— Gewn Stacy —
I tossed my bag onto the chair and sat down at my desk, pulling my notes closer.
When I looked at the notes, I felt a bit embarrassed and guilty. The notes were from the third-semester courses, not the second one, as I told Kevin. It was already too embarrassing just to say that I was studying the following semester's books; I didn't know how he would react if he knew it was for the third semester instead.
I smiled lightly and shook my head to clear my mind of distracting thoughts, and then started studying seriously. I began by revising the chemistry equations I had learned the previous day.
But I hadn't even studied for an hour, and the discussion I had with Kevin kept playing in my mind on loop. I tried to concentrate on studying, but the more I pushed such thoughts out of my mind, the more they occupied it.
The words on the notebook blurred, not because I couldn't understand them but because my mind kept circling back to him.
Kevin's voice still lingered like an echo: "What's wrong with using powers for yourself? Having fun with them? Helping others is a choice, not an obligation."
I clenched my jaw, forcing my eyes back to the page. "That's reckless," I whispered under my breath.
"Power is responsibility. If you don't treat it that way, people get hurt." That's what Dad said.
That was what I believed. Wasn't it?
But another part of me, the part I usually ignored, whispered back: 'Is it really reckless? Or is that just fear talking? What if responsibility isn't a rule but an excuse, a leash you're putting around your own neck?'
I dropped the pen and leaned back in my chair. I could no longer concentrate on studying, so I decided to take a break as I stared at the ceiling.
"Without rules, powers corrupt. That's why we need restraint," I said, maybe to prove to myself that I was right.
'But restraint isn't the same as denial. You didn't get these powers just to play nursemaid to the city. Don't you want to feel it, the rush of swinging among the buildings? The freedom? Are you sure you won't like it?'
I shut my eyes—and saw it.
Saw myself leaping from the roof, the wind roaring past me, the city sprawling beneath. My stomach dropped, but not with fear. With exhilaration. Swing, release, swing again, the rhythm pulsed in my blood like a song I already knew by heart. My body ached to feel it for real.
My lips almost curved into a smile. Almost. But just as the smile appeared, I smothered it immediately.
Gosh, what was wrong with me? Even imagining it felt like betrayal. I could almost hear Dad's voice: "They think they're above the law. That kind of power always corrupts."
I pressed my palms into my eyes. "Liking it doesn't make it right."
'Doesn't it? Since when did joy become a crime? Who decided that selflessness is holy and self-interest is sin? Your father? The badge? His morals? Are you living your life, or his?'
That one cut deep. I had no answer.
The image wouldn't leave me. The speed. The freedom. My heart raced as though I were already in the air, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, I enjoyed it.
Dad had drilled into me that right and wrong were simple: protect and serve. Anything else was selfish. And selfishness led to ruin. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But Kevin's words made the ground under those beliefs feel like sand, slipping the more I tried to stand firm.
Dad disliked vigilantes—even the ones who saved lives. To him, they were still criminals—reckless lawbreakers swinging above the law, doing as they pleased. He'd spent his whole life building his authority on order, on rules. And yet here I was, having rebellious thoughts that could break every one of his rules at once.
"Power is responsibility," I whispered, like a mantra, like something I could tattoo on my brain to drown Kevin out.
But that voice whispered back: 'Or maybe responsibility is just another word for fear. Fear of what happens if you let yourself be free.'
I buried my face in my hands. I felt terrified.
What terrified me wasn't Kevin's argument or my own rebellious thoughts; no, it was that I agreed with them.
Deep down, when I stripped away Dad's badge and my own drilled-in morals, I wanted to use my powers. Not to save the city. Not to be anyone's hero. Just for me. To feel alive. To taste the air above the skyline.
The guilt came again, sharp and heavy. Was I betraying Dad and his ideals for even thinking that? Would he look at me the same way he looked at Spider-Man—like a criminal waiting to be caged?
'Will you let his ideals chain your life?'
"Shut up."
My voice cracked. But in the back of my mind, the phantom swing continued, taunting me, daring me.
"No, this is wrong. Kevin is wrong. You are wrong."
I rubbed my temple and turned back to my notes on the desk. I forced myself to study to drown out these thoughts.
I tried to solve a problem, but no matter how hard I tried to recall, I couldn't remember the formula.
Whenever I tried to remember it, it would blur until I couldn't recognise it. I scribbled aimlessly.
