[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/XV1PIyT.jpg?2[/img][/center]

Swinging home from the confrontation with the Punisher, I can't help but feel like a failure. I had the chance to take a dangerous man off the street tonight and I failed horribly. How can I expect to protect this city from real, credible threats when I can't even take down a normal guy with a knife. The news shows videos of Superman tearing apart an army of killer robots like it's a walk in the park, or Wonder Woman snatching a freaking plane out of the sky. And what do I do? Bungle a fight with crazy cop and almost drop a building on some innocent people. I mean, I didn't even figure out what he was trying to do with the building supports until it was too late. A mistake like that could kill me against anyone else.

[color=0054a6]"So you're uncharacteristically quiet,"[/color] Pete's voice breaks through the silence of my return home. [color=0054a6]"What's on your mind, Spider-Woman."[/color]

[i][color=ec008c][b]Well, Pete, your uncle is dead because I was a crappy, selfish jerk. Because of that I decided to become a real-life superhero. Instead of doing that, though, I'm just winging it and failing horribly.[/b][/color][/i]

That's what I want to say. I want to lay my heart out for Pete. Tell him all I'd like to do right now is go to his place and watch some crappy movie on Netflix and make fun of it, like we did when we were younger. Instead I can't find the words to really express what I'm feeling, and the noxious cocktail of emotions swimming around my belly have me confused on what I even want from him. 

Gotta love being a superhero with teenage girl hormones. Super fun. Would not recommend.

[color=ec008c][b]"I dunno, Pete,"[/b][/color] I respond, flipping head over heels just for the hell of it. [color=ec008c][b]"I should not have let Punisher get away tonight. I should have gone after him after the building collapsed. Then the cops showed up and I left. Just left the mass murderer to escape or die or attack the cops that were there. Who knows. All I know is I feel sick about it."[/b][/color]

He considers my words before responding. One good thing about Peter Parker is he's always going to think about the conversation he's in, assuming there isn't some weird science problem going on at the same time. Peter is probably the most considerate person that anyone could ever meet.

[color=0054a6]"Gwen, I don't know what it's like to be you right now. How could I? You're a high school kid who could flip the school bus with one arm tied behind her back. But I do know who you were before a spider bit you. You think it changed you. Maybe it did, physically. But you're still Gwen Stacy. You're still the person who always stuck up for me when Flash Thompson stole my toys during recess back in the day. You're the person who stuck up for Mary Jane when everyone at school thought her nothing but trash. You're the person who helps people, Gwen. Maybe it's not about saving the city. Maybe it's about saving one person at a time. The rest will come in time. But I know who you are, Gwen Stacy. You were a hero before you put on that mask. At least, you were to me."[/color]

[color=ec008c][b]"Thanks, Parker,"[/b][/color] is all I can choke out after that. Like I said, the most considerate person that anyone could ever meet. If I heard what he just said come out of anyone else's mouth, I'd have thought they were just bullshitting to make me feel better. But with Peter I know he's sincere. He is always sincere. Even in that moment after Uncle Ben's funeral, after we put his father and my surrogate father in the ground, when I told him about my powers, he jumped at the chance to help. That's who Peter Parker is. Always thinking about others instead of himself.

[color=0054a6]"Any time, Stacy,"[/color] he responds, and I can tell he's smiling. [color=0054a6]"Now, get yourself home. I'm sure you're dad's gonna need some support in the morning."[/color]

[color=ec008c][b]"10-4, Pete,"[/b][/color] I smile. [color=ec008c][b]"I'll talk to you tomorrow."[/b][/color]

As I cross into Queens, I take a shortcut through an industrial park. It's been a long night of swinging and stopping buildings from falling down, so I assume my webshooters are close to empty. The last thing I want to do is walk the rest of the way home. That would not be fun in the slightest.

Unfortunately, it turns out to be the worst move I can possibly make. Halfway through the park, my webline snaps above me, and I tumble again to the ground as my spider sense flashes a brief warning. I manage to catch myself this time, and swing safely to the asphalt below. I stand, listening to the silence of the night, waiting for whatever just attacked me to do so again.

It doesn't take long, another, stronger warning courses through me, and I can hear a faint whizzing approach through the air. Giving myself over to instinct and my enhanced speed and agility, I prepare to dodge the incoming projectiles.

The first comes towards me from my right, low in a rising motion. I corkscrew over it, planting my right hand as I land, which allows me to spring off the ground when the next projectile heads straight for it. This time I come down in a crouched position, and have to bend completely backwards, Matrix-style, as the third and final projectile skims far too close over me. 

