Chapter Text
We were watching a news report on the Sokovia Accords, a new program proposed by the UN to regulate and control when “enhanced beings” would respond to threats. Just the thing I needed right now. We were watching a press conference in Vienna, Austria . It dealt with the accords being officially proposed to the UN, and the aftermath of the destruction in Lagos, Nigeria. A leader from one of the countries-Hungary, maybe? He had a really thick accent-stepped forward, and talked about how they had sent the Secretary of State as a representative to “negotiate terms with the Avengers”. By “negotiate terms”, they probably meant “you do what we want, or become an enemy of the state.”
“We now call Natasha Romanoff to the stage.” Wait, they had a representative from the Avengers? And why not Captain America, or Tony Stark, someone with more influence than The Black Widow?
The bell rang a few minutes later, so I grabbed my bag and ran outside onto the bustling streets of New York. A ten-minute subway ride later, I was a block away from our apartment. I hurried down the block, entered our building, and pressed the call button for the elevator. After the ride up, I fished my key out of my bag, and entered the apartment. I spotted a note from my dad on the counter.
“Hi Gwennie,
The station needed some help calming down the protestors, I probably won’t be home until tomorrow evening at the earliest. Dinner is in the fridge, remember to eat breakfast. Don’t forget you have dance at 5 today and tomorrow.
Thanks,
Your Father.”
I grabbed a snack, noting the container of leftovers in the fridge. I started on my homework, luckily there wasn’t too much, because I was able to get most of it done in study hall. After I finished, I grabbed my suit, intending to finalize work on the web-shooters before I made my big debut as a superhero. I turned on the TV, intending to watch a movie while I worked, but a news story caught my eye. It was the Secretary of State talking about his meeting the Avengers over the Sokovia accords earlier.
The news then cut to a shot of protestors outside the Avengers Tower, holding signs proclaiming “Super humans are humans, too!” and “Where will the Avengers be if we need them?” As the rally played out, a voice-over said “As protest groups gather in front of the former Stark tower, we must ask how will the group of vigilantes known as ‘The Avengers’ respond to the accords? Tune in tonight at 8pm, est, for another exclusive interview with Secretary of State General Everett Ross.” I moved away from the report, and turned on Star Wars: Episode IV, then, before I knew it, it was 4:30, and I needed to leave for dance class, and then rehearsal with the MJs. I threw my suit in my room, and grabbed my bag.
Class got over at 6, because we just had our spring recital, so it was mostly warm-ups and stretching. I changed back into my street clothes, and boarded the subway from Queens to the Upper West Side. MJ would kill me if I was even a minute late to rehearsal again. I took my hair down on the subway, sighing in relief when I pulled out the bobby pin that had been giving me a headache. I got off half a block away from MJ’s house, and hurriedly walked towards it. Practice started to at 6:30, and it was 6:29. Good thing my dads a cop, because MJ is going to kill me.
I knocked on the door at 6:32, and MJs aunt opened the door. “Oh, hello, Gwen,” she said, “The rest of the girls are downstairs, but you may want to hurry.”
“Thanks for the warning!” I replied, and hurried to the basement door. I raced down the stairs and turned the corner, only to be faced with a Mary Jane Watson whose face was almost as red as her hair. “Practice started three minutes ago, you’re late,” she said, obviously irritated at me. “Yep, I know. Trains were running a bit behind.” I said calmly, knowing I will probably be on the receiving end of all her annoyance this evening.
“Well, lets get started,” Betty piped up, fiddling with the AUX and speaker her bass was plugged into. I sat down behind the drum kit as MJ picked up her guitar. Glory gave me a thumbs up from behind the keyboard, which I returned. We started with some covers that we knew from back when we were just a garage band, not a basement band. Then we played through “Face it Tiger”, and worked through a new one called “Pick Me Up”.
“Pick me up, PICK ME UP, won’t get a second chance
Pick me up, PICK ME UP, at a wild romance
Pick me up, PICK ME UP, responsibility
Pick me up, PICK ME UP, is no exchange for me!”
We finished the song, and left the last note hanging in the air. Then MJ turned to me. Oh, no, here came her wrath.
“Great rehearsal everyone! Gwen, you were a little behind the beat.”
“Why is it always ‘Gwen you were behind the beat’ and not ‘Gwen, I was rushing the beat’?” I asked her, taking a sip of my water. Drumming that hard right after dance was exhausting. “I’m your drummer. The beat is literally my job.”
“I know what I heard” MJ responded coolly.
“Don’t be mean,” Glory told her, ever the voice of reason.
“I’m not being mean.”
“You’re being a little mean.”
“It’s not mean if it’s true.”
“Matter of opinion.”
