Location: New York City
Date: Saturday, January 21st, 1989
Gwen POV:
Spider-Man gave the three men he webbed up a quick once-over before turning to her, "Okay, so... matching spider themes. Is there a club I don't know about, or did I miss a memo?"
"No." she said flatly, a little irritated, 'Seriously? Not a, nice work. Or maybe an, are you okay?'
She'd just taken down three guys, and the first thing he wanted to do was make jokes about her costume.
Spider-Man tilted his head, "Right. So, let me guess." he gestured vaguely at her, "Big fan?"
"Of what?"
"Spider-Man." he indicated himself with both hands, as if the answer should've been obvious, "I mean, imitation is flattering, but I feel like I should've gotten a heads-up."
Gwen stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When none came, she folded her arms, "Says the guy dressed like a patriotic fruit roll-up."
That earned a brief, involuntary laugh from him. He tried to suppress it, but the damage was done, "Okay. Fair." he said and cleared his throat, "But seriously, how long have you been doing this?"
"Long enough to handle those guys."
"Yeah? Because I saw you throw one of them halfway across the rooftop."
"He wasn't exactly asking me to dance."
"Not what I meant." he said, and glanced at the men again, then back at her. His tone stayed light, but his attention sharpened, "You hit pretty hard. You always do that, or was tonight a special occasion?"
Gwen's shoulders stiffened, "Are you always this annoying, or was tonight a special occasion? You weren't here. You don't know what happened."
"True." he said and held up his hands in surrender, "Which is why I'm asking."
"Could've fooled me. You sounded pretty sure I needed practice."
"Well, you did just meet a guy who swings around the city in his underwear. Maybe don't take my first impressions as gospel."
Despite herself, Gwen almost smiled, "You're still annoying."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
For a moment, neither of them said anything and Spider-Man glanced toward the three men. When he looked back at her, the humor hadn't entirely left his voice, but something about his posture had changed.
"Look, I'm not saying you can't handle yourself. Clearly, you can." he paused, "I'm just saying this stuff can get dangerous pretty fast. And if you're going to be out here doing this, you should know what you're getting yourself into."
Gwen stayed silent for several moments.
Mark had said something similar. He'd just framed it as an invitation, explaining the dangers while giving her the choice to step forward.
"Thanks for the concern, Spider-Man." she said and turned toward the edge of the rooftop.
"Hey, wait-" he stopped himself, apparently reconsidering whatever he'd been about to say, "At least tell me what to call you."
Gwen glanced back at him, "Maybe work on your introductions first."
Then she jumped to the next rooftop and started heading away.
Behind her, she heard him call out, "Okay! Very mysterious. I respect that. Little rude, but I respect it! And nice meeting you, too!"
She couldn't quite stop the smile that tugged at her mouth, 'Annoying. Definitely annoying. But maybe not entirely unbearable.'
Now she needed to find a name for herself to share with people in future situations like this.
---
Peter Parker POV:
Peter had been on patrol for hours. He was tired, irritable, and had just encountered someone who looked like she'd walked straight out of a very specific nightmare: another spider-themed vigilante.
'Great. Because one Spider-Man apparently wasn't enough for New York.' he thought.
He'd seen the costume, the acrobatics, the way she'd handled the criminals. His first assumption had been that she was deliberately imitating him.
It wasn't an unreasonable conclusion, all things considered, though the fact that she'd managed to take down three armed men before he even arrived suggested there was more to her than a homemade costume and a passing interest in spiders.
A young woman, judging by her voice. Strong enough to send a grown man flying, quick enough to take down three armed thieves, and apparently more than capable of holding her own. She'd also managed to do all that without getting herself seriously hurt, which was more than he could say for some of the people who tried playing hero.
'So, points for that. Her attitude, on the other hand...'
Okay, maybe he'd come on a little strong. But in his defense, finding a mysterious stranger dressed in a spider-themed costume beating up criminals on a rooftop wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence. And she'd been pretty quick to bite his head off for someone who'd just met him.
Then again, he'd opened with a joke about her costume. Probably not his finest moment.
Still, he had to give her this: the fruit-roll-up comment had been pretty good.
