Webs We Weave



Chapter Fourteen

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: Look... this particular stage in the Heroine's Journey can sometimes be difficult to write, especially when you're doing trauma work. Thankfully, I've had a session or two with my therapist to get through this brick wall. Sorry it took so long.

The next week and half passed like I was standing still. Before I knew it, the penultimate Saturday of May was upon me. School had become a blur of routine just like it had the first time around. Time at the shelter with the others had its bright spots. Mark was serious about the invitation and we had five minutes between two classes to continue having awkward conversations. I had started with the private dance tutor that Maven hired in the Garment District. She was helpful. I was practicing my abilities and had a few swings down random streets around town. The needed goggles were picked up, but I found out I’d have to engineer some actuating shutters for the things for better focus and protection from light bouncing off building glass.

On the outside, everything seemed to be going fine. That and most of my existence was a bold-face lie. Everything was weird and nothing felt right. The main reason I was going out to practice so much was the fact that it was my only real escape. I didn’t have to perform for anyone but myself. The feelings while exercising my abilities were the only way I could truly express myself.

It wasn’t just practice, either. I had legitimately started going out to do “patrols”. With my earbuds in, I could use an app that functioned as a police scanner. Not having my own money to go and pick up the real thing, I had to make do with what I had. After about three or four “patrols”, the entire idea of a scanner seemed like a wasted effort. The entire idea of a would-be superhero sitting in front of a police scanner and responding at a moment’s notice to something big was the dumbest premise Hollywood ever cooked up. I always seem to learn lessons the hard way. All that ever seemed to come up were improper parking issues, traffic tickets, and the occasional report of a missing pet. Not knowing the police code speak didn’t help, either. I had to do a little research.

On that particular Saturday, I was returning to the shelter after having given a tourist some directions in Tribeca and finding someone’s lost dog in Chelsea. I was glad to be of help, but there was an overwhelming sense that I should be doing something bigger. An indescribable frustration bubbled to the surface because I really wanted to make some kind of tangible difference, but I was just stagnating. The whole idea of the suit and web shooters was because I wanted to do the most good. Nothing else in my life felt like it was hitting any of those notes.

The all-too-familiar tingling sensation ran up my spine and around my head moments after landing. I was facing Jones Street, not the door to the stairs back into the shelter. I quickly lowered my hood, pulled off the balaclava, and fidgeted with the goggles until they came off before I turned to see… Maven. Her arms were folded across her chest and the look on her face was too neutral to not be unsettling.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” was the first thing out of my mouth.

“Oh, I’m quite certain it is exactly what it appears to be.” She came back almost immediately. “Do you believe that I would disapprove and encourage you to cease?”

“...yes?”

She let out a sigh and approached. “No. I shan’t be doing that. You seem to have taken my words to heart. I approve of the fact you’ve done your best to maintain your anonymity. How’s it going, thus far?”

The elephant that was sitting on my shoulders decided to stand and walk away. “Um… well… not so great, as it turns out.” I presented my wrists to her to show her the devices. “I made these with Chispa’s help.”

“Julia has contributed? Is she aware of your… talents?”

“Yea. She caught me up here a couple of weeks ago. She was trying to independently study the phenomenon that made all this possible. She was disappointed she couldn’t engineer the right equipment from salvaged electronics.”

“That would be disappointing. You should be more careful, however.” She warned. “Now, what do these lovelies do?”

“They work like the hind legs of a spider and allow me to utilize my webbing in a controlled, consistent manner. I don’t get lines consistently without them. All that comes out are useless globs.”

“It would seem you’ve solved that issue. The one you haven’t is why you continue to escape up here and out into the world with that mask. I’m not blind, Saoirse. I can spot an escapism from miles afield. I’ve seen you go out for weeks to ‘exercise’. Mind telling me what your ailment is?”

Her directness floored me. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

“You’re stalling.” Maven smirked at me.

My brain seemed to short circuit. All at once, I was being told that the one secret I thought I could hold onto wasn’t as secret as I thought and being asked in the most flowery language if I was okay. A puff of air was propelled from my lungs. “No. I’m not okay.”

“I’m aware. That is why I’ve come. I’m aware that we’ve scarcely interacted since you arrived and began school. For that, I apologize, but I’ve been a bit labored by creating you out of thin air.”

That got me. My brow furrowed and my gaze diverted from hers. “Did you ever even ask me if I wanted to be created out of thin air? You forced me to adopt a first name, then dropped my mom’s name in as a middle name without consulting me. It seems like ever since I arrived, you and others have been making decisions for me without my consent.”

“It’s pragmatic. You’re a teenager.”

