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Gwen’s first instinct is to drop-kick whoever it was.
In all fairness, HQ had just been declared to be in a state of Emergency and total lockdown. An anomaly – some villain from Earth 8311 – had managed to get loose, and everyone was freaking out because they’re apparently a huge threat. Miguel had almost burst a vein, screaming and fuming at no-one in particular, while Lyla followed him around snapping pictures with ridiculous filters, and Peter had quickly steered Miles out of the way before he could catch sight of him. Not five minutes later, Miguel broadcasted across all their watches, setting all the Spiders in HQ on a manhunt and forbidding portalling until they caught the villain, so visibly frazzled that even Hobie very considerately didn’t disobey him on principle. Everyone was on high-alert, Peter, Miles, Hobie and her agreeing to split up, and Miles had whooped “Hell yeah! Feels great to be on this side of the manhunt!” with disproportionate cheer, which was really more endearing than it had any right to be.
There had been a second where she’d paused, frowned and asked “Hey, where’s Pavitr?” and everyone started to get a bit worried, but then Hobie shrugged and said, “He prob’ly already got home, left right after our mission, didn’t he?” And everyone had sort of accepted that.
So really, it’s Pavitr’s fault for webbing her out of nowhere as she walked down a deserted hallway, anxious and primed to fight. He’d yanked her with absolutely zero warning into a narrow, shadowy, slightly murder-y looking corridor where none of them are supposed to go; he cannot complain about getting a kick in the gut and being sent crashing to the floor as a result.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Gwen gasps the second she registers who it is, kneeling next to him, “Are you okay, Pav?”
Pavitr groans, sprawled on the floor, the eyes on his mask screwed up in pain. That’s worrying – usually, he bounces back fastest of all of them.
“Pav? Are you hurt? What kind of question is that, of course you’re hurt – do you wanna go to Spider-Med Bay?” She wrings her hands, freaking out a bit.
“No no, I’m fine, fikar not.” Pavitr grunts as he sits up, “Sorry, that was on me – I should not have done that without warning.”
“Yeah, no crap!” Gwen sighs, “I thought you were the anomaly! My Spidey-sense didn’t go off, which made me even more freaked, but of course that makes sense now because it’s you and – what are you doing here? We thought you went home.”
“Um… I got a bit delayed, and I didn’t go back on time, and then Miguel blocked the portals.” Pav isn’t looking at her, and he’s fidgeting viciously with his bangles, which is a little alarming because he’s not the anxious type, nothing like her.
“Pavitr? What’s wrong?”
“Kuchh nahi!” Pavitr says immediately, then winces, “Nothing wrong per se. I just… sorry for dragging you out of nowhere, I need a little help.”
Gwen hums.
“I mean, there are a couple of laws I’m not willing to break, but most of them are pretty flexible. What is it?”
That startles a laugh out of her friend, and she smiles as he visibly relaxes a bit, although his shoulders are still drawn in a tense line.
“Pav?” she tries gently. Whatever this is, he’s clearly pretty worked up about it. She’s never seen him like this before, except that one time when his universe was literally ripping apart. Normally, she’d be jittery to get back to the anomaly, but right now that can wait.
Pavitr takes a deep breath, then looks at her. Then back to the floor, picking at his gloves.
“Do you – I mean, you wouldn’t – I need a – no, that sounds – could you – uff, I mean –”
“It’s okay, take your time.”
“Do you have a pad with you, by any chance?” He rushes out in one breath, glaring determinedly at the floor.
Gwen blinks for a moment, nonplussed.
Pavitr seems to get more worried every millisecond she doesn’t respond, though, so she blurts out before he can bolt or something.
“Like – a writing pad? Tracker pad? Or there’s a helipad, or… the period kind of pad?”
“The – the last one. Um.”
He looks like he’s a second away from dying. Gwen isn’t sure why he’s so wound up about it. So he needs a pad, probably helping out some Spider she doesn’t know but Pav seems to make friends everywhere he goes and he’d probably try to help even if he wasn’t. What about it?