But beneath the sarcasm, he'd noticed something else. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. There'd been a tension in her shoulders, a guardedness in the way she'd responded to his questions. Not quite fear, exactly. Maybe she was bracing herself for him to tell her she didn't belong up there.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it. He'd known her for all of five minutes, and most of those had involved trading insults.
He didn't know who she was, where she'd gotten her abilities, or why she'd decided to put on a mask and start throwing herself into fights. Maybe she'd been doing this longer than she'd let on. Maybe tonight had been her first time.
Either way, she had power. And power didn't automatically come with the experience to use it safely.
Or the responsibility...
He'd learned that the hard way.
He'd wanted to tell her that. Maybe he had, in his usual spectacularly charming fashion.
Judging by her exit, she hadn't appreciated the advice.
Peter sighed and looked down at the three men trussed up in webbing, 'Great. Another mystery to add to the list. At least this one had a sense of humor.'
He'd have to keep an eye out for her. Someone should probably make sure the new spider in town didn't get herself killed.
Then Peter started sorting out the robbers. Once he'd secured the three men, he'd get them down to street level for the police, return the stolen cash to the store, and finally head home.
So much for a quiet night.
-----
Mark POV:
When he arrived back at his hotel room, following his latest meeting with Gwen, he was in good spirits.
Mark told her his name, and while she was not exactly trusting, she seemed a little more open to meeting with him again in the future. She still seemed confused about her path forward, though.
He decided to let Gwen find her own way. It was not something anyone could do for her anyway.
So he had asked her to spar again, this time with his training sticks. She had not been that enthusiastic about the idea.
Which had made him think, 'Maybe I should ask Gwen if she would like some equipment, or get her thinking about the subject at least.'
As far as he knew, web-shooters were the only "weapons" spider-people used. And while they were certainly versatile, it also seemed a little limiting to rely on a single type of equipment.
This was one of those things that had always irritated Mark about characters in stories, especially superheroes. They rarely improved their equipment, prepared defenses against known threats, or did anything to prevent unnecessary vulnerabilities.
Thor does not exactly need Mjolnir for example, but he uses it anyway to be extra overpowered. That was something Mark could respect.
More immediately important to him however, Weapon Mastery had finally increased.
Gwen's spider-sense did not grant her any actual swordsmanship skills. But combined with her speed and reflexes, it made her a surprisingly effective duelist. She could react to his attacks quickly enough to defend herself, even when her technique was not particularly refined.
Sparring with her had pushed him hard and he had improved a lot.
It was also his first real fight involving anything other than fists or the Force, and considering his skill was called Weapon Mastery... maybe he should not have been surprised when it stopped improving until now.
Still, if he wanted his skill to reach 100%, he would probably need to find someone who actually specialized in melee weapons to train with.
He had thought of Daredevil before, but other than him there were not many heroes that used melee weapons. Not that he could remember anyway.
'Well there is Thor.'
He paused for a moment, 'No. Well... No... Hmm...'
Thor fought with a hammer, while Aragorn's primary weapon was a sword. Mark assumed most of his skill would come from that, and a sword-vs-hammer just sounded wrong. Although...
'Asgard is practically built around being a warrior culture. Thor has almost certainly trained with the sword. And he is more of a battle junkie than anyone else I can think of right now... But would he even agree to spar with me?'
Mark was not sure, and honestly, the idea made him a little nervous.
Thor was a planet-busting powerhouse. Mark was reasonably confident in his abilities against street level threats, but there was a difference between being confident in yourself and volunteering to fight someone who could level a city if he wanted to.
On the other hand, Thor was worthy.
Whatever that actually meant.
Nobody seemed to have a definitive explanation for the how or why Mjolnir considered someone worthy, but Thor should not merely be a powerful hero. From everything Mark understood, he should also be a genuinely good person.
That counted for a lot.
The only other people Mark could immediately think of who had definitively proven themselves worthy were Captain America and Superman.
Well, Superman was from a crossover event, but that hardly made him less deserving. If anything, he was practically the poster child for being worthy.
That was some pretty illustrious company.
Mark found himself feeling a little better about the idea of approaching Thor.
'I mean, what's the worst that could happen? He says no?' he decided not to consider the other possibilities.
'Maybe he would even make for a good friend.'
That thought was considerably more appealing.
