Monday, early morning.
The sound of footsteps in the alley stopped abruptly.
A large man, wearing a leather jacket and a pistol at his waist, turned sharply when he felt something move on the roofs. He saw nothing. Only the shadow of a metal staircase that shook in the wind... or for something else.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
He walked again, this time faster, but before he reached the corner, something completely enveloped him and lifted him off the ground. A stifled scream disappeared into thin air as he hung upside down, tied to a lamppost with a synthetic spider's web that seemed as solid as steel.
Minutes later, the police arrived after an anonymous complaint. He was found unconscious, with a sticky note on his chest:
"Giving fear doesn't pay."
It was the fourth case that night.
Monday Morning – Midtown High
"Did you see it?" They uploaded it last night! Ned exclaimed, turning the screen of his cell phone towards Gwen, Harry and Peter.
One video, recorded from a balcony, showed a black silhouette jumping between the buildings. Only the fleeting figure of someone masked could be distinguished, swaying with surgical precision. The title of the video: "Spider-Man? New hero?"
"They've already shared it on Reddit and Twitter," Ned added, his eyes shining. They call him "the Ghost of Queens".
"Spider-Man?" That name again? Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow. And what happened to the guy who only dressed in black?
"I guess it's updated," Peter said, trying to sound neutral as he opened his locker. Or maybe people need to put a name to everything.
Harry shrugged. "Whoever it is... They're taking it seriously. My father says that the rumors have already reached Oscorp. They are checking if there were leaks of prototype equipment.
Peter raised an eyebrow with feigned interest.
"Leaks?"
"Yes, minor things. Stark technology they once bought, trackers, magnetic thrusters, mini repulsors... nothing that should be in the streets, of course," Harry clarified.
Peter nodded silently. He made a mental note: Oscorp was paying attention.
And if Oscorp looked... Norman Osborn too.
Tuesday Night – Brooklyn
A group of drug traffickers were unloading boxes from an unmarked truck. Two were armed with assault rifles. One was watching the alley. There were three minutes left for the exchange.
It was not completed.
A series of cobwebs emerged from above, sealing the doors of the van. A shell covered the lookout's mouth before he could scream. Another fell from the sky like a liquid shadow and dispatched the two armed with inhuman precision.
Thirty seconds. That was the whole speech.
When police arrived, they found the boxes open, rifles neutralized with a substance that slowly melted them, and the men unconscious, hanging between the walls with the same signature synthetic spider web.
The same message:
"I let go of the net. You fall."
Wednesday Afternoon – Midtown High
Peter was quieter than usual. He had been absent from a class, and his dark circles were deeper than usual.
Gwen approached him as they left the lab.
"All right?"
He nodded, but his smile was tired.
—Too many projects, not enough sleep. You know.
Gwen looked at him for a second longer, with some doubt. But then he smiled too.
"Take a break. Or you're going to age before your time.
Peter nodded. But I knew I couldn't stop now. Not after what I had seen. Not while there were still so many rat nests to clean.
Thursday – Secret criminal meeting on the underside of the subway
"Who is that son of a bitch?!" roared one of the bosses of a minor faction of the Kingpin, banging on the table.
"He's not a hero," replied another, colder. It's a message. He's hunting the little ones. Only the weak.
"Then let's send the Vulture."
An awkward silence set in.
"Are you crazy?" Toomes is putting something together. It does not move without the authorization of the boss.
But someone had already suggested it.
And someone else was listening to him.
Thursday Night – Rooftop in Queens
The sky was clear, and the air cold as a warning. Peter sat on the edge of a rooftop, his legs dangling over the avenue. At his feet, the cars passed by without noticing the hunched figure above them, hidden by the darkness.
He took off his mask.
Sweat beaded his forehead. He had a scrape on his cheek, the product of a minor ambush to which he had barely responded in time. He hadn't slept more than four hours in three days. His school bag was broken, again, and he still had a physics essay to turn in.
He ran his hand over his face.
"I'm falling into the same pattern," he whispered, his voice low, harsh.
"With a great power...", he muttered in his mind, without finishing the sentence. I had heard it a thousand times. I knew what it meant. But I didn't want to repeat history. He didn't want to waste away, or become a human ghost while becoming a masked symbol.
He took his notebook from the inside pocket of his suit. He wrote a single word:
"Strategy."
"No more chaos. "Just let this devour me," she said firmly.
He took out his cell phone. He opened a new spreadsheet.