She really wants to help him out. He clearly cares a lot about this. The only problem is…
“Sorry, Pavi, I don’t have one.”
It should not be possible to look that betrayed and sad through a Spider-mask. Pavitr looks at her with wide, despairing puppy-dog eyes.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again, and he shakes his head, looking like he’s going to argue with her for apologizing, so she barrels ahead, “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure whoever it’s for can get one from their other friends. Or they could go to the Med Bay, or ask any other Spider, someone’s gotta have a tampon or somethi –”
“I can’t!” Pavitr interrupts loudly, then flinches at his own volume and lowers his voice, “Sorry, I – they can’t, I mean, I… they can’t. Ugh, I don’t want – jhoot nahi, tujh se nahi – fine. I can’t. I cannot do that.” He sighs, and finally looks up at Gwen.
“It’s for me. The pad. I’m the one that needs it.”
It takes a second to click for Gwen.
“Oh.” She says, eyes widening a bit, “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Pavitr’s visibly steeling himself, his hands clenched painfully, he looks like he’s on the verge of panicking.
Gwen’s a bit guilty for the pleasant excitement that flutters in her chest, the feeling of kinship that she doesn’t know how to explain.
Oh shit, how does she explain?
Pavitr seems to take her silence the wrong way. He starts to stand up, making a noise that sounds dangerously like a sniffle, and it’s Gwen’s turn to panic.
“Wait, Pav, don’t –” she stands up quickly with him, and removes her mask, suddenly needing to be as raw with him as possible, needing him to see her sincerity, “Don’t go, I didn’t mean to sound like that, I’m not like… transphobic and stuff!”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –” Pav’s voice is high and cracking, and Gwen immediately wants to fix it, he’s not supposed to sound like that, all sorrowful and anxious, “Bad decision, bola kyun? Bewakoof hoon, sorry, I’ll just –”
“Pavitr!” Gwen grabs him by the wrist before he can leave, making him look at her as she says slowly, “I’m trans too.”
It seems to take a minute to process, but Gwen can feel his muscles relax under her hand, can see the tension bleeding out of Pav like a physical thing.
“Oh.” He breathes, and it looks like he’s about to say more, when – “Oughh.”
Gwen quickly moves to support him as he doubles over, clenching his arms around his stomach.
“Bhenchod… You can really pack a punch, Gwen. I’m very proud of you – oooh…”
“Dammit, Pav, I’m –”
“If you say sorry, I’ll cry.” Pav says very seriously, “Don’t ask me why. I’m not sure.”
“Of course you will.”
She lowers him to the floor. He doesn’t protest, just takes his mask off to breathe deeply.
“Ugh. The first day’s always bad, but this is a new level.” He pouts, and glares at his stomach, “Why did you have to start today, of all days? Baaki poora maheena hai, abhi padhaarna tha?”
“I have never been more glad that I don’t have to deal with that.” Gwen informs him. He chuckles.
“Yaar, I was so scared to bring this up. Meri toh phat rahi thi. I was so afraid you were going to… I don’t know.” Pavitr laughs with the kind of relief that tells Gwen this conversation has gone pretty thoroughly sideways before, “I wasn’t really planning to tell any of you guys, ever, but then my period started right after our mission and I always take a pad with me wherever I go, but of course I forgot it today. And then this whole emergency started, and I can’t portal home now, and Miguel locked down all the exits in HQ. And I can’t lie to save my life, so I couldn’t ask anyone else, and you’re my friend and I trust you, so…”
“Thank you for trusting me.” Gwen smiles, a burst of warmth and affection and protectiveness rushing through her, as she reaches out and holds his hand. Pavitr blinks at her, his dark eyes wide and a little teary, and squeezes it back, a genuine smile breaking onto his face like a ray of sunlight.