Mark had no idea what Thor did in his spare time when he was not saving the world, fighting monsters, or getting into some spectacularly destructive battle. Did he have hobbies? Did he ever just relax?
'Does Thor play video games? Wait, it's 89, video games have a long way to go before they reach what I remember. Dang.' Mark paused, then shook his head.
'Okay, one thing at a time. First, ask him to spar. Then worry about whether the God of Thunder wants to hang out.'
---
The days passed and Mark had little trouble passing his graduation exams.
That was one concern taken care of.
More importantly, he had finally settled on the place he wanted to use as his main base of operations.
It was a modest tower that had never actually been finished. The exterior was complete, but the interior was little more than an empty shell. Apparently, the project had become tangled in a legal quagmire, leaving the building sitting unfinished while the various parties involved argued over who was responsible for what.
But for Mark, it was an opportunity. There were two main reasons he had settled on the property.
The first was simple: getting it out of its problem was a simple matter of having enough money. Fortunately, Kingpin was paying, and Mark did not care if it was an economically sensible purchase. He was not looking for the property to make a profit. He wanted a base, and this one had potential.
The second reason was future proofing. The tower stood on a street corner, with two large neighboring buildings in poor condition and he decided to buy those too.
Now he owned roughly half the block.
It was probably more property than he needed, at least for a long time. But the extra space gave him options. The tower could become his headquarters, while the neighboring buildings could serve whatever purposes he came up with later.
The main drawback to the property was that none of the buildings were currently fit to live in. People had still been living in one of the larger buildings next to the tower anyway though, before he purchased it.
At the moment, Mark was inspecting the tower floor by floor after finalizing the purchase when Cortana spoke up, "I'm picking up a report of a break-in at a police precinct. Someone stole several criminal case files. The most notable one belongs to Walter Hardy, father of Felicia Hardy. I believe you mentioned saving her once?"
Mark stopped in his tracks, "..."
-----
Location: S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
Date: Monday, January 30th, 1989
Director Nick Fury POV:
Nick Fury studied the report on the unknown individual who had appeared in Times Square.
The available information was frustratingly limited. Male, dark hair, approximate age: 18 to 22, height: over 6 foot.
The individual had arrived at the scene separately from the Fantastic Four, was briefly engaged by the Skrull, demonstrated enhanced capabilities, and then had withdrawn alongside the Four.
The second encounter had provided little additional insight. Notably, the Fantastic Four had taken the unknown with them when they confronted the Skrull again, but satellite footage of the battle revealed nothing conclusive about his abilities.
Fury disliked unknown variables. He disliked them even more when they appeared in the middle of an extraterrestrial incident.
Susan Storm's file, on the other hand, had grown considerably after the encounter. The reports suggested she had demonstrated a new capability, one that had apparently helped the Four defeat the Skrull.
Apparently being the operative word.
Fury wanted to know what had changed. Storm might have developed a new application of her existing powers, the Skrull might have had a vulnerability they hadn't recognized, or something else might have happened entirely. Until he had evidence, it was all speculation.
He leaned back in his chair.
He'd been considering approaching the Fantastic Four for some time. Given recent events, that conversation might happen sooner than expected.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Director Fury?" Maria Hill asked as she entered his office.
Fury looked up, "What is it, Hill?"
"Recruitment found something unusual." she approached his desk and held out a file, "They kept escalating it up the chain until it landed on my desk."
Fury glanced at the folder. It was suspiciously thin.
He took it from her, his expression hardening slightly, "Unusual how?"
"I thought you should see it for yourself." Hill paused, choosing her words, "He's an early graduate from Midtown High in New York City. Mark Smith. Excellent grades. The problem is that he doesn't seem to have any background at all."
Fury opened the folder.
"We've run every search available to us," Hill continued, "No birth records we can find, no photo ID, no history before his school records, no connections that explain where he came from. The only lead we found was the address listed with his school."
"And?"
"The property is in legal limbo. The building itself has recently collapsed, and when our agents investigated the site, they found evidence of a fight involving enhanced individuals."
Fury stopped turning pages.
There weren't many to begin with.
"Enhanced individuals," he repeated, "Any identification?"
"Nothing conclusive."
Fury looked down at the name again.
Mark Smith.
An early graduate with excellent grades, no verifiable history, and an address linked to a collapsed building where enhanced individuals had apparently fought.
