Unintended Consequences
Peter's heart raced as he stared down at the crumpled figure of the would-be assailant, the young woman still frozen in shock behind him. His hands shook as he stepped back, trying to make sense of what he had just done. He had intervened, instinctively—using the powers he had barely come to grips with. And it had worked. But now, as the adrenaline drained from his body, a creeping panic set in.
"What did I just do?" Peter muttered under his breath, his mind swirling. What if someone saw? What if the cops come looking for me?
Without another word, Peter turned and bolted, sprinting down the alley and out into the night. He couldn't afford to stick around. His feet hit the pavement with a speed and precision that felt inhuman—almost terrifyingly so—but right now, all he cared about was getting home and out of sight.
When Peter finally reached the safety of his room, he shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene in his head over and over. He had stopped an assault. He had used his powers to help someone. That felt good. But the reality of what he had done gnawed at him.
"What if she saw my face? What if someone recognized me?" Peter whispered to himself, spiraling deeper into anxiety. As the fear bubbled up, his eyes wandered around his cluttered room until they landed on one of his old comic books sitting on his desk.
A strange thought flickered to life in his mind: Maybe I could be like one of them... like a hero. The idea was tantalizing, but he quickly shook his head, laughing bitterly. "Yeah, right," he muttered, tossing the comic aside as exhaustion overtook him. He needed sleep.
The next morning, Peter shuffled downstairs, still rattled from the previous night. As he sat down for breakfast, Aunt May was already bustling around the kitchen. The smell of pancakes filled the air, but Peter's mind was elsewhere—until the TV caught his attention.
"Last night, an unidentified individual, who some are already calling a 'guardian angel,' stopped an attack in an alleyway. Witnesses describe the mysterious figure as moving with incredible speed, but details remain scarce. The identity of the so-called hero remains unknown, except for one detail—the colors of his clothes."
Peter's stomach flipped as he stared at the screen. A part of him swelled with pride—he had done something good—but his heart sank when Aunt May turned to him.
"Peter, please promise me you won't go looking for trouble like that," she said, her voice full of concern. "It's too dangerous out there."
Uncle Ben, who had been reading the paper, chimed in, smiling. "I think whoever this person is, they're doing something brave. Helping people when no one else will? That's admirable."
Peter forced a smile, relieved that neither of them suspected him. "Yeah, I'll be careful. I should probably head out—I'm late for school."
He grabbed his backpack and bolted for the door, his mind racing as he made his way to the school steps. As he approached, he spotted Gwen making her way inside, looking a little worse for wear. Her hair was disheveled, and she was sporting a few scrapes on her hands.
"You okay, Gwen? Looks like you wrestled with a science experiment and lost," Peter teased, his lips curving into a grin.
Gwen shot him her infamous Stacy glare, but there was a hint of humor behind it. "Ha-ha, very funny, Parker. Some of us have more exciting mornings than others," she quipped. What she didn't mention was how she had tried her hand at web-swinging earlier that day—and it had gone terribly wrong. She had nearly crashed into three buildings before deciding running might be a better option, at least for now.
Peter, still grinning, was about to respond, but the bell rang, cutting him off. "Guess we'll have to continue this later," he said, giving her a quick wave. As they parted ways, both glanced back at each other—Peter with a goofy grin and Gwen stifling a giggle at his awkward antics.
The day seemed normal enough—until Flash Thompson appeared, his usual posse trailing behind him. He stomped through the halls, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Peter.
"There you are, Parker!" Flash shouted, his face red with anger. "You messed something up for me, didn't you? You always do!"
Peter barely had time to react before Flash shoved him hard against a locker, his goons circling in to trap him. "I—I didn't do anything," Peter stammered, but Flash wasn't hearing it. A fist swung out, landing squarely on Peter's jaw. Another punch followed, and Peter clenched his fists, instinctively knowing he could stop Flash—easily. But he didn't. He couldn't.
Just as another blow was coming, Gwen appeared out of nowhere. Without hesitation, she stepped between Peter and Flash. "Back off, Thompson," she snapped, her voice icy.
