Webs We Weave



Chapter Twenty-Two

DISCLAIMER :: This tale blends together aspects of Peter Parker/Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy/Ghost Spider/Spider-Gwen from Marvel Comics, Marvel Television, and Marvel Studios. Fanfiction? Sort of. The world and characters are mine, but they may seem familiar.

Author's note: Ufda...

The morning of the 25th was a day I’ll never forget.

It began like any other A-Day would have. I did my morning business and jumped in the shower. I dried my hair and pinned it up in a bun with a towel wrapped around me. After brushing my teeth, it was back to my room to get dressed. I pulled on my underwear, tights, and leotard before packing a sports bra into my dance bag. The cuff of the tights was rolled up so I could put on socks and my tennis shoes. My warmups went on over everything and various things for the school day went into my dance bag.

As I was packing, the most intense tingling sensation I’d felt up to that point ran up my spine and coalesced in my cranium. My hands flew to the sides of my head. It was as if thousands of pipe organs hit the same chord at the same time, yet I didn’t hear a sound.

Having learned to trust the sensations, I ran out of my room and down the stairs. I made no effort whatsoever to hide my powers. I bounded off one wall and then the next, getting downstairs as quickly as possible. When I reached the main floor, I did a little flip, landed on the hard wood, and ran for Maven’s office. I burst through the door and scared her. She had been peacefully looking over some paperwork before I’d come in.

“Saoirse! What the devil has gotten into you, girl!?” She protested.

“Something really big is about to happen!” I practically screamed a whisper.

As if cued by a Hollywood director, the front doors burst open and several heavily-geared individuals forced their way into the shelter. Their assault rifles were pointed at us and they shouted a rhythmic command but out of sync with one another that made it sound incoherent to my ears.

Before I could think of doing anything, Maven grabbed my wrist. We exchanged a quick glance. Every part of my body wanted to do something about these masked men with dark sunglasses that had just violated the sanctity of a shelter for teenagers. She didn’t say a word to me. She just shook her head. She didn’t want me to do anything.

With a great deal of apprehension, I decided to comply. I turned to the men flooding into the room. Looking at each one, I began to notice a pattern. They were all dressed like soldiers ready for war. The patches on the front of their tactical vests read:
Police, ERO.
Police, ICE.
Police, HSI.
Police, CBP.
FBI.

The blood drained from my face. We were being raided.

For months, the raids had felt like background noise. They were something happening elsewhere. Tragic, yes, but distant. They had escalated in Los Angeles, which sparked the protests. Nobody was saying much about what was happening in New York. Maven had known they were nearby, maybe doing a stakeout for over a month. They could have been out there since before “the event”, even.

Violently derailing my train of thought, one of the men grabbed me and slammed me to the ground. Three men joined him on top of me as he yelled “Stop resisting!” repeatedly. Within seconds, I had a plastic zip tie around my wrists and was dragged to the far wall away from Maven. They shoved me against the wall and began aggressively patting me down. I’d never felt so violated in my life.

The tingling sensation kept zipping up and down my spine through the entire event. Screams erupted from deeper in the building. Most everybody was in the cafeteria having breakfast. They caught Jefa coming out of her room, ready for school. Everyone was in zip ties being forced into the office area. Maven began to raise her voice.

“What on Earth is the meaning of this?! Do you have a warrant, gentlemen?!” She yelled.

None of the men answered her for a few minutes. Finally, one guy with a beer gut wearing a green hoodie, blue jeans, and a baseball cap entered the building. He was the one who actually answered Maven.

“We have a warrant, ma’am.” He reached into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie. “This administrative warrant gives ICE full authority to search these premises and detain any undocumented subjects unlawfully present in the United States.”

“That is not a valid judicial warrant. You do not have permission to enter the private spaces of this building.”

