Chapter 2
“Just a month after local vigilante Spider-Man saves the cities of Prague and London, the unknown caped hero dubbed Mysterio has revealed Spider-Man’s identity. Moments before his death, Mysterio, who previously helped Spider-Man take down what witnesses in Prague have described as a giant fiery monster, accused Spider-Man of orchestrating this recent string of terrorist attacks.”
A school photo of Peter Parker appears on screen.
“Sources confirm that 16-year-old Peter Parker, a high school student in Queens, was spotted in cities across Europe where drone attacks projecting holographic images of Earth’s supposed new villains the Elementals took place. We here at The Post have cross-examined Spider-Man’s appearances both throughout Queens and in Washington, D.C. with public records of Peter Parker’s locations, and have confirmed a close match.”
The reporter is shown interviewing a student from Midtown High School, who wears a bright yellow blazer.
“Spider-Man saved us at the Monument even though I later saw helicopters try to chase him down,” she explains, hands waving about excitedly. Then, she spares the camera a nervous glance and her voice dips.
“If it was Peter out there,” she pauses. “We owe him our lives twice now. Nobody who went to Europe got hurt. I know it’s Peter who kept us safe.”
“It’s been six months since the Blip and we have yet to hear from any of the other Avengers who helped protect Earth. In the wake of such catastrophic damage, how does the United Nations decide on the parameters of the Avengers Initiative?”
Microphones are shoved in the face of Secretary Ross, who convened a press conference the day after Spider-Man was unmasked.
“We are currently in talks with every nation who backed the Sokovia Accords, but let me make one thing clear.” His eyes drill holes in the cameraman’s lens.
“In the grand history of this nation, the United States has not and will never endorse vigilantism. It is a danger to us all that the state of our national security is predicated on a group of enhanced super-humans who act on their own sovereignty and not in the interests of the United States. In light of these allegations, we will be doubling down on investigations of vigilantism, including that of Mr. Parker’s, and especially on counts of terrorism. Rest assured; we do not quip about our people’s safety lightly.”
The next shot is outside Stark Tower. Reporters chase a heavily-flanked Pepper Potts out the building. When the camera comes to rest on her face, it finds her expression stony and a little weary.
“Ms. Potts, what do you have to say about Peter Parker’s prior involvement with Tony Stark?”
“Did Iron Man know who Spider-Man was? What do you think gave him the right to endorse Spider-Man’s actions?”
“Pepper, over here! Is Peter still employed with Stark Industries-”
“-when is Stark Industries going to own up about its involvement with Spider-Man’s blatant disregard of the Accords?”When Pepper Potts turns around, the skin around her eyes tightens.
“Spider-Man fought alongside my fiancée in the battle against Thanos, as did I.” Her voice is deceptively calm. “We at Stark Industries have confirmed in our analysis of the video that the entity known as Mysterio 100% matches a former high-level employee named Quentin Beck and have passed on this information to the relevant authorities.”
Her voice cuts through the rising barrage of questions.
“Mr. Parker is one of our brightest interns and until he is formally proven to be Spider-Man, our company will not stake employment decisions on the words of somebody who, to quote Mr. Stark, resigned in disgrace. As for Spider-Man, while Stark Industries has no relations with him, having personally seen the hits he will take to protect his people, I have no doubts that he is the furthest thing from a terrorist.”
The Post reporter shoves a microphone in Pepper’s face. Her flinch and recovery are remarkably quick.
“Ms. Potts, but what does that say about whether Spider-Man’s a hero?”
Pepper allows a small smirk before she slides in the car.
“I think we both know that’s not a question for him to answer, but for yourself.”
It’s only been two days since this news report hit YouTube.
“Why are you in Manhattan?” Gwen asks Peter.
He looks at his hands.
“Ms. Potts says I need to stop being Spider-Man, at least for a little while.”
Gwen’s eyebrows raise. Spider-Man’s history only shows that he’d rather die than stop trying.
