Homeward Bound
******
As a superhuman teleporter whose powers originated from the Tesseract, Maisie didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for the survivability of getting shot (twice) in the gut. She felt dead—everything was painful, and she couldn’t move. But, if she were dead, shouldn’t she not be in pain? Maisie wasn’t sure what the rules were, all she knew was that her eyelids felt like fifty pound weights she couldn’t lift.
Her whole body ached, but at least the hard pavement beneath her seemed to have turned into something softer. Maisie’s fingers twitched, and a spark of hope fluttered in her chest. Maybe, she wasn’t dead. Grasping at the ground, the girl realized that she was right—she wasn’t still lying on the concrete where she was shot. Now, she had fresh dirt caked under her fingernails.
She was still outside, she knew from the breeze blowing cool air and causing her to shiver. The summer heat didn’t feel as unbearable, and there was no blinding light behind her eyes, so Maisie realized it must have been after sundown. It smelled nice, she decided. Like fresh flowers.
Maisie strained herself to curl into a ball for warmth. When her body exploded in pain at the slightest movement, she went limp again. The girl avoided crying out in pain, forcing herself to breathe evenly. It felt like hours until she was finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, and Maisie passed out for the second time.
Peter was having the worst twenty-four hours. He watched helplessly as his best friend was shot by a psychopath he thought he could trust, and then he was hit by a train going 300 miles per hour. When he managed to pull himself to safety aboard the train, he passed out. Then, he was so out of it that he didn’t wake up until the next day, locked in a municipal holding facility in the middle of nowhere in the Netherlands—six hours away from Berlin, where he left Maisie. He didn’t even know if she was still alive.
Thanks to the hundreds of voicemails he’d left Happy Hogan over the years, Peter had his number memorized. He wished that he had Maisie’s memorized, and he made a mental note to do that as soon as possible, assuming she was still alive. And he had to—he had to assume that her healing could save her. The alternative was unacceptable.
“Alright, kid, I’m on my way,” Happy said. “We’ll go right to Berlin as soon as I grab you. We’ll find her, I promise.”
Peter tried to say thank you, but his voice caught in his throat.
“I see a big open field on the maps, it’s not far from you,” Happy explained. “Can you make it there? Only about a half mile east from you now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll head there now,” Peter nodded. “Please hurry.”
“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Happy reassured him.
Peter gave the phone back to the nice Dutchman and thanked him with as much gratitude as he could muster. He must’ve looked insane to everyone in that small town, limping and covered in scrapes and bruises. He also lost his suit to the holding facility’s guard when he was detained, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It wasn’t his favorite suit anyway.
Ignoring his limp, Peter moved as fast as possible toward the massive tulip field where he hoped Happy would arrive as soon as possible. On any other day, he’d take the time to admire one of the Netherlands’ most iconic attractions, but he couldn’t care less about the colorful flowers at that moment.
That was, until he saw a familiar blonde head resting underneath a group of bright pink bulbs.
“Maisie?” Peter breathed. He ran to her, kneeling at her side. “Maisie?”
The girl was passed out in the bed of flowers, covered in a lot of blood—dried blood, Peter noted. Her mask was gone, and there was dust and dirt caked in her hair. Peter leaned down, and his heart soared hearing her breathe in and out.
“How are you here?” he whispered, shaking his head.
The boy froze as a horrifying thought creeped into his mind. What if…this wasn’t Maisie? What if this was another one of Beck’s tricks? She was shot twice in Berlin—how could she be in the Netherlands exactly where he was? Maisie started to stir, but Peter didn’t dare to move.
Maisie’s eyes slowly blinked open, the bright sun blinding her vision before she was able to adjust. As she blinked, she was able to focus on her surroundings: a cloudless blue sky, pink tulips, and a boy. Her favorite brown eyes studied her with concern and…something else? Was that fear?
“Peter?” she breathed. “Where are we?”
The girl tried to sit up, and she found it was much easier than before. Maisie felt for her gunshot wound and breathed a sigh of relief when it was already healed over. There would still be a scar, and certainly a bruise, but the worst was over. The broken rib she sustained wasn’t as close to healing, but it dulled from stabbing her with pain whenever she breathed. After her quick medical analysis, she realized that Peter hadn’t responded.
“Pete—” she reached for him, but he lurched backward. Maisie tried not to look hurt. “What?”
“Maisie, is it actually you?” Peter asked. He created a distance between them.
“Yes, it’s me,” she frowned and got to her feet, trying to ignore her watering eyes. “You’re scaring me.” Maisie’s eyes widened in understanding. He thought she was an illusion. “Peter, I swear it’s me—”
“How did you get here? I thought you were dead, how are you here?” Peter shook his head. “I know you’ve never been here, and the last time I saw you, you were bleeding out—how did you know I was here?”
“I-I don’t know,” Maisie tried to stop panicking, but she felt her hands start to shake. What if he was an illusion? “The last thing I remember is the concrete and my blood, and—and I just wanted to…”
Her eyes met Peter’s, and Maisie understood with quiet acceptance. This was Peter, her Peter. She was certain. She looked for him everywhere, she’d be able to find him anywhere—he was home.
A moment passed between them, and Maisie stepped toward him with resolution.
“No, don’t come any closer!” Peter stepped back again, repeating his question. “How did you know I was here?”
