Title: Love & Misadventure [Prologue: Modern Problems Require Modern Solutions]
Genre: Romance / Adventure
Rating: T
Pairing: Peter Parker x OC
Spoilers: MCU through Avengers Endgame and all of Spider-Man: Far From Home minus the end credits scene
Summary: Everyone has secrets. It's just a matter of finding out what they are.
Word Count: 2,038
Warnings: NaNo competitor

Disclaimer: Marvel and its characters do not belong to me. The summary is a quote from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson.

A/N: The only reason I chose not to make the end credits scene cannon is because it didn't fit with the plan I had for this story.

The men in this city were all wretches. Dim-witted, featherbrained, harsh, arrogant, miserable, wretches. She was sick of them. Sick of the way they spoke down to her, of how they spoke down to her, looking over their noses at her. Of how they spoke to her like she was a child, like she was lesser just for being a woman. She hated how their eyes skipped right over her in a room full of people. Worthless. Meaningless. Invisible. Invisible in one of the largest cities in the world simply due to an accident of birth. Simply due to her gender.

She should not feel like it was a bygone era where women's rights had never existed when she spoke to men about things they deemed 'men's work.' She should not feel like she was struggling against a tidal wave current just to get one step ahead in the world. She should not feel a modern, female Sisyphus in the middle of New York City, with its towering skyscrapers and blaring horns and millions of people. It was archaic and dated and ancient history. And yet it was happening, here and everywhere, every day.

And here she was, being told she wasn't good enough. Again. Here she was, being dismissed and rejected. Again. The paper in her hands, pristine and flawless, the visual representation of hours and hours of hard work crumbles in a trembling fist. It is a struggle to keep the same tremble from her voice. "I don't… understand…"

The man across from her barely flicks a glance up from his desk, giving her the same dismissive look that he had given her proposed thesis subject that sits wrinkled in her hands. "There's not much to understand: we reject your proposal."

"But – "

At this, he finally looks up at her, eyes as hard and cold as most men in positions of power are at their hearts. "Look, miss. Don't take this personally," he said in a tone that suggested he thought she was going to do just that, a look that said so many, many women had fallen apart across the table from him that he was done with it. "But we feel that this subject matter would be something more suited to…"He struggled to find the correct word.

"A man." She knew what word he was looking for but couldn't outright say so her tone is finite and blunt. She had listened to his short speech with smoldering fury, one that darkened her hazel eyes to an almost inky black.

"… a more masculine inclined personality," he finishes with a simpering smile. That smile said I win. It said There's nothing you can do and Better luck next lifetime, little girl. She hated it. She hated the gleam in his eyes and the smirk on his lips; the haughty tilt of his chin.

And she hated that he was right. She wasn't the kind of person to go to Human Resources or call the press about a supposed instance of gender discrimination on a master's panel. She just wanted to do her research, to learn and grow and make things in her life better with her studies. He was right. Not that there was nothing she could do to make them see her worth, but that there was nothing she would do to make those waves. Men were too volatile, too dangerous, too cruel. All she wanted in this world was to prove her worth, to work for her money, to earn her keep doing what she loved, doing what she was good at. Was that really so much to ask? Apparently, since her own family wouldn't let her do what she wanted to do with her life.

Her chin falls forward as she looks down, beaten and hating that, too. "Thank you… for your consideration." Her politeness falls on deaf ears; he is already absorbed back in his work, too important and busy and conceited to bid her farewell or apologize or even glance her way as she leaves the room in a cloud of despair. The lobby is a glittering room off steel and glass, beautiful and cold and empty of any really warmth or personality. She drops the crushed ball of paper in a wastebasket on her way out into the bustling city and it feels just like she ripped out her heart and threw that away, too.

Was this what her entire life would be like? Being shown a list of things she wouldn't be allowed to do because she was a girl? Even though she was good at it, brilliant. A downright genius if her primary school professors and all of her test scores were anything to go by. That wasn't fair.

"You're really going to give up so easily, girl?"

There's no reason to think the quiet question is being addressed towards her, but something, some instinct, makes her turn around anyway. Standing in the middle of the busy New York City sidewalk is the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Pedestrians are parting around her like they're the Red Sea while she does nothing more than stand there are regal as any queen. She tall and lithe, with the tousled blonde hair that cascades over her shoulder in a fall of ringlets and moss green eyes of a model that are as hard and flat as jewels, but with cheekbones as sharp as glass and a smile as bright as a blade. She looks more like Boadicea tumbled from history. Her pencil skirt and blazer as powerful as any armor, her stilettos as dagger-like as any weapon. The way she stands, arms crossed and shoulders back is so familiar that it's startling.

