Chapter 17 – Between Classes and Shadows
Morning in Gotham was never quiet.
The city didn't wake up; it just changed shifts.
Sirens traded places with car horns, and the smell of exhaust replaced the smell of rain. Gwen Stacy dragged herself out of bed as sunlight slipped through the curtains in uneven streaks. Her phone buzzed weakly beside her pillow — another alarm she'd ignored for ten minutes straight.
She groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her head still felt heavy from last night's discoveries. The Cadmus lab, the glowing message, Batman's words — all of it looped in her mind like a song she couldn't turn off.
Weaver hummed softly from her desk, its folded form pulsing faintly in standby mode.
> "Good morning," the AI said. "You slept six hours, forty-three minutes. Not optimal, but functional."
"Wow. Thanks, Doctor Sleep." Gwen yawned and stretched. "Remind me to install a sarcasm filter."
> "Already adapting," Weaver replied.
She smiled faintly, half amused, half unnerved by how much it was learning.
The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. Her dad was already up.
---
Breakfast with Dad
George Stacy stood by the counter, his uniform half-buttoned, badge glinting in the weak morning light. He looked like he hadn't slept either. The TV mumbled about another Gotham break-in somewhere near the docks — same old story.
"Morning, kiddo," he said without turning around. "Coffee's fresh. I made eggs, too."
Gwen grabbed a mug and leaned against the counter. "Since when do you have time for breakfast that doesn't come from a donut box?"
"Since my daughter keeps skipping dinner," he said dryly. Then he looked up, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes. "Rough night?"
Gwen hesitated, then smiled. "Homework. Physics is brutal."
He raised a brow. "You used to like physics."
"Yeah, well. Physics stopped liking me back."
He chuckled quietly, then slid her a plate. "Eat something. Gotham's not forgiving on an empty stomach."
They sat across from each other in silence for a minute — the comfortable kind, filled with background noise and familiarity.
Then he asked, softer, "You sure everything's okay, Gwen? You've been… different lately. Focused. Distracted, but focused."
She froze mid-bite.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just… trying to figure stuff out, I guess."
Her dad nodded slowly. "If it's about your mom, or school, or anything… you can talk to me, alright?"
"I know," she said quietly. "Thanks, Dad."
He smiled, that same tired, reassuring smile. "That's what I'm here for."
---
Midtown Academy
By the time she reached school, Gotham's gray sky had brightened just enough to look less threatening. Midtown Academy's gates stood open, and the chatter of students filled the courtyard.
Gwen blended in easily — hoodie up, backpack slung, earbuds in.
No one needed to know that beneath her casual clothes sat a folded piece of living tech with enough power to level a car.
She made it to homeroom just as the bell rang. Peter's name flashed on her phone screen with a new message:
> Peter: "Morning! You still alive, or did Gotham finally eat you?"
Gwen: "Barely. City's got teeth."
Peter: "Don't let it bite back. You got this, Ghost."
She smiled — that nickname. "Ghost." Somehow, it didn't sound like mockery coming from him.
---
The teacher droned on about thermodynamics. Gwen pretended to listen while sketching in her notebook — webs, code lines, tiny designs for potential web-cartridge upgrades.
A whisper behind her caught her attention.
"Did you see that video last night? That white-hooded vigilante chick — totally took down a gang near the docks!"
Gwen's pencil stopped.
Another student whispered, "They say she's from Gotham High or something."
Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to keep writing. Her friends had no clue they were talking about her.
"Probably fake," she muttered under her breath.
> "Technically true," Weaver murmured through her earpiece. "The footage is from two nights ago, edited with AI distortion."
"Not helping," she whispered.
> "Acknowledged."
She covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
---
Lunch Break – The Rooftop
Lunch was the same as always — cafeteria noise, social chaos, and Gwen quietly escaping it. She took her tray upstairs to the school rooftop, where the cold wind drowned out everything else.
She sat on the ledge, legs dangling, half-eaten sandwich in hand. The view wasn't great — gray skyline, old rooftops, and faint smoke trails from factory stacks — but it was hers.
"Finally quiet," she sighed.
That didn't last.
> "External surveillance detected," Weaver said suddenly, voice sharp. "Camera on adjacent building — angled toward your location."
Her eyes darted across the street. Sure enough, something metallic glinted briefly before vanishing into the sky.
"A drone?"
> "Affirmative. Tracking signal encrypted. Not Bat-family origin."
"Great. Because I totally needed more people stalking me."
> "Would you like me to trace—"
"No," she interrupted quickly. "We don't poke at mysterious spies before lunch."
---
A Friendly Face
When she got back to class, something felt… off. There was a new girl sitting by the window — short red hair, green eyes, polite smile.
Gwen blinked. M'gann.
The Martian waved casually when no one was looking. Gwen barely resisted the urge to facepalm.
At the end of class, M'gann approached her locker. "Hey, Gwen. You got a minute?"
"Let me guess," Gwen said quietly. "You transferred from Mars Prep?"
M'gann giggled. "Batman thought I could check in on you. Make sure you're settling in."
"Settling in," Gwen repeated flatly. "You mean not glitching out and blowing up the school?"
M'gann's smile faded slightly. "You scared them, you know. When the simulator went rogue."
"Wasn't my fault."
"I know," she said gently. "But they care. We all do."
Gwen sighed, leaning against her locker. "I just… need to figure out who I am in all this. You guys were born into powers. I wasn't."
M'gann placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're one of us now, Gwen. You don't have to figure it out alone."
That line lingered. Gwen looked away. "…Thanks, M."
---
Evening – Another Signal
The day dragged on until the bell finally rang. Gwen walked out into the cool evening, phone buzzing with another text from Peter:
> Peter: "Still breathing?"
Gwen: "Barely. School's harder than crime-fighting."
Peter: "At least villains don't assign homework."
She smiled as she tucked the phone away — then stopped dead.
Weaver's hum returned, sharper this time.
> "Signal detected. Matching Weaver-01 frequency. Distance: one point two kilometers."
Her heart skipped. "Location?"
> "Abandoned Gotham Academy science annex. Signal stable."
Gwen glanced around — busy street, kids heading home. She couldn't exactly suit up here.
"Mark it," she said quietly. "We'll check it tonight."
> "Understood."
---
Dinner and Quiet Promises
By the time she got home, her dad was already cooking — or at least trying to. Burnt smell, mild smoke, and all.
"You know, Dad," she said, hanging her bag, "you could let the stove win once in a while."
He grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"
They ate together at the small kitchen table, trading jokes and stories about nothing in particular. For a few moments, it almost felt normal again — just Gwen and her dad against the world.
Later that night, after he went to bed, she sat by her window in her hoodie, city lights reflecting in her eyes.
> "Signal remains active," Weaver whispered.
"I know," she said softly. "We'll go. But not tonight."
> "Acknowledged."
The hum quieted, syncing with her heartbeat.
She looked out at Gotham's skyline — alive, dangerous, familiar.
"Tomorrow," she whispered. "We find out who's watching."
The faint glow of her suit shimmered under the moonlight, the line between student and hero blurring just a little more.