“I just wanted to go home,” Maisie said. If Peter noticed her trembling, he didn’t show it. “The last thing I remember is I just wanted to go home.” She took another shaky step toward him. “And suddenly, I’m here. I promise, it’s me. Please believe me.” Peter didn’t move when she took another step toward him. “How do I prove it to you?”
The boy studied her, looking for any sign that this wasn’t his Maisie. Slowly, he lifted his hand, hovering beside her face. They both held their breath as Peter’s fingers made contact with Maisie’s rosy cheek. When he didn’t phase through like an illusion, Peter let out a choked sigh of relief.
Maisie jumped into his arms, hiding her tears in his chest as she crushed him with a hug. With their injuries, it kind of hurt them both, but it was worth it.
“How did you get here?” Peter mumbled into her hair.
“I don’t know,” she didn’t pull away to answer him. “I don’t remember anything, but I promise it’s me, and you feel really, really real, so I hope that this is you, too—”
“It is,” Peter held her tighter, if it was even possible. “I promise.”
The two separated after another minute, though neither were too keen to put too much distance between them.
Maisie sniffled, “We should really have a code, in case this kind of thing happens again.”
Peter forced a laugh despite the circumstances, “Yeah, we should.”
“Leipzig?” Maisie asked, after a moment’s thought.
Peter’s smile was genuine, albeit small, as he nodded, “Leipzig.”
The boy put out his hand for her to take, and she did.
******
Happy’s jet landed a few minutes later. Peter tested Happy to make sure he was the real one, and Maisie learned something new. Let’s just say that she was glad the two superheroes had separate rooms on the trip for their first mission together.
Even though Maisie was sure she just slept two full days, she still felt exhausted. The girl winced as she reclined in one of the cushioned airplane seats. Happy just stitched up the gunshot wounds on her stomach, and he was starting on Peter’s shoulder. Her body was recovering slowly, which was frustrating, but at least it was healing at all, same with Peter’s.
“I thought you had super strength,” Happy said, pulling the thread through Peter’s shoulder. The girl looked over. Peter was grumbling a bit more than Maisie did.
“It still hurts,” the boy replied. She silently agreed, leaning back to close her eyes.
Happy didn’t respond. Maisie thought she could feel her ribs knitting themselves back together. She hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.
“Happy!” Peter punched the small table in front of him, and Maisie jumped at the noise.
“Relax,” Happy tried, but Peter shot to his feet in frustration.
“Don't tell me to relax, Happy! How can I relax when I messed up so bad?” Peter shouted. Maisie’s eyes were wide when he turned to her. “I trusted Beck, right? I thought he was my friend, so I gave him the only thing Mr. Stark left for me.”
Maisie frowned, but she didn’t know how to respond. Peter took her silence for something else.
“It should have been left for you. I know it’s what you’re thinking. It’s what everyone’s thinking—I’m sure even Fury wishes it was you. You would never have screwed up this bad,” Peter shook his head again. “And now, he’s gonna kill our friends and half of Europe, so please do not tell me to relax.”
The other two were silent as Peter sat down, his head in his hands. Maisie slowly got to her feet and knelt in front of him. Maisie took his hands in hers, forcing him to lift his head.
His eyes were already red, and he murmured, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't shout.”
“You were given the glasses for a reason,” she didn’t let him avoid her gaze. “I need you to believe that.”
“But I gave them away, Maiz! Everything Tony ever gave me—” Peter was interrupted.
“I would have, too,” Maisie replied. The girl looked away, letting the truth of her words sink in. “I can’t help but think that I…I made you think that you had to.”
“What?”
“If I hadn’t made such a big deal about how difficult everything has been—”
This time, Peter interrupted, “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”
“It’s both of our faults,” Maisie concluded. “If anyone knew the relief I felt when you told me you gave EDITH away…”
The boy was quiet. He knew she was right, he had felt it too. Maisie glanced over at Happy before clearing her throat and taking the seat across from Peter. Happy watched the two talk, thinking to himself how much they reminded him of his two best friends.
Peter finally looked at Happy, “I’m sorry, I just really miss him.”
Happy offered a small smile, “Yeah, I miss him, too.”
“Everywhere we go…” Maisie’s voice broke.
“I know, I see him, too.” Peter whispered. “And everyone keeps asking who’s going to be the next Iron Man, and I don’t—I don’t know if that’s me. I know Tony wanted me to try. He trusted me, but…” he looked at Happy, “I’m not Iron Man.”
Maisie looked down at her lap. Her nail polish was chipping off. It was painted fresh for the trip, but after the past few days, it looked more like she spent the last several hours digging herself out of an unmarked grave. She chose red, not a bright Spider-Man red, which was her usual inside joke with Peter. For the trip, she chose a darker shade. It was Tony’s favorite color, at least, according to Pepper.
“You aren’t Iron Man. Either of you,” Happy broke the silence. The two superheroes looked up, and Happy continued. “You're never gonna be Iron Man. Nobody could live up to Tony—not even Tony… He was my best friend, and he was a mess.” The corner of Maisie’s lips turned upward as Happy chuckled to himself, “He second-guessed everything he did. He was all over the place, but the one thing that he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you.”
Maisie looked at Peter and saw that he was already looking at her.