The only images sharp in my mind were the ones I didn't want—me leaping, soaring, untouchable.
"Stop," I hissed. But the thought slipped back, softer this time. Seductive.
'What's the harm in doing it once?'
My stomach knotted. Once. Just once. To see what it feels like. It was not for fun. Yes, it was only to clear my mind so that I could refocus on my studies.
I gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. "If I do it," I whispered, "it doesn't mean I'll keep doing it."
'Exactly,' the whisper in me answered. 'It doesn't have to mean anything. One taste doesn't make you an addict. You'll still be in control. You'll still be his daughter.'
His daughter. Dad's face flickered in my mind—stern, certain, unbending. For a second, the guilt nearly drowned me again. But then Kevin's words returned, smooth as poison: "Helping others is a choice, not an obligation."
Choice. Wasn't that the point? Didn't I deserve to choose for myself—just once?
The thought curled in my chest like smoke. Dangerous, intoxicating. I told myself it would be a secret. I told myself no one would know. And if no one knew, then what crime was there? What betrayal?
'It's only illegal if you get caught.'
I once again leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
"Maybe Kevin is wrong. Maybe Dad is right. But shouldn't I try once, just once, to know for myself?"
'That's right. Don't listen to anyone, just yourself. Only you are right.'
I couldn't sit anymore. My body moved before my brain caught up.
I got up from my chair and walked to the cupboard. I took out a box from inside that I had tucked in a back corner below the clothes.
I opened it. It contained the two web shooters I had made after watching Spider-Man for the first time on the news.
When I saw him, I suspected he was also someone who had been bitten by the spider at Oscorp, but there was no evidence to prove it. Not that it mattered.
What mattered was that I was immediately captivated by looking at him freely swinging in the skyline. I wondered if I could do the same.
I didn't know how Spider-Man created his webs; did they emerge naturally from his wrists, or did he use some kind of device?
No matter what, the only option for me was to make a similar device, as spider webs didn't come out of my wrists as part of my spider powers.
It wasn't hard to make my own web shooters. But just as I made them, I immediately locked them up inside a box and hid it in my cupboard.
In the excitement of creating a new device, I had forgotten my father's words. But after I made them, the thought of using them immediately made me remember his words, so I locked them away from my eyes.
I wore the devices on my wrists. After a few small tests to see they were working correctly, I walked back to the cupboard to select the clothes to wear.
I dug through my closet, layering myself head to toe—hoodie, mask, gloves, black goggles. Not a scrap of skin showing. No one could know.
I stood by the window, chest rising and falling, adrenaline spiking so hard my fingers shook.
"Am I really doing this?" I whispered.
'Yes. You are.'
And I smiled—the way you do when jumping into the unknown headfirst—before I leapt into the night.
—
The city felt quieter. There was a distant low hum of traffic and sirens.
I stood on the rooftop of my apartment building, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my hoodie, heart hammering so loud I swore the whole block could hear it.
This was insane. Stupid. If Dad knew…
But he didn't. And if I were careful, he never would.
I glanced down at the street below. Streetlamps cast long pools of light, with occasional cars sliding past.
My palms were slick. For the tenth time, I thought about backing away, going inside, pretending this whole thing never crossed my mind. Pretending it was just a stupid fantasy.
Just once.
I reminded myself, swallowing hard.
No one will know. No harm. No crime.
My fingers twitched. I aimed my wrist clumsily at the ledge across the alley and fired. The web shot out, sticking with a sharp sound. My breath was caught in my throat.
This was it. No turning back.
My legs felt weak, but I ran anyway. I let my instincts guide me and took a leap of faith. For a fraction of a second, terror seized my stomach as the ground neared, then the line became taut, pulled, swung me wide. The wind hit my face through the mask.
I laughed loudly, wildly. It startled me. I never even knew I could laugh like that.
I swung across the alley, body arcing through the night, momentum carrying me farther than I thought possible. My heart soared as my body leapt before firing another line—this time, smoother, more confident. I was already getting familiar with the rhythm.
Swing. Release. Catch. Swing again.
It was wild. Reckless. Beautiful. The city blurred past like background noise.
For the first time, I wasn't Gwen Stacy, the dutiful daughter. I wasn't Gwen Stacy, the quiet genius.
I was something else. Someone else.
