy remained just a step behind her. After talking this over and coming up with a plan, it was easy for Gwen to just know what Daisy’s role in all this was, and what to expect. She was here as Gwen’s support, and to prove a point. It was a passive role, but Gwen was infinitely strengthened by her mere presence. In the few weeks Gwen had known her, Daisy had been a hundred times the family Gwen’s parents had been.
It was only a few more paces until Gwen and Daisy turned into the dining room, which sat in the middle of the house, blocking the way towards the bedrooms and bathrooms. There was also a lounge room across the hall from the dining room, and it was as glamorous as Helen wanted it to be. So, it had all of her tacky racist bullshit.
“Oh, it’s just you,” George grumbled when he saw Gwen emerge from the hallway and into the living room. “Your mother and I weren’t expecting you today. And who’s this?”
Gwen smiled a bitter, bitter smile, and the flood gates burst open. For now, though, the anger was measured and temperable. Not that Gwen expected that to last all that long. “My mother? You mean Jiaying? She’s dead, George, and I never got to know her. Though you might recognise my sister here from the resemblance.”
The man’s eyes bulged wide open, and he sprayed a little of his afternoon tea across the dining table. The tablecloth would stain.
Good.
Helen Stacy then emerged from hers and George’s bedroom, wearing a simple floral dress and looking relaxed for all of two seconds before she noticed the commotion. Then, her face twisted into one of rage. Specifically, it happened when her eyes landed on Daisy. “Gwen, who is this woman and why does she look like... like that communist whore?”
Daisy scoffed. “Wow, rude. You weren’t kidding, Gwen, these people are vile. Granted, the man’s a cop so it’s kind of a given.”
“You shut your mouth right now,” Helen hissed while George was still trying to reclaim his composure. “I don’t want any of your... your filth in my home!”
Gwen hummed. “It all makes sense now, why you treated me like garbage all these years. Though, I don’t know if it’s the racism or the fact that good ol’ George here cheated on you with my actual mom.”
Helen promptly went red in the face. And... as tempting as it was to just dig and dig and dig and try to deal as much damage as possible, Gwen had a plan here. The idea was to express what they needed to say and get some emotional closure, or at least a little catharsis. The goal was to not be so held back by everything the Stacys had and hadn’t done over the years. It wasn’t about hurting people, it was about Gwen getting what she needed. So, she took in a deep breath and stilled her mind for just a moment. A slight reset of their thoughts, which allowed them a little more composure.
Then, before either George or Helen got a chance to get another word in, Gwen spoke. “Look, I’m not here to pick fights - neither of you are worth that kind of time and energy. No, I have things I want to say, and what you take away from that is up to you. So before my ADHD brain- sorry, by your words, my ‘bag of excuses’ runs me off on some tangents, lets lay out some groundwork. I am fully aware that, biologically speaking, my parents are you, George, and a woman named Jiaying who you had an affair with while she used you to try and find her daughter. This daughter,” Gwen gestured towards Daisy while they took another stabilising breath. Daisy gave a little wave with a smile that was wholly a performance. It helped, judging by how George huffed and his face grew redder.
“Then, because Jiaying didn’t want me or some shit that I’ll definitely be dealing with in therapy later, I got left with you. And you, Helen, didn’t like that. Which, fair. Honestly, it’s entirely understandable that you were pissed beyond belief,” Gwen conceded, and she really, really meant those words. She’d thought about it quite a bit, and she did understand why Helen had treated her so poorly her entire life. “But come on, taking it out on a child who did nothing wrong? That is a low blow.”
“You have no idea what kind of sacrifice I had to make,” Helen bit back, her arms folded as she stood seething in an anger of her own making, from years of cruelty and whatever circumstances or attitudes kept her in a marriage with George Stacy. “And all these years, I made you food and drove you places and did what was required! So don’t you run your mouth-”
Another breath. Gwen held a hand up to stop Helen from continuing, and it worked. “You did less than the bare fucking minimum. At no point did you love me or support me or listen to me when I needed someone in my corner. You just made me feel like an unwelcomed burden. The only reason I coped over the years was that I had a friend whose family showed me what family is supposed to be like. Who provided that care in place of you two’s neglect.”
