Webs We Weave



Chapter Twenty-Four

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: This was actually supposed to have been up since Monday. If you recall, that's August 10th. Saoirse's birthday. However, I was battling a mucus demon and trying to bring down a fever, so... sorry it's later than I wanted it to be, but it's here.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OW8X36HdujY ))

Regardless of the fact it was the last day of school, it was still an A-Day. My hair was in a bun. My tights and leotard were in place. I was wearing my warmups. My feet carried me into the cafeteria area. The space carried none of the scars from the events two days ago, minus the very palpable absence of Chispa and Lowkey. The general demeanor was akin to depression or grief. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling it, too.

The ability to grab a cup of coffee like it was any other morning could not be overstated. Where there usually might have been messing around, chatter, and maybe breakfast consumption there was unused utensils and long faces. I stirred my coffee with a popsicle stick and kept my eyes on the floor. Not having Chispa and Lowkey around felt like failure.

“So,” Matcha broke the silence. “Your dad’s a cop, Seda? I thought your parents was dead?”

My sigh landed as heavy as a steel girder dropping on the ground. “Look, I had to—”

“I told her to lie, Makai.” Maven interrupted me. “There was a lot of confusion at the time and Saoirse has a history that might have felt a bit outlandish. She followed my lead.”

“So, that first day when you told me you grew up in Brooklyn and went to the Boys and Girls High School was the truth?”

I nodded firmly, then took a sip of my coffee. “Yea. That was before we had a cover story. I’ll tell you guys everything, but it’s too much right now. I want to get Chispa and Lowkey. I want the family whole again.”

“But we’re going to school like nothing even happened!” Salty spoke up. “It’s legit unhinged!”

“Not Marisol or Seung-ri.” Maven added. At the chorus of verbal objection, she made a hand gesture that quieted the group. “I know how important it is for you to keep your rituals, but the two of you were forcibly liberated from federal custody, not traditionally released. It would be unsafe for you to leave this shelter, right now.”

“I hate it, but Aunt Mae got a point, y’all.” Matcha chimed in.

“How’d last night go with your dad, Seda?” Jefa joined the conversation. “Any good news.”

I shook my head. “Mixed, but nothing yet. He’s gotta make some calls. When I know something, so will you guys. Deal?”

Everybody nodded firmly. Soon, everybody who could do so without legal reprisal headed off to school. The last day of school should have felt joyous. Instead, it felt hollow. One weird thing caught me off-guard. Evelyn plopped down next to me as I was taking off my warmups, rolling down my tights, and putting on my jazz shoes.

“I heard what happened at your shelter,” She began. “It’s fucked up. My mom was deported back to Columbia when I was little. Dad never seemed to care. I wish we had someone like Silk Warden back then. Did your friends come back?”

My brain was practically stunlocked. “Uh… well… I can’t really say.”

She hung her head. “Right, cuz you never really know who’s listening. I got it. I hope they come back, though. For real, for real. Anyway… I’ll see you around. Keep those toes pointed.”

My voice came out in a scoff-laugh. “Yea. Will do.”

The day carried on and my brain had little opportunity to recover. It was the last day of school, so the only class doing any real work was the first one. After that, it was parties and test results. I couldn’t really pay attention and kept checking my phone between classes. By the time the lunch bell rang, I was a bundle of compressed nerves. Right as I entered the cafeteria, my phone went off. I don’t think I had ever been so happy to hear my father’s voice on the other end.

“Go for Saoirse,” I answered. I have no idea why I answered that way.

“I know dat. Look, kid, I made some calls. There was a handoff between the 1st to the 84th then to the 88th Precinct for some kinda escort back on Wednesday. The units called 10-24, which is ‘assignment completed’, in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. They was escorting some vehicles with purple and green logos. I looked it up. It’s some kinda outfit from American Vanguard Solutions. Ya heard of ‘em?”

Moving away from the crowd in an effort to get some privacy, I nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard of them. That girl in the cape put her arm through one of their vehicles in Chicago back on the 14th. I don’t really know much about them other than that.”

“Oh, yea, them protests on the 14th. They was a headache for my boys, but people behaved themselves at least. I’ve heard reports of those purple and green guys comin’ into lockups and even over to Riker’s to pick people up. I dunno what that’s about and they ain’t talkin’.”