"I'm sorry?"

Her lips arch in a slow, vulpine smile and when she waves her hand it is only then she notices her tattered proposal held delicately in the woman's fingertips. "Are you?"

"What are you doing with that?" It is strange that no one seems to notice them, not once does a single New Yorker turn their head or yell at them for holding up the quick and deadly pace of city foot traffic.

"You know what they say, one man's trash, right?" The smile widens. "Well, one woman's, I suppose." The hard tap of her heels as she moved closer is as steady and hard as a heartbeat. "Is it truly your wish to let this marvelous research be thrown away with tomorrow's rubbish?"

The woman seems honestly curious and interested in her answer. It's almost unnerving to have those vibrant eyes pined on her so exclusively that it makes her shift in nervous embarrassment. "I… well, I don't have a… a choice, do I?" It's an evasive answer and she knows it, but it's the best she has.

But the smile never wavers from that achingly beautiful face, only grows wider. "Is that what you think? Or is that what a chauvinistic, male, pig thinks?" There's no pause to answer in, if the woman had wanted an answer at all, as she continues. "So tell me then, what is your master plan now that the big, bad man has told you no?"

She blinks. "Uh, I hadn't thought about it really. I have a friend who works at a library, she says it's okay money." It wasn't like her family was going to help her. They'd pretty much written her of as a failure for what they thought were 'lesser life choices than she deserved.' "So I suppose I'll just do that."

"What would you say if I told you I had a means for your to fund your own research? That all it would take is for you to work for me?"

"I have school and work?" Her statement is more of question.

She makes a dismissive gesture. "I would only require you in very brief intervals, no nine to five or corporate hours or any of that nonsense."

"I would probably ask you what the catch was."

When she laughs it's like tinkling bells. "Yes, there is always a catch, isn't there?" The woman assesses her with intelligent and piercing eyes. "It might be that some of the things I ask of you are not exactly… legal."

"You want me be to become a criminal?" She can't stop the taken aback tone of her voice.

The woman shrugs, artless and relaxed and even that is beautiful, like a cat stretching. "When men attempt to put women in their place, women must show them theirs." There is a long, introspective pause. "You need not kill anyone, and I can give you every advantage against being arrested by the police."

"Or any of the dozen superheroes that call New York City home."

Another shrug. "I have methods to protect against those idiots, as well. An extensive lab and training facilities would be at your full disposal, as well as a very impressive benefactor." There's a pause where the woman straightens her spine and smiles a smile that's dripping with power and confidence. "Me." She tilts she chin back and tosses her mane of hair over her shoulder. "You may call be Anita, darling, but most know me as the Red Queen."

Her mouth falls open in abject surprise and her eyes dart around in terror, but no one has even glances their way. She casts her bewildered eyes back at the woman who had just outed herself as one of New York City's most notorious criminal masterminds like it was nothing.

Anita – the Red Queen, holy shit, the Red Queen – waves a dismissive hand at the flow of people around them, still walking around them like a river around rocks. "They cannot hear our conversation." She taps a finger against the watch on her wrist. "There is a small device created in my lab implanted here that creates a very minor force field around us. Just large enough to block out conversation and keep the sweating masses from trampling us, but just delicate enough that they do not notice."

So she was trapped in here with a supervillain whose main gift was her intelligence. Lex Luther, as it were. "I…"

"Come on, darling, come work for me. I need an apprentice and I would love to see what you can do with this research in the real world. It's really something else." She seems so earnest and… nice… that's it hard to imagine her as the raving psychotic that the news programs paint her as. "It' not something that's for forestay since I'm not one for close combat fighting, but I think I could help you make this into something truly magnificent." She smile is wide and sincere as she asks, "Well, what say you?"

What could she say? This woman – this beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, crazy, criminal woman – was offering her the funding to make her dreams come true, to bring to light the things she had dreamed of since she was a small child. It was make her a criminal to join her. It would make her evil. Make her hunted and wanted. Make her one of those people walking the city with a secret so big it was life-altering for anyone who found out. But then… it was the only way to afford this caliber of research, to afford the many, many people she would need to employ for human testing and training. With no college or privately owned company willing to back her research was there anything she could do except agree?

"I say yes."

And with three simple words, her entire world changes.