MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

"Dad?"

Gwen's voice was soft as she entered the living room and found her father sitting on the couch, his posture stiff and tense.

"Why didn't you turn on the light?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of confusion as she opened the door and stepped into the room.

The light flicked on, filling the space and dispelling the shadows that had clung to the room. But the moment the light touched George Stacy's face, Gwen felt a cold shiver run down her spine. His expression was stern, unusually serious. This was not the same man who always wore a calm demeanor at home.

"We need to talk, Gwen," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Gwen froze, her fingers halting their movement as she set her bag down. A wave of guilt washed over her. Had her father seen what had happened earlier between her and Peter?

What was wrong with her? She had been acting completely out of character, almost impulsive. She couldn't explain why, but something had come over her. Why had she kissed Peter like that? Was it the influence of whatever was happening to her, just like Peter said?

Her mind raced. The whole thing felt like it wasn't her. What she had done wasn't romantic at all—not by the usual standards of flowers and heart-shaped cards. No, it had been impulsive and reckless. But she wasn't just any girl. Their relationship was pure, without the baggage of typical romance.

"About what? Dad?" Gwen asked, though she had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer. Her voice tried to mask her uncertainty, but it cracked slightly.

George's eyes narrowed. "I don't object to you and Peter being close, but you need to understand the consequences of your actions. You need to think about what you're doing."

Gwen felt her heartbeat quicken. This wasn't how she'd imagined this conversation would go. She was suddenly defensive. "I don't know what you mean, Dad."

George's face tightened, his eyes full of frustration. "I'm trying to protect you, Gwen. I'm trying to keep you from making a mistake. You're not at the age where you should be so reckless with your emotions. You're still a child."

Gwen felt a pang of anger at his words. How could he say that to her? She was not a child. She was her own person, and she had her own life to live. "I don't understand. Why do you keep treating me like a child?"

Her voice shook with frustration, but she couldn't stop herself now. Her emotions were bubbling over, and she had to let it out. She didn't care if her father didn't understand.

"You always tell me how dangerous the world is, how people can't be trusted, how you have to protect yourself. But when I look into your eyes, I don't see someone who's trying to protect me. I see someone who's just afraid of me growing up. Of me making my own choices," Gwen snapped. "When you look into my eyes, what do you see? Do you see your daughter, or do you just see someone to control?"

George's expression faltered. "This isn't about what you think, Gwen," he said, voice thick with disappointment. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

"No, you're not," Gwen retorted, her voice rising. "You're trying to protect your version of me, the one who stays safe in her little bubble. You don't even see me anymore."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Dad, I don't need you to tell me what's right or wrong. I know what I'm doing, and I don't need anyone else telling me otherwise."

George's jaw clenched. "You don't understand what's at stake. You're still so young, Gwen. You haven't figured out the world yet."

"I'm an adult, Dad!" Gwen shouted, frustration evident in her voice. "Maybe it's time for you to realize that! I'm not a little girl anymore, and I'm not going to sit by and let you dictate my every move!"

Her words stung, and George felt like he was being torn apart. He had spent years trying to guide Gwen, trying to teach her right from wrong, but now it seemed like she was slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You haven't grown up yet, Gwen," he said sternly, his voice rising with authority.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad," she shot back, her face flushed with anger. "I'm not the little girl you raised. Maybe it's you who hasn't grown up, still holding on to some outdated idea of what I should be."

George was silent, staring at his daughter as if he had never seen her before. He didn't know what to make of this new, defiant Gwen in front of him. It was like she had become a stranger, someone he didn't understand.

"And what about Peter?" George asked, his voice now tinged with concern. "You really think he's good for you? You really think he has your best interests at heart?"

"Yes, I do," Gwen said firmly, her tone unwavering. "Peter's the one who's always there for me. He's the one who saved me when I was being foolish. He protected me when I needed him most. He's not the problem, Dad. It's you who can't see past your own fear to understand that."

George's face turned red, anger and frustration welling up inside him. "You're just a child, Gwen. You don't know what you're talking about. You're blinded by whatever this is, this... this infatuation with him."

"It's not an infatuation, Dad! It's real!" Gwen's voice cracked as the words left her lips. "I care about him, and I want to be with him. I don't need your permission. I don't need you to approve. I'm not asking for your blessing, I'm telling you how I feel."

George stood up, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This is not the Gwen I raised," he said, his voice full of bitterness. "You've become someone else. Someone I don't even recognize."

Gwen's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't back down. "I'm still your daughter, Dad. But I'm also my own person now. And I won't let you control my life anymore."

The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. George could feel his daughter slipping away from him, and it terrified him. But Gwen was determined. She had made her decision.

Meanwhile, Peter was walking down the rain-soaked streets of Brooklyn, completely unaware of the confrontation between Gwen and her father. He held an umbrella over his head, the drizzle turning into a light rain. The city around him seemed grim, the streets covered in a dull gray mist.

He had been thinking about Gwen all day—about her strange behavior, about the odd feeling he had whenever she was around. There was something not quite right, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. Maybe the smell he had detected earlier was more than just a coincidence.

Taking a deep breath, Peter pulled the leave slip out of his pocket. It was a note from Miss Fish, with the address of Helen Nolan scribbled on it. The Canal neighborhood was notorious for being dangerous, full of hidden dangers.

Following the address, Peter arrived at a Victorian-style building that stood out in the otherwise bleak neighborhood. The house was old, weathered, and covered in rust, but it had a strange, eerie beauty. The numbers "965" were affixed to the front of the house in faded black iron.

He hesitated for a moment, then rang the doorbell. The sound of wind chimes echoed eerily, the leaves on the porch swirling in the breeze. The door creaked open without warning, and Peter stepped inside, closing his umbrella.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him.

The darkness enveloped him, but Peter's enhanced senses allowed him to see clearly. A cold light flashed in front of him as a sharp blade came at him from the shadows.

Without thinking, Peter dodged, his arm shifting into an exoskeleton as he prepared to defend himself. His strike landed on the target's throat, but the figure was quick. A second attacker, dressed in a red ninja suit, appeared in the darkness, wielding a samurai sword.

Peter knew he was in for a fight.

----------------------------------------------------------

Visit our Patreon for more:

patreon.com/Samurai492