“I don't think Tony would have done what he did if he didn't know that you were gonna be here after he was gone,” Happy concluded. His words meant more to them than he knew. “Now, your friends are in trouble, we’re thousands of miles away, and your tech is missing.” Happy pressed. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Peter jumped to his feet, “I’m gonna kick his ass.” The determination in his eyes was inspiring.
“Hell yeah,” Maisie stood to join him.
Happy just looked at them, “But I mean, like, right now. Specifically, what are we gonna do?” The man gestured around, “Because we've been hovering over a tulip field for the last thirty minutes.”
“Right, right,” Peter reached for his phone, but Maisie stopped him.
“We can’t call them,” she reminded him. “Beck’s tracking our phones.” The girl held out her hand to Happy, “Give me your phone.”
“Oh, uh—” Happy fumbled around for it, “here.”
Maisie tapped the keys to open it, and Peter frowned where he watched over her shoulder.
“Your password is ‘password’?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, I don’t feel good about it either,” Happy sighed, then he frowned. “Wait, how did you know my—”
“‘Ello, gov’na! Cup of tea for ya?” Flash’s voice, in a horribly executed British accent, poured out of the phone’s speaker. “Guess who’s in London?” Flash was live (again) on Instagram, and he was showing off the St. Pancras train station.
“How fast can we fly this thing to London?” Maisie asked.
“Less than an hour,” Happy answered, getting to his feet.
“We need suits,” Peter said, then he frowned. “Did MJ pack those for you, too?”
Before Maisie could respond, Happy held up a hand, “You need a suit?”
The man pressed a hidden button on the console nearest to the cockpit, and a handprint scanner revealed itself from the wall. He scanned his hand quickly and pointed behind them. In the back of the jet, a state-of-the-art workspace appeared from the wall.
“Whoa,” Peter and Maisie said at the same time. Peter found the handprint scanner on the desk, and the console sprung to life. Holograms appeared, showing an unlimited number of options for the workspace, and Maisie stepped back in awe. “Okay, uh… bring up everything you have on Spider-Man.”
The console displayed every Spider-Man suit that Tony ever conceptualized. Maisie took another step back and she wondered to herself how many suits existed in this database. How many times did Tony think of another feature he could add? How many did he get to make before he died?
“Okay, no, no, no,” Peter scrolled through his options before stopping on one that resembled his first ever suit. “Okay, yes. Open that…” the boy worked quickly, and Maisie couldn’t help but be mesmerized. He understood this technology as well as Tony did. The boy found a web-shooter option he liked, and he maneuvered his arm through the hologram to fit it to his arm. Maisie’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. When Peter turned around, he caught her watching him.
“What?” Peter asked. When she didn’t answer, he looked past her and saw Happy watching him, too. “What?”
“Nothing,” Happy sounded wistful, but he only shrugged. “You take care of the suits, I’ll take care of the music.”
Peter wasn’t convinced, and he looked again to Maisie for reassurance.
The girl shook her head, “You just…” she smiled, “you look like him.”
Peter’s self-conscious grin turned into the brightest smile she’d seen from him in days. Before either of them could say anything else, the plane’s speakers erupted in the opening beats from “Back in Black”—one of Tony’s favorite songs. It seemed that Happy also noticed the resemblance.
“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!” Peter exclaimed as he turned back to the workspace.
Maisie’s jaw dropped as shocked laughter escaped her, “Peter!”
“What?” he asked, focused on the suit.
The girl was reminded that although he and Tony were similar in many ways, Peter was also just Peter. And she wouldn’t ever want him to be anyone else.
“This is AC/DC,” she kept laughing.
“Oh, right!” Peter nodded like he knew the whole time. “The guys with the ‘Iron Man’ song, right?”
Maisie looked over in exasperation at Happy, who could only shrug in amusement in response.
“No, that’s Black Sabbath,” Maisie sighed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter—how can I help?”
Less than an hour later, the suits were nearly done “cooking” as Peter called it. Maisie described what features of her suit she wanted, and Peter expedited the process so it would be prepared by the time they arrived in London. Maisie admired the adjustment to her usual gauntlets; in the workspace’s database, she saw that Tony developed similar technology to Natasha’s widow bites for her, and it made her smile. The drones were Stark technology, so she was happy to have some Avenger-level Stark technology to fight them.
“Fury got the coded message,” Happy called from the cockpit. “And your friends are at the Tower Bridge. Your boy said ‘London Bridge’ but I figured it out.”
“Classic,” Maisie mumbled.
“I’m gonna go scoop them up,” Happy met them in the back of the jet. “You guys alright? You know what to do?”
“Yeah, we’re close,” Peter sighed. “Suits are almost done.”
“Good,” Happy nodded. “Now, walk me through it.”
“It’s illusion tech,” Maisie started. “All we have to do is get inside the illusion, and take it down. Then, we can find him. He’s just a guy, so Peter can take EDITH right back.”
“Right, but last time, you were shot,” Happy pointed at Peter, “and you were hit by a train.”
Maisie winced at the memory. She didn’t have a great rebuttal for that point, to be fair.
“True, but this time…okay, how do I explain this?” Peter said. “I have sort of a sixth sense—”
“The ‘Peter tingle’?” Happy nodded. “That’s what you’re talking about, right? I heard it wasn’t working though, is it working again?”
Peter and Maisie just stared at the man.