Flash laughed, stepping forward. "Oh yeah? And what are you gonna—"
Before he could finish, Gwen's fist connected with his face, a solid right hook that sent Flash crashing to the floor, clutching his nose in pain. The hallway went silent, students frozen in shock as they processed what had just happened. Gwen Stacy—perfect Gwen Stacy—had just knocked Flash Thompson out cold.
Peter blinked in disbelief, but Gwen barely acknowledged the stunned crowd. She simply glared at Flash's goons, her eyes daring them to make a move. When none of them did, she turned to Peter, her expression softening. "You okay?" she asked, her voice much gentler now.
Peter, still dazed, nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for... you know." He glanced at Flash, who was groaning on the floor. Gwen helped him to his feet, but before he could thank her properly, a teacher appeared.
"Miss Stacy, you need to come with me to the principal's office."
Gwen sat in the principal's office, her arms crossed in frustration. The principal, an older man with graying hair, sat across from her, looking unimpressed.
"Miss Stacy, while I understand your actions were in defense of a fellow student, we cannot tolerate violence of any kind at this school. You're suspended for a week."
Gwen's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Are you serious? I was sticking up for Peter! Flash was going to keep hitting him, and no one else was going to do anything!"
The principal remained firm. "I understand that, but rules are rules. You'll have to face the consequences."
Gwen left the office in a huff, fuming as she made her way to the front of the school where Peter was waiting. "So, what's the damage?" he asked, trying to keep the mood light.
"A week's suspension," Gwen replied flatly. "And my dad is not going to be happy about it."
Peter frowned. "I could talk to the principal. Maybe explain what really happened..."
"Don't bother," Gwen said with a sigh. "It's already done." She slung her bag over her shoulder, preparing herself for the inevitable yelling match at home. Before she left, she turned back to Peter, offering a small smile. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"
Peter grinned, giving a mock salute. "I don't look for trouble, it just finds me."
Gwen chuckled softly, her heart skipping a beat at his dorky charm. "See you later, Pete," she said, walking away.
Later that day, Peter found himself back home, reflecting on everything that had happened. His thoughts kept drifting to Gwen—how she had stood up for him, how effortlessly she had handled Flash. But then his mind wandered to the powers they both seemed to share.
That evening, while Uncle Ben was tinkering in the garage, Peter approached him, his thoughts swirling. "Uncle Ben, can I ask you something?"
Ben looked up from his work, smiling. "Of course, Pete. What's on your mind?"
Peter hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "If... if someone had powers—like, extraordinary abilities—should they use them to help others? Or... focus on themselves first?"
Ben's smile softened, and he set down his tools, leaning against the workbench. "Well, Peter, I've always believed that if someone has the ability to do good, they should. But it's important to be the best version of yourself first. With great power comes great responsibility."
Peter felt a chill run down his spine at those words. With great power comes great responsibility. It resonated with him in a way he hadn't expected.
That night, as the city buzzed outside his window, Peter made a decision. He was going to help people—like the guardian angel from the news. But he needed to do it right. He couldn't just run into the night in his regular clothes.
A makeshift costume began to take shape in his mind. He spent the next few hours piecing it together—old clothes he found in his closet, a mask to hide his face, and the determination to make a difference.
Across town, Gwen walked into her apartment, bracing herself for the inevitable lecture. Her dad, George Stacy, sat at the kitchen table with her mom, both of them waiting for her.
"Well?" George began, his voice sharp. "Want to explain why my daughter got suspended today?"
Gwen tried to keep her cool, her mind racing for a witty comment, but as soon as she saw the stern expression on both her parents' faces, the joke fell flat in her throat.
"Uh...because Flash Thompson deserved it?" she said, her voice cracking slightly.
Her father, George Stacy, narrowed his eyes, clearly not impressed. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear, Gwen. We raised you to know better than to solve problems with your fists."
Her mom, a calmer presence, was sitting beside him with her arms crossed. She wasn't saying much, but her disappointed gaze made Gwen feel even smaller.
