How to Save a Life

by LucasA

Healing takes time and courage. It has been five years since the tragic death of Gwen Stacy, the love of his life. Now, Peter seeks to understand what it means to embark on new beginnings while also assisting others in their own journeys of recovery. A story that delves into the intricate ways individuals connect with each other during difficult times. Rated M for sexual themes.

7. The Black Cat Strikes

October 13th - 2019

Spider-Man and Prowler stood in the dimly lit alleyway, catching their breath after a fierce confrontation with half a dozen Maggia guards. The remnants of what had appeared to be an arms deal gone awry were strewn across the ground around them. Spider-Man clenched his fists, and his suit bore scuff marks and tears from the intense brawl.

Prowler eyed Spider-Man with a mixture of concern and curiosity as he observed Spider-Man webbing a gash on his wrist. "You fight with such little regard for your own safety." he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Spider-Man, his mask concealing his expression, offered a weary smile. "Old habits can be… hard to let go of."

He gestured for Prowler to investigate the back of the Maggia's van. They still needed to determine if their encounter had yielded any valuable information. Prowler nodded and proceeded to open the van's rear doors.

As Prowler worked on the van, Spider-Man discreetly checked his phone, seeking a brief respite from the previous chaos. He found a text from Mary Jane, her first text mentioned how her last shift at the restaurant had been exhausting.

Before he could check the rest of the messages, Spider-Man watched as a couple of wooden crates came into view inside the van. Prowler deftly popped one open, revealing a stash of documents.

Spider-Man moved his phone away and leaned in to get a closer look. "What are these about?"

Prowler glanced at the contents and grimaced. "Looks like these were meant to be destroyed or burned," he replied, frustration evident in his voice. "Lots of random documents, spreadsheets, individual profiles… nothing that could lead you to where they do their stuff."

Spider-Man's eyes fell on a file bearing the name 'Hardy', piquing his interest. Without hesitation, he opened the folder, scanning its contents for information.

Prowler sighed and shook his head. "Doesn't seem like we've found anything useful here, it's unfortunate." He added, "I'll keep an eye out for better leads. I… I might already be onto something."

Spider-Man continued to peruse the folder, his expression hidden behind the mask. He muttered, "It's fine. We might have just stumbled upon something useful."

Prowler noticed the particular folder in Spider-Man's hands. "Hardy? Did you know him?"

One of the goons they had defeated began to stir on the ground next to Spider-Man, attempting to reach for a gun.

Spider-Man shook his head in response to Prowler's question, then swiftly webbed the defeated man's head to the ground, immobilizing him. "I never did, but I might know his daughter."

"I didn't know she was still alive."

Spider-Man nodded. "She's very much alive, she's doing her own thing now."

"She appeared to be a good kid, just in a place where goodness was in short supply," he added. "I'm glad she found her way out; not everyone is so fortunate."

"Out of what?" Spider-Man turned his head towards the former mercenary.

"Out of this sort of life. We may have taken different paths, but after that initial step, we both ended up in the same world… and many in this world will always seek to get us in some way." Prowler paused. "Weren't you hunted down a few years ago?"

Spider-Man eventually nodded. "I was… yes." He then inquired, "Have you managed to escape?"

Prowler hesitated. "I'm… still trying. You might be my ticket out, but I can never be sure."

"I can only imagine." Spider-Man shifted his focus back to the papers in his hands.

Prowler sighed heavily and returned his attention to the van. He noticed another open crate that had caught his eye. Inside, he found drawings and graphs related to a potential substance. "Symbiote… that's an interesting name."

Spider-Man approached him. "Symbiote?"

"Yeah, that's what it says." Prowler watched as Spider-Man tilted his head to examine the papers. "Do you know what it is?"

"Heritage," Spider-Man replied after a brief pause. "After all these years, I'm still trying to figure it out."

---

December 14th - 2016

Three years earlier…

Two years had passed since Peter Parker lost Gwen Stacy, but the scars remained fresh and unyielding. He patrolled the dark and snowy streets of New York City, clad in his Spider-Man suit. The chilling wind whistled through the alleyways, echoing his solitude.

As Christmas approached, the city transformed into a winter wonderland. Delicate and ethereal snowflakes danced gracefully in the air, softening the harsh reality of the world below. Yet, for Peter, the joyous atmosphere only intensified his lingering sorrow.

Leaping from building to building, he observed families through frost-kissed windows, sharing warm embraces and laughter. Their cheerful voices drifted into the night, mingling with the carols echoing from the streets. He couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a yearning for Gwen's comforting presence during the festive season.

Such seasons only served as poignant reminders of what he had lost and what might have been. They had shared only a single Christmas together.

Spider-Man swung onto a rooftop, his gloved fingers gripping the frost-coated ledge. Gazing at the twinkling Christmas lights adorning the cityscape, he couldn't escape the memories flooding his mind. The laughter they had shared, the stolen moments of tenderness—they played like a bittersweet montage, forever etched in his heart.

Taking a deep breath, Peter closed his eyes and let the snowflakes caress his masked face. The cold sting was a stark reminder of his existence, grounding him in the present.

He leaped back into action, swinging through the frosty air with unparalleled grace. The sound of his web-shooters echoed through the silent night as he raced to prevent any holiday chaos.

As the moon cast its silver glow upon the city, Spider-Man became a symbol of hope in the cold winter night.

It's what she wanted from us, from me.

As Spider-Man swung through the snowy cityscape, his phone buzzed in his pocket, momentarily pulling him from his introspection. With a quick flick of his wrist, he activated the screen, revealing a notification from his surveillance app. The familiar logo of his father's secret lab at the abandoned Roosevelt train station caught his attention.

His heart skipped a beat. The lab—his father's legacy and his own vault of secrets—had potentially been breached. Someone or something had triggered the motion sensors, setting off an alarm within the app. A mix of concern and urgency coursed through his veins, mingling with the bitter chill of the winter air.

Without hesitation, he altered his course, redirecting his swing toward the abandoned train station. The gravity-defying acrobatics that defined his movements became a means of traversing the city at breakneck speed. Snowflakes whipped past him as he weaved through the intricate network of buildings, his mind racing with possibilities.

Later, Spider-Man crawled through the opening beneath the blockade that concealed the entrance to the Roosevelt station. The abandoned station stood as a relic of the past, its disused tracks and dimly lit corridors shrouded in a ghostly atmosphere.

The train, once his father's secret lab, lay exposed, clearly having been visited by someone. Peter carefully stepped inside the lab, recognizing that it held more than just the remnants of a brilliant mind; it contained artifacts with the potential to wreak havoc if they fell into the wrong hands.

Flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the rows of once high-tech equipment and confidential files lining the walls. He moved further into the lab, his heightened senses absorbing every detail.

The air felt charged with anticipation as he scanned the room for signs of intrusion. Spider-Man's eyes darted from one corner to another, searching for any disruption amidst the carefully curated chaos. But, to his relief, nothing seemed amiss—no broken equipment, no stolen documents.

As Spider-Man continued his cautious examination of the lab, his gaze landed upon a familiar pod tucked away in the corner. Inside, a dark and writhing substance resembling goo stirred, a potent reminder of the power it possessed. He approached cautiously, his fingers grazing the surface of the container, a mix of curiosity and concern coursing through him. The goo moved closer to the glass near his hand.

At that moment, Spider-Man believed himself to be alone, assured that the alarm had been a false one. However, a sudden movement behind him shattered his fleeting sense of solitude as instinct took over. Spider-Man swiftly swung his arm in a defensive maneuver, ready to confront the intruder.

To his surprise, the agile feminine figure evaded his attack with fluid grace. Black Cat, the infamous and newest thief in town, had materialized in the lab, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief and cunning. Her black and snug cloth suit seemed tailored to her toned body, with white accents adding extra detail. Before he could react, her foot expertly slid against his, destabilizing him.

Spider-Man found himself toppling to the floor, momentarily stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Regaining his composure, he sprang to his feet, determined not to let Black Cat slip away. The thief wasted no time, swiftly snatching something valuable from the lab and making a hasty retreat.

"Wait!" He exclaimed.

With a burst of adrenaline, Spider-Man leaped into action, commencing a chase filled with acrobatics and webs.

Through the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned station, the two agile figures engaged in a deadly dance. Spider-Man's enhanced reflexes and agility allowed him to match Black Cat's every move, yet the thrill of the chase ignited a spark of something unfamiliar within him—a mixture of exhilaration and respect for his elusive opponent. Her white-platinum blonde hair contrasted starkly against the darkness of the night.

Black Cat briefly looked over her shoulder. "I didn't expect to meet you here, Spider-Man!"