I take a moment to catch my breath, before my spider sense warns me of incoming from the opposite direction. I have to repeat everything I just did, except in reverse. That's when it hits me, [color=ec008c][b]"Were those...boomerangs?"[/b][/color]

I don't have time to really consider the ridiculousness of being attacked by Outback Steakhouse, because the largest fist I've ever seen takes a massive swing at me from my left, forcing me into a retreat. After a few back hand springs, I look up to see a monstrous mountain of a man. Standing close to seven feet tall, with arms as big around as my entire body is, the bald, tattooed man has a nasty, mean, toothy-grin on his face. He looks like if Ivan Drago had a big dumb cousin crossed with Zangief from Street Fighter. In a white tank top, grey, tactical-looking pants, and combat boots, I all but expect him to have fallen out of a World War II movie or something.

[color=8493ca][b]"Prepare to be sqvashed, insect,"[/b][/color] he grunts stupidly in the most obnoxious Russian accent you've ever heard.

[color=ec008c][b]"Actually,"[/b][/color] I crouch down and raise an index finger at him, [color=ec008c][b]"spiders are arachnids. Not insects. Easy mistake to make, but the whole eight-legs thing is kinda key. So don't worry big guy. Now if you had said bug, that'd be-Whoa incoming!"[/b][/color]

He attempts to slam both his Volkswagen-Beetle-sized hands down on me, but I easily twirl to evade his attack. As his arms collide with the ground, I web him to the ground and wave, [color=ec008c][b]"Now you remember what I told you about the difference between arachnids and ins-Dang it!"[/b][/color]

From behind the too-large human comes another enemy. Small, and agile, she runs up the back of her comrade and comes flying at me with a kick straight out of Mortal Combat. She's dressed in a magenta-like ninja robe, and her long black hair is wrapped in a braided ponytail that trails behind her as she soars through the air.

I slide away, but she manages to catch my hood as I do. She twirls me around and manages to deliver an elbow strike to the left side of my head that has me seeing stars. With a speed that is almost superhuman, she delivers a few more strikes before I manage to put some distance between the two of us.

[color=ec008c][b]"Jeez, lady,"[/b][/color] I try and catch my breath. [color=ec008c][b]"I'm impressed. That's the best I've been hit in a long time."[/b][/color]

[color=9e005d]"Enough talk,"[/color] she snarls. 

[color=ec008c][b]"Oh well I was always told to talk out my feelings rather than fight,"[/b][/color] I sigh as she comes rushing towards me again. [color=ec008c][b]"Ugh, such poor conflict resolution. I'm gonna have to talk to HR."[/b][/color]

While she may be quick for a normal person, she's not quick enough. She'll be joining her Russian friend in webby prison soon enough.

[i][b]*THWIsssssssssssssssss*[/b][/i]

[color=ec008c][b]"Oh crap."[/b][/color]

I look down to see a small, silly-string like ribbon of webbing escape my shooters before nothing but air escapes them.

[color=ec008c][b]"Tonight really, really sucks."[/b][/color] The martial arts lady comes at me strong and fast, meaning I'm gonna have to take her down as hard as I can. 

She attempts to come at me with another combo, but this time I'm ready. Super speed and a sixth sense that warns you of danger really comes in handy with hand-to-hand fighting. The only blows she lands are glancing, and I barely notice them. After I duck under a roundhouse kick, she's exposed. I drive my palm into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and sending her flying into the pavement. It's not enough to do any serious damage, but she'll have one hell of a bruise.

I approach to deliver the knockout blow, but as I raise my fist, a sharp pain rolls down my arm and something goes taught on my wrist. I look up to see the end of a whip holding me in place. With a great yank from whoever is holding it, I snap backwards, and receive a kick in the gut from its owner. 

Looking up, I find a well built man with a scarred face and buzzed brown hair smiling malevolently down at me. He's wearing some sort of cowboy duster over a t-shirt and jeans. Not your normal hitman look, but hey, what do I know, I'm new to the ins and outs of organized crime. He grabs me by the throat and snarls, [color=00a651][b]"Don't you know it's not polite to hit a lady?"[/b][/color]

[color=ec008c][b]"I am a lady you freakin' goon!"[/b][/color] I respond, snatching the duster and tossing him into his ninja lady-friend. [color=ec008c][b]"Honestly. Big Russian strong guy, little lady karate chops a lot, and American cowboy wannabe? Who are you guys? The Stereotype Squad? The Formulaic Force? It's gotta me something like that, right?"[/b][/color]

While I stand there gloating at what I think are my three enemies, another wave of bladed boomerangs come my way, and this time one of them finds their mark, gashing me across the shoulder pretty good. Deeper than Punisher's cut on my thigh, but still nothing too major. Hurts like hell though, and I can feel the blood trickling out of the wound.