Betty leaned over to me, “They could do this all night.”
“I am aware”
“We can sneak out. Get food.”
“I could go for a corn dog.”
“No plotting escape on band time.” MJ said, snatching one of my sticks.
“But corn dogs-”
“We need to focus if we’re going to be the best.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I stuck my drumsticks in my bag as the others packed up their instruments. It was a little hard to lug a drum kit around, but we mostly practised at MJs house. Her parents had a good amount of money stored away, and they spent most of their time travelling. MJ lived with her aunt now. Her sister used to be around a lot more, but she moved out of state for college. Last I heard, she had gone through a pretty nasty divorce. I thanked MJ’s aunt for putting up with our noise, and walked back towards the subway terminal.
I got off a few stops before my building, and decided to walk the rest of the way home. Upon seeing a corn dog cart, I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch, except for a protein bar. I stopped at the cart, and bought three corn dogs. I ate them on my walk home. By the time I got home, it was almost 8:30, but I decided to finish up work on my suit, after a shower.
I settled down at the table, grabbing my notes, suit and laptop. One advantage of getting a scholarship into that science school is access to better physics simulators, and 3-D printer modelling tech. YouTube was open on my computer, and I refreshed the home page, looking for nothing in particular, but a video caught my eye, “Amazing Man-Spider saves bus full of kids!” I opened the video, and a guy in a low quality home-made costume, swung across the screen, then caught a car that was going maybe 60mph, before it crashed into a bus. I bookmarked the video, saving it to analyse when I had a bit more time.
After I finished work on the web shooters, and filled them with the web liquid I made in a chemistry workshop, I tested them by pressing the button on the top, and a web shot across the room, and connected to the couch. I gave it an experimental tug, and the couch shifted towards me. I gave a harder tug, and the couch scooted across the floor. I crouched down and examined the web, it showed no signs of fraying or breaking. That’s a good sign. I started work on the next problem, making the web shooters easier to activate. I left the web stuck to the couch, hopefully it would dissolve in the next few hours, if not I needed to tweak my formula.
I figured the best solution would be to make the shooters activate by pressing a button that rested in the middle of my palm with my middle and ring finger. I tested it again, and it worked easier. I set to work making the other one, and finally collapsed in bed at 11:30.
My phone alarm woke me at 6 the next morning. I had breakfast, like dad recommended, and headed to school. On the train, I skimmed an article recapping the events of the meeting General Ross had with the Avengers the other day. A few phrases jumped out at me-destruction in Lagos, Sokovia accords, The Winter Soldier, SHIELD, HYDRA, documentation of enhanced beings, and government dictates when to respond and not respond.
I ran into school for my first class-physics-and worked on the lab with my partner Michelle. She’s pretty grim, talked in a flat tone of voice, and referred to everyone, including the teachers as ‘losers’. I feel like I could get to know her better, but we have different lunches. Semester change is coming up next week, though, so my schedule could change to be in the same lunch. Literature, chemistry, then lunch. After lunch, study hall, PE, algebra, then social studies, and I was home free!
My afternoon was the same as yesterday’s, but no band rehearsal. Betty had a doctor’s appointment, and MJ wasn’t feeling well, so we called it off. I came straight home after dance, and remembered the leftovers dad left for me in the fridge. I reheated it while finishing my homework, then proceeded to finish Empire Strikes Back while I ate.
I needed to make a quicker way of reloading my web shooters then filling it with fluid. I grabbed my notebook, and started wandering around the apartment, jotting down ideas. I was spaced out when my phone buzzed and made me fall off the ceiling, nearly landing on Murderface. He gave an indignant meow, and trotted away, probably to the sunbeam that always hit my bed around now. I picked my phone up, and it was a text from my dad.
“I’ll be home around 11 tonight, you had better be in bed by then”
“OK, see you then” I replied. I checked my notebook to see whatever notes I had made while I was spaced out. A bunch of indecipherable letters, a snail drawing, and a sketch of an old Game Boy cartridge. Cartridges...what if there was a way to pre-fill some cartridges with web fluid, maybe condense and vacuum seal it? That could work.
I set to work, and managed to get a few failed prototypes before I got one that was remotely workable. Checking the time I saw it was about 10:50. My dad was going to be home soon. I grabbed all my stuff, powered down my computer, and ran to bed. I had just jumped into bed, upsetting a sleeping Murderface, and grabbed a book when my dad came in.
“You’re still up reading, honey?”
“Yeah, I was just going to finish this chapter then fall asleep.”
“Ok, good night. Love you,” he said while closing the door behind him.
“Love you, too,” I called after him. I finished that chapter, then sunk into a dreamless sleep.