Their pursuit later led them through narrow passages and across crumbling platforms, the echoes of their footfalls punctuating the tense atmosphere. Spider-Man's web-shooters released cascades of webbing, attempting to ensnare Black Cat, but she deftly evaded each trap, her lithe form slipping through his fingers like smoke.

He questioned, "How did you find this place?!"

She laughed as she ran. "You'll have to do much better than that!"

Emerging onto snow-covered rooftops, the city lights glimmered below, casting an ethereal glow upon their clash. Spider-Man's determination burned brightly as he closed the distance, his web-line propelling him closer to Black Cat with each swing. Yet, her cunning maneuvers and quick reflexes remained a formidable challenge.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Two figures, each driven by their own motivations and moral compasses, were brought together by fate in this exhilarating encounter. And as they continued their chase, mutual respect began to form—a recognition of the skills and tenacity they shared.

As the chase between Spider-Man and Black Cat neared its climax, adrenaline surged through their veins, heightening their senses and quickening their movements. With a daring leap, Black Cat gracefully vaulted off a water tank, aiming to gain distance and elude her web-slinging pursuer.

But Spider-Man was determined not to let her slip away. In a display of agility and precision, he propelled himself into the air, shooting a webbing with uncanny accuracy that wrapped around Black Cat's right foot. The webbing tightened, exerting a force that halted her mid-air momentum and brought her down to the rooftop below.

As they landed, Spider-Man found himself on top of Black Cat, their bodies entwined in an unexpected embrace. His web-slinging skills had successfully subdued her, his hand holding her wrists securely above her head. For a brief moment, the thrill of the chase and the intimacy of their close proximity hung in the air between them.

Black Cat's mischievous smile played upon her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Despite their precarious position, there was a spark of connection.

"Well, well, Spider," she purred, her voice laced with a blend of admiration and playful defiance. "You certainly know how to get a lady going. Nice to finally meet you."

"I've heard about you." Spider-Man's grip remained firm, his senses attuned to any sudden movements. "... but you're no lady, you're just a thief."

"I'm also a great dancer."

He webbed her wrists against the ground above her head. "Why were you there? How did you even find that lab?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side. "This is just a gig for me. I had some tips, but I found it myself."

"Who sent you?"

"... anonymous contacts, I wouldn't know them." She added, "It's just business, Spider."

As he held her arms above her head, a flicker of intrigue danced within his masked gaze. He couldn't help but be captivated by the enigma that was Black Cat.

"You were trying to steal the symbiote, right?"

"Maybe I would have if you hadn't arrived so quickly. What were you even doing there? Is that your love den or something?"

"You're not the one asking questions here."

She let out a giggle in response.

Their faces were mere inches apart, and a charged silence settled upon the rooftop. Spider-Man's mind raced, grappling with the conflicting emotions coursing through him. Her eyes pierced right through his lenses to reach his own.

She suggested, "Are you just going to stand on top of me… and do nothing?"

As Spider-Man held Black Cat's hand firmly above her head, his voice cut through the charged silence, filled with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"Did you manage to steal something?" he inquired, his gaze fixed upon her.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Black Cat's lips as she locked eyes with him. "Check the pocket near my waist, just don't get too touchy," she teased, her voice laced with a playful tone.

Momentarily distracted by her words, Spider-Man's attention shifted, his focus drawn towards the pocket she mentioned. In that split second, he loosened his grip ever so slightly, underestimating the cunning of his agile opponent.

"And maybe who knows? Maybe next time, our dance will have a different rhythm."

With a swift movement, Black Cat seized the opportunity. Her hands, previously trapped, suddenly freed themselves as her sharp claws extended through the webbing. In one fluid motion, she freed her hands and struck his face, the force of the blow catching him off guard.

... very smooth.

Staggering to the side, Spider-Man's mask bore the sharp marks of the encounter, serving as a physical reminder of his momentary lapse.

"See you around, Spider!"

His eyes tracked Black Cat as she swiftly retreated, her lithe form disappearing into the night, leaving him alone on the rooftop.

His hand instinctively touched the superficial scars on his mask, his mind grappling with the aftermath of their encounter. The taste of both disappointment and newfound respect lingered on his lips. The allure of Black Cat's charisma and the unpredictable dance they had shared left him simultaneously intrigued and wary.

"... we will."

With a subtle adjustment to his mask, Spider-Man's gaze hardened. He swung into the night, his web-lines carrying him back into the vast web of the city.

---

December 19th - 2016

Five days later…

The rain pelted against the windows of Peter Parker's modest apartment, its rhythmic drumming echoing the turmoil he had just experienced while donning his Spider-Man suit. He slipped inside through the window and gingerly removed his tattered red and blue costume, wincing at the aches and pains that radiated from his body after his recent patrolling.

Unmasking himself, Peter revealed a sweaty and dirt-streaked face adorned with a few minor cuts and bruises. He sighed and tossed the suit into a hamper tucked in the corner of his room, making a mental note to repair it later.

With a sense of relief, Peter made his way to the bathroom, seeking solace in the hot and steamy shower. The warm water cascaded over his weary body, soothing his sore muscles and washing away the grime of the city streets. He closed his eyes, letting the water cleanse his mind as well, allowing him a brief moment of respite from the chaotic world outside.

As he stepped out of the shower, he glanced at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. Opening his mouth, he noticed a gap in his smile where his right wisdom tooth used to be. A wry grin formed on his lips as he realized that one less wisdom tooth meant one less expensive trip to the dentist.

"You're such a cheapskate," he mumbled to himself, giving a playful shrug. "I guess I won't look fabulous for Fisk's auction."

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he moved back to his bedroom to don more comfortable clothes.

After tidying up the slight mess in his kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and retrieved the packed lunch he had prepared for the week. As he sat down at the table, he admired the assortment of healthy snacks and sandwiches neatly arranged in Tupperware containers.

Alone in his apartment, the sound of rain intensified outside as he chewed. He looked at the opposite end of the table, where an empty seat was a stark reminder of his solitude. His gaze lingered there for a few moments before he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Peter decided to check his phone, opening the email confirming his decision to delay another semester of courses. He then opened the browser, allowing the news to play next to him, the familiar voice of the news anchor filling the room.

"And now, we have a special report on a recent incident that occurred earlier tonight," the anchor said, her voice holding a tone of seriousness. "In what many consider a daring display of heroism, Spider-Man single-handedly intervened in a dangerous gang fight that took place in the heart of the city."

Peter's ears perked up as he listened intently to the report. He knew he had been busy tonight, but he didn't expect the media to pick up on this particular incident.

"The gang fight between two rival groups quickly escalated, putting civilians in danger and stretching local law enforcement thin," the news anchor continued. "However, before the situation could escalate any further, Spider-Man appeared on the scene and made it clear that he would handle the situation alone."

The camera shifted to show footage from the scene, with Spider-Man swinging into action, his red and blue suit standing out in the dimly lit street. He moved with agility and precision, taking down gang members with calculated strikes and web-slinging moves.

"The police officers present at the scene were initially hesitant to let Spider-Man handle the situation alone," the news anchor explained. "But he assured them that he had everything under control. Witnesses say he displayed incredible strength and courage as he faced off against a significant number of armed assailants."

The broadcast then showed an interview with one of the officers who had been at the scene. "We were outnumbered, and the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control," the officer said. "Spider-Man told us to stay back and let him handle it. Still… he saved a lot of lives tonight."

Peter was pleased that the situation had been resolved without further casualties. But on the other hand, he knew that the officers involved had a tough job, and he didn't want to make their lives more difficult by acting recklessly.

Eventually, the screen of his phone illuminated with an incoming call from an unexpected name – Philip Stacy, Gwen's oldest brother. Peter's heart skipped a beat as he hesitated for a moment before answering. It had been months since they last spoke, and every interaction with Gwen's family brought a wave of anxiety and guilt, a constant reminder of the one life he had failed to save.

With a shaky hand, he answered the call. "Hello, Philip," he greeted softly, attempting to mask his unease.

"Hey, Peter," Philip's voice sounded tired and somewhat slurred, as if he had been drinking. "Sorry for calling out of the blue. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Peter assured him, "No, no, it's alright. How have you been?"

Philip sighed heavily, "Ups and downs, I guess." The pain in his voice was evident.

"I can't even begin to imagine," Peter replied genuinely.

There was a moment of silence before Philip spoke again, "You know, I haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been holding up?"

Peter hesitated for a moment, then chose his words carefully, "It's not easy."

Philip seemed to understand, and a hint of empathy crept into his voice. "I know it must be hard for you too, Peter. Losing Gwen and our dad… it's something that never truly leaves us."

"Yeah," Peter's voice trembled slightly, "I think about them every day."