“Thank you, too.” He says softly, “Hum akele nahi hai.”
Gwen’s not entirely sure which one of them pulled the other into the hug, but Pavitr is warm and solid and soft against her, his arms safe and strong, and she hugs him back fiercely, pouring all her affection into it. If a few stray tears find their way onto his shoulder, none of them comment on it.
Pavitr’s face is bright and happy as they pull away, and she keeps holding his hand, just because.
“So, just so we’re clear, your pronouns are still he/him, right?”
“Yeah. Yours are she/her?”
“Yep.”
They share a grin, small and secret, just for the two of them, but then Pavitr’s eyes flutter shut, and he makes a small noise of pain.
“Alright.” Gwen immediately goes into planning mode, because obviously they have a pressing matter to resolve and she will make damn sure it’s resolved, “So, we’ve got to get you a period product. Let’s see… Miles and Hobie are dead ends. Hobie always has a bunch of weird shit with him, but I don’t know if he’ll have a pad since he doesn’t know anyone among our friends needs it. And I swear Miles would forget his brain at home if it wasn’t attached to him. How he’s still so smart is beyond me.”
“Aww, you love him so much.” Pavitr coos, and if he wasn’t already going through it, Gwen would have smacked him.
“Peter carries around spare diapers and baby stuff for Mayday, but I don’t think he’ll have anything useful for us. Jess is pregnant, so she doesn’t keep period things stocked right now, and besides she knows about me so I can’t ask her to do something, and I don’t think you’ll wanna…”
“Nope.”
“Okay, well, who else… there’s Margo, but she’s an avatar. She literally has nothing physical here.” Gwen looks at Pavitr, something occurring to her, “We could go to the Med Bay? Actually, why haven’t we done that already?! Dude –”
“I tried.” Pavitr cringes, “Because of the Emergency, there’s only Doc Spider there right now, and I’m sort of friends with her? Like, not close, but I don’t want her to know about me. Plus, there’s a stupid rule that we have to either get a Spider there for first-aid, or check out stuff with a signed form of who it’s for, and she could probably bypass it in the system for me but it would be weird for me to ask, right? So I just… left.”
“Oh! I could just get it under my name.” Gwen sits up, excited, but then deflates equally quickly, “Wait, no, I’ve been to the Med Bay a lot before, especially back when I was homeless for those couple of months. I’m out to her too, and we’re both terrible liars. Do you know how to forge a sign?”
“You think I would be here if I did?”
“Fair enough. Why do we even have that rule? Like, how does that even make sense?! No one’s hoarding medical supplies for fun! We’ve gotta tell Miguel to change it.”
“Doesn’t Miguel keep saying he’ll fix it but then forget because there’s some new crisis every other week because Spider Society is basically concentrated chaos?”
“Okay, yeah, there is that. So… now what?”
“Well. This has been fun, Gwen, it’s been a pleasure working with you, and being your friend. But now my time has come. There’s nothing to be done, except for me to simply perish and decay.” Pav proclaims loftily.
“You’re not dying, Pav, shut it.”
“How would you know? You kicked me exactly where it hurts, you don’t know the pain I’m in. Could be life threatening.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“Sorry doesn’t bring back the dead.” Pavitr sighs and flops dramatically onto his back, stretching out. Gwen rolls her eyes.
“Look, at the very least, someone will catch the anomaly eventually.” She says, “We just have to wait it out until then. Maybe just… move less, till then? We’ll stay right here!”
“Sounds good.” He shuffles a little closer, and she lies down next to him. They stare at the ceiling for a bit, before Pav seems to decide the silence is boring.
“Hey Gwen? If you don’t mind me asking, who all are you out to?”
“Let’s see,” Gwen thinks for a moment, “Back in my dimension, my dad knows, because obviously. And my Peter and May knew. I guess if anyone at school remembers me when I was little, they’d know.”
“And here?”