"Mom, Dad, it wasn't like that," Gwen said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Flash and his buddies were ganging up on Peter. They were hitting him, and no one was doing anything about it. I had to step in. I wasn't going to just let them—"
"You had to step in by knocking someone out?" her father interrupted. His voice rose a little, but Gwen could tell he was more worried than angry. "You could have gone to a teacher, or gotten help. You're not responsible for taking matters into your own hands."
Gwen's frustration bubbled over. "But Dad! It wasn't fair! Flash picks on Peter all the time, and no one ever does anything. I was just... I couldn't stand there and do nothing. I didn't want to hurt him, but it was the only way to get him to stop."
George was taken aback by Gwen's intensity. His stern expression softened just a little, and he exchanged a glance with her mother. After a long pause, he sighed. "I get that, Gwen. I do. But there are consequences, even when you're doing the right thing. It's not about what's fair—it's about thinking things through. You could've really hurt him. You've got to be more careful."
Gwen fell silent for a moment, staring at the floor, still processing her dad's words. Then George leaned forward, his tone gentler now. "And tell me, why is it Peter Parker? You've been sticking up for him a lot lately. Is there something more going on there?"
Her heart jumped into her throat at the question, and Gwen felt her face flush. "W-What? No, Dad. He's just... I mean, he's..."
Her parents shared another knowing look, and her mom raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He's special to you, isn't he?" her mom asked softly.
Gwen opened her mouth to deny it, but then stopped. The way they said it, so casually, made her realize she couldn't lie to herself anymore. There was something about Peter Parker—something she hadn't quite understood until now. "I... I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Maybe. He's smart, and we just... get each other. It's like we're on the same wavelength."
Her parents exchanged another amused look, and Gwen could feel her face getting hotter. "Oh my god, stop looking at me like that! It's not like that!"
George chuckled, his stern demeanor melting completely. "Alright, alright, I get it. Just make sure you're careful about who you're knocking out next time, okay?"
Gwen managed a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good," her mom added, her voice softer now. "But you're still grounded for the week. No hanging out, no extracurriculars. Just school and home."
"Yeah, that's fair," Gwen muttered, her frustration subsiding. She started to head for her room, but paused at the door. "Thanks... for understanding."
"We love you, Gwen," George said, his smile still lingering. "Now get some rest."
As Gwen walked away, she could hear her parents softly laughing behind her. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help feeling a strange sense of relief. Maybe her parents weren't so bad after all.
Meanwhile, Peter was making his way back home, deep in thought. The day's events still felt like a whirlwind. He couldn't stop replaying the moment Gwen had stood up for him, her sharp gaze making Flash back down instantly. She was fearless—and Peter couldn't deny that it left an impression on him.
But then his thoughts shifted back to his powers, to the strange sense of responsibility that was starting to weigh on his shoulders. When he got home, he knew he had to make sense of it all.
After dinner, Peter found himself alone in his room, staring at the small pile of makeshift costume pieces he had gathered. His conversation with Uncle Ben echoed in his mind.
With great power comes great responsibility.
Peter turned the phrase over in his head, letting it sink in. He had these powers now—abilities no one else had. It wasn't just about having fun with them anymore. He couldn't sit back and do nothing. He needed to do something, but what?
He started putting the pieces of his costume together—an old hoodie, gloves, a mask he found from a past Halloween, some duct tape to hold things in place. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now. As he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself.
For the first time, Peter truly felt like he could be more than just a kid from Queens. He could be something greater. Someone who could help people.
But this wasn't just about being a hero—this was about making sure no one had to go through what he did, what others like him faced. He didn't want anyone to suffer while he stood by, just because he was afraid.
With a newfound determination, Peter clenched his fists and whispered to himself, "I'm going to do this. I have to."
Back at the Stacy household, Gwen lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't shake the day's events either—the fight with Flash, the suspension, her parents' reaction. And then there was Peter. She couldn't stop thinking about him.
Why did it feel so different when she was around him? Why did her heart race whenever he smiled that dorky grin?
With a frustrated sigh, Gwen rolled over and pulled her blanket over her head. He's just a friend, she told herself firmly. But deep down, she wasn't so sure.
Little did she know, their lives were about to get even more complicated—and their connection, even stronger.