"I never had time to say goodbye to them…" Philip's tone turned contemplative, "If only we could just go back in time to… just change something so that they could be here again, you know?"

A heavy weight settled in Peter's chest as he contemplated the question. He took a deep breath and responded sincerely, "I know. I would give anything to be able to do that."

There was a long pause before Philip spoke again, "I keep thinking about all the 'what ifs,' but it won't bring them back."

"No, it won't," Peter acknowledged sadly, "... but it doesn't stop us from wishing it were possible."

Philip let out a bitter chuckle, "It's like I'm stuck in this loop."

Peter nodded on the other end of the line, his heart aching for the pain they both endured. "If there was anything I could do to ease that burden, Philip, I would. I'm so sorry for what happened."

"Thanks, Peter," Philip said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of sorrow and alcohol. "I appreciate that. I wish things were different."

"We all do," Peter whispered, his voice filled with a mix of emotions.

The conversation lingered for a few more moments before Philip excused himself, claiming exhaustion. Peter understood, and they said their goodbyes. He sat there in the silence, the weight of his guilt heavier than ever.

After cleaning the dishes, Peter moved to his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed, facing the large wardrobe across the room. His phone still in hand, he checked his newsfeed once more, his mind trying to find any distraction from the overwhelming emotions he had experienced earlier.

As he scrolled through the articles, one headline caught his eye – "Black Cat Strikes Again!"

He recalled how Black Cat had tried to steal something from his father's lab, and he had stopped her in their first encounter.

Intrigued, Peter got up from the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. He reached down to open the bottom compartment, revealing a hidden space where he had concealed the round pod filled with a mysterious black goo, what his father had indeed named as the 'symbiote'. The very object that Black Cat had attempted to steal, but the question still lingered in his mind: What was this substance about, and why had his father left it behind?

Crouching down, he examined the pod. The black goo inside appeared to be frozen, unmovable.

Peter whispered to himself, "I need to find out what you are, what you really do."

---

December 20th - 2016

The grand ballroom within the skyscraper was ablaze with shimmering chandeliers, opulent decorations, and an air of exclusivity that only wealth and power could bring. Peter Parker, dressed in his best suit, posed as a photographer for the Daily Bugle, weaving his way through the elegantly attired guests. He couldn't help but feel a bit out of place among the city's elite.

As he moved through the sea of people, Peter noticed some of the curious glances directed his way. He knew the claw marks on his face from his recent encounter with Black Cat were still somewhat visible.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the ballroom, unmistakably belonging to J. Jonah Jameson. "Parker! Where are ya? Get over here!"

With a sigh, Peter made his way toward the source of the voice, which happened to be near the center of the room. As he approached, he saw Jameson standing beside a statuesque woman in an elegant dress, his wife, and also Wilson Fisk, the wealthy and influential man who he had heard to hold significant power in the city's criminal underworld.

"About time, Parker!" Jameson barked, his mustache twitching with irritation. "I need you to take a picture of me and my lovely wife, Marla, with our esteemed guest, Mr. Fisk. This will be front-page material!"

Yeah, right. Front-page material in your dreams…

Peter raised his camera and framed the shot. Fisk was a mountain of a man, exuding an air of confidence and authority that demanded respect. His perfectly tailored suit only added to his intimidating presence.

As the flash of the camera filled the air, Peter noticed Fisk's gaze briefly flicker toward him. It sent a shiver down his spine as if the man could see right through his guise.

Fisk questioned, "What happened to your face, young man?"

Jameson quickly interjected, "Oh, this really isn't his worst form. Trust me, he has shown up much worse."

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I can be a bit clumsy."

Fisk nodded in understanding.

"Thank you, Parker," Jameson said, seemingly pleased with the photo. "Now, get back to work and make sure you capture all the important faces in this room. And I mean everyone!"

Peter nodded and hastily retreated, feeling relieved to be out of the spotlight. He began to snap pictures of the other guests that asked for a photo, trying to remain inconspicuous while still getting the shots he needed. However, his thoughts kept returning to Wilson Fisk.

As Peter moved through the crowd, snapping pictures and trying to blend in, he felt a sense of déjà vu when he stumbled upon a man and his companion, a silver-haired woman. Her elegant and revealing black dress hugged her curves, making her stand out even in this sea of sophistication. Her smile was captivating, but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.

As he lifted his camera to capture their picture, she turned her gaze directly toward him and flashed a smile, almost as though she recognized him. Peter swiftly snapped the shot and attempted to maintain his composure, though curiosity raced through his mind.

Seeing a familiar face in the distance, the man informed her that he would return shortly, allowing her to take more photos of herself. Peter found himself alone with the woman, whose name remained a mystery at this point, as did her secret identity as the notorious Black Cat.

"Forgive me, but have we met before?" Felicia inquired, her voice carrying a hint of mischief, her eyes locking onto Peter's.

"I don't believe so, ma'am," he replied, aiming for a casual tone. "I'm here on assignment, taking pictures for the Daily Bugle."

Felicia's smile widened as she took a step closer, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders. "You must have captured some fascinating moments through that lens of yours."

Peter couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was an intensity in her gaze that left him feeling uneasy.

"You have no idea," Peter replied, attempting to play it cool while keeping his guard up. "You haven't told me your name."

"Anne." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were trying to decipher him. Her piercing blue eyes examined the scars on his face. "Did a… cat leave its mark on you?"

"I had a mishap while covering a story, the… subject got away." Peter admitted.

Felicia tilted her head, seemingly amused by his response. "Some accidents can be quite exhilarating, don't you think?"

His spider-sense tingled the moment she finished her sentence.

Before Peter could respond, Felicia glanced over her shoulder at her companion, who was still engrossed in conversation across the bustling room. Then, she leaned in closer to Peter, her lips nearly brushing against his ear.

"I have a suspicion that there's more to you than meets the eye," she whispered, her breath sending shivers down his spine.

With that, Felicia retreated, leaving Peter standing alone, both intrigued and unsettled by the encounter as she walked away,

Peter redirected his attention to the well-lit stage, where the auction of Wilson Fisk's possessions was about to commence. The stage was adorned with exquisite pieces, including historical artifacts, rare artworks, and luxurious items, all expected to command astronomical prices.

He adjusted his camera and began capturing images of the valuable items on display. Each click of the shutter was accompanied by the subtle hum of conversation among the guests, who discussed the significance and potential value of the auctioned items.

Wilson Fisk, flanked by his associates, ascended the stage and addressed the audience. His deep voice resonated through the ballroom as he eloquently spoke about the importance of charity and his commitment to giving back to the community. He explained that the proceeds from the auction would be donated to various causes.

While Fisk's words appeared noble on the surface, Peter harbored a sense of skepticism. He had heard rumors about Fisk's involvement in criminal activities, and the philanthropic facade seemed like a calculated political maneuver to enhance his public image.

Fisk promptly left the stage as the auction got underway, and Peter's camera captured the intense bidding wars that erupted over some of the rarest items. The wealth and power in the room were palpable, with each bid reaching staggering sums. Undoubtedly, Fisk's possessions held great value, but Peter wondered about the origins of some of these artifacts and whether they had been acquired through less-than-scrupulous means.

The most sought-after item was the 70-gram Somalian meteorite prominently displayed at the center of the stage.

Throughout the auction, Felicia seemed to be omnipresent. Peter observed her mingling effortlessly with the elite, her charm captivating even the most stoic of guests. He felt that she was up to something, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She eventually vanished from his sight.

Deciding to take a respite from the crowded auction, Peter discreetly slipped away from the ballroom, venturing down the corridor leading to the stage. As he turned a corner, he was taken aback to find Felicia Hardy emerging from a side room.

"Hey, Anne," Peter called out, attempting to sound nonchalant but unable to conceal the curiosity in his voice. "Is everything alright?"

Felicia turned to face him, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Oh, I just had a minor wardrobe malfunction," she replied with a wink. "The strap on my dress was a tad loose, you know how it goes."

She placed her hands on Peter's arms, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of electricity at her touch, though he brushed it off.

"Well, it seems you've got everything sorted now," Peter remarked.

Felicia grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Oh, indeed I do," she replied, giving him one last seductive look before sauntering away.

As he watched her departure, the unsettling feeling that Felicia was up to something lingered, and her sudden appearance near the guards' break room only heightened his suspicions.

Determined to uncover the truth, he quietly made his way to the breakroom, discovering the two guards unconscious on the floor. They were alive but incapacitated. Peter quickly checked for any signs of harm and, finding none, realized that Felicia had managed to render them unconscious without causing serious injury.

As he contemplated her intentions, the corridor lights flickered and extinguished, casting him into darkness. Panic surged within him as he found himself immobilized. The electric charge Felicia had administered earlier had taken its toll, momentarily paralyzing him as his muscles tightened.

