Gwen Stacy and the Effectiveness of Therapy

"Therapy?"

"Yep."

"You're dead serious, aren't you Mom?"

"About as serious as a heart attack."

It was somewhere near Midtown Manhattan, Gwen noticed. For about an hour, her and her mother had argued back and forth about this in the car driving up there; of course, since it was her mother, she had the last word and the final say in all this foolishness. At least in Gwen's eyes.

The building itself was a pristine, practically sterile looking white, with a short stairway and columns on both the left and right side.

"Why do you want me to be here?" Gwen asked.

Helen turned her head to the right to look at Gwen. "I worry about you, Gwen. I worry a lot. You hardly ever talk to me anymore, you're secretive, you're gone for hours at a time-"

"I didn't hear you complaining before," Gwen retorted.

"I mean, you also pick fights at school-"

"I didn't start that fight! I told you that already!" Gwen snapped.

"That isn't the point, Gwendolyne," Helen said sternly, making the younger blonde shrink a little. Helen's eyes softened at the sight. "Then, there's your fixation on that Spider-Man guy..."

"What does he have to do with any of this?" Gwen questioned.

"If it wasn't for him, your father would still be alive," Helen growled.

Gwen sighed at the comment. "I know you miss Dad, Mom," Gwen began. "I do too. Every single day. But blaming Spider-Man isn't gonna help things."

"So you think if that wall crawling little...good-for-nothing never showed up-"

"-then New York would be much worse off, not better," Gwen interrupted. "He's trying to protect this city. If he weren't around, I'd probably be dead by now. Trust me when I say that he's a good guy."

Helen huffed out and gripped the steering wheel tightly. "She's waiting inside. I'll be back to get you in an hour and a half."

Gwen stepped out of the car and closed the door harshly; the window nearly shattered from her enhanced strength. She walked up the building's steps with her hands in the pockets of her green trench coat and entered through the automated doors.

Gwen walked through the main office and saw a brunette woman at the receptionist desk chewing bubble gum. "Can I help you?" the woman asked in a rude tone.

"I'm Gwen Stacy. Here to see, uh, Dr. Karla Sophie, Sofite, something like that," Gwen said, forgetting the name.

"Oh, ya mean Dr. Sofen?" the receptionist replied. "Hang on."

She pressed the button on the intercom and said "Ya one o'clock's here, Doc."

"Thanks, Becky. Send her up here," a smooth voice on the other line said.

"Third floor," Becky told Gwen, who shrugged and made her way up there.

Gwen made her way up to the second floor and entered a well furnished room with a leather couch, a leather chair, and a gorgeous blonde sitting in said leather chair. The woman looked up from her clipboard at Gwen.

"I can only assume you're Helen Stacy's daughter Gwen?" she asked to which Gwen nodded.

"I'm Dr. Sofen. Sit down while I get this ready," the older blonde said.

Gwen sat down on the leather couch, rubbing the exterior. "Nice couch, lady. What porno movie set did you drag this off of?"

"The 120 Days of Sodom," Dr. Sofen replied, her voice dry. She sat down on her chair and placed a recorder on the table near the leather couch. "For quality assurance, this session will be recorded as is. The only people allowed to hear this are me and you."

"Confidentiality agreement?" Gwen questioned.

"Exactly." Dr. Sofen pulled out her pen and clipboard once more.

"Look, I know you've probably heard this a million times, and I'm sure you're really nice, but I don't need therapy," Gwen said.

"Mmhmm, the song of the truly desperate," Dr. Sofen replied, rolling her eyes. "Onto business. From what I've heard, you were suspended from school recently for, as your mother put it, 'Kicking the living daylights out of another girl'. Is that right?"

"Th-that girl deserved it!" Gwen replied, cursing herself inside for stammering.

"How come?"

"Sally Avril was a girl who had been tormenting me ever since I started high school," Gwen began. "Snide remarks, public embarrassment. It wasn't only me; my friend Betty, who I swear to God should be the one here, was her favorite target. It just wouldn't end."

"So you felt you had to put a stop to it?" Dr. Sofen questioned.

"Who wouldn't?!"

"Your determination to help your friend is admirable, if not slightly overblown," Dr. Sofen said.

"Overblown?" Gwen said, confused.