“Sounds shady as hell.”

“Yea, I’m smellin’ fishes and I’m nowhere near the docks. Look into Building 240. It might be what you’re lookin’ for. I got nothin’ else but a stiff arm from the Southern District. The guy they got runnin’ the place is a real piece o’ work.”

“Thanks for the intel, Dad.”

“No problem. Be careful, a’right?”

“Will do.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and tapped the red icon.

During lunch, I tried my best to engage in small talk with Hailey, but my mind was elsewhere. She interpreted it as lingering grief after the raid. It was mostly true, at least. I wanted to tell her everything, but the more people who knew my secret, the more likely it was to get out. It was best to keep her in the dark for the time being.

The afternoon flew by faster than that girl from Chicago. Señora Silva even conducted our party in English. We had tapas, horchata, and several flavors of Jarritos. I knew I’d need some energy that evening, so I kinda ate like a pig. The final goodbye for the day and school year came from Dr. Hopwell. I’d managed to catch up on Freshman remedials, but that’s it. I’d probably have to suffer with him in the following year just to catch up. He had faith I could do it, though. It was nice knowing at least one teacher verbalized that they were rooting for me.

The walk home was all business. Matcha and Salty wanted to know what my dad had said, so I filled them in. From there, we were talking strategy. When we got back to the house, everybody else joined in. Jefa was the one that suggested the approach: everybody travels together on the subway, they cover for me in Brooklyn, and then loiter at the housing projects near the Navy Yard until I get out with Chispa and Lowkey. Maven suggested wearing the main bit of my suit under baggy clothes because trying to get from the Village to Brooklyn would be a bit of a pain. Salty agreed with that plan and added the stealth factor of not crossing the Brooklyn or Manhattan Bridge would be more subtle. Matcha knew that a few kids hanging out in the projects wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. The stage was set and the plan made.

Waiting around for the sun to go down was torture. We tried to think of something to occupy the time. We tried games. We tried watching television. Nothing stuck. Eventually, we gave up and started doom-scrolling TikTok and Instagram. Every now and then, somebody would stumble across a Silk Warden video. The room would light up for a few seconds as everyone crowded around the screen, smiled, laughed, and pointed out comments. Seeing the smiles on their faces and the jubilation in their voices gave me pause. I started to wonder whether or not I could live up to those expectations. Until then, I hadn’t really thought much about that. I certainly wasn’t used to being looked up to.

After golden hour, I went up to my room to get ready. The school clothes came off. The main body of the suit went on. Once I had it on, I tapped my chest a couple of times. The suit felt a little heavier than it had since it was woven. Overtop, I wore some sweatpants and a sweater. The gloves, mask, and boots were deposited into a backpack. After putting on some generic shoes, I descended the stairs. The pack formed and we were out the door, MetroCards in hand.

We didn’t talk much on the way over. Too much might be heard by too many people. Half an hour later, we were in Brooklyn at the High Street Station. Like tourists, we came out the wrong exit and had to cross Cadman Plaza West to get to the park. It was disappointing to find out that while the park trees gave great shade, they were terrible for hiding amongst. Undeterred, we kept walking toward our objective. For a second, I thought some of the space under the Brooklyn Bridge might work, but the only accessible part was the pedestrian stairs. On the other side, however, there was a small patch of trees that were perfect in the dimly lit space between the Brooklyn Bridge itself and the ramp to it from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to hide me from pedestrians. Drivers never paid attention to anything but traffic.

Behind the trees, I started quickly throwing things into my backpack and pulling things out. First, I swapped the shoes for my boots. Then, sweatpants and shirt followed. On went my gloves and mask before I snapped the hood into place. I tossed my closed backpack to Jefa before leaping toward the tall-ish buildings lining Prospect Street. Once past those buildings, I cursed the name of Robert Moses for putting the BQE so close to two iconic bridge approaches and cutting through downtown Brooklyn. It was a pain to navigate toward the Farragut Houses on the other side. Though, it gave me the idea to add some material to the suit for gliding purposes at some point in the future.