Peter fought against the paralysis, struggling to break free, but the effects lingered. He cursed himself for falling into her trap. With each passing second, the darkness pressed in on him. Summoning a surge of willpower, he finally shook off the electric charge's grasp, regaining control of his body. He identified the small electrical device on his left arm, tore it off, and threw it away.

Returning to the corridor, Peter noted that the lights remained extinguished, shrouding the area in darkness. He cautiously navigated the dimly lit hallways, relying on his heightened senses. His mind raced with the realization that Felicia had likely orchestrated the power outage to sow chaos and confusion during her escape.

Upon reentering the ballroom, he witnessed guests and staff in disarray, attempting to make sense of the situation under the sudden darkness. However, when the lights were restored, the full extent of Felicia's plan became evident—the small meteorite had vanished.

Time was of the essence; he couldn't allow her to abscond with the stolen meteorite.

Leveraging his enhanced agility, he swiftly ascended to the roof and discreetly changed into his Spider-Man suit. With every passing moment, Felicia distanced herself further..

In his suit, Spider-Man sprang into action, gracefully scaling the nearest building. Spotting Felicia in the distance, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and employing her hook to propel herself forward.

With unwavering determination, Spider-Man pursued her, swinging through the city using his web-slinging abilities, slicing through the air with astonishing speed. The city lights blurred around him as he relentlessly chased Felicia through the urban landscape.

"You won't escape me that easily again!" Spider-Man called out, his voice projecting over the city's bustling soundscape.

She glanced back at him, wearing a wicked grin on her face. "Oh, Spider-Man, you're quite the persistent one!" she retorted, her words laced with amusement.

As they traversed the rooftops, Spider-Man was genuinely impressed by Felicia's agility and cunning. She was undoubtedly a formidable adversary. He increased his speed, narrowing the gap between them. Firing web shots ahead, he aimed to slow Felicia down, but she skillfully dodged each one. Her movements were calculated and precise, leaving him in awe of her abilities, even as he relentlessly pursued her.

As the chase continued, Felicia appeared to be leading him toward a specific location. His instincts told him that she had a plan. With a well-timed swing, he managed to intercept her path, blocking her way and landing gracefully before her.

"This is over; you can't outrun me," Spider-Man declared firmly, his voice unwavering. "Hand it over."

Felicia chuckled, crossing her arms as she regarded him with a mixture of amusement and defiance. "Do you truly believe you can stop me, Spider-Man?" she teased. "You're in over your head."

The two stood there, locked in a tense standoff, their paths diverging at this critical moment. The tension in the air was palpable. The thief seemed to revel in the adrenaline-fueled dance with the masked hero, and her confidence remained unshaken.

Without warning, she swiftly deployed a smoke bomb at her feet, enveloping the rooftop in a thick cloud of smoke. His heightened senses allowed him to detect her through the darkness, and he quickly dove into the cloud, closing the distance between them in an instant.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, then the one holding the meteorite, before pinning her against the water tower's pillars with a firm grip. She appeared momentarily surprised, but her smile returned almost immediately, as if she relished this unexpected turn of events.

"Nice try," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.

As she chuckled softly, he noticed her hand releasing the stolen meteorite. He used his feet expertly to cushion its landing on the rooftop, ensuring it remained unharmed, before gently moving it aside into the ground with his foot.

With Black Cat now held against the water tower, her hands pinned above her head, their faces were incredibly close. The intensity of the moment was undeniable, and Spider-Man couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions. He knew she was a thief, and she had her own motives, yet there was something about her that intrigued him.

Her playful demeanor persisted as she suddenly leaned toward him, her lips pressing against the surface of his mask where his mouth was concealed. In a surprising move, she kissed him through the mask, catching him off guard. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his face, and for a brief moment, he was taken aback by the unexpectedness of the gesture.

Eventually, Spider-Man pulled his face away from hers. "What are you doing?" His voice betrayed his confusion.

Felicia pulled back slightly, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "What I've been longing to do,"

"Um, you used your tongue… so that was a bit weird."

Felicia noticed how he had loosened his grip on her hands. She slowly freed her hands and rested them on his firm shoulders. "I can use them elsewhere as well."

"What are we… doing…?"

"You tell me."

Black Cat moved his left hand against her buttocks while raising her right hip against his waist as she embraced him. She lifted his mask slightly to expose his mouth and immediately kissed him again.

Spider-Man kept her body locked in his powerful arms and close to his. He muttered, "The meteorite…"

She pulled away slightly and stared at her reflection in his mask's lenses. "I don't want it anymore. I've gotten myself something better." She smashed his lips against his as they fought each other's tongues.

In a couple of seconds, she was already straddling him in the ground. She began lowering the zipper that was hidden in her back, revealing her bare shoulders and the sports-like bra that held her bountiful breasts back.

"You can keep the mask for now, Spider." She then let out a confident grin, "And in case it's not clear enough, I consent."

Spider-Man cleared his throat and nodded.

… I'm in big trouble…

---

June 2nd - 2017

Several months had passed since Peter and Felicia first began engaging in physical interactions. These encounters had been sparked by Peter's last intervention, preventing her from stealing the meteorite. What had started as their little escapades had evolved into something far more intense.

In her dimly lit bedroom, the air was thick with desire and their bodies were slick with light sweat. Peter and Felicia were entwined with the sheets covering their bodies halfway, lost in the fervor of their passion. The scent of their mingled breaths hung in the air as Peter's body pressed against the back of hers, the heat radiating between them. His movements were firm and rhythmic, a dance of longing and need. With each thrust, Felicia's body arched in response, her torso supported by the strength of her elbows.

As their bodies moved as one, Peter's face drew close to hers, their cheeks brushing against each other. Felicia turned her head slightly, her heart racing as the electricity of their connection surged through her. Her gaze locked onto Peter's, a mix of passion and hunger in her eyes while her left hand found its way to the back of his hair, fingers tangling in the soft and slightly sweaty strands. Their lips met in a searing kiss with their tongues clashing in a fervent dance, a passionate melding of souls that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through them both.

Time seemed to blur as their desire intensified, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sensation of Peter's thrusts and the pressure of his closeness ignited a fire within Felicia that consumed her. Their moans and sighs were a symphony of raw need, filling the room with their shared lust. With each shared heartbeat, they drew closer to the edge, their movements becoming more urgent and desperate.

And then, in a crescendo of ecstasy, their climax arrived. A surge of pleasure engulfed them, their bodies trembling hard as they reached the peak of their desire together. The world around them faded into oblivion as they held onto each other, riding the waves of pleasure until they finally subsided. Breathing heavily, Peter kept her locked under the comfortable weight of his body, basking in the afterglow of their union. He planted soft kisses on the smooth skin of her shoulder and neck, much to her satisfaction.

With a gentle shift, Peter eased himself off Felicia's back, their bodies parting reluctantly. He settled onto his usual side of the bed, his chest rising and falling gradually as he caught his breath. The room was filled with the soft sounds of their ragged breathing.

Turning around, Felicia exhaled deeply and revealed herself to the darkness that enveloped the room. Her bare breasts glistened in the dim light. She moved gracefully, the shadows playing across her skin as she approached Peter.

Resting her head on his shoulder, Felicia let out a contented sigh. Her hand moved over his chest in soothing motions, fingers tracing the contours of his skin. Their bodies, once entwined in frenzied desire, now found solace in each other's presence. The aftermath of their intimate connection was a tender bond that held them close, even in the midst of their recovery.

As they lay side by side, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them cocooned in their intimate moment. Peter's breath gradually steadied, and Felicia's heartbeat echoed his rhythm, their bodies finding harmony once more. The weight of their shared experience lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of the passion they had ignited.

Felicia rested her hand on his pectoral. "So...?"

He used his left fingers to play with her silver hair. "It was good."

"Just good?"

He let out a tiny smile. "It was very, very, very good... Anne."

"You still haven't gotten over that."

"Anne Bonny? You weren't exactly subtle with that."

"Well, I couldn't reveal my name right away." She raised her head off the bed to face him and began caressing his cheek. "I sensed you might spell trouble for me."

Peter rested both his hands on her slim waist. "So did I... Felicia."

She widened her eyes at the mention of her name. "How do you know my name?"

"You talk in your sleep, sometimes referring to yourself in the third person." He added, "It's better than calling you 'Cat' all the time."

"That's not... fair." She pouted. "Won't you tell me your name, then?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Perhaps... not for now."

He smiled. "Of course."

Felicia sighed lightly and then teased, "So, was it all worth it in the end?"

"As in...?"

