Webs of Fate

Crossed Wires

Weeks had passed since Gwen and Peter started patrolling together, sometimes as a duo and other times separately. Their names were all over the news, their masked identities turning them into the talk of New York. The media had taken to calling them "Spider-Man" and "Spider-Woman," while others dubbed them the "Spider Duo." Rumors swirled about the two vigilantes, with some outlets speculating that there was more to their relationship than just crime-fighting.

Tonight, however, wasn't about the thrill of swinging through the city or stopping criminals for Gwen. It was dinner time at the Stacy household, and the mood at the table was mixed.

"So, George, what's the latest with this 'Spider Duo'?" Helen Stacy asked, sliding a plate of roast chicken across the table.

Gwen's father, Captain George Stacy, sat with a thoughtful expression, cutting his food methodically before answering. "The media's got it half-right. Spider-Man and Spider-Woman have been doing some good out there. Petty crime has gone down in the neighborhoods they patrol. There's no doubt about that. But..."

Gwen, sitting across from her father, felt a pang of anxiety in her chest as he paused. She already knew where this was going. She shifted in her seat, poking at her dinner while trying to appear casual.

"...as much as they're helping, they're breaking the law. Vigilantism, no matter how noble the intention, is illegal. We have trained officers for a reason," George continued, his tone firm but not angry.

Gwen's fork clattered against her plate. She clenched her jaw. She had to remind herself to breathe evenly, knowing she couldn't reveal how close this hit home. Her father wasn't just talking about random masked heroes—he was talking about her and Peter.

"Don't get me wrong, Helen," George said, turning to his wife. "I respect what they're trying to do, but I've got officers out there risking their lives every night. These vigilantes are going to get hurt—or worse. It's only a matter of time."

Gwen's attention drifted to the TV in the background. The evening news showed a clip of George standing before a crowd of reporters earlier in the day, talking about the Spider Duo. The headline read: *"Captain George Stacy Speaks Out on Masked Vigilantes."* He gave the same talking points—praising their bravery, but condemning their methods. Gwen bit her lip, frustration bubbling up inside of her. Her own father was hunting her without even knowing it, treating her and Peter like criminals.

"I need some air," Gwen muttered abruptly, pushing her chair back from the table.

Her parents exchanged confused glances as she stood up.

"Gwen, is everything okay?" her mother asked.

"Yeah, fine. Just need to clear my head." She didn't wait for a response and quickly made her way to the door.

Once outside, Gwen donned her Spider-Woman suit, feeling the familiar fabric cling to her as her anger and frustration boiled over. Without hesitation, she launched herself into the air, the cool wind whipping against her face as she swung from building to building. Each leap, each web shot was a release. The city blurred beneath her as she navigated the skyline, using the cityscape as her personal playground. Skyscrapers, streetlights, and rooftops became obstacles for her to weave through, her mind racing as fast as her movements.

She landed on the edge of a construction yard, her senses tingling as she spotted something unusual below. A group of men—at least thirty—gathered near the skeletal frame of a half-finished building. These weren't just the usual thugs she and Peter had been dealing with. They were more organized, their movements precise and coordinated.

*Something's off,* Gwen thought.

Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone and quickly texted Peter: *Meet me at the construction yard ASAP. I've got a bad feeling about this.*

Tucking the phone away, Gwen perched on a nearby beam, analyzing the scene below. She couldn't wait for Peter. She had to act now. Leaping from her vantage point, she dove into action.

The first few guys went down easily—quick web shots to the face, a swift kick here, a well-placed punch there. But the numbers began to overwhelm her, and before long, she found herself surrounded. A sharp pain shot through her arm. She looked down, eyes widening at the sight of blood seeping through her suit—a bullet wound near her bicep.

"Damn it," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Another shot rang out, this time grazing her abdomen, near her hip. Gwen staggered back, fighting to stay on her feet as pain pulsed through her body.

*Where's Peter?* she thought desperately.

Just as her vision started to blur, she saw a familiar red and blue figure swing into the fray. Spider-Man—Peter—landed beside her, his eyes narrowing beneath the mask as he noticed the bloodstains on her suit.

"You're bleeding," he said, his voice tight with concern.

"Just a scratch," Gwen quipped through the pain. "Help me finish these guys."

Together, they made short work of the remaining thugs. Peter fought with a ferocity she hadn't seen before, his movements sharp and precise as if every punch and kick was fueled by his worry for her. Despite the pain, Gwen held her own, using her speed and agility to keep up.

Once the last of the thugs were webbed up, Peter immediately turned to her, worry etched across his masked face. "We need to get you patched up. Now."

"Peter, I'm fine," Gwen protested weakly, but her legs wobbled beneath her, betraying her words.

"No, you're not," he insisted, already supporting her weight as he helped her up. "We're going to my place."

---

At Peter's house, they entered quietly through the back door. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had long since gone to bed, so they made their way to Peter's room without a sound. He grabbed a first aid kit from his closet and sat Gwen down on the edge of his bed.

"This might hurt," Peter warned, carefully removing her mask and pulling back her suit enough to reveal the bullet wounds.

Gwen winced but managed a weak smile. "Don't worry. I've had worse."

Peter worked quickly, cleaning the wounds and carefully removing the bullets. His hands were steady, but Gwen could see the tension in his shoulders.

"You need to be more careful," Peter muttered under his breath as he finished bandaging her arm. "You could've been killed."

"I had it under control," Gwen teased, though her voice was softer than usual. She could tell how much he was worried about her, and despite the pain, she appreciated it.

When Peter finished, Gwen stood up, testing her arm. "Thanks, Pete," she said sincerely.

Before Peter could respond, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. The gesture caught him completely off-guard, leaving him frozen in place.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Gwen said, flashing him a soft smile before slipping out the window.

Peter stood there, staring at the empty space where she had been. His hand slowly rose to his cheek, touching the spot where she had kissed him.

"What... just happened?" he asked the empty room, a goofy grin spreading across his face.