[color=0072bc][b]"Sorry about that, Sheila,"[/b][/color] an Australian accent comes from the shadows. From them steps a man in a blue beanie with wisps of fire-red hair escaping from underneath. His tanned face is peeled back with an imp-like grin. Underneath a grey duster, seriously what's with these guys and dusters, a bandoleer filled with boomerangs crosses his chest. [color=0072bc][b]"But you pissed off our boss. And when that happens, you become the Enforcers' problem to deal with."[/b][/color]

[color=ec008c][b]"Oh my god,"[/b][/color] I chuckle as the pain and the exhaustion of the night begins to catch up with me. [color=ec008c][b]"The boomerang guy is Australian! Come on you guys! Lean out of the stereotypes! You can be whatever you want! Society will accept you for what you want to be!"[/b][/color]

[color=0072bc][b]"You talk to much,"[/b][/color] the boomerang guy seethes as he approaches me. I drop down to one knee, feigning that this is it. He plays with two of his bladed weapons as he gets closer. He tosses one at the webbing holding the big, dumb Russian down, and catches it deftly as it returns to him. Once he's within striking distance, I spring off the ground and throw my shoulder into him.

As he sprawls to the ground, the whip guy tries to hit me again, but this time I'm ready, and catch the dangerous end. I pull him off his feet and swing him into the martial artist, crumpling them both to the ground.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/S9EM9RC.png?1[/img][/center]

Unfortunately, it leaves me open to a devastating punch to the gut from the big guy. All the air leaves my body like a popped balloon, and I fall to my hands and knees. He picks me up over his head and tosses me like a doll into the river. Water floods my nose as I hit the water, and I come back to the surface hacking and gasping for air.

I let the current carry me away from my attackers, but as it does I hear the big guy yell, [color=8493ca][b]"Consider this a varning! Stay out of da Black Tarantula's business!"[/b][/color]

[center]**********[/center]

[b]Parker Residence[/b]

It takes me an hour to walk from where I get out of the river to Pete's house. I probably should go home, but I already know Dad's gonna be at work all night, and I don't want to be alone. Not after a night like this. Even with super powers, sometimes you just need someone else in the house with you in order to sleep.

I scale the house up to his window and tap quietly against the glass. From the other side of the blinds, small lamp pops on, and then a shadowy figure sits up in bed and groggily makes its way towards the window. Two of the blind slats part, and from between them come a surprised pair of brown eyes. 

[color=0054a6]"Gwen?"[/color] Pete's muffled voice asks, perplexed, before the blinds come up and the window opens. [color=0054a6]"What are you doing here?"[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Just let me in,"[/color] I respond wearily. He removes the screen to the window, and I hop in. Flopping down on the bed, I throw my mask on the ground. I sit up as Pete sits next to me. I bury my head into his shoulder, [color=ec008c]"I just got my ass kicked by four weirdos."[/color]

[color=0054a6]"Yea...you're...uhh...bleeding still,"[/color] he says looking at my wounds. [color=0054a6]"And...I'm gonna be honest. You kinda smell."[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Yea,"[/color] my voice is muffled by his shirt. [color=ec008c]"I get thrown in the river. Can I shower?"[/color]

[color=0054a6]"Yea,"[/color] he nods. [color=0054a6]"Aunt May is fast asleep. It takes a bullhorn to wake her up."[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Thanks,"[/color] I smile and grab a t-shirt and shorts from his drawers. [color=ec008c]"Just like old times when we were kids."[/color]

The water in the shower turns pink as the blood mixes with it. I let the water pound on my face, an attempt to wash away not the stink of a New York City water way, but the feeling of failure I feel covering me. First the Punisher gets away, and now some jackasses working for the new crime boss in town hand me my lunch on a silver freaking platter. I don't know if there's been a worse night of superheroing in this new and wonderful age, but there sure have been better.

After I dry off and change, Pete patches up the cut on my shoulder and my leg. Neither of us say anything. He knows I'm hurting more than just physically from the night, and I don't have anything of value to say, really. I'm exhausted and embarrassed. All I want to do is watch some crappy movie as I fall asleep.

Once he's done bandaging me up, he says, [color=0054a6]"So, Manos: The Hands of Fate or Space Mutiny?"[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Oh god, Manos,"[/color] I respond. [color=ec008c]"I can't deal with Blast Hardcheese after tonight."[/color]

So Peter queues up possibly the worst, and funniest, movie ever made, and the two of us lie down together, laughing at the ridiculousness. It should feel weird, but it doesn't. It feels...natural. Like maybe everyone is right and this should be normal. Maybe I should be with him.

[color=ec008c]"Peter...,"[/color] I say and he turns to me. I should tell him everything. I should tell him what happened the night Uncle Ben died. I should tell him it only happened because I was a selfish jerk. That I let the guy go because he hurt the man who helped deliver my mom a death sentence. That I thought he deserved it, and because of that Uncle Ben paid the ultimate price. I know that it will never work out between the two of us if I keep that secret. Deep down I know that.

But instead of telling him, instead of doing the only thing that can really make us right, I kiss him. I kiss him hard and passionately, releasing years of pent up desire and throwing away the indecision. He kisses me back, eagerly, and when we stop I bury my face into his chest yet again and fall asleep.

[color=ec008c][i]Good job, Stacy,[/i][/color] I think as I drift off. [color=ec008c][i]I'm sure this is going to end super well. Good job.[/i][/color]