"I mean... you've often found yourself lying naked next to the sexiest woman in town."

"You mean the sexiest thief in town..."

"Hmm, I'll take it."

He teased back, "Yeah… not my proudest phase, for sure."

She playfully smacked him on the chest. "Yet you've been around for quite some time now."

Peter watched her content expression in silence. "And I still feel like I barely know you."

A fleeting moment of tranquility hung in the air as Felicia gently disentangled herself from Peter's embrace. Her movements were deliberate and graceful as she slid to the edge of the bed, leaving behind the warmth they had shared.. The dim light caressed her naked form, accentuating the curves and contours of her body.

Felicia gathered her hair and secured it with a few of her own locks. "Is that so bad?"

"It's just... different."

"That can be a good thing, why stick with the… old ways?" She glanced over her shoulder toward him and smiled. "I stay out of your... superhero stuff, and you stay out of mine. It's a fair exchange."

Peter teased, "So, you're bribing me?" He checked the nightstand next to his side of the bed and swiped his phone's screen open. There was a text from May, inquiring about how he had been doing.

Felicia replied, "We get mutual benefits." She added, "You could have tried to arrest me before if you wished to."

Peter temporarily ignored the text and refocused his attention on the silver-haired burglar.

With unhurried confidence, Felicia made her way across the room, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath her feet. The night air whispered against her skin as she reached the balcony, where the promise of the hot tub's warmth called to her. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, her skin became a canvas of moon-kissed beauty.

Stepping into the outdoor sanctuary, Felicia's presence was a vision of ethereal sensuality against the backdrop of the night. The hot tub beckoned invitingly, its water shimmering with a soothing allure. She lowered herself into the bubbling warmth, a sigh escaping her lips as the heat enveloped her, soothing away the remnants of their passionate encounter.

Peter's gaze followed her every movement, his eyes tracing the contours of her body as she settled into the hot tub.

"You're right, I could have," he admitted. "I might be a hypocrite after all."

His thoughts formed a silent symphony of admiration and desire, an unspoken acknowledgment of the profound connection they had just shared. The sight of Felicia's naked form beneath the moonlight served as a poignant reminder of the intimacy they had experienced.

"Maybe, but it's hard to compare me to your usual enemies," she added, her voice inviting.

As Felicia's body relaxed in the embrace of the hot tub's comforting waters, she leaned back, her gaze drifting upward to the night sky.

Peter left the bed and joined her in the hot tub, positioning himself on the opposite side so that he could face her. The warmth of the water was a soothing balm against his skin. This intimate space felt like a sanctuary, a haven where their connection could deepen even further. The water around them rippled gently, mirroring the currents of their desires.

He teased, "Let me guess, because of your looks?"

"That and because I don't usually steal from those who don't deserve to be stolen from."

"I suppose you would be my very own Maid Marian..."

She smirked. "Take that meteorite, for example... most people aren't aware that Fisk had a foreign private military group extract it for him."

"Wouldn't you have sold it to someone just as bad as Fisk?"

She tilted her head playfully. "Who says I wouldn't hang it in my living room?"

"Yeah, right. Anyways, you're not fooling me ever again."

Felicia grinned and rested her head against the edge of the hot tub while hiding her chest under the warm water, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "I love when you're this confident."

Peter watched her rest for a moment before turning his gaze toward the city. "You know, I've always wondered why you enjoy doing what you usually do."

Her eyes remained shut. "I've told you before, I love the thrill."

"That… can't be the only reason," he mused. "I mean, you're so skilled, smart... you could do anything else."

With a soft smile, Felicia turned her gaze toward him, her eyes aglow with an unspoken invitation. The air was charged with anticipation as she approached him, the water shifting around her graceful movements.

"You're asking a lot of questions tonight, Spider."

As Felicia nestled herself against Peter, their bodies found a perfect fit within the confines of the hot tub. Her head found a resting place on his shoulder, their breaths mingling in the close space.

"I usually don't."

"Fair enough." She traced the tip of her finger along the old scars on his chest. "I wish I could give you a more elaborate answer, but I just like what I have right now and what I can do, and that's enough for me. I also get to have you on my tail, so that's another plus."

"Okay..."

She sensed a tinge of disappointment in his voice. "Doesn't my answer satisfy you?"

The water gently lapped against their skin. The moonlight bathed them in a soft glow, casting shadows that danced across their intertwined bodies.

He responded calmly, "Don't worry about it."

She cupped his cheek. "Don't you like what we have? Should things change between us?"

Peter fell silent. In the tender hush of the night, their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. The weight of their desires hung in the air, a magnetic pull drawing them closer together. Without a word, their lips met in a kiss.

Their mouths melded in a slow, sensual dance. Time seemed to lose its grip as they surrendered to the sweetness of the moment, their kiss deepening with every heartbeat.

As their lips parted, a delicate string of breath lingered between them, a testament to the intimacy they had shared. Their eyes met once more.

Peter began delicately, "I guess not."

With their foreheads touching, their breaths mingled in the cool night air. "Good. I never imagined I would get to meet you out of all the people in that first heist of mine you managed to fumble."

"I still don't know how you found that place."

"I had some leads, the rest was pure guessing on my part. As I said, it was an anonymous contract, the guy never contacted me again." She narrowed her eyes slightly, "Where did you move the thingy?"

He smiled. "As if I would tell you."

Felicia rested the back of her head against his shoulder. "Fair enough, at this point I won't get paid anyway." She questioned further, "What's that stuff even about, though?"

"Another part of my father's legacy… beyond that, I'm not so sure." He sighed. "Still lots of testing to go."

"Hmm… I see." She spotted the purple stains on his arms, scars from previous battles. "Those guys are really trying to put you down, uh?"

Peter inhaled deeply. "They are all scheming together lately… forming their own little band to catch me, but they don't know that they are just making it easier for me."

"You sound really confident now."

Peter remained in silence, recalling his discoveries in the last couple of weeks.

Felicia noticed his silence and raised her chin so that she could look at him, before taking his left arm and draping across her chest. "Well, I certainly won't let them hurt my Spider."

---

September 22th - 2017

A year later…

Felicia Hardy stood with casual confidence, her form draped in a sleek leather jacket, as she leaned against the entrance to the Lutheran Cemetery in Queens. The sun was on the cusp of setting, casting a warm, golden hue over the surroundings. A sense of anticipation hung in the air as she patiently awaited the arrival of someone somewhat close to her.

Amidst the fading daylight, her phone suddenly vibrated, pulling her attention away from the tranquil scene. Swiftly, she retrieved the device from her pocket, the screen illuminating her face with a soft glow. The notification revealed itself as a text message from a trusted source. The words on the screen delivered a significant message - the person she had been keeping an eye out for had been spotted in Europe. Felicia took a deep breath, fully cognizant that the development might necessitate her departure from the country.

A rumble of engines announced the approach of a bus, drawing her gaze from her phone. The vehicle hissed to a halt before her, and as the doors swung open, her heart skipped a beat. Emerging from the bus was Peter Parker, a slight limp evident in his step. He descended the steps carefully, a faint smile gracing his lips as he recognized Felicia. Their eyes met, and he paused in front of her.

His smile persisted, though tinged with a touch of weariness, as he spoke. "Didn't expect to see you here," he admitted with a weak chuckle.

Felicia's lips curved into a playful smile of her own. "Well, when you refuse to stay put and rest, someone's got to make sure you don't overexert yourself," she retorted, her tone lighthearted yet sincere.

A hint of amusement danced in Peter's eyes, gratitude evident in his expression. He bore the remnants of their recent battles on his face - the dark marks that bore witness to their final confrontation against the press had been named as the Sinister Six. The weight of their shared experiences hung unspoken between them, a testament to the trials they had endured side by side.

Peter said, "I'll get to rest when my time is up." He added, "I just felt like coming here. I wanted to see someone."

"Okay, I… I get that."

As they stepped further into the cemetery, the gentle rustling of leaves brushed by the wind provided a soft backdrop to their conversation. Felicia maintained her hold on Peter's arm, their strides calm and synchronized. She looked at him, her eyes filled with genuine concern, and posed the question that had been on her mind. "How have you been feeling lately?" she inquired, her voice carrying a blend of care and curiosity.

Peter exhaled slowly, his gaze momentarily fixed on the path before them. "I've definitely felt better," he admitted, his tone tinged with a touch of wry humor. He turned to her, his expression softening. "What you did for me, Felicia… it saved my life."

She nodded, her lips curling into a faint smile. The unspoken depth of their connection resonated between them, the shared history of their encounters interwoven with the present.