“No, I’m not, Eliza! I’m thirty-three fucking years old! I’ve had a life, thank you very much! It wasn’t a great one, but I had a job! It was a shitty spot, but I had a place to lay my head that I paid for!”

She actually rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, yes… the lovely job of riding a bicycle all over Brooklyn at the behest of an application that the worst sort of human developed in California. It bought you a single bedroom in a rundown flat amongst people who would give nary a care if you were revealed as deceased. Meanwhile, you could be changing the world with your degree and intelligence, but you chose to deliver takeout for a living?”

Her words cut deep. A single tear rolled down my cheek. “At least that was honest. Now, it’s nothing but lies.”

“More to the point: half truths. They are such for your protection, love.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Perhaps not, but are you aware that we have had unmarked vehicles from the Department of Homeland Security’s Immigration and Customs Enforcement watching the building from time to time? No doubt they’re performing a stakeout to choose a moment to strike.”

Yet another subway train smacked a brick wall at ninety miles an hour in my mind. “Excuse me? ICE has been outside the building? There are Hispanic people here! When were you going to tell us about this?”

“I just informed you.” A heavy breath expelled from her lungs. “I keep secrets from those in my charge because sometimes one has to. I don’t delight in it, but it is better that I worry over things while you all get to be teenagers and think the world is fine. You’re all young and a bit naive. You should be allowed such for as long as possible.”

My hands waved over my body. “I’m not this young! I’m not naive, either! When are you going to acknowledge that?!”

She strode to the ledge of the building and leaned on it. “Saoirse, I’m more than five thousand years old. From my perspective, you’re all young and naive. You could be eighty and facing your deathbed and I would feel the same. It’s a curse as much as it is a blessing. This conversation isn’t meant to be aimed at me. What’s troubling you, love? What are you hiding from?”

I leaned on the ledge, as well. Both of us used our folded arms to hold us up. “Where do I even start?”

“The beginning, generally.” She chuckled.

My eyes danced over the skyline of Manhattan. “I used to dream about what it would be like on this island. Sitting on the roof of the Albany Towers or looking out from my window on the tenth floor, I’d see the glistening facades of the taller buildings. I wanted to be here engineering the technology that would make the next Empire State Building possible. I wanted to make technology work for people… especially poor kids like me.” My eyes lowered to the mortar of the ledge. “Those dreams died with my mom. After that, I didn’t really have goals other than diving headfirst into the sciences to escape from everything else. It didn’t matter how miserable I was, so long as the equations kept coming and I was home as little as possible. I knew I was different from very young. I didn’t have the words to even tell my mom what was going on. Without her, Dad got worse with his corrections and I buried who I truly was for years. At MIT, I found the LGBT groups and learned the word for me was something called ‘transgender’.”

“At the time, though, there wasn’t much I could really do. I’d have to sit with a therapist for half a year before I’d even get permission to see an endocrinologist and get my medications. That’s of course dependent on whether or not I could even find a therapist competent enough to work with. With my workload, it wasn’t possible. They didn’t even cover surgery until a couple of months before I graduated. With my dad back home and no guarantee of a job in my field, I couldn’t commit to the financials of it all. I was already drowning in debt from the graduate program.” Tears started flowing. “It became another dream I couldn’t achieve.”

Sobs began occasionally interrupting my speech. “When I got back, I was genuinely proud to have a Master’s from such a prestigious school like MIT. I thought it would open doors. Instead, I was once again the cop’s kid in Albany Towers with no prospects for getting out. My dad made it my fault. He thought something was broken about me and always had been. We had a huge fight and I moved out that day. I had some money from a job at a pizza parlor I’d been working at, hit Craig’s List, and took the first apartment available. I’ve been on the move and haven’t spoken to my father since… until Mother’s Day.”

Maven spoke softly. “You were so excited when you left. You came back so detached and dejected. I wondered what had occurred. I s’pose you encountered your father?”

I nodded quickly, wiping my eyes before continuing. “Yes, but you’re skipping ahead. I bought a bike for that pizza delivery job. It turned into my way to do delivery apps, thinking they’d be side-hustles not my whole job. Rent got more expensive. Food got more expensive. Phones got more expensive. My student loans were in the background mocking me. There wasn’t extra for anything, least of all keeping the bike in good repair so I could keep going. I had no friends, no family, no hope, no money, and the future felt more expensive than promising.”

“Then… April 29th changed everything. Simultaneously, I had everything I ever wanted and nothing at all. I lost the ability to do my job because the bike was too big. I lost the place I’d been living because no one recognized me. Suddenly, I’m dodging cops and hiding on the subway. Then, you come along and it’s been lies ever since. I’ve never been good at lying because it might work in the moment, but it eats me from the inside out like every caustic substance in existence.”