Behind them, Daisy had moved to a display cabinet where she had started picking up various objects and inspecting them. Gwen wasn’t sure if it was just to keep herself occupied or whether there was some other reason, but they took comfort in knowing that Daisy was there and ready if Gwen needed any active support.
“You think we’re going to just sit and take this from you, you little brat?” George spat, finally having collected himself enough to fight back. “After we’ve worked to put a roof over your head and food on the table? After I had the decency to take you in when that woman left you behind? Whenshe threw you away like trash?”
Gwen snorted. “Decency? From a cop? Sure, let’s talk about decency, and the kinds of things that disqualify you from that claim straight up. Hmm, how about how you’ve regularly covered for and protected cops who’ve murdered people of colour? Or how you hate queer people, and have taken it out on me any time I even tried to express myself? I used to tell myself ‘at least he isn’t hitting me’ as if that made things any better. I could go on. Really, there’s just so much to choose from.”
George shot up out of his chair, and pointed an accusatory, livid finger at Gwen. “How dare you! The police force put our lives on the line to serve this incredible nation and keep its people safe.”
Daisy’s tongue clicked, and Gwen turned ever so slightly to see their sister shake her head. “Nope, objectively wrong there. You know, the Rising Tide are still kicking about these days, and a few members banded together to compile and analyse all the numbers on performance and impact on different groups such as the police, government defense and law enforcement agencies and even vigilantes. Combining all the different bits of information, they came up with an overall evaluation of how much each group contributes to national safety. Police were the lowest. Of government agencies, actually, fire services ranked number one. But yeah, statistically speaking, cops suck at protecting the US.”‘
“That’s a load of-” George tried.
“Nah, not crap at all. It’s a very well organised report with complete transparency about the analytical process,” Daisy countered. “So yeah, cops suck. Take that from someone who used to serve in a government agency.”
George scowled. “You? Serving?”
Daisy nodded. “Sure did. Former Agent of SHIELD. And actually, no, if we’re gonna talk rankings, Captain Stacy, I’ve had far higher national security clearance than you, and that’s not just because I’m a very hard person to keep out of digital databases. No, for the record, I used to be the Director of SHIELD. Interim, sure, but I was behind the operation to neutralise a rogue Brigadier General of the United States Air Force. Just if we’re, you know, comparing experience and authority here. I think I win.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” Gwen eagerly agreed. “What do you think, George. Does former Director of SHIELD count as someone who actually served the nation and might know what they’re talking about?”
“Uh-”
“Thought so,” Daisy added, and then turned back to continue messing around with the various little things around the room.
“What do you want?” Helen then demanded, having backed into a corner to be as physically far away from Gwen and Daisy as she could.
Gwen shrugged. “To make myself clear? To see, out of sheer curiosity, if the two of you will take any of what I’ve said to heart and make genuine efforts to be better people? Not that you could ever make it up to me, but then at least you aren’t hurting anyone else. Just once, it would be nice to see you acknowledge who I am. That I’m biracial, which neither of you ever brought up and gave me the opportunity to connect to. That I’m not a fucking girl. That I’m a lesbian. That I have heaps of fucking trauma because of the two of you. That ADHD is a real fucking thing. That I’m an actual person deserving of kindness, not whatever bullshit you’ve thrown at me. What do you reckon, think you could make that happen?”
Of all the things Gwen expected to happen next, it wasn’t Captain George Stacy of the Boston Police Force pulling a fucking gun on them. It was probably loaded, too. In that moment, Gwen didn’t know if George was actually prepared to fire or not, but they weren’t taking chances. It wasn’t Gwen’s first time having a gun pointed at them - no, in the last few weeks, Gwen had been on the other end of both fake and real firearms in training scenarios for the former, and on patrol for the latter. They’d even been shot at before, and they had the reaction time to not get shot, so long as they took action before the gun’s wielder pulled the trigger. But... using her powers in front of this man was not a good idea, except as a last resort. It meant exposing their identity - which would be an impressive feat, seeing as Gwen hadn’t even earned or given themself a vigilante pseudonym yet.