“I told Jess in the first month, and Doc Spider found out because I kept getting sent to Med – I was pretty reckless for a while there before I met you guys. I might’ve slipped and mentioned it to Miles, at some point. And I was staying with Hobie for a bit, so I told him.”
“Were they all…?”
“Everyone was very cool about it.” Gwen assures him, smiling to herself. She remembers how scared she’d been at the very beginning, but her dad had just bought a pile of queer parenting guides and opened about a hundred research tabs on his computer that she knows are still there. Everyone she really cares about had supported her unconditionally, and they’ve never let her feel like she doesn’t belong, screw what other people said. She’s been raised to be proud about who she is, and her friends just make it easier still.
It’s not something she announces to everyone, of course, because people can be shitty, but if it ever comes up, she feels confident and safe telling people who matter to her.
“Everyone’s… pretty cool, just in general.”
“I’m happy for you.” Pavitr’s smile is audible in his voice too. His voice softens as he says, “You’re the first person here I told.”
“Oh.” Gwen hadn’t known that, but his anxiety about it makes so much more sense now. “Thanks. I’m glad you felt like you could. Really.”
“I sort of half-seriously considered telling you guys a few times,” Pavitr says, “You, Hobie and Miles are my best friends. Sometimes, I imagine just… not having to hide stuff like period cramps, or emergencies like this, from you? Or like… taking off my bindings when we chill together. But…”
“But?”
“I don’t want to risk things.” He sighs, sounding like he’s reliving something distant, “I was afraid you’d hate me, or think I was disgusting or… something. There’s a lot of potential for it to blow up in my face, you know? And I know you’re all decent people who I can’t imagine being that awful, but even in a best-case scenario… I don’t want my friends to think differently of me. I don’t want any of you to think I’m a freak, or a girl, or something. So this is just… not something I ever tell people. I don’t even know how.”
“Pav…” Gwen wants to reassure him they’d never do that, never be that horrible, but she knows first-hand those words don’t really help with that worry, so she switches tracks, “If anyone ever said or did any of that, I’d kick their ass. They’d be a really shitty person, and you’re not to blame one bit, you know that, right?”
Pavitr laughs.
“You’re right, I guess. And for the record, I’d kick ass on your behalf too.”
“Good. Then we’re in agreement.” She grins, nudging his arm, “No one gets to be shitty to us for who we are.”
“Sahi mein.” Pav agrees vehemently, “Sometimes I wonder what so many of the people back home would say if they knew their beloved hero, Spider-Man, mardaangi ki misaal, was part of a community they hate. And it honestly just makes me happier, out of sheer spite.”
“Right?! I actually spoke out as Spider-Woman supporting trans rights back home once, walked in a Pride march and stuff, and theories about me being trans started flying around. And you would not believe the amount of hate some people had, they were so angry it was insane.”
“Please tell me you made an unofficial Spider-Woman Tweeter account and posted memes about it.”
“I went on TV saying “I can neither confirm nor deny these claims but if anyone would like to not be saved by me then that’s a personal choice and I will fully respect it.””
Pavitr cackles.
“I mean, your logic is logicking!”
“Well, it’s not my fault if –”
A distant, echoing screech interrupts her.
Pavitr and Gwen sit up instantly, sharing a wide-eyed look. In one swift move, they pull their masks on.
“It came from there, right?” Pavitr whispers, waving further down the narrow corridor they’re in, where it fades into darkness.
“Yeah.”
“Ooh.” He sucks in a breath, “Isn’t this whole area of HQ restricted? That one part we’re not supposed to go, because it’s being reconstructed and broken and reconstructed over and over again for the past decade?”
“Yep. They just finished fixing it yesterday.”
“So… there wouldn’t be anyone patrolling over here, would there?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I guess we’re officially the main characters of this universe.”
They stiffen as something clatters loudly in the shadows, closer than before.
“Alright, I’m calling for backup.” Gwen flicks her watch on, tapping on the screen for Miles or Hobie, unaware that she’s being watched by a threat closer than she’d realized.