“Can you do that?”
Peter scoffs, then narrows his eyes at her. “How did you know Ross sent those cars?”
It’s the most twisted game of 20 Questions she’s ever played.
She shrugs. “I could sense it, just like you.”
“How can you turn invisible?”
“What is your plan, Parker?” She asks louder. Chin up, eyes defiant. Stick to the rules of the game.
Peter sighs softly. His hand runs through his curls. Nervous tic.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Ms. Potts said she could speak to the Wakandan delegation on my behalf, but-”
“That’s your best option.”
“But,” Peter emphasizes, frustrated. “One, if I vanish, that’s not going to look good for current or future investigations of me. Peter Parker, me.”
Gwen nods.
“And two, I can’t leave this city behind.”
An audible groan. Parker thinks he’s frustrated? He clearly doesn’t know any better. She throws her hands up.
“Why not?”
Peter scrambles, his eyes darting wall to wall. “Because-because what’s a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man with no neighborhood?”
Gwen stares at him. Notes his desperation. Doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s already saved the world. The universe.
She knows he isn’t stupid, just as she knows she was never born to be anything like him. All the self-sacrificing heroics. She was not made for these kinds of decisions. But one commonality must be the self-preservation. Without it, he couldn’t still be here. He wants to protect. In order to do that, he must want to live. So what’s in the way?
“Who are you keeping an eye on?”
He freezes at her question. She kicks the edge of her bed lightly.
“No trust, no team,” she lilts.
The room is quiet. Too late for cars outside. A raccoon rifling through the garbage. Everybody on her floor appears to be asleep.
“Why are you doing this?”
Parker’s voice is earnest, as are his eyes. Once again, Gwen’s heart jolts at the thought of putting herself in his shoes. The Avengers aren’t around anymore, regardless of how much Ross likes to opine about them being a menace to society. When Beck showed up, Peter had no one. He must have people he cares about or he wouldn’t be hesitating. Wakanda can’t be taking everyone. To be forced to answer questions about the future safety of their world, to account for that many lives, and on top of it all to have his anonymity wrenched away, the anonymity of those he cares about… This kid is only sixteen.
“I think that Ross is coming after you,” she begins slowly, carefully. “The only path that makes sense for him now is to make an example of someone so visible.”
Peter nods, gears turning.
“And after what Ross went through to try and apprehend Dr. Banner-”
“We studied that in social studies the other day!” Peter perks up. “There isn’t much that wasn’t redacted, but it seemed really morally ambiguous.”
Gwen shakes her head.
“Not at all. Anyone who reads knows Ross is shady as fuck.”
Peter grins. Then, just as quickly, deflates.
“What about that Jameson guy-”
“That guy’s on crack,” she interrupts him fiercely. “There are just as many people supporting you as there are him. An unsubstantiated opinion should not be the one you worry about.”
Parker’s fingers twitch absently. Gwen’s eyes land on a sticky note pinned to the bulletin on her dresser. ‘Finish mole-bio prep.’ An hour ago feels too long ago. She sighs, knowing she needs to dig deeper.
“I didn’t bring you here because I want to be in any trouble, Parker.”
He stays silent, lets her continue. Can see how hard she’s reaching.
“But I think I know what it’s like to be on your own. I don’t believe in heroes, but a year ago I didn’t believe I was any different either. And now, I am.”
Except nothing’s changed yet. Peter Parker is in her room but nothing has actually changed. She’s still Gwen-the college student. Gwen-the orphan. Gwen-the wannabe drummer. Gwen-the future scientist who knows the Accords are wrong, can feel it in her bones. Where’s she going to draw the line? When’s she going to step over it?
“I guess I just don’t see why there shouldn’t be anybody in your corner.”