After nearly faceplanting on the basketball court between the Manhattan Bridge approach and the BQE, I ran beneath the Moses Scar and toward the Farragut Houses. The buildings were designed a lot like the Albany Houses I grew up in. It felt like familiar territory as I leapt into the air, shot out a line, and started swinging. Dodging trees became a full-contact sport as I made my way to the south east where Wegmans and the Brooklyn Navy Yard were waiting. Finally, I stood on the roof of Wegmans and took in the surroundings.

The Brooklyn Navy Yard had been in operation for more than 150 years until the Navy closed it and sold it to the city. Some of the buildings within its borders, like the Wegmans I was standing on, were recent developments. Most of the eastern side was part of the largest film studio complex outside of Hollywood. Thankfully, though, a lot of the old 19th Century buildings still stood. I had to jump from one roof to the next to see what was beyond it. The map in my HUD was guiding me northeast toward the water. Two smokestacks, probably part of a powerplant at some point, served as a very useful landmark. Two buildings away from where I needed to be, I stood atop the crest of the roof of a red brick building whose original purpose was a mystery to me. I looked down at the building that was my target.

The long, rectangular building in question sat nestled between an inlet and the old drydock. It was the only one in the immediate vicinity with its lights on. The glass of the windows had been frosted, so I couldn’t see inside. Outside, there were several vehicles with a logo on the side. That logo was an inverted triangle with hidden “V” wings colored green and purple. The people patrolling the outside of the building had shoulder patches with the same logo. From what little research I had done, that was the logo for American Vanguard Solutions. What they could have wanted with Chispa or Lowkey was beyond me. Regardless, if they were in the building, they wouldn’t be for long.

I let out a few huffs, shook my hands a little, and danced from one foot to the other for a moment. There was a small, circular window in an area that would be the attic in a house. I was going through it. After getting a running start, I did a little hop to land on the building below me before practically yeeting myself toward the target building. In an effort to be a little more precise, I shot a couple of webs on either side of the window and pulled myself toward it. There was more than enough room for my body and I smashed through without much resistance.

I landed on a hardwood floor with bits of glass all around me. The room had a lot of computers and three monitors positioned in front of four desks. Each desk had someone in uniform sitting at it. They all slowly turned toward me. One of them slurped some noodles in a cup as he did so. They looked at me as if they were trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing there. It was that or stunned at my audacity.

I stood up and waved. “Oh, hey, guys.”

They looked at each other. Their chairs creaked. They turned back to me and sprang into action. Fists started flying. I limboed under them and executed a textbook écarté that would please Miss Kyle enormously. The guy whose face was on the receiving end didn’t seem as impressed. My pointed toes found his chin and knocked him out cold. None of their blows landed but all of mine did. A couple of the punches came from Maven’s playbook. In about thirty seconds, all four were on the ground—either unconscious or regretting their career choices.

Finally getting a chance to look around, I deduced that I’d found the security room by complete coincidence. Each station was assigned a bundle of cameras and holding cell controls. None of them had locked their stations. Amateurs. I went to work and was able to find out a few things about the facility.

The first thing that stood out was that the place wasn’t a detention facility. It was a testing facility. There was a full medical suite on the ground floor. They were looking for genetic markers that could determine who had been affected by the astronomical phenomenon that changed the world on April 29th. AVS was holding people extrajudiciously, testing them, and collecting all the data they could before releasing anyone. So far, the records showed that they had been getting their subjects through ICE and cooperative police agencies. There were no consent forms. It appeared that no one was asked about participation and no one was allowed to refuse. They were treating people like nothing more than research samples.

I found a jump drive on one of the desks, wiped it, and started copying all the data that would fit onto it. Personnel files. Testing parameters. Intake logs. Suddenly, it wasn’t just Chispa and Lowkey I’d be liberating from that place.

Though, unfortunately, I found the file for Lowkey. He had been discharged the day before into ICE custody for a charter flight to a detention center in Texas. That flight was scheduled for bright and early the next morning. In anguish, I pounded my fist on the desk and broke it in half. These moments of “your princess is in another castle” were really starting to get old. Thankfully, Chispa was still in the facility… and so were thirty other people. I hit every button I needed to open all the detention cells.

With the compressed files still downloading to the jump drive, I turned to the door to the room. My fist tightened. My jaw clenched. My eyes narrowed. The time for playing nice was over. The AVS agents who'd carried out those orders weren't getting a free pass. If getting thirty-one innocent people home meant a few bruised egos, broken bones, and wrecked equipment, I could live with that.