“It is working,” Peter finally said. “I mean, I think it’s working—”
“Good, okay, you got your ‘Peter tingle’ to get you through the illusion…” Happy frowned. “Do you have a ‘Maisie tingle’?”
“Nope, I’m not that cool,” the girl said. Peter rolled his eyes, but she continued, “Actually, I’m not sure how much help I can be if I don’t know what is actually going on. I need Peter to shut down the illusion so I can take down as many drones as I can and get him where he needs to be to get EDITH back.”
“Once I’m in the middle of everything, just teleport to me, and we can break down the drones from the inside. You’ll know that it’s not real once I’m in there, and I’ll be able to help.” Peter smirked, “Just use your ‘Maisie tingle.’”
Maisie punched him in the arm, “I’ll keep the drones occupied, but Mysterio is up to you. I can’t trust myself if I can’t see anything.”
“Okay, good plan,” Happy gave them a double thumbs-up as he headed back to the cockpit. “I’ll go get your friends.”
“We got this,” Peter mumbled, “We got this, right?”
Maisie nodded, sounding more confident than she felt, “Yeah, definitely.”
A chime echoed from the back of the plane. The suits were done, and they were almost to London. The two superheroes took one last look at one another, and they got to work.
******
Less than fifteen minutes later, Peter was in his new suit and preparing himself to crawl onto the outside of the plane. Maisie stood next to him, tightening the straps on her wrist gauntlets. She knew she should say something—anything. This wouldn’t be the last time they fought together, she knew it in her heart, but she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t—
“Don’t I get a kiss for luck?” Peter asked. His mask was already halfway down his face, but Maisie could still see his smirk, “It’s kind of a tradition at this point, right?”
Maisie’s jaw dropped, “Did you just quote ‘Percy Jackson’ at me?”
“Maybe…” the boy smiled, pulling his mask back up so she could see his eyes. Her laughter was music to Peter’s ears.
Without another second’s hesitation, Maisie took his face in her hands and kissed him. His surprise wore off quickly, dropping his mask as he pulled her closer to him. They didn’t have much time, they both knew it, but they definitely had time for this.
Maisie reluctantly pulled back, resting her forehead on his as they both caught their breath.
“Don’t turn into dust again, okay?” she joked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Peter sensed the seriousness behind her words. His thumb brushed her cheek, “Only if you don’t either.”
“We’re coming up over the drop zone,” Happy called out from the cockpit. The two superheroes finally broke apart, “Pete, you in position?”
The boy grabbed his discarded mask and slipped it on, glancing once over his shoulder at Maisie. She was already strapped into the nearest seat and gave him a nod. He pressed the button to open the plane’s door and closed it again once safely stuck to the outside of the plane. Maisie took a deep breath and pulled her mask over her nose.
“All set, Happy,” Peter said.
“Comms check, Spider-Man and Mischief,” Happy replied. “Can you both hear me clearly?”
“Yep,” Maisie responded easily, unbuckling her seatbelt. The girl joined Happy in the cockpit, looking toward their destination.
“Yeah, all good,” Peter replied, crawling to the front of the plane so he was visible from the cockpit’s window. “It’s just kind of loud out here.”
Maisie’s eyes widened as the monstrosity Mysterio created came into view for her. The newest “Elemental” was the biggest they’d seen. It towered over the entire River Thames, a combination of all four elements in a swirling mass of chaos terrorizing citizens on the Tower Bridge.
“Oh man,” Maisie said. She knew the other two couldn’t see it yet, it was still too far for the human eye.
“That sounds promising,” Peter mumbled.
“We just need to get higher so Beck doesn’t see us coming,” she replied, focusing on memorizing the surrounding area.
“Higher than we are right now?” Happy frowned. “How big is this—oh.”
“Shit,” Peter said. “Yeah, she’s right.”
“Are you guys sure that’s not real?” Happy exclaimed.
“Yeah, it’s just a hundred times bigger than we expected,” Peter replied.
“We gotta get higher!” Maisie snapped, “if he sees Peter coming, we’re toast.”
“Copy that,” Happy pulled up on the steering wheel. “Stay sticky, kid.”
“You’re so Annabeth,” Peter commented. Maisie blushed, but the compliment immediately went to her head.
“What does that mean?” Happy asked her.
“Not you,” Maisie brushed him off. The plane was still going at an upward angle, but they were approaching the drop zone imminently. It was almost time for Peter to—
“Oh, and Happy? We need to have a serious conversation about you and my aunt.” With that, Peter let go of the outside of the plane and plummeted toward the massive illusion.
Maisie did her best to ignore the look of shock on Happy’s face as he spluttered some excuse at her. As funny as it was, she didn’t want to deal with the fallout of Peter’s last-second comment.
“Happy, just land the plane without causing a scene,” Maisie couldn’t hide her smirk as she left him in the driver’s seat.
“Can’t believe I’m taking orders from a high schooler,” she heard him mumble.
“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—” Peter’s self-talk carried over into comms. “Whoa, that’s awesome.”
“Let me know when you’ve got it down,” Maisie paced back and forth.
“I hope this works,” Peter said. Another beat, and he continued. “The illusion is breaking—Mischief, I’m—oof!”
Without another second’s hesitation, the girl teleported into the middle of the fight. All around her, drones were flying or falling, broken from Peter’s electricity webs. Peter hung onto one of them, looking like he just got hit in the stomach. The illusion of a monstrous Elemental was half made up of the drones flying around, looking more like a swarm of bees rather than a world-ending threat.