“The Protected Areas policy was killed in January, lady. Shelters aren't safe zones anymore. And federal supremacy overrides your local sanctuary theater. We have targets inside this facility, and they are bypassing the local courts. You interfere with a DHS operation, and you’ll be tracking a federal obstruction charge by noon.” He turned back to the men dressed in full tactical gear. “Filter them out, boys. Separate the matches.”

Maven began to round her desk and object. “You do not have the right—”

Three assault rifles pointed at her. The man in the ballcap slowly turned around to her.

“Are you trying to obstruct federal agents in the execution of their duties, ma’am?” His smirk was positively Luciferian.

Maven went quiet, but I’d never seen a scowl so intense on her face.

The man in the ballcap turned around again. He pointed at some of us. “That one… that one… that one… and the fruity one goes, too.”

Jefa, Chispa, Lowkey, and Peach were escorted out the front doors. I started to squirm against my captors, tears starting to pour out of my eyes. Maven’s eyes locked on me. Once again, she shook her head. My eyes pleaded with her, but she remained firm. The men holding me shoved me back against the bookcase and shouted “Stop resisting!” one more time. Sobs engulfed me as I watched my friends disappear out the front door.

As they were leaving, the guy in the green hoodie pointed at Matcha. “Hey, where you from, boy?”

“Yo mama’s house last night, boy. You best be gettin’ that finger out ma face a-fo’ I bite it off, cuz.” Matcha snapped.

“Makai! Not the time!” Maven scolded him.

The two agents immediately responded. One blasted him in the face with pepper spray. As he doubled over screaming, another fired a Taser into his chest.

“Stop this! He is a child!” Maven objected.

“Subject is compliant,” one of them said flatly.

They stepped over him as they made their way out of the building. No one removed the zip ties from mine or Matcha’s wrists. Matcha was left writhing on the ground. Maven rushed to close the main doors before trying to help him.

In a fit of rage, I pulled my arms apart and ripped off the zip ties like they were nothing. “Why did you stop me?! I could have done something! Jefa, Chispa, Lowkey, and Peach would still be here if you’d have just let me do my thing!”

“Not the time, Saoirse. Please fetch some water and a cloth so we can rinse the irritants out of Makai’s eyes,” Maven requested.

Almost stomping my feet, I complied. I stated while walking, “Capsaicin is an alkaloid! Water just spreads it around! It’s fat-soluble, not water-soluble! I’ll grab some milk!”

“No, you bloody will not, Saoirse!” Her scolding carried worry, anger, and sadness in the tone. Her voice cracked a little. “Bring some bloody water and don’t contradict me!”

The sheer amount of emotion in her voice caused me to recoil a bit. I assumed she was a half step away from breaking down in tears. I couldn’t blame her nor would I shame her if she did. Without a word, I grabbed several bottles of water from the pantry and did everything I could to keep them from tumbling out of my grasp while I made my way back to Maven. I dropped off the water and immediately turned to grab a towel. I returned to see Maven’s hands glowing as she comforted Matcha.

She quietly thanked me when I handed her the towel. She positioned it under Matcha’s head and started pouring the water on his face. No one said a word through the process. Matcha whimpered a few times, but that was the only sound.

Soon, Matcha was able to open his eyes and sit up. He grunted and blew quite a bit of mucous from his nostrils onto the towel.

“That was an absolutely, one hundred percent fucked up thing for them to do,” He finally said, sounding like his sinuses might still be a little clogged.

“I thought I could keep you safe.” Maven stated plainly, trying to hide a deluge of emotion.

“It ain’t your fault, Aunt Mae. Fascists gonna fascist, y’know?” Matcha shrugged, trying to help.

Tears welled up in my eyes again. “It’s because of me…”

“What? How da hell you think this is on the back of some pretty white girl?” Matcha objected.

I clenched my fists and half sobbed as I spoke. “A bad thing happened. I could have stopped it. I didn’t. It’s my fault.”

