(Author's Note: This story has elements of The Little Mermaid and See You, My King. "Spiderman" isn't the name of a superhero but an infamous New York gang during prohibition. No universe hopping in this story but time-travel instead. Told from Gwen's P.O.V.

Enjoy!)

The teacher was going on about mystical and magical artifacts, like they really existed. I listened, though with merger interest. All that folklore and mythology didn't really hold my attention, but I wanted an A on the test so I forced myself to somewhat pay attention. Mr. Turkentine droned on.

"The Wishing Stone is said to grant one imperfect wish. It'll give the wish-maker anything their heart desires, but at a price. And whatever they wish for, it'll only last for four months before everything goes back to the way it was before, just like you never made the wish in the first place. Rumour has it that the stone disappeared during the prohibition era; nobody has found it since." A wishing stone, huh? I rested my chin on the palm of my hand, observing our teacher wistfully. If I ever had that stone, I know what I'd wish for….

Class ended and I packed up to head home. Unlike a lot of my other classmates, I didn't have a part-time job or school clubs to attend. I didn't really like involving myself in anything extracurricular. The reason was simple: Mom had passed away when I was a baby and Dad was never home- like ever. He was always out of town, away on business and work trips. He was gone so often that he got me my own apartment here in Brooklyn. It's a small, one-bedroom place, so it does the job; quite nicely so actually. We were just both aware that it was highly illegal to leave a seventeen year old on her own for weeks, even months on end. As such, I did my best to keep a low profile. I kept my head down, wore a hood while walking outside alone, and kept to my own business. I didn't have many friends; people didn't know about my situation and thought I was weird. Not that I ever felt lonely or anything, though I was alone a lot of the time. But I kept myself preoccupied and tried to maintain a somewhat stable existence for a teenage girl living by her lonesome. Heh, stable existence…

Back then, I didn't realize how stable my life actually was.

I didn't live in the safest part of the city. There were always alarms going off and sirens in the distance. My door had like seven locks on it, and even then I moved a chair in front of it some nights. It wasn't exactly late out; it wasn't even dark outside yet. But I knew a bad scenario when I saw one.

Turning one corner not far from my apartment complex I overheard these three- or perhaps four? I couldn't tell for sure- voices quietly chatting amongst themselves. Male voices. Young male voices. That was enough to make me freeze, contemplating if I should take another route home. I'd walk this way home a million times before and never had any trouble. But trouble had a habit of popping up in random places in this neighbourhood. Best to avoid it. I had just turned on my heels ready to tip-toe away when the sound of glass suddenly shattering caught my attention- in a bad way. It sounded like a window being broken in.

Growing both more bold and terrified at the same time, I summoned up the courage to peer around the corner. My suspicions were correct; they'd just broken the glass pane of a first-floor window and were about to climb in. Judging by the way two men were standing guard while one slipped inside, my guess was that they were about to rob the place. Thinking fast, I pulled out my phone and pulled back the front protective cover. I aimed the lens in their direction, discreetly snapping a few photos of the crime scene; I'd have to take a picture of the street name too so I don't forget. After a few pics were taken, I turned around ready to make a run for it. Or I would have ran if I didn't immediately see this fourth behemoth towering before me. His arms were folded across his chest and he wore a prominent scowl. There was a scar along his right cheek, reaching all the way down to his top lip. He was the epidemy of a brute thug if I've ever seen one.

"I'll take that," without warning his broad, massive hand darted over to snatch my phone from my grip. I gasped, stumbling back a few steps, gawking as he proceeded to crush it using on the strength of his bare hand. My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to vomit, I was so scared. But screw the phone! I've got to get out of here; these guys are bad news! Again, my feet were about to make a mad dash around the Hulk here, but he was faster. As if reading my mind, he grabbed the sleeve of my shirt as I tried to escape, yanking me closer to him with one rough tug. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"John, what's going on?" One of the men hollered back to "John", who I guess his name was, as he rounded the bend to see what the commotion was about. "This bitch took your picture," John explained, holding me in place. "Huh? Oh! Her… She saw us, did she?" The other man came over to us, putting his thumb and forefinger underneath my chin. My legs were shaking so hard that I was struggling to keep my balance. Terror and pure, unadulterated fear ran through me like a knife. The air was so thick with tension that I could barely breathe….. His piercing eyes were razor sharp onto mine. "That's too bad. Now what are we going to do with you?"

My lips trembled uncontrollably, my eyes got watery. "I-I won't tell! I won't tell anyone! Really!" I begged, but I should have known it wouldn't work. His fingers gave my chin a squeeze. "Sure you won't, princess. We "believe" you," he said sarcastically. John wasn't being jovial at all, keeping a firm grip on my shirt. "So what do you want to do with her? She's seen us now." The other man sighed, finally releasing my chin to scratch the back of his head, almost annoyedly so.

"I suppose we can't let her go. Keep a hold of her until we're done, then we'll figure out where to stash her." Wait, where to stash me?! Does he mean alive or dead?! Cause that sure sounds like "dead" to me, as in "hiding a dead body". My dead body! That's when it hit me for the first time: these creeps could kill me. They could really kill me if they wanted to. I gotta get the hell outta here!

Again, without thinking about it, I tried to wiggle my arm free from the sleeve John was clutching. My body thrashed this way and that; my limbs were going everywhere. The two men glanced to me with mild surprise, merely watching for a minute or so. But I doubt they thought I could really escape, seeing the lack of alarm in their response. The other man let out another exasperated sigh, turning to John.

