The campus of Empire State University buzzed with the energy of another afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the trees as groups of students laughed, chatted, and said their goodbyes.
Gwen walked slowly among them, her light footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. She had just parted ways with her friends.
Ever since that accident in the lab had changed her life, everything felt different. Her senses were sharper; every sound and movement around her had grown clearer, as if the entire world had gained a new layer of intensity.
Thanks to her conversation with Arthur, she felt much calmer now.
The wind brushed against her face with an almost electric delicacy, and she felt—deep in her soul—that those newly discovered powers were not just a gift… but a calling.
"Maybe I can use them for something good," she thought, gazing at the sky as it began to turn shades of red.
That was when a familiar sound pulled her from her thoughts—commotion, raised voices not far away. Gwen frowned and quickly followed the noise, her instincts on high alert.
Turning the corner, the scene before her made her sigh.
A small circle of students had gathered around two familiar faces—Peter Parker and Flash Thompson.
From what she could gather, Peter had, accidentally or not, "offended" Flash's lack of intelligence during a trivial conversation… and, predictably, the bully had not taken it well.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Gwen shouted, her voice slicing through the air with authority.
The moment Flash realized who had spoken, he stopped immediately. The irritation in his eyes dissolved into a mixture of discomfort and reluctant respect. Gwen was not someone he wanted trouble with—and above all, no one wanted problems with George Stacy, her father and the police captain.
Clicking his tongue, Flash stepped back with a huff.
"Ugh… whatever," he muttered before turning to leave.
Gwen approached Peter and helped him up from the ground, noticing the dust on his coat.
"Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.
"I'm fine, thanks, Gwen," he replied, a shy smile slipping through.
He clearly wanted to walk away and forget the scene, but Gwen grabbed his arm before he could take a step.
"Where do you think you're going, Flash?" her voice rang out again.
Everyone around them fell silent. The air grew tense.
"Come back here and apologize to him."
The reaction was immediate. The murmurs ceased. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Flash blinked in disbelief. He definitely hadn't expected that.
"Gwen, you don't have to do this," Peter whispered, embarrassed. "Let's just… drop it."
But Gwen looked at him firmly.
"Peter, this has to stop. They've been provoking you for years. Today, at least once, they're going to apologize."
Flash's face turned red, torn between anger and humiliation. He glanced around—dozens of eyes were fixed on him.
The fear of a headline reading 'Captain Stacy Arrests Flash Thompson' weighed more heavily than his pride.
Grumbling something barely audible, he turned his head and muttered a rushed apology.
After that, he stormed off, shoving aside anyone in his path.
"Thank you, Gwen," Peter said awkwardly, but with genuine gratitude in his eyes.
"You're welcome," she replied with a smile. "It was the least I could do. We're friends, remember? And someone had to put an end to this."
She crossed her arms and studied him for a moment.
"By the way, what are you doing out here? I thought you were in the lab with Dr. Connors."
Peter adjusted his glasses and scratched the back of his neck.
"Some instruments went missing. I was heading to Oscorp to request replacements. Oh, and the latest batch of materials just arrived—I need to deliver the data too."
Gwen nodded, lightly touching his shoulder.
"I see… But Peter, you need to stand up for yourself more. If you keep acting like a shy nerd, they'll never stop picking on you."
Peter sighed, weary.
"I know… but maybe one day I'll change that."
He gave a small smile and waved.
"I've got to go. See you later, Gwen."
She watched him disappear into the crowd of students, then took a deep breath.
"Maybe…" she murmured to herself.
As she approached the gate, the sun bathing her face in warm light, a spark of clarity struck her.
"Maybe I finally know where I should use these powers…"
A bright smile spread across her face.
Gwen Stacy had just found a purpose.
---
After finishing his tasks, Arthur finally threw himself onto the couch and grabbed his phone.
Only then did he realize he hadn't completed the system's daily login yet.
"System, log me in," he muttered.
A translucent interface appeared before his eyes, projected solely for him, glowing in a soft blue hue.
[Daily login completed successfully.]
[Calculating reward…]
[Analyzing dimensional compatibility…]
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"Dimensional compatibility? You've never done that before."
The screen flickered.
[Congratulations! You have received: An Official S.H.I.E.L.D. Whistle.]
Silence.
Arthur stared at the notification.
He blinked once.
Twice.
"…A what?"
The description automatically expanded.
[Item: Official S.H.I.E.L.D. Whistle.]
[Description: Standard whistle used by veteran agents for signaling during basic training exercises for recruits. Produces a sharp and slightly irritating sound. Possesses no magical properties, advanced technological features, or any practical use in high-level combat environments.]
Arthur stared at the screen as if expecting it to be a joke.
"You… gave me a damn training whistle?"
A small metal box dropped into his lap with a dry clink.
Arthur opened it.
There it was.
A small, silver, ridiculously ordinary whistle.
He brought it to his lips and blew.
FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII—
The piercing sound echoed throughout the house.
"Completely useless…"
---
Silverline Studios
Less than fifteen minutes later, Arthur parked in front of Silverline's modern building.
The entrance hall was spacious and elegant, illuminated by glass panels and polished floors.
A man in an impeccable suit approached him with a smile.
"Mr. Arthur, the general manager is already waiting for you in his office. Please, this way."
"Thank you," Arthur replied, adjusting his coat as he walked inside.
When he opened the office door, he was greeted by a cloud of cigar smoke and the sight of a muscular man sitting comfortably behind a mahogany desk.
"Mr. Arthur," the man said, rising to his feet. "I'm glad you came. Here's the contract—just sign it."
Arthur frowned, intrigued.
"Sign it? Before we even talk?"
The man smiled with rehearsed confidence.
"After a decision from the board, we concluded that you will transfer the adaptation rights to your books. Just make it official here."
Before Arthur could respond, seven men in black suits emerged from the sides of the room, subtly surrounding him.
Arthur crossed his arms and sighed.
"Are you serious? Are you idiots, or are you just hoping for a free prison sentence?"
The man raised an eyebrow, confused.
"What?"
"First: we're in the twenty-first century—even cameras have cameras.
Second: what makes you think a plan this stupid would work?"
The man's smile twisted.
"Playing hard to get, huh?"
He snapped his fingers. The security guards began to move.
But Arthur simply smiled—a calm, almost predatory smile.
"Before anything else," he said, lowering his gaze slightly, "you picked the wrong person to try to coerce."
"Let's dance," Arthur said with an excited grin.
---
(End of Chapter)