Within seconds, someone hit an alarm. As I sprinted along the upper catwalk, I spotted four snipers moving into firing positions. I charged the first, leapt, and drove both feet into his chest. He folded backward and didn't get back up. Vaulting over the railing, I fired off a few web lines and swung across the open space. Below me was chaos. One by one, each sniper was taken out before they could take their shot. Punching or kicking them into the brick walls behind them did unpleasant things to their bodies.

Looking down, I wished I hadn’t. Some of the people I’d freed did actually have powers. One girl seemed to be a love child between The Thing and The Hulk. The AVS security tried to detain her and her whole body morphed into a big rock creature. They fired their guns. She made them get intimate with the wall. One guy teleported around and took out three AVS agents in swift succession. Another girl breathed fire at a couple of agents. It was getting out of hand quickly.

From my vantage point, I spotted the cell that the files had said Chispa was being housed in. I dropped into the chaos and headed straight there. Through the doorway, I could see she was huddled against the back wall with her knees to her chest. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing when ICE escorted her out of Tír na nÓg.

“Hey,” I quietly announced myself. “You look like you could use a shower.”

Her eyes darted toward me. She looked scared out of her mind. “Seda?”

I nodded quickly. “In the flesh. Not the escape I envisioned, but it’s kinda working… if you ignore all the chaos.”

Visibly shaking, her eyes returned to the floor. “They… they did things…”

My heart sank and I approached her. “I know. I’m copying files upstairs. They’re going to get exposed for this.”

“I wish I did have powers. I’d kill every last one of those assholes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… nobody’s getting killed. They’ll be brought to justice, okay?”

She scoffed and started mumbling.

“Look, let’s get you out of here.” I suggested. “Once you’re a safe distance away, I gotta come back for those files. Somebody’s gotta know about this place.”

Chispa turned to me with tears in her eyes. “I can’t… move. I’m scared.”

I moved closer. “I got you, Chispa. No one’s gonna hurt you. We’re getting you out of here.”

Without another word, I scooped her up in my arms and made my way toward the exit. It was a gauntlet with all the power utilization around us and the AVS agents failing to contain it. I darted through corridors, dodged fights, hopped over debris, and headed for the front of the building. It was far more difficult than it might have looked. After the gauntlet, I reached the exit doors. There were no more guards outside, but a tingle ran up my spine and I could hear a jumble of sirens getting louder. The police had been alerted and were apparently on their way. I set Chispa down against the wall of the nearest building and raced back inside.

Going back in was half a mistake. I really should have just gotten Chispa to the rest of the Tír na nÓg kids that were probably waiting at the Farragut Houses. With everything going on, I was afraid the other detainees were going to tear the place apart and I wouldn’t get the jump drive with the evidence in time. Once more into the fray, I was dodging punches, hopping over unconscious bodies, slipping past debris, and trying not to get shot. When I was in position, I vaulted up to the roof of the cells then once again to the upper floors. Slipping back into the security room, the files had finished copying so I slipped the jump drive into the hip pocket with my phone.

On the catwalk on my way out, I got a bird’s-eye view of the chaos. The people with powers had every reason to be absolutely furious. There was no doubt there. However, they were creating a situation that was preventing other non-powered detainees from escaping safely. Not to mention, if the chaos continued the chances of someone getting killed, detainee or guard, was really simple math. I couldn’t let that happen.

Vaulting over the catwalk railing, I once again landed on the roofs of the cells. The tingle up my spine and into my head was working overtime. The Rock Hulk was moving to pound a few agents into the cement foundation of the building. I executed a baseball slide, grabbed them, and moved them to safety. She roared at me, but I kept moving. Running along a wall, I threw out a couple of lines and rescued some agents from the fire breath. They got tied up in a corner with webbing. I lifted an entire cell and tossed it through what looked like an oversized garage door, creating an exit for a few people to rush out of.

As I turned back into the building, teleport guy thought he had the upper hand on me. He appeared out of what looked like a puff of smoke and tried kicking me. I grabbed his ankle with one hand and placed my hand on his chest as I brought him to the ground. Thinking quickly, I tapped the spot to activate my voice modulator.

“The hell are you doing, Temu Nightcrawler?! I’m on your side!” I scolded him.