It was a good thing, then, that Daisy was here. Before George had a chance to do anything with the gun in his hands, the weapon came apart. With just one hand pointed at the weapon, Daisy’s vibrations had dismantled the entire weapon into all of its component pieces, and then shoved it away from the man’s hands.
George stared at Daisy in fear. “You’re one of them powered people!”
Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s public knowledge, dude. Gwen, you got anything more you want to say?”
Gwen closed her eyes. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “No. Not to someone who’d pull a gun on his own child.”
“Then get out of here,” George growled. “Never come back.”
Gwen turned to leave, and then paused after two steps. “Oh don’t worry, I’m on board with that. Have the shitty life you two deserve.”
...
The air was starting to get a little bit cooler again, bringing a shiver to Peter’s body. After what happened with Donny Gill a few days back, Peter had gotten straight to work to wire in an improved heating system in his suit. With a press of a small obscured button near his waist, the suit started to warm up. It had taken some adjusting to set up the wiring to not burn him or set the suit on fire, but he’d gotten it down after a few tries. Now, he just had had to take care of business for the night. The plan was to patrol with Harley in about an hour, and then swing by Harry’s place to check on Gwen after their big confrontation.
But first, Peter needed to go and see about a girl named Kamala Khan. It had honestly been a little too easy to pinpoint her identity when Peter actually tried. He’d started searching for Ms Marvel’s identity half out of curiosity and half because Daisy had helped set up something even better than a burner phone that the younger vigilante could use to stay in touch with Peter and the others - a phone that had a direct connection to an encrypted network that Peter and his friends could also use to safely communicate and call for help if ever they needed it. The idea here was that it was better that all the heroes in Boston be able to work together, because why shouldn’t they?
And so Peter had looked, and he’d figured it out. Using a few tricks he’d learned from Ned, and a few more tricks he’d learned from both Pepper and Nat, Peter figured out what mosque Ms Marvel attended and narrowed down her identity to one Kamala Khan. If he could do that, then all it would take was one skilled enough member of an organisation like Damage Control to find her too. She needed to either prepare for that, or find ways to scrub the online traces that linked her personal and hero identities.
Kamala was a senior in high school. Peter had already suspected she would be around that age after seeing footage of her protecting someone else with similar powers from Damage Control a little over half a year prior, duking it out at Cole Academy. He wasn’t about to judge her for doing what she did at that age, since he himself had started when he was younger. No, he just wanted to make sure she was safe. Finding Kamala’s home once he’d found her identity was honestly pretty easy, so Peter ran and swung through the streets of Boston until he reached the little suburban home of the Khan family. One floor up, a window had coloured LED light breaking through the curtained window, so Peter hazarded a guess that this window was part of the teenager’s room.
There was even a nice little patch of rooftop to stand on next to the window, so Peter jumped up and peered in through a crack in the curtains, and saw-
Two teenagers making out on a bed without much restraint. Oh. Whoops. A little embarassed to have unintentionally witnessed that, Peter used one hand to cover the eyes of his suit and the other hand to rap his knuckles against the window three times.
There was a sudden yelp, and then a thud as someone fell off the bed. There were footsteps coming towards the window, and then the curtains were pulled all the way open. Peter removed the hand from his eyes, and waved at the teenage girl who was just staring at him. “Uh, hi?”
“Spider-Man?” The girl, who must have been Kamala, squealed. “What are you doing here?”
The other person within sighed. “Yes, Kamala, what exactly is Spider-Man doing here?”
The window itself was opened. Peter sighed. “Can I come in?”
Kamala’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you- Can Spider-Man come in? Oh my god. Oh my god okay Kamala you can do this. Um, Spider-Man, what do you want? I’m just-”
“Ms Marvel,” Peter interjected. “You’re Ms Marvel.”
The other teenager smacked a palm against their forehead. “Damnit. Kamala, I’m making you a mask that covers more of your face.”
Kamala stared at Peter, and then at the other teenager, and then at Peter again. “...how do you know?”
“Mad skills,” Peter joked. “Nah, I followed a trail of information I found online mostly out of curiosity. It’s honestly not something most people could pull off, but you do need to be more careful. I didn’t expect it to actually work, but since I figured it out I thought I’d swing by and give you this.”