A gentle hand rested on my arm. “No, Saoirse,” Maven began, sniffling at random times. “I requested that you not intervene. Thank you for listening to me. Your secret is far too precious. They don’t need another reason to detain one of you.”

Matcha froze. “Secret? What secret?”

My head turned toward Maven. My fists clenched tighter. “I could suit up and handle this.”

“The fuck you talkin’, girl?”

“You most certainly will not, Saoirse Maxine! You and Makai have to go to school!”

“Fuck school! There’s three days left of twiddling our thumbs until summer vacation! I’m gonna put my fucking suit on and rescue my fucking friends!”

Matcha shouted louder than the two of us. “Hey! What-The-Fuck-Are-You-Talking-A-Bout?!” He breathed out a sound of disapproval. “What fucking suit?! The fuck is going on here?! Jefa, Lowkey, Chispa, and Peach just got carted off by the American Gestapo and you’re talking about a damn suit?! C’mon, now!”

Sobbing with a scowl on my face, I moved behind Matcha and tore off the zip tie—swiftly and efficiently. “I’m fucking Silk Warden.”

Matcha’s hands came loose but he didn’t move. His face froze. “Say what, now?”

I started gesturing wildly as I paced for a moment. “The webs, the purple and black suit, the jumping, the dodging, the insane feats of agility… it’s me. I’m Silk Warden.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his face and he lowered his chin at me. “Deadass? No cap?”

Without thinking, I extended my arm, put my hand in the needed position, and flexed. Because I hadn’t used it since yesterday, the spinnerette popped out of my wrist and a line shot out toward the wall. My eyes landed on Matcha. “Deadass.”

Matcha.exe stopped responding. I could almost hear a dial-up tone echo off the walls and drive me crazy. It took a few breaths for the system to reboot.

“Nah, hol’ up…” He still needed some time to reboot. “You tellin’ me we been livin’ with a superhero the whole damn time?”

“The secrecy was necessary, Matcha. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.” I gestured wildly to the general vicinity. “Clearly, the circumstances went off the rails. I couldn’t really pull Maven aside and let you keep suffering, could I?”

He scoffed. “It might be selfish, but I’m real glad you didn’t.”

“Saoirse is as selfless as she is impulsive, as you’ve no doubt discovered.” Maven finally chimed in. She checked the clock on her wall. “We really do not have the luxury of time on our hands. Both of you need to get to school.”

“Ah, hell, nah, Aunt Mae. Not today.” Matcha objected.

“Friends. In zip ties. In federal custody. Not the time.”

Maven’s face turned sour. “I will not hear another word of insubordination! Both of you, gather your belongings and get to school! I need to know that the two of you are safe while I work to get the others freed from federal custody, if you don’t mind!” When we didn’t move, the face became utterly terrifying. Everyone who has been a child has seen that face. It’s the face that communicates unequivocally that Mom is not fucking around. “Chop, chop!”

Matcha and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us said a word as we moved to comply. For a moment, we both lingered in the cafeteria. Books, notebooks, pencils, and backpacks were strewn about haphazardly. It was a visual reminder of the violence that had occurred. Salty appeared with wet hair like he’d only just gotten out of the shower and dressed. We had to fill him in on what happened. Without a word, I tapped Matcha’s shoulder and he knew what I was saying.

The trip to school was rough. We didn’t ride the subway like we normally would. We walked up 6th Avenue and discussed the morning. One more clandestine silk extrusion and Salty was informed about my secret as well. All around us, people walked on, looked at their phones, hailed taxis, and whined to the hotdog vendor about mustard like nothing ever happened. Matcha and I kept mostly quiet other than reliving our trauma while relaying it to Salty. At school, none of us said much. I got scolded by Miss Kyle about being late to class, but when I broke down in tears and told her what happened she lightened up considerably. She was a firm workhorse, but she wasn’t without compassion. She even gave me a side hug while I cried. My heart wasn’t in any of my classes. Mr. Harrington was okay about things. At lunch, Matcha and Salty joined Hailey and me at our table.