However, Peter's attention was diverted as a familiar figure caught his eye, walking down the path to their right and heading in their direction. He came to an abrupt halt, his throat clearing involuntarily. It was Helen Stacy. Though he had not interacted much with Gwen's mother after her tragic passing, her presence still held a weight of memories and emotions he struggled to navigate.

Helen noticed Peter's momentary stillness and called out to him, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and warmth. She closed the distance between them, approaching with an open smile that didn't quite mask her concern.

Helen offered a brief hug to Peter, her touch gentle yet laden with unspoken understanding.

Greetings were exchanged, and introductions were made for Felicia's benefit. He spoke, "This is Felicia… a friend of mine."

Helen shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Felicia." She spoke sincerely, "Your hair is very pretty."

Felicia gave her a friendly nod. "Nice to meet you too, and thank you."

Her gaze shifted to his face, and her brow furrowed as she took in the marks and bruises that marred his features. "What happened to you, Peter?" she inquired, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and maternal worry.

Peter's response was swift, a practiced excuse offered with a somewhat forced casualness. "Oh, I uh, fell from a friend's window. We were trying to paint the outside of the house." He cleared his throat, the lie hanging heavy in the air between them.

She nodded, her unresolved concern held back. Leaning in closer, her words carried genuine affection for Peter. "May mentioned she's worried about you. She hasn't seen much of you lately."

Peter's expression softened, gratitude and guilt battling within him. "There's just so much going on right now, and I don't want to drag her along," he admitted, exhaustion evident in his tone. "But I'll figure it out."

Helen's unspoken offer of help hung in the air. She mustered a small, understanding smile. "Well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

"Thank you, Helen," he added. "I hope you've been well."

She inhaled deeply. "… as best as one could, considering… you know."

"I know."

She paused for a brief moment. "Are you here to see Gwen too?"

Peter's pause brimmed with unspoken emotions. He looked down briefly before meeting her gaze once more, finally offering a quiet affirmation. "Yes."

Helen's understanding nod carried the weight of unspoken empathy as she assured Peter that her door was open whenever he felt the need to reach out. He reciprocated her nod, gratitude evident in the sincere curve of his lips. Her hand found his shoulder in a gentle, supportive gesture—a fleeting touch that conveyed more than words could. With a tender smile, she left them to their thoughts, her figure gradually receding into the backdrop of the cemetery.

Peter stood there for a moment, his gaze directed downward as he wrestled with the emotions stirred by their conversation. Felicia's voice cut through the silence, breaking his reverie. "You okay?" she inquired softly, her concern a soothing undercurrent to her words.

His reply was measured but resolute. "Yeah, I am." With that, he set himself in motion, though this time, his steps led him in the opposite direction, away from the initially intended path to Gwen's grave. Felicia's hand found his arm once again as they walked side by side.

Peter chose to break the silence that hung between them, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken memories. "Gwen... she was my girlfriend."

Felicia's surprise was palpable, her features momentarily caught in a flicker of astonishment before settling into a deeper understanding. She responded with a gentle nod, her eyes reflecting her newfound perspective on Peter. "I'm really sorry," she offered sincerely.

Peter's reply came with a mix of acceptance and grace. "It's okay," he assured her, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

Felicia refrained from asking any questions. It had been so long since she had to deal with a situation like the one she found herself in.

Time seemed to stretch as they continued their journey through the cemetery. Eventually, they arrived at Uncle Ben's grave. Peter came to a stop before the weathered headstone, crouching down with a low, pained grunt that betrayed the lingering soreness from his recent battles.

His fingers traced the contours of the gravestone with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. With determined resolve, he tended to the overgrown grass that had reached the base of the marker, his hands gently clearing the growth aside. A hushed moment of silence passed, the weight of his memories palpable in the air. He looked at the inscription on the stone.

Finally, he settled, his hands resting atop the gravestone in a gesture of quiet connection. Felicia stood by his side, a silent but steadfast presence in this vulnerable moment. The fading light of the setting sun cast long shadows over the area, a fitting backdrop to the mixture of grief and strength that defined Peter's relationship with the man who had instilled in him the values that guided his life.

He whispered, "It's over… I stopped them for good." He inhaled deeply. "I… I miss you, a lot."

In this tranquil yet poignant moment, Felicia's hand found Peter's back in a gesture of support, wordlessly acknowledging the complexity of his emotions.

Peter's gaze shifted slightly, his eyes glancing over his shoulder at the grave he had just tended to. In concise words, he shared with Felicia the significance of the resting place. "That's my Uncle Ben. He's the reason the Spider-Man you like so much exists."

Felicia's gaze turned thoughtful as she considered his words. "He must have been a great man," she offered softly, her voice carrying a mixture of respect and curiosity.

Peter nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He was the best." With a fluid motion, he rose from his crouched position.

Felicia's question disrupted the silence, gentle yet probing. "Don't you want to… check on Gwen too?"

Peter paused, his gaze dropping slightly as he weighed his response. "I will. Just… not today," he finally answered, his tone a quiet reflection of the complex emotions he held for his late girlfriend.

Felicia sensed his need for space, her understanding evident in the nod she offered. As they continued walking, the transition from a heavy topic to a more lighthearted conversation felt natural.

Peter took the initiative, asking about Felicia's well-being. "What about you? Have you been alright?"

"I have, yes," she responded positively, a momentary pause preceding her change of subject. "Listen, I… um, I need to talk to you about something personal. It's probably important that you know."

The air held a sense of anticipation. Peter cleared his throat. "Oh… okay? Sure."

Felicia tilted her head slightly in suspicion and later let out a tiny smile. "No, it's not what you just thought it is."

Peter exhaled deeply. "I said nothing."

"Okay, Spider," she added, "It's just that something came up… something that will make me be away for a while."

Peter's curiosity surfaced. "How long?"

Her answer held a hint of uncertainty. "It might take a while. Months, perhaps longer."

Suspicion flickered in Peter's eyes, concern for her well-being mingling with the instinct to protect. He asked if she could at least tell him where she was headed.

Her response was measured but firm. "I'd rather not get you involved, Peter. I just wanted to let you know about it so that you understand… the best you can right now."

He sighed, a mixture of understanding and frustration playing across his features. With a nod, he conceded, "Okay, if that's what you want."

A teasing note entered her voice as she lightened the mood, a playful smirk touching her lips. "Sounds like we're breaking up, doesn't it?"

Peter caught the playful tone. "Can we even break up to begin with?"

Her response was quick, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of candor and vulnerability. "I don't think we were ever a proper couple, were we?"

A chuckle escaped Peter's lips, the tension easing as they navigated the complexities of their connection. "No, I guess not. We were… different, right?"

The mood shifted again as Felicia's expression turned more serious. She met his gaze directly, her words sincere. "Peter, I… I don't think I'm ready to fulfill whatever expectations you might possibly have about us or even about me, but I want you to know that I've enjoyed the moments we've spent together."

In the midst of the fading sunlight and the quiet presence of the cemetery, their unspoken understanding deepened further. Peter's gratitude for her honesty was evident as he met her gaze.

"I guess I've enjoyed them too, Felicia."

"You guess?"

He smiled weakly. "I'm just teasing you." He added, "You haven't stopped with the jokes after you found out that you're a year older than me."

"With experience comes knowledge." Felicia earned another smile from him. She watched his expression for a moment. "It's nice to see this version of you."

"Meaning…?"

"At ease."

He nodded slowly. "Those moments are hard to come by."

Felicia nodded back and hugged him. She rested her head on his shoulder. They stood locked in the embrace for a short moment. She said, "Take care of yourself while I'm gone."

"I'll do my best." He added, "Don't get in trouble yourself."

She smiled. "No promises."

"I don't suppose you'll stop changing your phone number this time."

"I wish, but… erasing my traces is an important thing to do in my line of work."

He let out a brief and amused chuckle. "Yeah, I can only imagine."

As Peter and Felicia held each other, the distant wail of sirens punctuated the air from outside the cemetery grounds. Both of them turned their attention in the direction of the sound, exchanging a knowing look. Felicia gave him a nod.

"See you around, Cat." He planted a kiss on her cheek and began heading toward the nearby secondary path, a shortcut that led to one of the cemetery's smaller entrances.

Left alone near Ben's resting area, Felicia's gaze shifted toward the headstone. The quiet weight of the moment settled over her as she stood there, silently contemplating the presence of a life once lived. In the midst of her thoughts, the presence of another figure registered at the edge of her awareness.

Before she could react, May Parker stood before her, a warm smile gracing her lips. "Hello there," May greeted in a friendly tone, holding a couple of flowers in her hands. "I'm May."

Felicia returned the smile, offering a polite nod. "I'm Felicia."

May's gaze flickered toward the gravestone, and a note of curiosity entered her voice. "Did you know Ben?"