"Don't let her go." "What do I look like? An idiot to you? Hey you, kid! Stop thrashing! It's no use; you're not going anywhere," as if to prove his point, he gave me another harsh shake. I continued to resist, doing my upmost best to break free of his iron grasp. "Let go! Let go of me! Let go of me! Help! Somebody please, help me! Please! Help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Shut up!" John was starting to lose his temper, shaking me once more. "Help! Help me, please! I'm being kidnapped! They're kidnapping me!" Not even registering his violent shake or yelling at me, I just continued shrieking and screaming as loud as I possibly could. I cried out so harshly that my throat actually hurt.

John gave this small growl, gripping my sleeve even tighter if that were possible. "Shut up! I said shut up, you stupid bitch!" His free hand rose high up in the air all of a sudden, set in a post ready to strike me across the face. This I did see and understand, and winced my eyes shut embracing for the impact of the blow.

But no blow ever came. Our three heads twirled in a flash to see John's arm stuck mid-air. Someone was holding it there in place, much to the shock and alarm of everyone, including John. From the first moment I saw him, I knew he wasn't with these other guys… I knew he was different.

Special.

Holding John's arm was this tall man with a black afro. He had penetrating dark eyes and a body built like an Adonis. The stranger glared at John with such intensity and without an inch of fear. It was John who was afraid now, and with good reason. He kept him in complete submission by his one-arm grasp and didn't look to be done yet.

This man was beautiful, gorgeous, perfect in every sense of the word; I couldn't have dreamed up a more ideal person. But there was something weird about him which I immediately noticed. Two things actually.

The first thing of importance was his attire. He wasn't wearing any brands I recognized; I doubt he was wearing any brand labels at all. His outfit looked like something right out of a 1920s movie. It was so era-accurate that it could have been in a museum. His pants didn't have zippers; none of his clothes did, in fact. His shoes were extremely old-fashioned, made of polished- albeit slightly dusty- black leather, complete with leather shoestrings. He wore a long-sleeve white shirt and vest, like one would wear with a suit nowadays. It looked very handsome on him, don't get me wrong! My bet it was custom-made, but it was more like a costume than something actually would wear day-to-day. I wondered if he was a movie extra or the like.

The other point of particular note about this fellow was he had this big "10" tattooed in white ink on the inside of his left wrist. Like literally the number ten. I suppose he got it for a reason, but it still stuck out to me.

There wasn't time to think about that though; everything moved at a rapid pace once he grabbed John's arm. Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, the stranger took hold of John before he could slap me. Likewise before John could say much besides "Hey! What do you think…?!", there was this blood-curdling "snap!" that rang through the air. Our eyes collectively widened in horror as the realization dawned on us that John's arm had just been broken. John's mouth opened, first silently and then in a loud shrill. In the process he dropped me, throwing me in such a way that I landed on my butt. I didn't wince in pain however, too panicked by what I just witnessed.

"My arm!" John cried, grabbing his broken, twisted arm with his now free hand. His stress was cut short by the stranger punching him across the face, sending him flying back and smacking against a brick wall. The other man looked beyond petrified as he watched his friend get tossed around like a ragdoll; John was likely the group's muscle, which would also explain the fear as well.

The other man was about to make a run for it, but the stranger knocked him off his block with a single blow. The man fell down unconscious, just like John, leaving just me and the stranger there sandwiched in-between their unmoving bodies. The stranger's eyes went from the other man back over to me before I had time to breathe. The moment he looked directly at me, the kinder, gentler his expression became. Growing the most tender smile I'd ever seen in my life, he took a step towards me, then another, and another. All air left my lungs; I forgot how to breathe for a second. This man…. This Adonis…. His eyes just now….. The way he looked at me…..

No one has ever looked at me that way before.

I gasped, feeling physically numb as his slender hand began to stretch out toward my face. Smiling like he'd just been reunited with his long-lost lover, he seemed as if he wanted to cradle my cheek… Just to touch me, feel my skin against his again.

Course I knew that was nonsense and definitely not true; I'd never seen this man in my life. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part cause I was so deeply attracted to him. Seriously, if I hadn't just watched him rip apart another man's arm a minute ago, I would have gone out with him if he asked me. But he didn't; he didn't say anything, as a matter of fact. He was warm but silent, and I don't think that was by choice.

Hey, that's right; this guy, no matter how hot he is, is obviously incredibly dangerous. He could tear me in half if he wanted to, and I don't mean that metaphorically. Panic set in once again as his fingers inched nearer to me. Acting impulsively, I unexpectedly slapped them away, wincing my eyes shut and turning my head to the side. "No! Get away from me!" My voice cracked, I was so scared.

This surprised the stranger- like genuinely surprised him. His eyes widened like I'd just plunged a knife into his heart. His fingers froze and he beheld me with such confused, pained intensity. I tried to touch my cheek again and I slid back, clearly terrified. His luscious lips parted for the first time, hanging open for a second.

"Gwen?"

Hearing his voice made my eyes open wide. My name….. H-How does he know my name? And why does he have to sound equally as perfect as he looks?! Sneaking a peek back over at him, I noticed that the "10" on his wrist was now suddenly a "9", causing my heartrate to accelerate. Wait?! How the hell did that happen?! How did his tattoo just change like that? This was all getting a bit too much for me.

The stranger was shocked when I hurriedly dashed to grab my backpack and made another run for it down the street and around the corner. I left him there, staring at me like he didn't understand what was going on. He didn't follow me, or at least I thought he didn't. Looking back on the situation, I really owed him an apology. If he hadn't shown up when he did, I don't know what those goons would have done with me. Yet despite that, I was still afraid of the stranger; I'd never seen violence like that before in real life. I never wanted to see anything like it again- ever.

I didn't stop running until I was back at my apartment complex. I ran up the staircase, not bothering to wait for the elevator, and hastily locked the door behind me. With a few deep inhales, I rested my back up against the wood of the door, clutching my backpack in both arms. Staring out into nowhere, I slowly slid down to the floor….

Where I struggled to steady my breathing for quite some time.