“Nice work, Spidey,” Maisie ducked to avoid one of the falling drones. When she looked closer, she saw the illusion attempting to build itself back up. The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she jumped into action.
Teleporting atop the nearest flock of drones, Mischief used them as stepping stones as she shot the improved widow bites at the ones attempting to recast the illusion. The girl flipped backward as two drones headed straight for her, forcing them to crash into one another. The explosion pushed three more drones out of formation, and Mischief capitalized on that. She threw more widow bites, grabbed drones out of the air to throw at other ones, and kicked them even further out of sync.
Everywhere, drones were dropping like flies for Maisie to intercept or Peter to web or even punch into pieces. The two worked like a perfect team: completely organized and completely destructive.
“I see you,” Peter said. A hole had opened in the illusion, showing the glass walkway above the Tower Bridge that Mysterio was using as a home base.
Maisie watched as he swung toward the man, but before she could help, he was intercepted by another drone. The drone threw him hard into the brick wall of the tower. The boy fell toward the ground, shooting webs to catch his fall, without success. Before he could impale himself on a broken fence post, Maisie caught his arm and teleported them both behind a crashed car for cover.
“Thanks,” he said.
Before she could respond, the two watched as the illusion came completely apart right above their heads. The drones were all that remained.
“I wonder how he’ll try to spin this one,” the girl mumbled. “I saw him, too. I can get you up there—”
Something big exploded across the river, and Maisie looked over her shoulder in time to see the fire.
Peter put his hand to his ear, “Happy, are you good?” Maisie’s eyes widened. Did the jet cause the explosion?
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all good,” Happy sounded out of breath. “Just get Beck!”
“That’s where you decided to park?” she exclaimed. Maisie could have sworn she said to not cause a scene.
“Maisie!” Peter pushed her backward, separating them. An entire swarm of drones was now headed directly toward them, shooting bullets and explosives. Peter took off, swinging through the bridge with half of the drones on his tail.
The other half focused on her, so she cursed Mysterio as she turned to jump off the bridge. Turning in midair, she shot more widow bites off at the nearest drones and teleported right before her back hit the Thames. The nearest drones, filled with electricity, dove headfirst into the water. She only hoped she didn’t kill too many fish as she killed those drones.
Maisie reappeared atop the bridge without any time to breathe. As soon as she landed, at least fifteen more drones fixated on her.
“Fuck’s sake,” Maisie jerked her body to the left to dodge another round of bullets before running straight toward them.
The drones stopped shooting the bullets, instead shifting their mechanism to a steady laser stream. Trying her best not to get cut in half, Mischief teleported, knocking the drones off-center until the only things they shot were themselves. The heat from the lasers scorched her skin more than once as she flipped through the air. If her hair was untucked, she would have gotten a new haircut for sure.
“Happy, update?” Maisie yelled into the comms as soon as she had a chance. The girl was tucked behind a concrete partition, looking off the west side of the Tower Bridge. She had no idea where Peter was. “Is everyone alive?”
“I’m here, we’re here,” Happy’s voice echoed in her ear. “I bought us some time, but not much.”
Another round of drones interrupted her view of the Shard, and she groaned.
“I’m trying to get to Beck, but I can’t shake these drones,” Peter grunted as he fought.
“Same,” Maisie teleported on top of the skyway. Beck was right there—she could get to him, but could she trust herself with the illusions? Her hesitation took away the advantage of surprise as Beck looked up through the transparent ceiling. “Pete, where—”
“Let’s get him,” he said. Peter was right by her side, just like always.
Before they could move, drones flew toward them at record speed with flamethrowers on full strength.
The superheroes had no choice but to sprint away from the swarm of drones. It was getting redundant, and Maisie was pretty sure there were burn holes and grazes from bullets ripping up her suit. The fire was faster than them, unfortunately, and Maisie had no choice but to teleport out of the way as Peter jumped off the side of the building. More explosions rattled the entire bridge as Peter swung through the metal beams and shot net webs to catch the nearest drones. They exploded upon impact, but he still had over twenty drones after him. As Peter swung past, Maisie realized that his suit caught flames.
Glancing to the side, Maisie saw the broken fence that Peter almost impaled himself on—the posts weren’t hollow, she realized. The girl kicked the bottom of the post until it broke, making a sharp, metal rod about a meter long. Twirling her new weapon in the air, she swung it like a baseball bat and sent one drone flying backwards into the group swarming her. The explosion threw a car into the air, but before the fire could reach her, she teleported again.
Maisie landed with both feet on one of the drones following Peter, who was still on fire. The girl almost fell off, but she quickly crouched to regain her balance, using her free hand to steady her feet evenly apart. Before she could decide against it, Maisie used her whole body to turn the drone in midair. She didn’t know how to surf, being a city kid all her life, but she did know how to skateboard—she hoped the two activities weren’t too different.
Using the metal rod as a sword and the flying technology as a surfboard, Maisie obliterated every drone within striking distance. The girl swung her feet, forcing the drone to do a loop around the Tower Bridge as she threw widow bites with one wrist and deflected oncoming drones with her “sword.”
It seemed that the distraction worked, and Peter appeared from under the bridge dripping wet but assuredly not on fire.
