3 Gwen Stacy and Spider Woman--All In One Night!

POV Change - Gwen Stacy

I wasn't having a good night.

Between fighting the gangsters of New York, finishing college work, lying to my parents and fitting in enough practice on my drums so as to not get rusty...I was being worn pretty thin.

And it didn't help that mom had dragged me from my room just so I could meet some new neighbor of ours. Apparently it was the nephew of one of dad's past partners who moved away from the city - and now their nephew was coming to New York for College.

My predisposed image of this person was like all other freshman at college. Nervous, twitchy at just about anything and overly sensitive.

Except this guy wasn't anything like that.

For one, I was expecting someone of a more normal size. Not the 6'5" guy built like he was a gold-medalist sprinter for the USA Olympic team. Even standing casually, the behemoth towered over my dad and more importantly, over me. He must've been a solid foot taller than me. The thought made me think of some of the thugs I'd dealt with in the past: he was certainly similar in size to some of them.

The next thing that went against the predetermined image in my head was his face. I mean, he was outrageously gorgeous. More so than a guy his size had any right to be.

I was used to big guys being ugly. With big crooked noses and ears too big for their head. With small squinty eyes that lacked any real intelligence. But...this guy, this Samuel Booker...he wasn't anything like that. He nose was straight and proportional to his face. His ears, though barely discernible under the unkempt brown hair he had, were still easily seen as proportional to his head and didn't stick out in any weird way. His eyes too...they were full of intelligence. Chock full of intelligence. They were a clear maroon color and they looked around the room with the calm finality of some sort of predator looking for prey.

That was what was also wrong with him. He had brown hair, brown-red eyes and tanned skin - he looked like your typical happy-go-lucky guy in terms of appearance.

Yet that wasn't the case.

His expression was cold and indifferent. His eyes were intelligent...but they were also calculating.

But most troubling of all...was that as soon as I saw the guy, my spider-sense went off like air raid siren. It told me to run. That this man was no doubt the most dangerous person I'd ever met. It told me that no matter what I tried to do, I would be overpowered and beaten.

It spoke of an absolute and pure defeat that I would never be able to change the outcome of. It spoke...of death.

Then his eyes landed on me, and for a second, I froze. His eyes shot all over me before a realization settled into his gaze. What had he realized? For another second I was struck by fear as I wondered at what he'd realized. But I was quickly knocked out of my thoughts when I saw mom stride past me to the tall man, a wide smile across her face.

I nearly grabbed her and pulled her back, unsure if it was even safe for her to be in the same apartment complex as him, let alone within hugging distance.

Yet my mom, an infamous hugger, just stood in front of Samuel as she greeted him, "Samuel! It's so good to finally meet you! I'm Helen Stacy, that grumpy old man's wife," she joked, gesturing to dad, "I hope he hasn't tried any police scare tactics on you?" she questioned, jokingly and the cold countenance cracked as he surprisingly grinned at her joke.

"Please, do not worry. Mr. Stacy has been more than welcoming to me," his voice was deep but smooth and charming, and his grin fully accentuated his good-looks. Much more than his cold and indifferent expression. "Besides," he chuckled, "I'm more than used to those type of tactics because of my aunt. They rarely have an effect on me anymore," he smiled and it seemed like the lights in the room went dim. I could tell mom was thinking the same kind of thoughts. But the smile disappeared as soon as it appeared.

Seeing it was my turn to introduce myself, I took a step toward him and put out a hand.

He just...looked at the hand before mom spoke up for some reason, "Gwen...!" she said, in a harsh whisper but before she could continue, Samuel spoke up.

"It's okay, Mrs. Stacy," he gave a small smile which only seemed awkward before he reluctantly outreached his gloved hand and grasped my relatively much shorter hand in his much bigger one. I couldn't feel it directly through the gloves but I could tell his hands were calloused. I could tell that these hands had seen more than a few fights. "Samuel Booker. It's nice to meet you," he got out, somewhat through his teeth, as if he were uncomfortable.