Was swinging freely in the skyline so exhilarating?
I swung from one building to another. The freedom felt intoxicating.
Those who saw me looked confused as I didn't wear the familiar red and blue.
After swinging for half an hour, I stopped at a building.
The adrenaline stopped, and the guilt hit like a train. I felt that for a momentary pleasure, I betrayed my Dad, his ideals, his morals.
But before I could wallow in guilt, I noticed a thug pointing a knife at some guy in an alley.
Should I help him?
'You can ignore him, if you don't want to,' the voice whispered again.
But what would Dad think?
'What does it matter if he will never know?'
Just as I was about to ignore him, I suddenly shook my head harshly.
No. No. No. It is wrong not to help someone in need. If I have the powers, it is my responsibility to help those in need.
I jumped down to help him. But, truthfully, I wasn't even sure whether I wanted to help him out of a sense of responsibility or just to lessen my guilt. To prove that I didn't use my powers just for fun, but to help someone.
I slowed my descent by firing the weblines a few times.
They looked surprised as I landed in front of them.
"Shit, it's Spider-Man," the thug slurred, who, now I looked at, was just a junkie high on whatever he snorted.
The other guy looked relieved seeing me, but even he was confused.
"Did you have a wardrobe change, Spidey?" the junkie asked.
I didn't bother responding and just punched him in the guts. I had already learned to control my strength; otherwise, living an everyday life would be a nightmare.
Even then, the punch was strong enough to crack his ribs. The junkie screamed in pain.
The man I "saved" flinched. "You didn't have to hit him that hard!"
I froze. What?
'And you wanted to save him.' The voice mocked in my head.
The man's glare sharpened. "Are you even Spider-Man? He doesn't do that."
He was right. Spider-Man controlled his strength, and he mostly webbed them to walls or poles.
But I didn't care. I was not Spider-Man. I was different.
I slammed my fist into the wall beside me, and a few centimeters of the wall's surface depressed, with cracks forming outward.
"Get lost," I growled in a low pitch, to make it sound different from my voice.
Both of them looked shocked, and their faces paled. Then they bolted in separate directions.
I casually looked in the direction the guy had run, and, unexpectedly, Kevin was standing there.
My stomach dropped.
What do I do? Run? Climb?
Before I could decide, he was already in front of me.
"GWEN?!"
Oh, shit!
— Kevin —
I looked at Gwen. She froze, stiff as a statue. Even through the hoodie and mask, she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.
"I-I'm not this Gwen person. You must've mistaken me," she said in a heavy voice.
Seriously?
"Really?" I asked in a teasing voice. "At least use a voice modulator before making such claims. Or do you think just speaking in a low pitch is enough to mask your real voice?"
Once again, I couldn't see her face, but she looked like she was embarrassed.
A beat passed. Then she sighed, tugged off the goggles, and lowered the mask.
"I knew it, it was you," I said with an excited expression. I continued with stars in my eyes, "Awesome, my friend has superpowers."
Her blush deepened. "It's… not that awesome," she mumbled.
"Not that awesome?" I barked a laugh. "You casually dented a wall with your fist. That's 'not awesome'?"
That last line was actually from my heart. Even if I acted in our conversation, I was genuinely shocked by Gwen's punch, despite it being a minuscule part of her power, as with her strength, destroying the entire wall with a single punch was no big deal for her.
That was a strength that was miles away from me. So, that was a D2 rank for you.
She fidgeted. "I—I just lost my temper. I'm sorry you saw that."
"Oh, come on," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "That was not losing your temper. I am sure it must be their fault. Maybe one or both of them must have said or done something idiotic."
I paused, and from her reaction I judged that I was right.
I continued, "Instead, you controlled your strength very well. You could've broken their bones, but instead let them go with a warning. That's peak control for me."
Gwen looked unsure whether to feel happy about being praised or offended that I had even suggested hitting them for their actions.
"So," I said casually, "did you have fun?"
Her head snapped up. "Huh?"
"Our little debate from last time," I smirked. "So… did you have fun?"
Color rose in her cheeks. "N-No, I didn't do it for fun. I was—yes, I was patrolling."
"Patrolling," I repeated, dragging the word out.
"Yes." Her eyes darted away, betraying her.
"So…" I leaned in just enough, "did you have fun patrolling?"
Gwen's eyes darted right and left. She wanted to say something, but her morals were prohibiting her from accepting it.