Hailey complained that her arms weren’t big enough to wrap the three of us at once after we told her what happened that morning. Salty hadn’t seen it, but he felt the absence just like Matcha and me. We barely ate lunch. I probably had a maximum of two bites of food. The absences of Jefa and Lowkey were felt the hardest when Señora Silva asked why they were not in class and I had to answer “La Migra.” Her eyes and mouth shot open while a hand flew up to cover her face. The entire room gasped. It was exactly the attention I did not want that day. Mercifully, it was just Salty and me in the LTC, so there weren’t any awkward questions. Dr. Hopwell noticed our demeanor and asked what was wrong. We didn’t have to overly explain it. Two words ceased the questioning: ICE raid.

After the final bell rang, Salty and I met with Matcha and we all walked home together. Free of the institutional expectations, my anger grew with each step. Our sanctuary, the place I’d begun to call home, had been defiled by agents of the state. They’d harmed my friends that had begun to feel like a family. Each time my foot hit the concrete or asphalt, my convictions strengthened. In the past couple of months, I had committed to a cause. I had powers. I had the ability to do something. It was my responsibility to act on that.

When we returned to the shelter, I burst through the doors. My eyes fixed on the double doors into the rest of the building. My body made a beeline for them. At the last second, Maven stepped in front of me and halted my momentum.

“What are you planning, young lady?” She inquired firmly.

“I’m going to rescue Jefa, Chispa, Lowkey, and Peach. Why?” I practically grunted in response.

“And what is your—?”

“My plan of attack? Attack. What else?”

Maven inhaled a heavy breath. The Irish brogue came at me with blinding speed and precision. “Don’ ye be goin’ about bein’ an eejet, girl! Set yer keester down!”

My body recoiled and I stumbled backward. It would have helped for the tingle to run up my spine before she did that, but it was useless. Matcha and Salty were across the room and they sat on whatever would hold their weight in the comfy space near the front of the office like a couple of very obedient puppies. I took a few steps and landed in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“That’s better.” Maven’s usual accent returned. “Now, one does not simply bumble their way into what is likely the most fortified building on this whole bloody island. You need a strategy. Your convictions are admirable in the face of this injustice, but now is not the time to react like an angsty teenager.”

A grumble sat in my throat for a moment. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do?”

Maven scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Use that amazing bloody brain of yours, girl! You’re an engineer, for the sake of the Danann! Surely, you’re not going to waltz through the bloody front door!”

“Well… no… that would be stupid. I can get vertical and enter from higher up.”

“Yes, lovely idea, but where are they holding people? Do you even know? Beyond that, how do you expect to get the people out? One alarm goes off and you will have half the federal police looking to shoot you. You cannot go in blind.”

“She’s not wrong, Seda.” Salty added and his voice echoed off the walls.

“Thank you, peanut gallery.” I groaned. “You’ve got a point, Aunt Mae. What do you think I should do? We can’t let them keep Jefa, Chispa, Lowkey, and Peach. The reports on social media about the conditions in those places are not at all comforting.”

Maven walked over to her desk and turned her monitor to face me. At first, I had no idea what I was looking at. After a few moments, it became clear that she had pulled up building schematics for 26 Federal Plaza. “I’ve had more time on my hands than you.”

For plausible deniability, Maven excused Matcha and Salty. There was no need to include them in the planning stage whatsoever. If the authorities ever found out my identity, they couldn’t be implicated because they knew nothing. Once they left the room, Maven pitched her idea.

She didn’t know the exact layout of everything in the building. The schematics were over five years old, but the most recent she could procure without a FOIA request. The detainment cells were on the 10th floor. There was a cinderblock wall between them and the building’s exterior windows. There was a skybridge on the 8th floor. My chances of success would increase once the sun went down. Fewer people sign up for night shifts in general. The plan was coming together. It was only a matter of execution after that.