Patrol Schedule
Monday to Thursday: 22:00 to 01:00Friday: Free (physical training, team design)Saturday: 21:00 to 03:00Sunday: free, unless there is an emergencyStudy time: mandatory (2 hrs min. per day)Time with Gwen and friends: priority
He would force himself to comply with it, and if a criminal or villain forced him to break it, he would apply the technique of Nanami overtime from Jujutsu Kaisen. Because if it was going to be Spider-Man, it was also going to be Peter Parker.
He closed the notebook and put the mask back on. He stood up, firmer.
It was not about bearing the weight of the world. It was about learning to lift it without breaking.
Friday Afternoon – Midtown High
The bell of the last class rang like a sign of freedom. Backpacks were hurriedly closed, lockers creaked, and the corridor was filled with the joyful anarchy of Friday. Peter walked beside Ned and Harry, but he could hardly hear them. His gaze was fixed on the figure of Gwen Stacy, a few meters ahead.
She was leaning against her locker, absorbed in her notebook, biting her lower lip lightly as she read. Something in that image disarmed him.
Peter swallowed. The world seemed to slow down.
"Oh no," Ned said, noticing where he was looking. Don't tell me you're going to...
"I think so," Harry interrupted, with a mixture of horror and fascination. He is about to do it.
"I'm going to do it," Peter said, more to convince himself.
His steps were hesitant at first. His heart beat in the ribs as if he were trying to escape. I had never done this. Not in his past life, not in this one. He had memorized molecular structures with ease, disassembled drones without instructions... but this... This was hostile territory.
Gwen looked up just as he stopped in front of her. She looked at him with those gray eyes that seemed to know more than they said.
"Hey, Gwen," Peter said. His voice came out a little higher than usual.
"Hi, Pete," she replied, soft, friendly.
A second of silence.
Peter forced himself to speak, ignoring the lump in his throat.
"I was thinking—" he began, with no real plan. That if you were... one... mystery novel, it would probably be in the part where the protagonist realizes that his only escape... is to invite you to have a coffee.
Gwen looked at him. He said nothing.
Peter felt himself dying.
"I mean," he tried to save him. Not because you're a mystery. I mean, you are, but... not in a disturbing way. More like... Enigmatic. In a good way. And it's not that I need to escape, but... Eh... coffee?
Silence.
Peter thought about faking a spontaneous collapse. Or shout fire. Or running out of a window.
And then, Gwen smiled.
A slow, sincere, funny smile.
"Is that how you flirt, Parker?"
He blinked.
"Did it work?"
"Strangely... yes. But only if you pay.
Peter stood still, as if the universe needed a few seconds to recalibrate.
"Deal," he said at last, with a half-smile and a completely red face.
Gwen turned to leave, and just before walking away, she added:
"I like clumsiness. It's real.
Peter followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the crowd.
Ned and Harry were speechless. Literally.
"That... Was that an attempt at flirting? Ned said.
"No," Harry replied. It was a verbal collapse with a miraculous ending.
Peter returned to them with his face still on fire.
"I have no idea what just happened, but I feel like I've won a Pulitzer.
"Or a cosmic stroke of luck," Ned said.
Harry squinted at him.
"Something definitely happened to you. You're not the same Peter as before.
Peter just smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
Inside, I was still trying to understand how the hell it had worked.
POV Gwen Stacy – Midtown High Hallway
As Peter walked away into the crowd, Gwen stood still for a second, still smiling on her lips.
He leaned against a locker, crossing his arms, as if he needed to hold on the outside so that what was going on inside would not be noticed.
Did he really invite me out with a metaphor of a mystery novel?
He let out a low laugh, unable to help himself.
Peter Parker was weird. It always had been. Even before... whatever has happened to him lately. I had known him since they were children, and although he had never been an extrovert, now was different. There was a strange determination in the way he moved, the way he looked. As if he was fighting an internal battle that no one else could see.
But that clumsiness... that desperate attempt to sound intelligent, to look brave... It was so honest that it hurt. And that's why it worked.
Gwen looked down at the floor, thoughtful. He had spent the last few days wondering what had changed in Peter. He no longer avoided stares. He no longer hid behind words. There was something dark about him, yes. But also... something brilliant that I didn't know how to name.
You're not well, Parker. But you're trying. And that's worth more than you think.
She opened her notebook, distracted, without looking at what she was reading.
And as the hallway filled with laughter, backpacks, and Friday night plans, Gwen Stacy allowed herself a little sigh. One that no one heard.
Maybe this date isn't just a coffee. Maybe it's the beginning of something neither of them expected.