“Going up!” Peter shot a web to a drone, transporting himself upward. Maisie’s drone flew higher, chasing Peter.
“Incoming,” Maisie called, readying her weapon.
“When I say so—” Peter grunted, throwing another web net across the space between the parallel beams above them both, “get off that thing!”
Maisie understood his next move before it happened. As the drones chased him, Maisie made sure to intercept the ones that got too close. While several of Mysterio’s drones malfunctioned in midair from the widow bites, Peter threw a web at ones following him, including the one that Maisie was surfing.
“Now!” he yelled.
Without hesitating, Maisie teleported.
Peter used his left hand to throw the webbed bundle of drones into the underside of one of the parallel beams, catapulting him up into the net he made between them. The elasticity of the web cushioned his upward trajectory and gave him enough time to web up the malfunctioning drones left incapacitated by Maisie. Using both hands, Peter pulled the drones down into the other side of the net, using the counterweight to land safely on the ground while destroying them all in a fiery cloud of webs and metal.
The only mistake he made was allowing himself a moment to breathe; even more drones appeared from the side of the bridge, prepared to shoot. Before he could react, Maisie reappeared, spearing the nearest one with her makeshift weapon before spinning and shooting her widow bites at the others. Using the speared drone, the superhero swung it like a club, breaking them all to pieces. She yanked the spear out of the crushed drone and threw it like a javelin at the last one, pinning it to the concrete wall of the tower.
Teleporting to Peter’s side, she raised her eyebrows in a question. The boy nodded. They were alright for the time being, but they still had a lot of work to do. Maisie looked straight upward where she knew Beck was hiding from them.
“Let me teleport you up—”
“More incoming!” Peter interrupted, and the two returned to their fighting stances. Even more of Mysterio’s drones hovered in the air across the bridge,
“But if we just stop him, then we can…” Maisie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are they doing?”
The drones were lining up in a row, keeping their distance instead of careening toward them as usual. Before either of them could react, they were launched backward into the side of a car. Maisie felt her already-injured ribs ache as she stood up. These drones were the ones used in Venice for the Water Elemental. They used force to maneuver tons of water into destroying buildings, and Peter and Maisie were just hit with that force point-blank.
The girl held her hand out to Peter, but he was pulling himself to his feet just out of her reach. The drones shot another collective punch, this time launching a car in their direction. Maisie turned right as the car collided with them, unable to get to Peter in time to teleport out of its way. The superheroes were sandwiched between both cars as the force sent them careening over the edge of the bridge.
Bracing herself for impact, Maisise managed to take the brunt of the car with her shoulder instead of her ribs, but the freezing water in the Thames River numbed her pain anyway. She hated water, and she hated small spaces, but she was stuck between two cars sinking to the bottom of a river. Still, she could only think of Peter. The boy took the whole weight of the car on his chest, but Maisie wasn’t too worried about that. After all, he was hit by a high-speed train a couple days ago. Instead, Maisie worried about the car knocking him out before they went underwater—it was hard to hold your breath when you were unconscious.
Forcing herself to open her eyes in the murky water, Maisie searched for Peter. She managed to wiggle her way out from underneath the cars despite being a sub-par swimmer. As Maisie swam upward, she found Peter searching the cars in the exact same, frantic way. Her heart leapt when he saw her, and he swam the distance between them. Maisie pointed up, and the two superheroes broke the surface, coughing out water despite their masks.
“Catch your breath for a second,” Maisie said. “I want to see something.”
The girl scanned the underside of the bridge while she waited, and Peter was getting impatient.
“Can’t you teleport us up there?” Peter asked.
“Yes, I just wanted to see if Mysterio was still watching us,” Maisie waited another beat, and she nodded in satisfaction. “He’s not sending any drones, at least not yet, so we need to use this chance to get to him.”
Peter nodded in understanding, “Hold on?”
Maisie agreed, wrapping her arms and legs around him before teleporting onto the side of the bridge. Peter stuck to the wall and let Maisie climb the rest of the way until she was safely atop the Tower Bridge, careful not to alert any of the remaining drones. After Maisie held out a hand to help pull him up, the two crouched behind a concrete partition.
“Shit,” Peter cursed, tapping his wrists. “No webs.”
Maisie tried not to let her face drop its determined expression, “You don’t need them.”
“Spider-Man doesn’t need his webs?” Peter’s sarcasm hid a bit of fear.
“You only need your Spidey Sense,” Maisie replied, a little too proud of herself for the rebrand. “Focus on that, and you’ll be fine.”
“Well, I do need one other thing…” Peter argued. “Like right now, I kind of need you… to like, teleport me up there.”
Maisie snorted, “If I weren’t here, you’d figure out some genius way to blow up the floor of the skyway and launch yourself up there with nothing except, I don’t know…” she pointed at the “Tower Bridge” sign lying amongst the rubble, “that sign.”
“As cool as I am,” Peter shook his head, “I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”
Maisie shrugged, “You never know.”
“Ready?” Peter held out his hand.
“Yeah, we gotta save London,” Maisie nodded. “Let’s go.”
With that, the two teleported into the skyway.
Maisie dropped Peter in front of Mysterio. Without giving him a chance to react, Peter punched the glass helmet Beck was using to control the drones, breaking the device and the man’s nose at the same time. Peter grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and jumped up, sticking upside down on the ceiling and lifting Mysterio into the air. Maisie reappeared once Peter detained Beck, scanning the area for any sign of EDITH—why wasn’t Beck wearing the glasses? Did he turn them into that hideous fishbowl helmet?