It’s Pavitr who yells and yanks her out of the way, his Spidey-sense going off a split second before hers, as the villain dives at her with a shriek, talons sharp and outstretched.
“This way!” Pav pulls her toward a doorway she hadn’t noticed before, and they make a dash for it – only for her to crash into a painted wall. Pavitr actually somehow slips in through it, but hops back out when he realizes what just happened.
“What kind of Looney Tunes bull – oh.” Gwen’s eyes widen, and she looks up to face their villain, “Oh no.”
The scraggly, winged creature with a comical amount of gears and a polished metal beak hovers over them, beady eyes glinting evilly.
“Good news: we found the anomaly.” Pav says weakly, and then stifles a pained groan.
“Who you calling an anomaly?!” the brightly technicoloured bid squawks in offense, “I am more powerful, more glorious than you’ll ever be!”
“Let me guess, you’re… Avian Toomes?”
“I am the Vulture!” he screeches, “And I will take down Spider-Ham, and I will prove to everyone who ever mocked me just how dangerous I can be!”
“This is the guy we were all freaking out about?” Gwen squints, “He’s a cartoon.”
The Vulture lets out a furious screech, and dive-bombs at her. She leaps and spins out of the way, but instead of crashing with the momentum that should have applied, the Vulture just veers after her so quickly his wings blur, defying every law of physics.
“You got something against cartoons?!” he shrieks, and Gwen just about avoids the huge wooden hammer he swings at her out of nowhere.
“Okay, that one’s on me, I should’ve seen that coming.” She grumbles, “Of course you’ve got hammerspace.”
“Cartoons would actually be devastatingly dangerous in a regular dimension, theoretically, wouldn’t they?” Pavitr swings his bangle at the Vulture, managing to lasso it around him and hold him in place like a giant angry balloon, “Cartoon logic is objectively terrifying.”
“What logic?” The Vulture dives at Pav instead, and he leaps out of the way, “You think we have anything to do with logic? Bah!”
And he twists around like a fricking cloth being wrung out, escaping the wrapped web, and airdrops an anvil on Pavitr.
“Thanks for the free stuff, dude!” Pav says, and he webs up at anvil and swings it back at the Vulture.
Actual tiny vultures dance around the Vulture’s head dizzily as it hits him, and Gwen tries to tie him up. He clears his head and trips her over his talon, sending her falling face-first into a cherry pie.
“Fucking –” she fumes, as the Vulture soars up again, “You are so lucky this suit’s machine washable. I better not see the white turn pink or I will come to your dimension and pluck every single feather off you like a chicken.”
“I am not a chicken!” he rages with an intensity that honestly catches her off-guard, “I am the Vulture! The greatest Vulture, and anyone who calls me a crow will be annihilated!”
“Chill, bhai, nobody called you a crow!” Pavitr calls, jumping out of the way of another onslaught of pies, “Oooh, that apple pie smells good!”
“How dare you imply I’m a crow!” he squawks, “The Vulture will make you pay!”
“Why are you so worked up about being…” Gwen glares at him, shifting on her feet for her next leap, and it’s then that she notices something. The sleek, shiny black feathers on the villain’s neck and wings, the way his armour is much bigger on him than his actual body, shaping him more like a vulture even though… “Wait, you are a crow!”
“How dare you?!” The Vulture screams, and suddenly she’s being flapped at into a corner, “I. Am. NOT. A. CROW!”
“Okay, okay, sorry, sheesh!” Gwen blocks his claws, but blinks as he’s suddenly gone, leaving her standing there. “Where –”
A train whistle interrupts her, and she turns to see the painted wall/doorway from earlier. And the unmistakable outline of a train that’s just about to –
“Woah!”
She vaults off the top of it as it almost hits her, and sticks to the wall above the tunnel. She and Pavitr wince as the train crashes through the opposite wall and far into the next rooms and corridors, before vanishing out of sight (and presumably falling off the HQ building eventually).