Peter palmed the phone he’d brought in a side pocket of his suit and handed it to Kamala. She took it, and inspected it in her hands. “A phone? Wait, a phone! You really want to work with me more?”
Peter nodded. “Is it okay if I come in and sit down, like, maybe on the windowsill? It feels a little weird just peering in the window from outside, honestly.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course. Come in, come in,” Kamala allowed, and Peter moved forward until he was inside, sitting against the windowsill. “So, phone.”
“Phone,” Peter echoed. “My friends and I had a chat and we agreed that there was really no reason not to be in touch with you so you can call us for help and we can help you, and vice versa. We’re all here to protect the city so we may as well work together.”
Kamala let herself fall back onto her bed and exhaled deeply. Peter took the opportunity to look around more, and saw that the girl’s room was covered in all sorts of drawings and merch of Carol Danvers, as well as substantially less material of various other heroes. He even spotted a drawing of him there. Which... well, Peter hadn’t really thought of that before, but it was, well, touching.
“Okay. So, I can use this to message or call you?”
“Yup,” Peter nodded. “There’s a messaging app on there with an encrypted connection that I’m pretty sure nobody will be able to break. At least, not easily and not without Quake finding out. Oh, and this one will take a biometric reading when you first use it so that only you can turn it on. There’s also a tracking feature that each person can enable if needed to show everyone else where to come if calling for help.”
The other teenager’s eyes thinned at that. “Mind if I poke around and test that claim about its security?”
Peter turned to face them. “Oh, sure, go for it. You’re the one who called the ambulance for us back then?”
The teen laughed. “Hah, yep, that was me. Seeing as you already know Kamala’s identity, hi. I’m Bruno. They/she pronouns.”
“Spider-Man,” Peter returned. “He/him.”
Kamala pouted. “We don’t get to know who you are under the mask?”
Peter laughed. “One day, probably, but not yet. Let’s work together a little more first. Alright, I’ll just-” Peter was interrupted when both his own phone and Kamala’s new one buzzed at the same time. He turned it on and was greeted with an alert from Harley, categorized with the little icon that indicated a local crime event that needed attention. After unlocking the phone and opening the messaging app, Peter saw that there had been a bank robbery a little uptown, reportedly by a single individual who security had entirely failed to stop.
Kamala hadn’t seen the same information yet because her phone was still attuning itself to her biometric readings. Given that, Peter was more than happy to explain the situation and invite her along.
“Wanna suit up?” Peter offered. “There’s been a bank robbery uptown, and you’re more than welcome to come with Iron Lad and I to take care of it. Would be a good opportunity to get some practice working together.”
Kamala’s eyes widened in incredibly obvious excitement. “Oh my gosh, yes! I mean, it’s obviously not good that a bank got robbed but I definitely want to work with you guys! Oh my god, that’s so cool.”
“Need a hand from backend?” Bruno offered. “I mean, just to monitor the situation and whatnot.”
“Don’t you need to get back to the shop soon, babe?” Kamala asked.
Bruno shrugged. “Oh, you’re so right. Okay, just let me know if you need anything?”
“Will do!” Kamala exclaimed and then planted a quick peck on Bruno’s lips before they got up and left her room through the actual door.
“I’ll just wait outside, then,” Peter said and turned to leave so that Kamala could change. He chuckled to himself a little while he waited, because this girl was such a superhero nerd and it was incredibly endearing. She reminded him a little of himself when he was younger, what with how excitable he was with anything Iron Man related. The thought brought a small frown to his face, because Mr Stark was gone. He was gone now, and Peter was still adjusting to that loss.
Well, he took solace in the knowledge that Mr Stark would be proud of him.
...
Gwen was supposed to go to Harry’s place and crash with him for a while. That was the whole plan so they’d have some support after what had happened with their parents. But... maybe Gwen hadn’t been truly expecting their parents to react how they did. No, not parents. Not anymore. She certainly hadn’t expected George to pull an actual gun on her. And... Gwen just needed to move. So when they saw the alert on their phone about the bank robbery, and that Peter, Harley and the newly welcomed aboard Ms Marvel all had their tracking on, Gwen ran.