"Hey, Gwen," I said, getting her attention. I continued in a soothing voice, "No need to think so much. There are just you and me in this alley, and no one else. You can be truthful to yourself here. No one will judge you for your personal opinions. Whatever you will say, I promise it will be our secret."
Gwen hesitated. Her hands fidgeted. Guilt and shame warred across her face.
I didn't disturb her and let her take her time. Being forceful at this time would only backfire and flush all my hard work till now down the drain.
Finally, after a minute, she looked like she was ready to say what was in her heart.
Finally, her shoulders slumped. Her voice came out low. "Yes. I… I had fun. More fun than I've ever had before."
I grinned widely. "Good for you."
A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips, but it faltered as quickly as it came. "You must think I'm a hypocrite, after what I said last time."
"How can you be a hypocrite?" I asked. "Tell me, is this your first time using your powers outside?"
She nodded slowly.
"Then, how can you be a hypocrite?" I asked incredulously. "Your previous opinion was based on your inherent thought processes, ideals, and morals. They were not wrong. Your current opinion is based on the practical use of your powers. Both are different circumstances. So, it is obvious you will have differing opinions based on them."
Gwen's face looked a bit better hearing that.
"It would be hypocrisy if you had fun but still vehemently denied it. But you didn't. That's not hypocrisy, that's learning," I said.
"Thanks, Kevin," Gwen said with a grateful smile.
"That's what friends are for," I said with a wide smile.
"Yes," Gwen also smiled.
Art of Persuasion (63/100) (+1)
"Do you want me to drop you off at your home?" I asked.
"Thanks, but it's alright. I can go by myself," Gwen said with a smile.
"Oh," I said and then looked at her with a knowing smile.
She blushed because I understood she wanted to swing her way back to her house.
She hurriedly covered her face back, fired her web up to the roof. "Bye, Kevin. See you tomorrow!" She called before vanishing into the night, swinging free.
I turned around to leave the alley.
An initial success. Now I just had to build on it.
At first, I wanted Gwen for her brains. After all, beauty and brains were a lethal pair.
However, I then found a third reason for having her. The reason was the playful punch she hit me with on my chest while we were talking in front of the lockers.
That 'playful' punch had enough strength to leave a bruise on a normal student. It was only because of my martial arts training that I sensed the punch looked strange, and braced myself for impact. Even then, it still felt painful.
I hadn't used my [Observe] skill on her before. Since I had already checked that it was Peter Parker who was Spider-Man, I thought that meant Gwen didn't have spider powers.
But I was wrong. In fact, both of them had these powers.
Name: Gwen Stacy
Tier: D2
Power:
Superhuman Strength
Superhuman Durability
Superhuman Speed
Superhuman Stamina
Superhuman Reflexes
Spider Sense
That was Gwen's status that I saw after she punched me. And my interest in her increased again.
If the combination of beauty and brain was lethal, then the combination of beauty, brain, and brawn was irresistible.
That changed my plans, and I decided to try to persuade her to the dark side more actively.
As I sat in my taxi, my phone started ringing.
I pulled it out. My face curled into a smirk as I looked at the caller's name, which showed the face of a black cat. I picked up the call.
"Hey, kitty. Finally remembered your partner in crime?" I teased.
She didn't say anything for a moment. The more she stayed quiet, the more amusing it felt.
"I was busy," Black Cat finally answered in a flat voice.
"Oh, come on," I chuckled. "Be honest. Still mad I left you hanging when we were having fun?"
There was again a long pause. I was having too much fun with her.
"I need you for a heist. Now. I'll send the coordinates," Black Cat said in a tone that bordered on an order, while completely ignoring my previous question.
Look at her.
Does she think that since I was ignoring Felicia, she can satisfy her vanity by ordering me like a servant, as Black Cat?
Expecting me to answer her summons and go to her on such short notice, with my tail swinging in delight?
"Today?" I let a note of reluctance slip in. Then: "My bad, kitty. I've got plans."
I cut the call before she could reply.
Elsewhere:
Felicia stared at her phone in shock. Kevin refused Black Cat?
How could he?
HOW COULD HE?!
Her jaw tightened, disbelief boiling into rage. She hurled the phone against the wall. The phone was shattered upon impact, with its pieces flying everywhere.
No one refused Black Cat.
NO ONE.