“Wait, so the Vulture from Spider-Ham’s universe is… a crow?” Pavitr’s face scrunches up in question. Gwen shrugs, and –
“I am a Vulture!” the Vulture hisses, hovering mid-air menacingly, “I am tired of everyone treating me like a joke. The Daily Beagle keeps publishing the same crow-murder pun about me, all the other villains call me a faker and a poser and claim I am making them look stupid, now this disrespect from this strange place. I will destroy you all!”
“I am so confused right now.” Pav blinks.
The Vulture doesn’t seem to hear or care, continuing his monologue,
“Oh, everyone accepts Spider-Ham as a pig without question, when he wasn’t born one either! But accepting me is ridiculous, somehow! I am a vulture, I am the Vulture, and I demand to be treated as one!”
“This is… giving me wild déjà vu of those transphobes who try to make fun of genderqueer people by being all ‘I identify as a kitty-cat’ and ‘my gender is attack helicopter’.” Gwen says.
“You think this is funny?” The Vulture screeches, and tosses something at her before she can protest.
“Um.” She blinks bemusedly at the sticks of TNT in her hands, the comically long fuse fizzling. “Pavitr!”
She tosses it at him, and Pav catches it. He takes a second to register what it is, too, before yelping and tossing it to the Vulture. The Vulture throws it back at him, he passes it to her, she passes it at the Vulture, and they keep passing it around until –
BOOM!
The room is filled with smoke and dust from the crumbled walls. A haystack rolls past her. Gwen’s been blown a few feet away, and she can’t see Pavitr through the curling grey.
“Pav?” she coughs, trying to push herself upright.
“You think this is funny.” An ominous voice rasps. A metallic clanking rings out, as the figure of the Vulture totters to his feet. He’s been the most impacted by the bomb, his feathers a bit singed and the dust forming a smiley pattern around his eyes and beak. “I am a Vulture, even if I wasn’t born in the right feathers. None of you can take that away from me. I will defeat Spider-Ham, and I will take over my dimension, and soon everyone will know to fear me, the Vulture. And no one shall ever laugh, except when I want them to because that’s our brand as cartoons!”
“Not so fast,” Gwen staggers to her feet, ready to fight, “Not if we beat you first, you stupid bird. Right, Pavitr?”
There’s no answer. Even the Vulture flaps his wings, waiting.
A wet sob rings out across the corridor.
“Pav?” she repeats, worried now.
Then something crashes into the Vulture, and he goes down with a small scream. Gwen blinks.
The smoke clears suddenly with the timing that only dramatic cartoon smoke can have, and Gwen beholds the scene in front of her. It takes a minute to process.
He is weeping very intensely, very very loudly, draped over the Vulture in a tight hug. The Vulture looks just as stunned by this as Gwen feels, as Pavitr’s tears drip down on his armour and soak into his feathers, making a small pool around them. Judging by the grip he has on the bird, Pav’s not letting go anytime soon, and the villain seems to clock onto this at the same time she does.
“Uh… hey, you okay, um… Spider?” he asks uncertainly.
Pavitr only wails an unintelligible answer and cries harder.
Help me. The Vulture seems to say in the look he shoots at Gwen.
What do you want me to do? She shrugs helplessly at him.
“Um… there, there…?” The Vulture slowly raises one wing and pat’s Pav’s back. Pavitr immediately hugs him tighter, and the bird looks alarmed.
“Pavitr?” Gwen tries.
It takes a minute for Pavitr’s words to make sense, but she’s no less baffled when they do.
“I’m so, so sorry – maaf kar de, yaar, Vulture – I’m – I shouldn’t have called you a crow, I’m sorry…”
“Oh.” The Vulture says, his eyes widening. Then, because Gwen’s day wasn’t bizarre enough already, the villain wraps his wings around Pavitr, hugging him back and looking a little teary himself.
