Stars in the Web | Peter Parker

Chapter 1

dedicated to my sister, who convinced me to write this as she couldn't be bothered searching for a « The Amazing Spider-man » fic.

loosely canon compliant

New York, a city often romanticised for its lack of sleep and its constant vibrance, however in ones undignified and considered unjustified opinion, New York is often over romanticised; expectations of handsome and kind strangers and mysterious potentials on each street corner but underneath lies the petty crime, the packed subway, the godforsaken inflation of a simple cup of coffee and the smell – God the smell. New York is the kind of city where if you aren't somebody, if you aren't extraordinary, you blend into everybody else. For Sylvie the later was all too relevant, cousin of the beloved Gwen Stacy. Sylvie never did live up to Gwen's benchmark, although the Stacy family genetics ran strong in the expression of physical characteristics, both the girls displaying blonde hair, blues eyes and fair skin, the only physical discrepancy lay in Sylvie's slightly more textured hair and taller frame. Beyond the physical lay a multitude of differences, for starters Gwen was a logical kind of academic, a maths and science smart if you will – Sylvie found her interest in more argumentative aspects of intellectual stimulation.

Thus, as Sylvie found herself in the lobby of an unusually glamorous apartment complex – home to George Stacy and his rather un-motley crew, her parents found themselves on a plane to Europe. The lobby, although modern and fitted with stainless steel and bluestone, housed an obscene amount of marble for Queens. Her Mother was some 'bigshot' lawyer whose job landed her all over the world, most potently Europe – the border of Italy and Switzerland to be exact. Unlike her mother, Sylvie's dad embarked on a less turbulent profession in the field of botany and geology: moss and rocks.

Gwen and Sylvie had never been particularly close, close enough to make the next – however long her parents were away – stay more than bearable; the girls, 6 months apart in age, both participated in the usual 'young girl growing up in the 00's' activities: ballet, singing, piano, ice skating, gymnastics – you name it, the girls have done it. Living in separate districts translated to separate schools, separate strengths which again translated into separate specialist schools; Gwen at Midtown Science High School and Sylvie at Empire Humanities Secondary, the girls grew apart by circumstance. George and Sylvie had never seen eye to eye; thus, Sylvie was under specific instructions from her mother to keep verbal jousts and sarcastic comments to a minimum. A logical and moral man by nature, chief of police by profession, the uncle and niece duo were the worst part of dynamic.

"Sylvie." A neat authoritative voice quipped, the voice belonging to Uncle George, who was in the police uniform – an outfit Sylvie had rarely seen him out of. He hadn't changed since the last time the two had met: his hair was neat and uniform, shoes polished despite belonging to a working man, nothing about the man was out of place. The remark was coupled with a tight-lipped nod of acknowledgement, crossed arms and shoulder-width

stance.

"George."

"Uncle George."

Shit.

"Uncle George." Sylvie corrected herself.

The 'once-over' George gave Sylvie was enough to make anyone cower, the conclusion of which was one of subdued disgust and disappointment. Sylvie put this down to several things, her hair was considered 'unkempt' in comparison to his own daughter's pin-straight, pony-tail-clad hair, her sweaty and flustered appearance from the subway ride across town but Sylvie's best bet was just a general displeasure in his niece's presence. The short journey to their apartment was awkward, most likely due to the comment Sylvie made which her mother explicitly forbade her from.