They just needed to be doing something to let out all the overwhelming everything they felt, and this? This was good. Gwen could take all the rage, all the frustration and the bubbling sense of loss that she really hated because she didn’t want to feel loss over George and Helen Stacy, and she could pour it into stopping someone who was committing an act of crime. Gwen could take all this fuel, and put it towards something good and real. After saying goodbye to Daisy, confirming that she was fine to get to Harry’s on her own, and lying that she would actually go there, Gwen pulled on all the energy that was so easy to well up in their body and sped westward towards those three little map markers.
Even after making a stop at the Workshop to suit up and connect to the active comms line, it didn’t take long to catch up. Not with how fast she could run, not with the way she could get across the entire city on foot in about twenty minutes, anyway. The scene she came upon was... destructive, to say the least. Definitely not Peter or Harley’s style, nor was it Ms Marvel’s style from what Gwen knew. The wrecked cars and bent street lamps and torn up chunks of concrete and tarmac were fundamentally out of character for them. So who was this bank robber to be capable of such destruction?
“Hey guys, wanna fill me in on what’s going on here?” Gwen asked into her earpiece as she ran into the chaos and stopped to get an even better look at everything. Above them, Ms Marvel was standing on a platform of light and wiping sweat off her face. Peter was clung to the side of a building, and Harley was hovering overhead about twenty metres forward. In the middle of the three vigilantes who had been on-scene first was a single woman in black spandex - no, black spandex with a white fur collar - with long white hair and a dagger in each hand.
“What are you doing here?” Harley’s voice shot through, an edge of sheer frustration laden through it. “Didn’t you have plans?”
“Just let me help,” Gwen bit back, her own voice perhaps harsher than it ought to have been. “I need to work off some energy. So, what’s the deal here?”
“I don’t even knowww,” Ms Marvel complained, sounding somehow a little younger than Gwen had expected. “It’s like we just can’t even get a proper hit on her!”
The surrounded woman in black laughed. “Another fresh score for the Black Cat! It’s simple, really. I’m the best, and you’re all just unlucky. Honestly, you should probably just let me go before you do any more damage, and I’ll move on to another city. Sound fair?”
Gwen sighed, and brought enough of the rush of power through her body to dash forward, close enough for this ‘Black Cat’ to hear her loud and clear. “Look, I’m all for eating the rich, but a line’s gotta get drawn when you’re out here causing this much destruction. Do you feel even a little bit bad?”
Black Cat raised an eyebrow yet again. “Feel bad? Please, I’m just looking out for myself. With today’s spoils I’ll be good to go for at least a few years, and I can worry about just having fun.”
“Let me guess then, this makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it?” Gwen challenged. Because sometimes shitty people were just the same. They took and took and took and did it all for themselves. As long as they got what they wanted, the collateral damage didn’t matter. This Black Cat? She was just like George Stacy. And she was going down. “Alright little kitty, let’s play.”
When Black Cat pressed an almost delicate finger to her chin and bit playfully at her lip, Gwen cast away any notions of waiting or holding back. If they put their all into this, it would be over and done in moments. All they had to do was charge electricity through their body, run forwards and-
SMACK.
A piece of rebar rolled a few metres forward as Gwen tumbled to the ground. On their first step, their foot had gotten caught under the rebar and they’d tripped. Improved reflexes and reaction were a part of Gwen’s new powers, tripping wasn’t something they just did. But it had happened, just like that. Unshockingly, Black Cat had taken to cackling at Gwen’s misfortune. But Gwen wasn’t just going to let things rest.
“You guys take care of the fallout and look after anyone injured, I’ll handle this bitch,” Gwen hissed as she pushed herself up.
“Are you sure?” Harley questioned them. “I mean the three of us had enough trouble on our own.
“I’m-” Gwen started to counter, and then stopped herself. “No, you’re right. Iron Lad or Ms Marvel, can one of you just monitor from above and make sure she can’t get away?”