Felicia shook her head gently. "No, I was here with his nephew, but he… had to leave suddenly."

May's chuckle was soft but knowing. "Sounds like Peter." She lowered the flowers against the gravestone.

Felicia's eyes widened slightly in realization; she had been conversing with Peter's aunt without knowing. May's presence was warm and welcoming, and Felicia decided to engage in the conversation. "He's a good guy," she said with a slight smile.

May's smile held a mix of amusement and appreciation. "Yes, he is." There was a pause before May asked, her tone gentle but inquisitive, "I don't suppose you're just a 'friend' of his, though?"

Felicia's response was candid and tinged with a touch of humor. "Um, not exactly. It's a bit complicated."

May's chuckle was understanding. "Complicated seems to be the norm in our family, but I'm happy he has someone else to talk to." she said, a trace of fondness coloring her words. "Does he ever listen to you?"

"Sometimes, rarely… it depends on his mood. It can change a lot."

May smiled. "Well, if you can convince him to go back to college, it would be great. I just don't want him working for that… rude Jameson guy forever."

"I'll… try, of course. He can be a bit too focused on his… work, yes." Felicia's expression softened, her respect for May deepening with each passing moment. "But he does deserve the best," she replied sincerely.

May's gaze shifted back to the gravestone, her fingers tracing the carved letters on its surface. "We all do," she mused, her voice carrying a note of reflection.

In the quiet presence of Uncle Ben's memory, May and Felicia shared a moment of understanding. The fading light of the day cast a gentle glow over the scene, a reminder of the shared threads that bound their lives together, even in the midst of uncertainty and complexity.

---

October 14th - 2019

Present time…

Under the shroud of night, Spider-Man propelled himself through the city, his lithe form gracefully navigating the urban landscape. The Brooklyn Bridge loomed ahead, a symbol of memories etched in his heart. It was here, amidst the steel and cables, that the last flicker of unadulterated happiness with Gwen had ignited before fate had cruelly snatched her away. Such a bridge had borne witness to their profound promises of an eternity entwined together.

And now, Spider-Man's purposeful course led him once more towards the emblematic structure, bathed in the soft glow of the moon.

Nobody knows I come here at times. Not even Aunt May. I don't make a big deal out of it. I come here to remember you, Gwen, the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. There are still seconds after I wake up that I still think that I will.

As he swung towards his destination, a fragment of his consciousness stirred, reminding him that his birthday was on the horizon. Oddly enough, there were moments when this impending occasion slipped from his thoughts. Yet, as peculiar as that seemed, it was eclipsed by the compulsion he felt to return to the site that had, at times, kindled warmth within his heart.

But the reality is that you would only get to spend the rest of your life with me. I've accepted the fact that there's nothing I can do about that. Everyone has told me to move on, to not dwell on the past; it's what you would have wanted as well, but… why would I try to forget you?

With a fluid descent, Spider-Man alighted upon the bridge's pinnacle, his athletic form coiling and then easing as he came to a poised standstill. From within the folds of his suit, he withdrew a single rose, its petals a deep crimson in the muted moonlight. Tenderly, he placed the bloom within the structure of the bridge, a silent offering to the memories that lingered like wisps in the night air.

The way your hair would fall across your face. How you often had entire conversations in your sleep.

His gaze wandered, capturing the abandoned Oscorp Power Station with its imposing clock tower. That very place had borne witness to the irrevocable loss of Gwen. His heart clenched as he cast his eyes upon it, vivid recollections playing out in his mind like an enduring reel. The sight held a haunting beauty, a monument to both the joy and the sorrow that had marked his existence.

"I'm sorry I haven't appeared more often. A lot has happened lately. It's funny how sometimes I still see you, but I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me." He sighed. "Your brother isn't too fond of me either, but I understand why. The truth is that I brought a lot of pain to your family; it's my fault and no one else's."

He sat at the edge of the bridge next to the rose. "I had more than one chance to keep you away, safe. Yet, I wasn't strong enough. You wanted to be with me, and I also wanted to be with you, and now you're gone."

Peter took off his mask and held it in his hands. The strong wind brushed against his hair. "This truth can be a lot to deal with sometimes. I felt like poison to those close to me. There were moments when I was picking battles left and right, my punches became harder, I needed some release. I was wishing for someone physically stronger than me to just… come out and face me. I almost didn't make it this one time."

He rubbed his jaw for a brief moment and looked at his distorted reflection in the lenses of his mask. "It's difficult, but I think… I'm changing my mind on that at least. Lately, there have been some people I've started caring a lot more about, I… I need them, and they might need me. I need to do better."

He inhaled deeply. "At least I hope that's all true… I hope I'm being honest with myself." He lowered his mask down his face again. "Regardless, I love you, Gwen. I won't ever be able to live with you the life we had pictured for ourselves, but you'll always be on my mind, always."

Summoning resolve, Spider-Man stood up, took another glance over the city, aware that he should go to his next stop in the night. He departed from his vantage point, a gravity-defying leap propelling him into motion once more. His lithe form swung away, suspended by the slender threads he cast into the night. As he moved through the air, a gust of wind, like a cosmic breath, carried the crimson rose from its perch. The delicate petals fluttered downward, eventually making their tender descent upon the tranquil waters below, a poignant echo of emotions cascading in the night.

And so, Spider-Man's journey continued, a solitary figure traversing the urban expanse with the weight of memories etched into his very being. The Brooklyn Bridge, once a beacon of shared dreams, faded into the distance behind him, its significance ever imprinted upon his soul.

---

About an hour later…

The abandoned warehouse district stood as a forsaken graveyard of industry, its skeletal structures looming like ghosts against the night sky. Spider-Man navigated the dark alleys, his spider-sense tingling with each step. The alliance with Prowler had been an unusual one, but he needed all the help he could get.

"We're almost there," Prowler's voice echoed, guiding Spider-Man through the labyrinthine paths of rusty fire escapes and forgotten crates.

Spider-Man's senses sharpened as they entered a cavernous warehouse, the dim light casting long, foreboding shadows across the floor. Joseph, the enigmatic leader of the Maggia, stood at the far end, a faint silhouette against the murky backdrop. Tension hung in the air like a storm ready to break.

"Spider-Man, I'm glad you could join us," Joseph's voice was smooth, betraying none of the chaos his organization was known for.

"What's this, Prowler?" Spider-Man looked over his shoulder and realized the Prowler had disappeared without a trace.

Joseph spoke, "Prowler had no choice but to lead you to me. I assure you it's not what he would have wanted, but you must imagine how family bonds can be powerful leverage over someone." He added, "I just want to have a mere conversation."

Spider-Man folded his arms, maintaining a cautious distance. He retorted, "A conversation? You've got a strange way of sending invitations,"

Joseph raised his hands in placation. "I apologize for the deception, but I assure you, we have no quarrel with you in particular, despite the annoyance you've been causing lately."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you will, but there are things you don't know," Joseph replied calmly, his gaze unyielding. "I wanted to clear the air so that you perhaps understand what's going on."

"Cease your experiments, turn over all the Oscorp gear you have, and give me Hobgoblin, and we might start a conversation."

"Hobgoblin, uh? Interesting name. He can get carried away at times." Joseph rubbed his jaw. "But you know that none of that is really feasible."

"I didn't even start with Gordon. I know you're involved with what happened to him."

"I understand that there's a lot you want to know. You're here now, you'll get some of what you want."

"Funny way of saying this is a trap."

Joseph nodded solemnly. "Once again, I genuinely want to discuss matters with you."

"Discuss what exactly?"

Joseph's expression darkened. "I can tell you what you might want to hear, and we can agree to something of a truce. In fact, what I have planned for the near future might even be to your liking."

Spider-Man shot right away, "What's the deal with Oscorp? For how long has this been going on?"

"Gustav Fiers."

Spider-Man's eyes widened beneath his mask. Fiers – a missing piece of the puzzle. Connors had mentioned him years ago, a scientist turned rogue.

"I… I might have heard something about him."

"He was an old-timer Oscorp scientist who was dismissed for his experiments." Joseph added, "You might be aware that Norman was dying, desperate. Fiers knew us, and a deal was brokered out."

"Bio-weapons."

"I wouldn't put it like that, but we would get them the volunteers they needed but could not get on official channels."

Spider-Man's fists clenched, the web-shooters at the ready. The interweaving web of deception, Oscorp's insidious dealings, and Maggia's involvement – it was all too much.

Joseph said, "A person close to the project learned of this and went out of his way to stop it."

"Richard…" Spider-Man's voice was edged with anger.

Joseph was surprised at first. "You are aware of him, interesting." He continued, "Yes, Richard ended it all. It was over. We didn't have much left, and Captain Stacy made sure to keep it that way, such a resilient man I must admit."

