"I have dedicated years to this city. Years!" J. Jonah Jameson's voice barked through the cracked speakers of George Stacy's old sedan. "And now someone is telling me there are TWO of them? A female Spider-Man in a black suit with a red mask? It's not an imagination, folks!"
George Stacy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I've never heard him sound this defeated. You'd think the sky was falling."
Gwen Stacy sat in the backseat, the crisp tulle of her white homecoming dress rustling as she turned her head. She locked her eyes on Peter. "Another Spider-Man?" she asked, dragging out the syllables. "A girl?"
"Who knows?" Peter tugged uncomfortably at the stiff collar of his dress shirt. "You should probably ask Spider-Man next time you see him. He'd know."
"Yeah. I'll make sure to do that." Gwen leaned forward, resting her arms on the back of the driver's seat. "Dad, next time you run into Spider-Man, can you interrogate him for me?"
George hit the brakes at a red traffic light. "Haven't seen much of him lately," he noted, watching the crosswalk. "Ever since he switched up his suit, he's been keeping a lower profile. Or maybe New York just finally decided to give us a quiet week."
"Our city has been spiraling into lawlessness since that masked pest first swung into town, and now you're telling me they're multiplying?!" Jameson's voice pitched up into a desperate screech on the radio. "Judging from the descriptions, at least she doesn't wear a full face mask like a criminal. Though, of course, we've seen masked criminals before..."
George pulled the car up to the curb outside the main gates of Midtown High. The Empire State Building glowed faintly in the distance against the night sky. "Alright, kids, we're here. Have fun. Don't cause trouble, and be home at a reasonable hour."
Peter stepped out onto the pavement. He held the door open and offered a hand to Gwen. She took it, stepping out carefully, and waved as George's taillights disappeared down the block.
Gwen exhaled a long, sharp breath. "You have no idea how stressful it was having him drive us. I purposely changed into this white dress so he wouldn't interrogate me about my outfit."
"I'm not even going to ask what the original plan was," Peter muttered. He adjusted his cuffs. "Just a disclaimer before we go in there: I don't dance."
"It's Homecoming, Peter. You don't need a choreographed routine." Gwen smirked. "Just don't step on my feet. Should be easy enough for someone with your... reflexes, right?"
"Sure. Easy."
They walked into the main corridor, dodging cheap streamers and fairy lights. Gwen checked over her shoulder, making sure the hallway was empty, before stepping closer to him. "So. What is the deal with the Spider-Girl?"
Peter sighed. "The spider that bit me... it bit someone else, too. Her name is Cindy Moon. We only met a couple of days ago. S.H.I.E.L.D. set it up."
Gwen's steps slowed. S.H.I.E.L.D. was an official government force. "And she was the one who helped with Mysterio this morning?"
"Yeah."
"Do you two interact? Outside of... work?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. S.H.I.E.L.D. protocols were strict, but Gwen was already doing the math. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is transferring her to Midtown High next week. We're going to have the exact same schedule."
Gwen stopped completely. She didn't ask if Cindy was pretty. She just narrowed her eyes. "Introduce me."
Her codename is Silk, Peter thought, but he kept his mouth shut.
They pushed through the double doors into the gymnasium. The bass from the speakers vibrated against the floorboards. Harry was already there, standing near the bleachers with Liz Allan. He was wearing a ridiculously old-fashioned suit, but Liz was laughing at something he said, leaning in close.
"I had no idea they were a thing," Gwen said, following Peter's gaze.
"I literally just found out today," Peter said.
He scanned the room. Betty Brant was standing near the punch bowl, talking to Flash Thompson. Flash was wearing a zip-up hoodie with a massive Spider-Man logo printed across the chest.
"Wait, where's MJ?" Peter asked.
"She turned down everyone who asked her," Gwen said, adjusting her corsage. "Said there were too many options, so she just stayed home. I'm gonna go say hi to Betty. Don't disappear on me."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Peter watched her walk away. Across the room, Jessica Drew was aggressively defending her decision to wear a full Sherlock Holmes costume to a superhero-themed dance.
A heavy hand suddenly clapped onto Peter's shoulder. He didn't flinch—his spider-sense hadn't made a peep—but he turned to see Flash Thompson grinning at him.
"Hey, Parker!" Flash beamed. "I heard you called me 'Flash' during the game last night. It stuck, man. The whole bleacher section was chanting Flash Thompson! "
Peter forced a polite smile. "I don't really know football, Eugene. I just said you ran fast."
"You did good Parker, I love the name" Flash patted his shoulder again. "Listen, if anybody gives you trouble tonight, you come find me, alright? I got your back."
"Thanks, Flash. Nice hoodie, by the way."
"Right?" Flash grinned, pointing finger guns before disappearing into the crowd.
The music shifted to a slower track. Gwen was waving him over from the edge of the dance floor.
Peter took a step forward.
His skull split open.
It wasn't a normal spider-sense tingle. It was a massive, agonizing tremor that seized his entire nervous system. The gymnasium vanished.
In the darkness of his mind, he saw it. A spider. White markings on a black abdomen. The number '42' etched vividly across its back. It was pulling at something vast, tearing violently at the very fabric of the Web of Fate.
Peter stumbled hard, his knee slamming into the lacquered wood of the gym floor. He threw a hand against the bleachers to keep from collapsing entirely.
"Peter!" Gwen's voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Her hands were on his shoulders, gripping tight. "Are you okay?"
The vision receded, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache at the base of his skull. The flashing strobe lights of the dance floor bled back into his vision. He dragged in a jagged breath and forced himself to stand upright. He looked at Gwen, her face pale with genuine alarm.
"I'm fine," Peter rasped, swallowing the metallic taste in his mouth. "Just... really tired."
Gwen searched his eyes. She clearly didn't buy a word of it, but she didn't push.
Peter stared over her shoulder at the spinning disco ball. I haven't slept a full night in two weeks, he thought grimly. And it's nowhere near over.
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