"Gwen Stacy. It's nice to meet you too," I awkwardly replied, feeling something was off with this whole interaction. As soon as I finished my introduction, his hand let go of mine and shot back to his side, like contact with me had been burning him.

Before I could get anymore curious, he spoke up with an apologetic tone that didn't fit with his indifferent expression, "...I apologize," he said, obviously catching my confusion at his actions, "But I wholly dislike physical contact. I hope you can understand that, Gwen," I looked up at him and saw that his eyes weren't actually indifferent like the rest of his face for this little moment. They actually seemed genuine and sincere.

So much so that I just nodded and gave him an apologetic smile, "Ah, really? If I'd have known I wouldn't have put out my hand," I awkwardly got out, kicking myself mentally for putting myself in this situation. If mom didn't hug him, then I should've known something was up! Stupid, stupid Gwen!

While I was wallowing in awkwardness and how I'd created an uncomfortable situation, mom quickly picked up the conversation, "Now, Samuel, what is your favorite type of takeout? I'm sure you'll find that New York can accommodate any of your needs," she smilingly said, gesturing for Samuel to follow her further into the apartment.

While they walked, dad gave me a sort of teasing grin which made my face flush in embarrassment. Though said embarrassment was soon washed away when I realized that in my embarrassment and awkwardness...I'd nearly forgotten just how my spider-sense had reacted to Samuel.

So, in an effort to keep an eye on him, I quickly followed after him and my mom.

All the while, I could only think about how this was only another thing on my plate. Now I wasn't just a crime-fighting, college drummer - I now had a dangerous neighbor who I had no idea on who, or rather what he is.

Figures.

. . .

POV Change - Samuel Booker

What a tedious night.

Helen and George Stacy were nice enough. Welcoming, even. Yet I hardly knew them and whenever they got close, I had to spend energy on not pushing them away or making a scene out of it.

Maybe if I knew them more, I could put up with it easier. Like how I do with my aunt. But that was neither here nor there. Well, at least the night of getting to know my neighbors was over. I had said I'd come over some over time but I think both I and them knew that was little more than an empty promise.

Right now, I was sitting on my balcony, leaning back into a deck chair as I flicked a coin up and down. Methodically.

Every now and then I'd stopped, take a sip of water before resuming this action.

As I did it, I looked over the magnificent view laid out before me. New York city. The events that would happen in this place...were interesting. I didn't want to be a hero - my disposition was very unsuited for such a moral job. If I ever were to become something, it would be a vigilante, like Frank Castle. Like how I was back in California.

You see, as I cultivated, I grew stronger...but I had no physical evidence of that. Besides being able to lift heavier and heavier things, I didn't really know how strong I was.

Could I beat 10 people in a one vs many fight? Could I beat 100? 1000?

When I finished the second level of Body Tempering, the muscle segment, I decided to try it out. I put on a mask, didn't speak at all, and I went out to certain gang lands and just...fought them. I didn't do it because it was a good thing - I did it because I was curious. And I continued to do it because I liked it. Fighting, that is. Something that carried over from my last life, I presume, would be that I loved fighting.

I could get lost in fighting. Focusing on beating your opponent was all that mattered. You could leave your worries and traumas at the door, so to speak, and just focus on the fight itself.

Which is why I continued fighting as a vigilante. And why I will be continuing to do so in New York as well. Not because I'm a good person. No. But because I'm a selfish person who likes to indulge his needs and wants, even if that means hurting someone. In this case, however, I only ever hurt hardened criminals - rapists, murderers, traffickers, etc, etc. I've never hurt or killed an innocent person. But I can tell you the amount of criminals I've hurt and killed are too many to count.

There's a reason the name 'El Tigre' is never uttered on the streets of L.A. If it was, there was rumor a white tiger would appear and kill you - which was bullshit. I didn't kill people just because they uttered that name.