"Was it really necessary to break a few of Miss Avril's ribs?"

"I was standing up for my friend. That bitch knows what she did," Gwen growled.

"I see." Dr. Sofen paused to write something down on her clipboard. "I also heard that recently, your father passed away."

Gwen's eyes widened. "What of that? It was three years ago."

"Did you ever get a chance to properly process that?"

Gwen's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "To be very honest...I don't know. I can't really say if I did."

"Here's my theory," Dr. Sofen began. "Your assault on this Sally Avril was never about standing up for your friend. It was all about your unresolved feelings about your father's death. Before you try to interrupt me and scream denial, hear me out: three years of pent-up pain can come out at the most inopportune, sudden times. Seeing Sally mistreat your friend was what caused your righteous anger to boil over into full on fury."

Gwen folded her hands and looked down at the ground. "I mean...s^&t."

For the next few minutes, Gwen and Dr. Sofen talked about various issues concerning Gwen, which included her friends, the nightmares, and the growing distance between Gwen and her mother.

"Y'know lady," Gwen started. "I think I know someone who'd really benefit from seeing you."

"Who?"

"My friend Betty," Gwen said. "Good Lord, she's a giant ball of whack-a-doodle."

"As a psychologist," Dr. Sofen began, "this type of advice would go against everything I stand for, but from what you've told me about Betty, there's only two things that can help her."

"What would those be?"

"A drink or a good eating out," Dr. Sofen replied, which made both blondes laugh loudly.

Perhaps therapy wouldn't be too bad after all.

The Power, The Kingdom, and the Glory

Mary Jane Watson and Betty Brant were both in one of the few record/musical instrument stores in Queens; the redhead was currently searching for a replacement string for her guitar and Betty was searching through the random vinyl records section.

"You sure you don't need anything for your bass?" M.J. asked.

Betty shook her head. "Nope. I keep everything about Ruth up to date and on point. As you should."

M.J. rolled her eyes at her friend; of course she'd name her bass guitar 'Ruth'. There's nothing about Betty that screams 'calm'.

The blonde girl as usual had spritzed her hands with hand sanitizers before touching anything inside. "Betty, you don't have to keep doing that," M.J. told her.

"You can never be too sure, Mary," Betty replied. "So many germs..."

"Try not to have a nervous breakdown in here, please," M.J. said, begging. "I don't wanna get kicked out of yet another music store."

"It's not my fault, Mary," Betty replied defensively. "I just see so much dust and grime, it's like...what the hell, man?"

"Aw, jus' lay off di gyal, Gingerbread. She can't help it," a voice said. M.J. and Betty turned around to see a tall, dark-skinned, voluptuous young woman with both dreads and strands of normal, straight hair in a bun approaching them. M.J. smiled and walked toward the other woman, whom she hugged fiercely.

"Glory!" M.J. exclaimed as the dark skinned woman returned her hug.

"Good bless mi eyesight, Mary Jane," Glory replied, grinning. Her voice held a heavy Caribbean tilt to it. "Who yuh friend ova there?"

"Yeah. Oh!" M.J. said, breaking the hug. She motioned over to Betty. "This is Betty. She plays bass for my band. Betty, this is Gloria Grant, but we just call her Glory."

Betty could only gaze at the sight of Glory; the dark skinned girl had to be somewhere between six foot one and six foot tow. She nervously waved at Glory, who approached her and hugged her also, practically lifting her off the ground.

"Any friend ah Gingerbread friend ah mi!" Glory cheered.

"O-ok," Betty squeaked before Glory put her down. The trio walked to the other side of the wall, looking at various instruments. "How do you know her, Mary?"

"Dude! Glory and me were best friends back when I lived in Brooklyn," M.J. said. "I'd go over her house every day. Until...well, you know."

"Got it," Betty said, not wanting to push this any further.

"Mi dun seen yuh lil videos on YouTube," Glory began. "Was real funny when yuh kicked dat one man, Sunshine."

"Sunshine?" Betty said, confused.

"She does that with everyone," M.J. explained. "As you heard, she calls me 'Gingerbread.'"

"Yuh all got skill, but yuh missin' one thing," Glory said.

"A record deal?" M.J. joked.

"Strobe lights?" Betty rang out.