“No one’s ever apologized to me before…” he sniffles, “Thank you, Spider.”
“You are a Vulture.” Pav pulls back and cups the bird’s face in his hands, “No matter what they say, you are a Vulture, and if they don’t respect that, they are all idiots. You are the very best Vulture, you hear me?”
“You – you mean the very worst, right? The evillest?”
“The most evillest of them all.” Pavitr agrees solemnly.
“Uh, Pav? Why are we encouraging him?” Gwen finally asks, getting her jaw off the floor.
“Don’t you see?” Pavitr turns to her, eyes wide, “He’s just like us. His world doesn’t accept him for who he is either, they kept telling him he couldn’t be who he was, and he did it anyway, and he deserves to – he –”
Her friend tapers off into another sob, and the Vulture pats his back comfortingly.
“You understand, Spider-Friend.” He says.
“Wait, wait, time out.” She does the time-out gesture, and somehow that seems to get her their attention, “Pav, how is this the same? His deal is a funky weird cartoon shenanigan. We had to deal with serious struggles in our worlds to claim our identity, that people keep trying to invalidate and hate and take away.”
Pavitr stares at her, unblinking, until she re-processes what she just said and then Gets It.
“Oh.” She sighs.
“Yeah.” Pav nods, “His world and his identity may not make sense to us, but it still matters to him. It impacts a real person, it has consequences. And it costs us nothing to respect it.”
“Okay, Father Pavitr.”
“I think you mean Pavitr baba.” He says proudly.
“I… am glad to have met you, Spider-Friends.” The Vulture smiles slowly.
“Us too,” Gwen gives in and smiles too, this is like a really adorable fever dream, “Although, maybe please don’t try to destroy Spider-Ham? He’s really nice, and he’s our friend.”
“I shall see what I can do.”
“Pleeease?” Pavitr asks him, making puppy-dog eyes.
“… fine.”
“Yay!”
Then, worryingly, Pavitr starts to shake with sobs again, although he doesn’t seem sad this time.
“Pav?”
“Sorry!” he hiccups, “I’m just – very emotional! This is – ugh, itna pyaara moment – it’s not my fault I’m a hormonal emotional mess! I’m still stuck with the stupid period and we still haven’t fixed the original problem and with every passing second it gets worse –”
“Oh, right! Let me call Miguel, we can get you back to your dimension.” Gwen says to the Vulture. He bristles a bit.
“I wanted to go home, but I did not like that guy. No one’s butt should be clenched that hard.”
“Well, we’ll be there till you get home! Is that okay?”
The Vulture glances at her searchingly, then smiles and nods. Then he cocks his head at a calming Pavitr.
“What’s the matter? Is there anything I can do?”
“Unless you can magically conjure a pad, no.”
“Hmm. Like a writing pad, or a tracker pad, or a heli –”
“The period kind.” Gwen intervenes.
“One minute.”
The Vulture rummages around in his pockets for a moment, and then pulls out a big, bright orange-and-pink pack of pads.
“Oh damn.”
“Hammerspace.” Pavitr says with awe.
“They are 5XXL.” The Vulture nods wisely, offering it to him, “Big wings, enough to fly with, if you want.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Of course.”
“Two birds with one –” Gwen’s about to cheer, and then she catches herself. “I – I mean, two problems, solved by one bird, and – uhh, the two of us, too! Yay!”
The Vulture looks at her in bemusement. Pavitr gives her a thumbs up, nice save, from behind him.
She clears her throat.
“I, uh. Called Miguel.”
Pavitr gingerly gets up, clutching the Vulture’s gift, and nods at the destruction around them.
“He’s going to have an aneurysm when he sees this place is going to need reconstructing again. Record it for me if I don’t make it back here in time?”
“I can’t wait to explain to him how we managed this.” She deadpans, “All with the train, and the TNT…”
“And the pie.” Pavitr adds cheerfully, “Don’t forget the pie.”