I got the name after I started wearing a flimsy children's mask made in the image of a white tiger. I did it because I thought it'd instill more fear than a simple ski mask - and I was right.

Which is why right now, I was looking over New York. My new place of work, some would say.

But from what I saw earlier, I wasn't the only person in this stomping ground, dishing out beatings.

And, as if on cue, a web shot through the air and grabbed the coin that I'd just flicked up before a black and white blur shot passed the air in front of me before landing on the wall behind me. Not the least bit surprised, I lifted my glass of water and took a sip before speaking in a calm tone, "I was wondering when you'd show up," I glanced over my shoulder at the lithe and curvy figure currently sticking the wall above my balcony.

The suit she was wearing was white around the shoulders and arms, the part around her chest was white except for the part around her bust which was black. Her waist and legs were covered in black spandex as well. Her face was covered by a white mask, and I could only really tell where her eyes were because of the red outlines that were fitted into the mask. She also had a white hood draped over her head, though the inside was red with white web-like patterns across it. Her feet were white, instead of black like the rest of her legs and the white covering almost looked like ballerina shoes as the white stretched up to her ankles, wrapping around them like bands of white fabric.

"You were expecting me? Gee, I didn't know I was that famous," the cheery voice come from behind the white mask, somewhat muffled and sounding markedly different from what I'd heard from her earlier.

She sounded more confident. More headstrong.

Turning my gaze back to the skyline of New York, I had a rare smirk on my face, "Even in L.A we've heard of the famous Spider-Woman," I lied - I hadn't heard a thing about her - "But what does a famous vigilante want to do with me, I wonder? I haven't broken any laws, after all."

She dropped to the ground, almost silently. I'll give that to her - if it were anyone other than me, they wouldn't have heard her drop to the floor.

Thinking I'd be shocked, she walked passed me and leaned her back against the wall, "What are you doing here? I heard along the grapevine that you're a dangerous guy."

Ah, so she's trying to use the old 'A little birdie told me' excuse so I don't suspect her. Wow. This must be Spider-Gwen in her early years because that's...a really amateur mistake. In fact, that would only make me more suspicious of Gwen if I didn't already know. Her and her family are the only people I've been in close proximity with and spoken to since I came to New York.

Tsk, tsk, Gwen - you need some more experience before you try and pull a quick one on me.

"And would that grapevine be some sort of vague sixth sense?" I asked, a smile kicking up on my face when I saw Gwen freeze, "I know it's you, Gwen. You have the same figure, voice and facial features," I dropped the bomb of all bombs, not really being in the mood to play around.

Why did I bring it up? Because if she knew that I knew about her vigilante activities, she'd stay out of my way. If I beat around the bush, she'd just continue to pester me. It's better to show her what she's dealing with.

"W-what are you on about, dude? You feeling okay? Who's Gwen?" she started to try and lie, her stuttering at the start and end of her sentence being more than enough evidence that she's lying.

"You," I pointed at her, "You're Gwen Stacy. You're coming to question me to see if I have any ill intent on your family because, somehow, you're able to feel my power and that seems to have spooked you," I felt my face return to neutral as I lifted my hands up, "I'm not planning on revealing anything to your family or anything Gwen. I just want you to know that this get-up won't be able to scare or intimidate me. If you have questions, ask them without a mask and a persona."

I stood up and Gwen flinched as I lifted my hand. I reached out, not physically but with my powers, and felt the the coin still being held by Gwen.

Grasping at that feeling, Gwen let out a yelp as an arc of electricity shot out from the coin as it shot toward my open hand. Grabbing it, I looked at Gwen who looked between me and her hand before I spoke up, "If you want, come inside and we can talk. But please, take off that childish mask before we talk. I'd feel ridiculous talking to it."

I wasn't planning on revealing my incredible physicality but revealing my electrokinesis and by extension my control over metal, I hoped it would deter Gwen from trying anything of a violent nature against me.

All I had to do now was speak to her and reassure her I was only here for college.