They lock eyes. She wills Peter to understand. It’s a jumble of subconscious thoughts up there. Mostly feelings. But a restlessness too, one that started way before any old spider bite. A growing sense that the world left behind to people like them, people their age, would only get worse in the hands of megalomaniacs harnessing the insecurity they’ve had to face, ripping societies apart. Too much trauma. So little space.
Spider-Man needs to stay under-the-radar. At least until the rest of the Avengers return. Certainly until somebody gets the chance to draft something Constitutional in place of the Accords. Gwen wants to expose Ross, fix the cracks he’s formed in the wake of Sokovia, of Lagos, of Berlin (unreported), Harlem (redacted), Thanos (undermined). In so many unexplainable ways, she needs this.
When Peter speaks, she’s taken aback but how utterly sincere he sounds.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not sure why you wouldn’t believe in heroes.”
Gwen is resolute in not smiling, but she’s touched all the same.
Deep breath. Focus. Form a plan.
“I don’t use webs like you do. Too obvious. But I can fly in this suit. Totally silent. And I can turn invisible and exert bio-electrical pulses.”
Peter blinks, back in the game. The severity of his situation is suffocating.
“I use these little discs,” Gwen holds one up to the light, flips it in her fingers deftly, “to extend the range of my abilities. I haven’t practiced it yet, but I’m pretty sure I can swing my way around the city by channeling some sort of bio-electrical vortex between myself and the discs.”
Peter’s eyes grow wide.
“EM manipulation,” he whispers, stunned. “That’s amazing! How are you doing all this?”
Gwen shrugs and smirks. “I borrow ESU’s research facilities.”
Peter looks ridiculously impressed.
“Yeah, well, I’ve only got up to 50 feet so far in very untested conditions, so naïve optimism is still the name of the game around here.”
“What about everything else from the-uh,” he swallows, “from the spider bite?”
“Yes to the super healing, reflexes, sensory fucking overload, and electrical wall crawling.”
He leaps from the bed.
“I can’t believe I’ve never thought of manipulating the static electricity before! I wonder if I’d be able to-”
Gwen waves his excitement away with a lazy hand. “I wouldn’t fret too much about it. Neither you nor Stark have a proper genetics background and I doubt you’d have been all about DNA testing before the leak.”
Peter frowns. Stops pacing.
“How do you know so much about the Avengers?”
Gwen purses her lips. “Would you believe if I said it was my dad’s job to know?” She drawls flatly.
He raises his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes.
“George Stacy. Y’know, the guy who directed the Battle of New York documentary?”
She finds it amusing that Peter can form such a round ‘o’ with his tiny mouth.
“Didn’t he also do that movie based on the Mandarin? The one starring-”
“You mean the one where he pretends Iron Man alone was capable of stopping an organization when he didn’t know where the root of it began?” She interrupts unkindly. Peter trails off. Gwen scoffs.
“Anyway, he’s dead now.”
This night is just filled with tense silences.
Peter sits back down on the bed gently, his arms outstretched until he thinks better of it.
A beat.
“Michelle. Jones. Goes by MJ. She’s this girl I really like and I haven’t been able to see her since-” He stops and gulps painfully. “Ned Leeds. He’s my best friend. They both go to Midtown.” A huge breath in. “And my aunt May. Parker. She’s kind of- all I have left.”
He exhales, muscles sagging. Slouched in his hoodie like that, with only her night vision to go by, Gwen recognizes how tired he is. He has deep bruises under his eyes she didn’t give a second thought to before. A steadiness in hands so small, so needlessly burdened with the world.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what she thinks, does it? Rationalizations won’t change the truth. That Gwen Stacy was always part of this world, always cared too much about it with what little she’s had. Could see when it was going to shit before everyone else felt it in their own ashes. Who has feared and examined and prepared for the future every single waking second. At the end of the day, nothing will ever change Gwen Stacy and her right to live.
“Peter,” she calls. He looks up. “Seek that asylum. I’ll look after your family.”
His face straightens grimly, as does hers.
Trust me, trust me, trust me.