The fight with the spider swarm wrapped up before the first bell. Nobody even had to miss homeroom. Peter Parker had taken a sustained dose of high-voltage electricity, but his only lingering symptom was extremely dry hair. A little current wasn't going to stop Spider-Man.
The real fallout hit at lunch. A kid in a discount Spider-Man hoodie stood on a cafeteria chair, gesturing wildly to a captive audience. Eugene Thompson.
"Listen up! I ran into Spider-Man today. And I saved his life!"
Peter sat two tables over. He shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth and sighed. He hadn't actually needed Eugene's help with the fire hydrant. Frank Castle had already rigged plastic explosives to the rooftop water tanks down the block. If the hydrant failed, Castle would have flooded the street to conduct the current. Eugene's intervention was entirely unnecessary. But the guy was already in the blast zone. Giving him a job was the only way to keep him from getting killed.
"Hey." Amadeus Cho dropped his tray onto the table. He wore a white lab coat over a bright green t-shirt. He practically vibrated with adrenaline. "You are not going to believe this."
"Hulk attack?" Harry asked.
Amadeus ignored him. He leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing state secrets. "The Baxter Building. They're opening high school internships. They posted the early acceptances. Three spots for Midtown. I got one. You got one too, Peter."
Before Peter could process that, a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
He looked up. Gwen Stacy stared down at him. Her face was a blank mask.
"Excuse me," Gwen said. "I need to borrow Peter. Are you done eating?"
"Uh, yeah." Peter stood up awkwardly. "Sorry, guys."
Gwen dragged him away by the backpack strap.
Harry watched them go. He glanced at Amadeus. "You going to Homecoming?"
"I don't have a date," Amadeus said. "You?"
"There's a girl," Harry said. "I just haven't asked her."
They sighed in unison.
Gwen towed Peter down the hall and shoved him into an empty music practice room. She shut the door. She sat down on a drum stool and crossed her arms.
"So," Gwen said. "Are you going to explain this morning?"
"Explain what?" Peter asked.
"Let's review the evidence." Gwen ticked a finger. "Point one. The first time I saw Spider-Man up close, during the bank robbery, he was wearing your exact red sneakers. You conveniently vanished right before he showed up. You came back exactly when he left."
Peter kept his mouth shut.
"Point two," Gwen continued. "I brought dinner to my dad's precinct yesterday. I saw the sticky note Spider-Man left on his desk. It perfectly matches your left-handed handwriting."
Peter blinked. "Why do you have my left-handed handwriting memorized?"
Gwen faltered for a fraction of a second. A faint pink dusted her cheeks. "Because it's weird. You write with both hands at the same time and the fonts are completely different. I notice things. Don't change the subject." She raised a third finger. "Point three. I stayed up all night waiting for you to come home so I could ask you about this. You never came home. You were out fighting a giant spider monster."
"You stayed up all night?" Peter asked.
Gwen held his gaze. She didn't blink.
Peter exhaled a long breath. He dropped his shoulders. There was no point in lying. She had already done the math.
"Okay," Peter said. "Remember the Osborn Expo? Six months ago? The glass shattered in the arachnid exhibit."
Gwen nodded slowly.
"Carl King grabbed one of the escaped spiders. He dropped it down my shirt collar."
Gwen gripped the edge of the drum stool. If Oscorp had been researching cockroaches, this would be a very different conversation.
She shook her head, forcing focus. "Does Uncle Ben know?"
"Yeah."
"Aunt May?"
"No. She'd panic."
"What about me?" Gwen asked. Her voice pitched up. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "If I told you, could you guarantee you wouldn't try to help me fight crime? Could you promise not to ask for a web-swinging tour of Manhattan? Could you swear you wouldn't ask me to drink coffee upside down on the ceiling?"
"Absolutely not," Gwen said immediately. "Wait, can you actually drink coffee upside down—"
The doorknob turned. Mary Jane Watson pushed into the room. She paused, glancing between them.
"Hey, Peter," MJ said smoothly. "Didn't expect to see you in here."
"I found a weird bug and didn't tell Gwen," Peter said rapidly. "She was interrogating me. I have to go. I have a thing after school."
He slipped past MJ. He caught Gwen's narrowed eyes. We are not done. He gave a sharp nod and shut the door behind him.
He actually did have a thing. During the fight with Carl King, the spider swarm had chewed straight through his right web-shooter's internal mechanism. A standard screwdriver wasn't going to cut it. He needed Stark Industries fabrication equipment to rebuild it. He wanted it watch-sized, flush against the wrist, and lighter. He also needed to run a deep-dive analysis on Carl King's remains.
He didn't have time to change. So, the afternoon commuters witnessed a strange phenomenon. Spider-Man, in full costume, obediently swiped a MetroCard at the turnstile, squeezed into a crowded subway car, and politely gave up his seat to an elderly woman.
Twenty minutes later, he jogged into the Avengers Tower lobby like an ordinary employee reporting for a late shift.
"JARVIS," Peter said to the ceiling. "Prep the fabrication lab."
The elevator doors chimed and slid open.
Peter stepped into the Avengers' common room. The team had not returned from Wakanda.
But, the hairs on his arms stood up.
His spider-sense didn't scream danger, but the air pressure shifted behind him. Someone was moving into his blind spot. Fast.
Peter dropped. A boot swept through the empty air where his head had been a fraction of a second prior. He planted his hands on the floor. He kicked his legs in a wide sweep to trip his attacker. He hit nothing but air. He pushed off the floor. He chained into a tight backflip. He grabbed a swivel chair mid-rotation and hurled it as a barricade. He landed in a crouch. He waited.
"Not very gentlemanly, kid."
Peter froze. The voice came from the kitchenette.
Nick Fury stood by the counter. He wore his standard black trench coat and an eyepatch. He held a glass tumbler, pouring a measure of Tony Stark's expensive scotch.
"Before Stark took his team to Wakanda, he forwarded me an interesting message," Fury said. He took a sip. "Something about a Web of Fate. Multiverses. A second spider-bite victim."
Fury set the glass down. He gestured to the space behind Peter.
"I believe this is who you're looking for. Meet S.H.I.E.L.D. Level Four Agent Cindy Moon. Codename Silk"
Peter slowly turned around.
A girl stood in the center of the room. She looked exactly his age. She wore a specialized tactical suit. The torso was bright white, patterned with black webbing that bled into deep crimson around the collar. A sharp, red "S" sat at the center of her chest. Her sleeves and leggings were pure, matte black. The tips of her index and middle fingers were wrapped in red fabric.
She caught Peter staring. She reached up and pulled a red scarf over the lower half of her face.