Webs of Fate

Peter had been out for hours, testing the limits of his newfound abilities in the quieter corners of Queens. His body was a machine he didn't fully understand yet. The subtle changes were exhilarating—he could run faster, jump higher, and even cling to walls with minimal effort. But it wasn't just the physical improvements that fascinated him. He still couldn't get over the fact that webs shot out of his wrists. That morning, while practicing wall-crawling behind a vacant warehouse, it had happened for the first time.

At first, Peter had been horrified. As the thin, sticky strands shot out from under his skin, he had recoiled, thinking something had gone terribly wrong. "What the—what is this?" He stared at the webs in disbelief, his brain refusing to process it. For a moment, panic set in. He tried to pull the webbing off, but it stuck to his hands. "This is... I can't..." He muttered, his heart racing. But then, as the webs stretched and recoiled, Peter realized the potential. He tested it further, flinging a line toward a dumpster and tugging. The trash can flew across the alley with ease. His horror slowly turned to awe. "No way..." he whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

Across town, Gwen was going through her own revelations. After a week of uncertainty, she was pushing her limits, using a series of quiet streets and hidden rooftops as her playground. The sensation of crawling up buildings had become second nature by now. Her hands and feet could adhere to almost anything, giving her total control over where she moved.

But then, it happened—webbing shot out from her wrist during a leap between two rooftops. The sticky strand caught her mid-air, sending her careening into the side of the building she was jumping toward. "What the hell?" Gwen gasped, dangling for a moment before pulling herself up. She stared at her wrist in disgust, her lips curling. "Oh my God... that came from me? That's... that's gross!" She rubbed her wrist on her jeans, trying to make sense of it. Her brain felt conflicted—on one hand, this was incredibly useful, but on the other, the fact that it came from her body made her stomach turn.

Later that afternoon, both Peter and Gwen made their way to Central Park, independently deciding it would be a perfect place to test their endurance. Peter dashed through the park's winding paths, feeling the wind whip through his hair. He pushed himself harder, faster, marveling at how effortlessly his legs carried him. His muscles never seemed to tire. A smirk crept onto his face. He liked this.

At the same time, Gwen was sprinting on the opposite side of the park, her body moving faster than she ever thought possible. Every step felt light, effortless, like she could run forever. The rhythm of her movements felt like freedom. She laughed to herself, exhilarated by the speed.

Neither of them noticed the other as they rounded the same corner—until it was too late.

WHAM!

Peter collided with someone at full speed, the impact sending both of them sprawling onto the ground. He groaned, rubbing his shoulder before realizing who he had crashed into. "Gwen?!"

Gwen blinked up at him, equally stunned. "Peter? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, they just stared at each other, trying to process how they both ended up in the same place, colliding at superhuman speeds. Peter was the first to recover, scrambling for an excuse. "Uh, I was... jogging," he said, a little too quickly.

Gwen raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her smirk. "Jogging? At that speed? Really?"

"Y-yeah, I'm trying to, you know, get faster for... track."

Gwen wasn't buying it, but she decided to play along. "Right. And I suppose I was doing the same thing." She stood, dusting herself off. "But, hey, since we're both here, want to hang out for a bit? I could use a break from... 'training.'" She gave him a knowing look, clearly aware that neither of them were telling the full truth.

Peter nodded, a bit nervous but also relieved. "Yeah, sure, that sounds cool."

The rest of the day passed in a blur. After the awkwardness of their initial encounter faded, Gwen and Peter fell into an easy rhythm, wandering through Central Park and then heading deeper into the city. They stopped at a street vendor for hot dogs, laughing over the greasy meal as they shared random stories about school and life. Peter learned that Gwen had two younger brothers and that her dad, George Stacy, was a police captain who took his job very seriously. Gwen, in turn, asked about Peter's home life, and he told her about Uncle Ben and Aunt May, though he left out the part about how overprotective they could be.

At one point, they made their way to a rooftop cafe, both marveling at how simple it was to scale buildings now, even if they had to keep it low-key. Peter found himself surprisingly comfortable around Gwen. They had a natural flow to their conversation, and it felt nice to just hang out, away from the pressures of school or... the strangeness that had taken over their lives.

But as the sun began to set, both of their phones buzzed almost simultaneously.

Peter glanced at his phone. It was Uncle Ben. "I have to get home soon," he said, slightly disappointed. "Dinner and all."

Gwen checked hers, too, seeing a message from her dad. "Same here. We should probably head back." She looked up at Peter with a grin. "Thanks for today, though. It was fun."

"Yeah, it was," Peter agreed, smiling back.

As they made their way through the city, Peter offered to walk Gwen home. It wasn't far, and despite knowing he could probably jump across rooftops and make it back faster, there was something nice about walking with her through the busy streets.

When they reached Gwen's place, Peter couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He'd never really talked to her dad, but he knew of him—a man who carried a lot of authority. As they reached her front steps, George Stacy was already standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

"Who's this?" George asked, eyeing Peter with suspicion.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Dad, this is Peter. We go to school together. He just walked me home."

Peter felt the weight of George's gaze on him, and for a moment, his palms started to sweat. He had faced Flash's bullying all week, but something about a protective father was way more intimidating. "Uh, hi, Mr. Stacy."

George gave Peter one last scrutinizing look before his face broke into a smile. "Well, I'm glad my daughter's got someone looking out for her. But next time, you let me know where you're going, alright, Gwen?"

"Yeah, yeah, Dad," Gwen muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Peter smiled awkwardly, feeling the tension in the air, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Meanwhile, Gwen shifted nervously, unsure why she was suddenly feeling on edge. What neither of them realized was that her heightened senses had picked up on Peter's nervous energy, though she dismissed it as her own.

"Thanks for today," Gwen said, offering Peter a small wave as she disappeared inside.

Peter walked home, his mind spinning from the day's events. It felt like he and Gwen were starting to really click—like they were on the verge of becoming real friends.

When Peter got home, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him.

"Where have you been all day, Peter?" Aunt May asked, her voice full of concern.

Peter had prepared for this. "Uh, I was... at the library. Studying. With Gwen." He hoped the mention of a girl would distract them.

Uncle Ben raised an eyebrow. "Gwen, huh?"

"Yeah, she's in my class. We were working on a science project." The lie was terrible, but Peter hoped it would be enough to avoid further questions.

Aunt May smiled softly. "Well, I'm glad you're making new friends, Peter. Just don't stay out so late next time without telling us."

Peter nodded quickly. "I won't."

The next morning, Peter was back at it, testing his powers in the abandoned alleyways of Queens. His body felt stronger than ever, and with each leap, each swing of his webs, he became more confident in what he could do. He scaled walls with ease, darting across the city as if he had been doing it for years.

But then, while leaping from one rooftop to the next, he heard a shout from an alley below.

Peter stopped mid-swing, dangling from his webbing as he listened more closely. His heart raced when he realized what was happening—someone was being attacked. Without thinking, he swung down into the alley, landing in a crouch behind the assailant.

"Hey!" Peter called out, surprising both the attacker and his victim.

The man turned, glaring at Peter. "Mind your business, kid."

Peter's fists clenched. Everything in him screamed to run, to get out before he got caught in the middle of something he couldn't handle. But he didn't. Instead, he darted forward with speed he hadn't fully realized he had. In an instant, he had disarmed the attacker, sending him crashing into a pile of trash cans.

The victim, a young woman, stared at Peter, wide-eyed.