“I’m on it!” Ms Marvel exclaimed, and jumped over to where Harley was hovering. She seemed... very eager. Gwen was familiar with her work in the city, and had even been vaguely aware of the news surrounding the time Damage Control was going after her. Over the time she’d been active she’d grown substantially, and gotten rather good at the whole heroism thing. She’d mostly worked alone, and here in this group setting she seemed eager to please.
Harley sighed. “Alright, but... should I call Witchboy?”
Gwen appreciated what Harley was trying to do here, making sure she had the support that had been planned for after the confrontation with her parents. Their first instinct was to say no, to tell Harley that she was fine and didn’t need help, but... she wasn’t. Being here, fighting Black Cat, it wasn’t part of the plan. She didn’t regret it, and she knew doing something here to help was the best possible way she could cope at this very moment, but she needed help. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Okay, wha-”
They at least had the training to not get so caught up in thoughts and conversation as to stop paying attention to the enemy in front of them. Gwen dove out of the way of a dagger as Black Cat pounced towards them, and then rolled even further. “What do you guys know so far?”
“My best guess is some kind of ability that makes us accident prone,” Peter offered. “Every time we try to pull something off it goes ever so slightly wrong. The closer you get, the worse it is.”
Ms Marvel groaned. “Ugh, yeah, I’ve slipped off my platforms like... more times than I care to admit.”
Gwen ducked under a knife yet again, and fell flat on their back. They had to charge up their body quite a bit to roll out of the way of another dagger being hammered right down towards their leg, and crashed into a wall as a result. Groaning, Gwen pushed up and bounced backwards several steps to get some distance and reevaluate. There was a comically classic black duffel bag sitting where Black Cat had first been standing, and it was right there. Maybe Gwen could just grab it and run.
Except this wasn’t about the stolen bank property. Gwen couldn’t really bring themself to care about a bank, especially not right now. No, this was about a criminal who wrought collateral damage onto anyone in her path to get what she wanted. And for that, she needed to be stopped. People like that couldn’t just keep getting away with their bullshit unchecked. People like Black Cat had gotten away with enough.
“So, uh, what do I call you?” Ms Marvel asked over the comms, jumping down to a lower platform and standing low, ready to block the villain if she tried to escape.
Gwen charged up her arm and jabbed it straight at Black Cat, who had ever so confidently gotten right up close to her. Their muscle pulled, and the jab shot right past the villain’s waist without making contact.
“Fuck,” Gwen winced and leapt backwards yet again. “I don’t know, never got quite as far as codenames.”
An idea struck Gwen’s mind with crystal-clear clarity, and all at once they knew how to end this. They kept on getting unlucky, every time they tried something that might actually land a hit. Even with their speed, the bad luck got in the way every time. So what if Gwen did something that couldn’t be disrupted just by some twist of luck? Something that would go right, even if it went deeply, deeply wrong.
Something like charging up their body with as much power as they could, and diving straight towards the enemy. That way-
No time for thinking, only action. Black Cat had to be taken down. They didn’t even bring the boost of energy to their mind to allow their senses to keep up with their speed. No, if Gwen could keep up like that, there were only more chances for something to fuck up. More for her to notice and think about and have distorted. Instead, all of the energy went everywhere else in their body, and they ran forward. And then stumbled right past Black Cat, but...
That was exactly what Gwen wanted. In stumbling and falling to the ground, Gwen had stopped moving. At this point, channeling electricity outwards whenever they were forced to stop suddenly was nearly a reflex. All they needed was a moments thought, and the elecricity blasted out of their body at full force, in every direction. The bank robber was only a step away, and there wasn’t enough time to evade.
It hurt. Gwen had known that it would hurt, but she heard a short, sharp scream and then a thud as Black Cat fell to the ground beside her. After all, what was more unlucky than painfully overloading your body with electricity and having to shove it out everywhere?
“Holy shit you did it!” Ms Marvel exclaimed, and Gwen vaguely heard her building platforms and rushing towards them. That was definitely a good thing; that much energy forcing its way through and out of their body all at once had pretty much rendered them unable to move. They would be fine with rest, though. It wasn’t like she and Daisy hadn’t tested the safe limits before. “So, for a codename, how about... Zapdash? It’s just perfect, right?”
Gwen let their head fall to the ground with a smack.