The pieces finally aligned – a storm that had battered them all.

He continued, "Norman's death left Fiers in charge, obsessed with bringing him back. He came up with that whole… mercenary group to get you."

"So you do know what happened to those that tried to stop me before."

"No serious person underestimates you, Spider-Man." He added, "That's exactly why Fiers needed the help. You were far too important for him to just start a losing fight for you."

"That seems to be a recurring theme."

"Of course, you're the only successful case of the cross-species research."

Spider-Man was surprised at the man's knowledge of the project that nearly gave Norman what he wanted. He paused for a brief moment and asked, "Where did he escape to?"

"He wanted my help, mentioned how he had connections to Fisk, and so I killed him."

"Okay… that's unexpected."

"He already had collected too many failures, I didn't want to be part of another one." Joseph rubbed the old gunshot scar on his forehead, "I finally decided to take over from him."

"And for what….? What's the point of all of this?"

"There's quite a lot you still don't know about, Spider-Man." Joseph clenched his fists. "Still, there's something I'm inclined to offer you in order to make amends."

"You already know what I want. This isn't enough."

"Those demands are not.. feasible." He added, "But if you listen to what I-"

"No, I'm not getting you a get-out-of-jail-free card. There's nothing you can offer me that will change that."

Joseph silenced. "Well… that would be a shame then."

"Enough talk."

Spider-Man prepared to leap forward. The ground then trembled beneath his feet. Sand spilled from the surrounding piles of debris, coalescing into a towering humanoid figure.

Spider-Man's muscles tensed as a humanoid figure made of sand held his wrist like a vice. He struggled against the sand-like restraints, his heart pounding.

"Easy there," Flint's gravelly voice rumbled.

Spider-Man immediately turned around to face the man. "What in the…."

"I can't let you leave, I'm sorry."

The tension hung thick in the air as Spider-Man squared off against Sandman. The eerie warehouse seemed to pulse with malevolence, shadows dancing like specters around them. Sandman remained in his humanoid form, his sandy body twitching and contorting as Spider-Man's fists connected with brutal force. The gritty foe recoiled with each punch, his form deforming and reforming, but he felt every blow, visible in his contorted expressions.

Spider-Man's agility and combat skills came to the forefront. He somersaulted over Sandman's lunge, narrowly avoiding a devastating punch that smashed a stack of crates into splinters. The fight was brutal, and Spider-Man couldn't evade every attack. He felt Sandman's fists connect with his ribs, the blows leaving painful bruises beneath his suit.

As Spider-Man fought to regain his footing, Sandman seized the opportunity. He lunged forward, fists clenched like battering rams. Spider-Man's spider-sense screamed in warning, but he was too slow to react. Sandman's massive fist slammed into his side, sending him crashing into a pile of crates. Wood splintered and dust filled the air as Spider-Man groaned in pain.

Determination surged through him as he pushed himself up, refusing to give in. Sandman advanced, his sandy fists descending like sledgehammers. Spider-Man rolled aside just in time, narrowly avoiding being turned into a pulp.

Sandman, relentless, surged forward, expanding his sandy body to form a colossal fist that descended upon Spider-Man. With superhuman reflexes, Spider-Man webbed onto a nearby beam, swinging himself clear of the devastating strike.

In a burst of acrobatics, Spider-Man swiftly swung forward and landed a powerful kick to Sandman's chest, sending him staggering backward. Sandman's sandy form quivered.

With a final, mighty strike, Spider-Man delivered an uppercut, sending Sandman hurtling backward. The warehouse's back wall shattered as Sandman's back smashed against it.

Spider-Man shot a webline from each wrist toward the wall behind Flint and spoke, "You had a choice, and you chose wrong." He slingshot himself towards Flint, sending him through the wall and into the sea, his body disintegrating into grains of sand as he vanished into the inky waters beyond.

Spider-Man landed back on the warehouse and stood, chest heaving, victory tinged with exhaustion. But his moment of respite was brief. As he turned to confront Joseph, the warehouse was swallowed by a sinister green mist, obscuring his surroundings.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Spider-Man found himself in an entirely different place—a quaint, warmly lit living room with none of the previous mist that had overwhelmed him. The air smelled of freshly baked cookies and memories. His eyes widened in disbelief as he beheld the impossible sight before him.

There, seated on a rug, was Gwen. Her smile was as radiant as he remembered, her golden hair falling on her shoulders, and she was next to a child who shared her hair color, his innocent laughter filling the air as they played a cardboard game. Helen and May stood at the entrance of the kitchen, talking to each other and sharing smiles. Philip stood on the ladder, seemingly changing the light bulb in the kitchen's ceiling.

"Gwen?" Spider-Man whispered, his voice trembling with hope and confusion. His heart ached as he approached, the rug feeling real beneath his fingertips.

Gwen looked up, her eyes filled with love and warmth. "Peter," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "You're finally home."

The child looked up from their game, his face mirroring Gwen's affectionate smile. Spider-Man's mind raced, his emotions warring within him.

She added, "Richie has beaten me too many times in this game. It's your turn now."

As he reached out to touch Gwen's hand, a sense of comfort enveloped him as he felt the warmth of her touch. He crouched next to them and looked at the child.

Richie gave him the warmest possible smile. "Hi, daddy."

Spider-Man watched his facial features. Aside from the golden hair, he pretty much looked how he did in the many childhood photos that May kept of him. Peter focused on his lover once again, and before his eyes, Gwen's image wavered and shattered like glass, the child fading into nothingness. The house around him crumbled into ruins, and Spider-Man stood alone in the darkness.

Spider-Man's heart swelled with mixed emotions at the sight of Gwen. Gradually, he felt a presence lurking behind him, a chilling sensation that crept up his spine. Without warning, a hand fell upon his forehead, cold and uninviting. A sharp, searing pain erupted in his chest, as if a hot poker had been thrust through his ribs. He gasped, staggered, and instinctively glanced downward, discovering another hand holding the wicked dagger buried deep where his heart was.

A sinister chuckle escaped from the shadows as Spider-Man's vision blurred and his strength waned. He fought to stay upright, desperately trying to focus on the figure that had attacked him.

The mysterious presence, cloaked in an enigmatic dome, black suit, and slim opaque helmet glistening malevolently, stepped forth, holding the hilt of the dagger impaling Spider-Man. "My, my, Spider-Man," His eerie voice echoed inside his helmet, "I wonder what sight got you paralyzed."

Spider-Man's breaths grew shallow, the pain unbearable as he clung to consciousness, his senses reeling from the shock of the attack. The presence's gloved hand remained firm on his head, preventing him from falling.

With a cruel smile hidden behind the swirling mist within his helmet, the man leaned in closer. "The show is just beginning, Spider-Man."

---

A/N: Hello, everyone. As mentioned previously, I've decided to incorporate a flashback chapter that delves into Felicia's past with Peter. I understand that this may not significantly advance the main storyline, but I believe it's crucial to portray the early stages of their relationship, as it will play a pivotal role in the overall narrative. In addition, exploring these early dynamics, especially within the context of a movie-inspired setting, is what I think to be a relatively unexplored territory that I wanted to bring to the table, adding a fresh perspective to the story.

Moreover, we've now transitioned into the latter half of the narrative. I've already outlined the scenes for the next chapter. I anticipate that events will unfold rapidly from this point onward. Once the storyline gains momentum, unless I deliberately slow things down for a specific purpose, we should reach the conclusion rather swiftly.

I'd also like to address another aspect of the story: there will be moments of a more explicit nature. I want to make it clear that I'm not shying away from these scenes. I believe they serve to deepen the emotional connection between the characters. While such content isn't essential to convey the story's message, it aligns with my writing style, and I feel comfortable exploring these mature themes. I also like writing these, and I always strive to handle these scenes tastefully.

I want to express my gratitude to everyone who commented on the last chapter. Reading your thoughts is truly a source of joy for me, and it often helps reignite my creativity when I feel stuck. Thank you so much!

I won't make any promises regarding the next update as I have many commitments and writing, although enjoyable, can be demanding. The release of Marvel's Spider-Man 2 this October will certainly capture my attention for a while. My goal is to publish another substantial chapter before the end of the year, and if time permits, I may even squeeze in a smaller one. I've also been delving into more Spider-Man comics lately, which usually provides me with an extra boost of inspiration. We'll see how it goes.

What I can say is that, according to my notes, the next chapter might become my favorite one so far, and I'm eagerly looking forward to starting the writing process. Halloween?! As usual, I'll provide story updates on my profile (AO3). I typically update every 1 to 2 weeks, though occasionally, it might take longer.

Regardless, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this update.