The girl teleported to the other side of the skyway for a better look at the destruction across London. It seemed that when Peter broke the helmet, the drones shut down.
“Your lies are over, Beck,” Peter growled.
“Eh, this certainly isn’t ideal,” Beck replied, “but, I have contingencies. EDITH?”
Maisie’s head whipped back to their conversation as another of the Water Elemental’s drones shot Peter backward with enough force to knock an ordinary person unconscious. He landed at Maisie’s feet, groaning in pain. The girl helped him up before returning her gaze to the drones over the Tower Bridge—they were operational again.
“Control was transferred back to the glasses when you broke the helmet,” Maisie realized. “He has to have them with him.”
“What, these?” Beck took the EDITH glasses out from his chest pocket.
“Just give us the glasses,” Peter snapped.
“You want them?” Beck taunted. More drones lined up alongside and in front of Mysterio to protect him. Maisie’s eyes widened as the beginning of an illusion began to take shape. “Come and get them.”
“Maisie,” Peter said, reaching for her hand. The illusion was coming at full speed: a black void. Its sole purpose was to blind them. “We can do this.”
Maisie blinked, and the world around her was in complete darkness. Her fear vanished when she looked to her left and realized that she could still see one thing: Peter. The girl could almost laugh—big mistake, Beck.
“Eyes sharp, Mischief,” Peter’s bright red suit was impossible to miss.
“C’mon, Spidey Sense,” Maisie whispered.
The boy took a deep breath. Then, he charged.
Maisie was one step behind him at all times. Peter jumped, punching down on something invisible, sending it flying toward the ground. Off-kilter and visible, the drone was an easy target as Maisie shot the widow bites to finish it off. Peter’s eyes were closed as he flipped, punched, and kicked their invisible enemies, but Maisie followed, trusting his every instinct.
“Duck!” Peter called out at one point.
Maisie didn’t hesitate, dodging an invisible killer drone, probably. As she slid across the floor, Peter pulled drones out of sync, making them visible for her to finish off. The two knew each other so well, every one of Peter’s movements conjured a countermove for Maisie. The illusion wore off, but they hadn’t even noticed—they wouldn’t stop until every drone was destroyed.
Beck was calling out orders at the other end of the skyway, but they couldn’t hear him. The remaining drones hovering around him were sent with guns blazing at the young superheroes. Peter grabbed a broken drone to use as a shield from the firing squad, and the two ran forward holding it like a battering ram. It was getting destroyed, and Maisie was pretty sure a stray bullet caught her at least once. At the last second, Peter used the final shard of metal from their makeshift shield to destroy the drone. Peter leaped up and out of the way before another drone could provide a kill shot, and Maisie immediately smashed it to pieces.
They were unstoppable, and they knew it.
One last drone spun toward Maisie, but Peter dropped from the ceiling, crushing it under his feet. Both superheroes glanced back at the pile of broken drones; then, they approached their real enemy. Maisie pulled her mask down, there was no point in maintaining appearances anymore. Peter also took his mask off, and Maisie was struck by the rage she saw underneath it.
Beck was laying on the ground, doubled over in pain and bleeding from his midsection. It seemed that one of the stray bullets hit him, too.
“Beck,” Peter glared downward, blood dripping down from an open cut on his face, “you lied to me, and I trusted you.”
“I know,” Beck winced. The man held a hand over his wound, “That’s the most disappointing part.” Beck reached into his chest pocket again, “You’re such a good person, Peter. You both are, really. It’s such a weakness.” He pulled out the EDITH glasses, pointing them up toward them. “Stark was right. You do deserve them—”
A gunshot went off, and a small bead of blood dripped down Maisie’s temple. The girl slowly raised her head to see Beck standing wearing the EDITH glasses and pointing a gun at her head. The “Beck” laying on the ground disappeared, nothing more than an illusion. Peter stood completely still with Beck’s gun hand locked in a death grip; Maisie’s eyes widened as she realized that Peter forced him to miss his intended target: her.
She would have been dead.
Peter’s grip on the man’s hand forced him to drop the gun. “You can’t trick me anymore.”
Beck fell to the ground, defeated. Peter snatched the glasses off his face as he went down, immediately putting them on his face. Maisie was still reeling from the headshot that almost ended her life, and she didn’t even know Beck was there.
“EDITH, turn off the drones!” he ordered.
“Biometric scan complete. Welcome back, Peter.” EDITH said. “Execute all cancellation protocols?”
“Yes, do it! Execute them all!” he replied.
“Confirmed.” EDITH concluded. Around them, the drones shut down, while the still-functioning ones flew back to where they came from. Peter thanked her and turned to Maisie, but she was still staring at Beck.
“How could you do all of this?” Maisie asked. “Why?”
“You’ll see,” Beck’s breath was ragged. “People, they do believe. And nowadays, they’ll believe anything.”
One last breath left his lungs, and Quentin Beck was gone.
Maisie didn’t move a muscle until she heard Peter speak, “EDITH, is this real?”
“All illusions are down, Peter.” EDITH confirmed.
Maisie released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, stepping far away from Beck’s body. Peter followed her all the way out the door, leaving the man behind.