Maven sighed and her eyes scanned the skyline. “The price of true happiness is often too high a cost for many to pay. The ignorant try to purchase it with currency, only to find themselves more impoverished than they were before. I’m not attempting to diminish your struggle, Saoirse. I can see as plainly as the nose on my face that it’s been difficult for you since I found you on that train. Things have had to occur the way they have to keep you safe.”

My eyes followed hers to the skyline. “Meanwhile, I don’t even know who this ‘Saoirse’ even is anymore than I knew who ‘Preston’ was. It’s been cover story after cover story after cover story. Who even am I underneath all these lies? I have no clue. I can’t be honest about anything with anyone. I’m suffering through high school, but this time trying to catch up academically because I didn’t exist a month ago. I can’t have any real friends because that would require unmitigated authenticity. I’m awkward and disgusted with the idea of being attracted to a boy half my fucking age. The icing on the cake: my own father saw me in a dress at my mother’s gravesite and thought I was her fucking ghost. My dad acknowledged I look like my mom and also looked right through me as if I were just a stranger. The fuck am I supposed to do with all that?!”

Maven hummed a chuckle. “To quote the children these days: you are not wrong.” She shook her head. “To attempt a jest was insensitive. I apologize.”

“Don’t. Humor’s probably one of the best forms of coping. Why do you think I use it all the time?” I gently nudged her with an elbow.

“I admit that I have likely lost some perspective with how difficult it can be to be poor. It’s been over a century since I experienced poverty personally. I may be the executive director of a homeless youth shelter, but that’s the extent of my involvement in your lives. I cannot attend school for you. I cannot choose your friends. I do not have your lack of resources. It’s why I try to provide them to the best of my ability. I’ve tried to do such for you, but it seems I’ve lost sight of the mission.” She let out a sigh. “Hearing that you are in such despair hurts in one of the ways that I can’t heal.”

She turned to face me, turned me towards her, and lifted my chin with a gentle hand. “Saoirse, I need you to know that I care a great deal about all those in my charge. You are all surrogates for the children I could never have, for one reason or another. I know that things are weighing on you. I put a lot in your cup without asking what you preferred. Time was of the essence and I did not check with you through the process.” She took a moment to breathe and brush a bit of my hair behind my ear. “Allow me a few inquiries?”

My eyes rolled on their own, a slight grumble escaped, and a sigh came out. “Okay, fine.”

“What do you believe about the people you’ve met here and at school? Do you truly believe you’ve made no friends at all?”

“I’m getting closer to the others—Chispa most of all. We’re sort of kindred spirits, as it were. There’s this girl at school, Hailey, that sort of inserted herself into my life. She feels like the Jobs to my Wozniak.”

“Thus, do you feel like that attachment is inauthentic?”

All I could do was shrug. “I guess not, but the lying about my past is eating at me.”

“Perhaps you can be a little more honest with them without sacrificing your safety in the future? I do not believe that the current moment is appropriate, but I cannot make that decision for you. Next question: who is this boy you spoke of?”

My head lowered a little and my cheeks felt warm. “His name is Mark. I’m pretty sure he’s a drama geek.”

“Ah… you’ve come to admire a thespian, have you?”

“A what?”

“Thespian. It’s based on the first acknowledged western actor, Thespis. He supposedly leapt onto the back of a cart and began reciting lines of poetry in character. He was also a singer of some report. You’ve come to admire someone that carries on this legacy?”

“He had a letterman jacket with the two mask faces on it and wore a t-shirt with William Shakespeare on it. I did the sociological math and figured it out.”

“And does this thespian reciprocate your admiration?”

“I don’t know. He did ask to walk to classes together, though… to get to know each other better.” My hands flew to my mouth. “Holy shit, he’s flirting with me!”

Maven chuckled and smiled. “You might have thirty-three years of memories, but I would argue your brain has roughly the equivalent development of your peers—the same as your body. Given that, I would say you’re merely an ‘old soul’. Have you truly been living those years or merely trying to make it to the next one to forget the last?”

There was a miniature of my body in my mind’s eye. It was flung into the stratosphere with the force of an ordinary feather. That’s how hard a simple question hit me. At first, I wasn’t sure how to respond. That body was denied low orbit by the forces of gravity and came back down to impact with the force of a small meteorite.

My voice came out soft and low. “No. I was just trying to survive. I don’t think I’ve truly lived a day since my mom died.”

“Perhaps it is time that you did. Next question: when was the last time you had spoken to your father before your interaction on Mother’s Day?”

“Ten years, give or take.”

“A decade. That’s a while, isn’t it? Did he mention the disappearance of Preston? You said you were evicted by your flatmates and avoided the police the night I found you. The night after ‘the pulse’.”