“Could’a fooled me, chica! Why you helping the guards?” He squeaked.

“I’m not! I’m just not going to let you kill them!”

“You know what they did to us?”

I shook my head violently. “Yes, I do, but that’s not justification for murder! They deserve their day in court! Hurt them, sure. Maim them, not excessively. How many more are there that you guys haven’t pummeled?”

“No sé.” He shrugged and barked out a bitter laugh. “You think they’re gonna see even a minute in a court room for this? Are you blind or just stupid?”

“Neither. Get the innocents out. They’re the priority, pinche cabrón.”

“Are you a Latina under that mask?”

“I could be anyone under this mask. Would it matter?” I put a little more pressure on his chest. “Innocents come first. ¡Ahora, vete!”

Once I let him go, he nodded and vanished in another puff of smoke. The fire-breathing girl was easier to talk to. She agreed rather quickly once she understood I wasn’t helping AVS. The Rock Hulk was harder to convince. She tossed me around like a throw pillow when I approached her. With a little creative use of geometry after adding a few more bruises to my body, I managed to web her up enough to get a word in. English didn’t work at all. She understood my Spanish perfectly well, though. As she started to calm down, she shrank considerably, the rock melted into flesh, and I discovered she was naked. Averting my eyes, I helped her find something to put on for the sake of modesty. With the three of them helping people get out of the building, the few remaining AVS operatives were easily taken down.

Kicking their APCs into the inlet probably wasn’t the best environmental decision, but worse things had been dumped into the East River.

After saying my goodbyes to the three with powers, I rushed back to Chispa. She was standing with her arms folded and glaring at the building. With the chorus of sirens not far away, I had to think quickly.

“How are you with rapid acceleration, deceleration, and heights?” I asked her plainly.

“Your voice sounds really weird.” She commented without averting her eyes.

I tapped my chin and deactivated the voice modulator. “Forgot I still had that on. Thanks. Now, will you answer my question?”

“I don’t get motion sick and I’m fine with heights.”

“Okay, I’m gonna carry you and we’re gonna be doing some jumping before I can do any swinging. The buildings here aren’t tall enough to chance it with you, anyway. Are you good with that?”

“I’m gonna have to be.”

With a bit of a huff, I picked her up and launched myself up so I could land on the roof. She screamed until we landed. My ears were not happy.

“Ow! I thought you said you were okay with all the things?”

“I didn’t expect it to be so jarring, okay?! Count of three, next time?”

I barked a chuckle. “Three.”

She let out a scream on every jump toward Wegmans. When we moved from Wegmans to the roof of Quarters B, she wasn’t screaming anymore. We had to get down low when we saw about a dozen NYPD vehicles round the corner at Flushing and Navy with lights and sirens blaring. When the coast was clear, we moved from the flat roof of the newer strip mall building over to the roof of the old timber shed of Admiral’s Row. After checking whether or not we could move without incident, we hopped off that roof and crossed Navy Street. Everybody was hanging out at the entrance to the Farragut Houses.

They were all happy to see Chispa. There were cheers and hugs offered, but she wasn’t really in the mood. We quickly moved to a spot where I could get my clothes over the suit again for the trip home. Once the mask, gloves, and boots came off, the sweatpants and sweater went back on. When I joined back up with the group, we looked like just an average group of teenagers. Nobody really said much. It was almost too quiet among us.

As if on cue, Salty spoke up. “Wait, where’s Lowkey? Wasn’t he there, too?”

“No, he wasn’t,” was my solemn answer. “They filtered him out. He’s slated for a shuttle flight to Texas in the morning.”

“What?! No! We gotta find him and get him back!” Salty objected.

“Keep it down!” I scolded through a hushed whisper. “I’m gonna get him. We’re not leaving anyone behind. It’s not gonna happen tonight, though. Nothing told me where they’d taken him to wait for the flight. Right now, we should get back to the house and regroup.”

“Yo Salty: I hate it too, but Seda’s kinda right on this one. I dunno if you noticed, but there’s alotta cops around right now,” Matcha advised.

“Yea, probably too dangerous to go poking around places trying to find Lowkey,” Peach agreed.

“For the record, I hate it, too.” I concurred.

Without saying much else, we walked through Brooklyn, got back on the subway, and returned to Greenwich Village.