“Take us somewhere,” Peter suggested. “We don’t have to be here anymore.”
The girl nodded, staring off into the London skyline. The blood had already dried from the bullet grazing her temple. Her knuckles were white from squeezing her hands together. She broke them apart for only a second for Peter to hold.
******
In a flash, they were standing atop the Elizabeth Tower—Big Ben. The clock, ticking away directly below their feet, was far larger than either of them thought it would be. Maisie sat down on the ledge, dangling her feet.
“Everyone’s okay,” Peter said, sending a final text to Ned. He turned off his phone after taking a quick picture of their view.
“We were supposed to be sightseeing on this trip,” Maisie watched him snap the picture.
“There were a lot of things we were supposed to do on this trip,” Peter agreed. The boy sat down beside her. “None of this was on the itinerary.”
“I loved the itinerary,” Maisie mumbled. “It was going to be perfect. Everything could have been perfect.”
Peter could only sigh in response. The girl risked a glance at him, and he caught her looking.
“Wh—”
“I want to know your plan,” she blurted.
Peter’s eyes widened, “What plan? I didn’t have a plan—”
“Don’t lie to me, I was nice enough to let you keep your plan a secret at the start, but now our trip is ruined, and we just…” Maisie bit her lip and returned her gaze to the city of London. “We just went through a lot, so I was hoping your plan was something…I don’t know, something that we could still make happen.”
The two were silent, listening only to the sound of the clock.
“I had a plan,” Peter began. His cheeks were turning pink, but Maisie didn’t notice. “It won’t work now, not exactly. But, I’m sure we’ll get there one day…” he sighed, shaking his head. He turned to face her, leaving only one leg dangling off the edge of the Elizabeth Tower. Gathering whatever strength he had left from that day, Peter lifted his gaze to meet Maisie’s. “I wanted to take you to the museum in Paris, the one you were excited about?”
“The Musée d’Orsay?” Maisie supplied. Her perfect French pronunciation made him smile.
“Yeah, that one,” he nodded. “I got tickets for our free day, just for us, since everyone else wanted to go to the Louvre—”
“The Louvre is overrated…” Maisie murmured.
“I just…” Peter continued. “I wanted to take you through the Van Gogh exhibit and…” Peter coughed. “And, see the Starry Night.”
“And?” Maisie raised her eyebrows at the boy. “That felt like a very loaded ‘and…’” He didn’t see the humor in her eyes.
“Why is this so hard?” he muttered. A laugh escaped Maisie, and Peter finally turned to stare at her.
“Well, I’m not exactly making it easy on you,” she joked, “am I?”
Peter stared at her, incredulous, “You already know, don’t you?”
“It depends on how your plan is supposed to end,” Maisie replied. “I only know how I want it to.”
The sincerity of her words gave him goosebumps. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say or how to say it, so it just kind of—
“I love you,” the words came out before he could stop them. “I’ve known for…ever, I think. I just wanted to tell you where it would be perfect.”
“Peter,” Maisie placed her hands on his cheeks. Her eyes were sparkling, and Peter didn’t think he’d seen anything more perfect. “I love you, too.” Another laugh bubbled to the surface, and Maisie brought her forehead to his, “I’m pretty sure that I always have.”
Maisie barely finished speaking before Peter’s lips were on hers. Sparks of electricity shot through her veins. The entire city could have been on fire, and she wouldn’t even notice. All she knew was the feeling of Peter’s lips on hers, and it was everything.
Of their three kisses, this was Maisie’s favorite. Before, they’d been in the midst of battle, never knowing if they would make it. They were fast, passionate declarations that spoke what they couldn’t say. They were the opportunities they had to take, never knowing if they’d ever be able to again.
This one…It was sure, strong, safe. It reminded her exactly why she loved him: he was home. Unsurprisingly, they fit together perfectly. Maisie kept her hand on the back of Peter’s head as she leaned back, making sure never to break their lips apart as she laid down on the ledge. He followed her lead, deepening the kiss as he pressed their bodies even closer together. It could have been hours, days, even years—he could kiss her forever.
The second verse of Taylor Swift’s “Karma” erupted from Maisie’s pocket. The girl instantly teleported, cutting the music off for a split second and dropping Peter to the ledge.
“Wh—Maiz?” Peter asked, dazed. Maisie scrambled, fumbling in her near-nonexistent utility pockets for her phone.
“Spider-boy, king of thieves. Weave your little webs of opacity—” Taylor was interrupted when Maisie clicked the green “answer” button.
“He—” Maisie tried. Her voice was raspy, so she cleared her throat and tried again, “Hello?”
“Good, you guys are alive,” Happy sounded relieved.
Peter shot her a look, smirking, “‘Spider-boy’?”
Maisie held the phone away from her mouth to respond, “It’s not for you…I just really like Taylor Swift.”
“Anyway, your friends are all taken care of, but Beck destroyed the jet, so I don’t have a ride back to the States,” Happy said. Maisie frowned as he continued, “If you were gonna…you know, do your thing…could I hitch a ride? Maybe save a few hundred on a plane ticket?”
She watched Peter’s shoulders slump, hearing Happy’s request.
“Sorry, Hap, we’ve got a plan,” Maisie replied. Peter’s gaze met hers, and she smiled, “and we’re already in Paris.”
******