Either the kid had an extraordinary talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or someone had gone to considerable effort to make sure nobody knew who he was.
Neither possibility was reassuring, "Keep digging," he ordered, "Quietly. I want to know who he is, where he came from, and what happened at that property."
Hill nodded.
"Do we know where he is now?" Fury asked.
"No sir."
Before either of them could say anything more, an alert blared through the Helicarrier.
Both of them were moving before the first announcement finished. They hurried onto the bridge, where the crew were already scrambling to make sense of the incoming readings.
"Report!" Fury barked.
"Sir, an asteroid has just appeared in orbit!"
Fury stared at the officer, "What? How did we not detect its approach?"
"We detected a very powerful magnetic anomaly shortly before the asteroid appeared on our sensors. It may have masked its approach."
"May have?"
"We're still analyzing the readings, sir."
Fury stepped closer to the main display, "Is it on a collision course?"
There was a brief pause as the officer checked the incoming data, "...Negative, sir. It appears to be in a stable orbit."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
An asteroid had somehow reached Earth's orbit without SHIELD detecting its approach. Now it was just sitting there, apparently stable, with no clear explanation for how it had arrived.
Fury folded his arms, his gaze fixed on the display, "Get me everything we have on that magnetic anomaly. I want the science division analyzing those readings immediately. Highest priority. If something put it there, they may decide to drop it on us."
"Yes, sir!"
"Determine the asteroid's composition, mass, and orbital parameters. I want to know whether it's natural, whether it's been altered, everything."
The officer relayed the orders.
"And alert our space-monitoring network. Cross-check every available sensor record. If something interfered with our detection systems, I want to know how."
"Yes, sir."
Fury had dealt with aliens, superhumans, and threats that defied conventional explanations. An unexplained asteroid in orbit wasn't going to make him panic.
But it was going to make him very, very suspicious.
-----
Location: Off the coast of the Earth Kingdom
The captain stood on the bridge of his ship, and was considering where best to make port to resupply when a young soldier in Fire Nation uniform approached.
"Captain, a message for you." he said with a salute.
"Dismissed." he replied, taking the scroll.
As the soldier returned to his duties, he unrolled the message and frowned at its contents.
He had served as captain aboard Prince Zuko's ship for some time. Since discovering the Avatar, they had spent weeks tracking the boy's movements, engaging him and his companions in battle on several occasions.
So when he first heard these new rumors, he had dismissed them out of hand as total nonsense. People were always clamming sightings of the Avatar after all, and they had actually found the real deal.
But when additional, more concerning accounts had begun arriving from places he knew the Avatar had never visited. At the time, he had struggled to make sense of them.
Now he was facing a much more serious report.
A nearby Fire Nation garrison had been destroyed.
According to witnesses in the town, the attacker had been the Avatar himself. A young man, who had fought with both earth and fire bending. He had descended upon the garrison and slaughtered its entire complement of soldiers, leaving no survivors.
Yet the most disturbing detail was not the destruction itself. It was the townspeople's reaction.
The garrison had been stationed in a recently conquered Earth Kingdom town. Ordinarily, the arrival of Fire Nation reinforcements in such a place would have been met with hostility, resentment, or at the very least, sullen defiance. The prospect of liberation should have inspired even greater hostility toward them.
Instead, the townspeople had been gripped with visible terror and greeted the returning soldiers with unmistakable relief.
The captain considered what people who had already endured the horrors of war must have witnessed to produce that kind of reaction. He nearly shuddered, but stifled the reaction to kept composure in front of his men.
According to the report, the townspeople had already begun calling the attacker the "Dark Avatar" and apparently the news was traveling fast.
The captain slowly rolled up the scroll.
He knew the real Avatar could not be in two places at once. He had seen the boy with his own eyes, fought him, and pursued him across the seas. Whatever had happened at that garrison, the real Avatar they had been hunting could not have been responsible.
But someone had destroyed a Fire Nation garrison, apparently wielding two elements, and left an entire town more frightened of him than of the soldiers who occupied it.
Avatar or not, this was no longer a matter of idle speculation. Prince Zuko needed to be informed of this, and so did General Iroh.
Whoever this supposed Dark Avatar was, he could no longer be dismissed as just a rumor.