Thinking back to the conversation, I nodded and still spoke softly. “He did. He seemed pretty broken up about it… like he was ashamed to admit to my mom that he’d personally failed because his son was gone.”

“And yet, his own child was standing before him. He’s still not ready to see you, Saoirse. Not as the person you are. On the bright side, he confused you for your mother. That tells me that you appear to resemble her more than you acknowledge. That’s not nothing, love.”

“I guess I’ve got more thinking to do.”

“This house will be here for you when you return. I would encourage you to face these things rather than distract yourself from them. They are important things or they wouldn’t be affecting you so profoundly.” She gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “Be safe, love.”

She dropped those truth bombs on my head, then turned and walked to the door back down to the shelter like she was the Enola Gay. The devastation to my psyche was something I would not recover from for a while. Having a great deal to think about, everything that would conceal my identity went back on before I leapt to the building across the street, deciding to continue the patrol. My brain was moving faster than my body with all the thoughts swirling around in a maelstrom.

While my thoughts were chaotic, my movements were even more so. They carried me beyond my usual boundaries. The swinging opportunities were better in Chelsea and Soho, anyway. I just… needed to feel good about something. Every other part of my life was about lies and numbness. It felt like I was a pre-programmed machine just going through the motions.

“Hey! What’re you doin’?! You’re s’posed to bring those to the door!” An older woman shouted from a window.

At the end of a swing, I let go and “landed” on the brick of the building across the street and listened as the delivery guy shouted up from the sidewalk, “Ain’t my problem I can’t get through the door! You’re gonna have to come get the bags!”

“The super’s s’posed to fix the door buzzer! I’m eighty-three years old! I can’t make it up the stairs with all that!” The woman yelled back.

“I got other deliveries, lady! Figure it out!” He shouted again before slipping into his Tesla and leaving the scene.

Letting out a disappointed sigh at the delivery guy, my eyes darted from the sidewalk to the woman’s apartment. She was on the sixth floor. The delivery was a bunch of groceries in four paper bags, two big cases of nutritional drinks, and a package of toilet paper. It was time to test some of the other capabilities of the webbing. Zipping a line to the top of the woman’s building, I started a swing over.

“I got you, ma’am.” I shouted on the way over toward the ground.

She watched me swing to the ground and start to assess the problem. It would take a couple of trips, but I could leave her things on the fire escape right outside her window with no problem. Unless I could figure out some kind of satchel, there was no way I’d get the paper bags full of stuff up to her in one go. Thus began the transfer. Carrying two bags at a time, I leapt up to her fire escape and set them down right outside the window. She watched me do it with awe written all over her face. Once the nutritional drinks and toilet paper were delivered, I was about to leave when she stopped me.

“Ain’t it a little early for Halloween? Who you s’posed to be, anyhow? Spider-Man’s little sister?” She wondered.

“No, ma’am. No relation whatsoever.” was my slightly uncomfortable reply.

“You talk a little muffled with the mask. Might wanna fix that. Thanks for the help. You got a name or somethin’? Should I just call you ‘Spider-Girl’ or whatever?”

“I think Disney would get a little litigious if I let people call me that and it got into the press.”

“Yea, maybe so. The purple and black is a good look, though. How’d you do the jump thing, though? How’s that web thing work?”

“Not real sure how the powers thing works. You seen the videos about that one girl in Chicago?”

“Yea. About time the world got some real superheroes. It’s been goin’ ta hell in a handbasket for more than fifty years now. Is that what you’re doin’? Usin’ whatever powers you got to be some kinda superhero or somethin’?”

My shoulders shrugged all on their own. “I’m just tryin’ ta be a good neighbor, y’know? Especially in this city, people need a reminder to be good to one another every now and then.”

“New Yorkers bein’ nice to each other?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Fugetaboutit. Just don’t be a complete asshole and we’re good.” She offered a smile. “Ya wanna cookie, hon? Got some fresh baked just sittin’ there.”

She couldn’t see it, but I smiled. “I could go for a cookie.”

Turning around and bringing a bag into her apartment, she came back with a decently sized chocolate chip circle. “Here ya go. I’m sure you got other things to worry about than an old hag with a rent-controlled apartment in Chelsea she’s lived in for forty years. I’ll watch for ya on the news. Work on that name thing, huh?”

“Will do, ma’am. I’ll grab some tools and see what I can’t do about the door buzzer up front.”

“That’d be nice. Our good-for-nothin’ super ain’t fixed nothing in five years. Maybe you could take his job?”

“I’ve got another job, but thanks. See ya later.”

I stuffed the cookie into a pocket of the jacket and smiled before turning away from her. A line shot out to the building across the street, I leapt off the fire escape balcony, and swung away from the apartment.