"Eh eh," Glory said. "Atmosphere. Sum time, it sound like it don't 'ave no kinda direction. Oddah time, it be too harsh. Next time yuh do an oddah song, it gotta be somethin' more like...smooth."

"Smooth, huh?" M.J. said. "I dunno, Glory. We're a rock band, not some f^&kin' R&B group."

"It be all about tryin' somethin' different, Gingerbread. Look, it tek time to find yuh sound. Maybe mi can help yuh out a lil bit, eh? Eh?" Glory offered, grinning.

"Really? You wanna be part of the Mary Janes?" M.J. said, astonished. "Huh, wasn't really expecting this today."

"Yuh band name a lil full o' yuh'self, but mi knew dat about yuh anyways," Glory teased.

"Wait, don't you still live in Brooklyn?" M.J. wondered.

"Eh eh," Glory replied. "Mi and mi family move a few months ago. Now we here."

"Convenient," Betty commented. "What do you play?"

Glory made a gesture with her hands that mimed a piano. "Keyboard, Sunshine," she said. She then made a gesture miming percussion. "Or ah vibraphone."

"Wow, ok then. I mean, I knew you played a keyboard, but a vibraphone?" M.J. remarked. "Guess you learn something new every day."

"Yuh do," Glory replied. "So, when mi can meet yuh for dem rehearsal, eh?"

"Once Gwen gets ungrounded," M.J. sulked.

Glory raised an eyebrow. "Who dem?"

"She's the girl on the drums," Betty answered for Mary Jane.

"Mm."

It took a few minutes but M.J. finally found the replacement string for her guitar, which cost about fifty one dollars; the redhead complained that it was a rip off, but she paid anyways. Her, Betty, and the newly reunited Glory exited the store and were now walking the sidewalks of Queens.

"Where yuh be goin' off to now, Gingerbread?" Glory asked.

"We're getting shirts made for everyone," the redhead answered. "Coordination is key when it comes to things like this."

Glory looked down at Betty, smirking. "Yuh tol' her dat, dint ya Sunshine?"

"Of course. Where else could she have gotten it?" Betty bragged.

"Hey!" M.J. exclaimed, offended.

It looks like the Mary Janes have gained a new member.

Miles Beyond

"What's your name, kid?"

"M-miles," the kid stammered.

I never forgot about that day months ago; I was just runnin' some errands for my ma and like an idiot, I went down a alleyway and all of a sudden, some sicko came tryin' to get weird with me! Crazy, right son? Then, a spider-guy in red and black came and whooped the daylights out that jerkass. I saw his face too; I ain't forgot it, son. If there's one thing you can say about me, it's that I never forget a face.

Oh my bad, where's my manners? I'm Miles Morales, I'm about to be twelve years old and I live in Brooklyn, son. You can probably tell by the way of speakin'.

Right now, I'm just in my room, gatherin' a bunch of stuff like spray cans and all that and slingin' it behind me. My room is covered in a bunch of posters of hip hop artists (like Post Malone and Tyler the Creator, for example) and I got a whole bunch of video games; COD is where it's at, son!

I put on my red hoodie and prepare to walk out the door, but I stop and think; ever since that day, my pops, Jeff's his name if you curious, man, he's just been, like, real, real overprotective. I mean, I can understand; he is a cop and that kinda instinct sticks wit' you and all that, but come on! I can handle myself! I'ma be thirteen next year and that's almost a grown man, son.

Shut up! In my world, it is.

You know what? Eff it. I'ma just head out the door right here. Deal wit' my pops and all that.

I walk through my livin' room and see my ma (Rio's her name) messin' around wit' the TV, tryin' to make it come in clear. She looks up to see me. "Miles! Mijo, come here!" she said, gesturin' for me to come.

I came over to her and the back of the TV had all the wiring pulled out. "I've been trying to fix this damned thing for ten minutes and nothing's working," Ma complained.

"For real, ma?" I asked in disbelief. She nodded and I knelt down to see what the problem was. Scannin' my eyes all around, I noticed that some of the wiring was in the wrong place or was torn. I grabbed some of the wires and cross tied them together with other wires that were exposed; then, some of the circuitry that was misaligned, I put back into the right place.

When my ma turned the TV back on, picture was clear. "Thank you, mijo," she said, hugging' me and rubbin' my curly fro; yeah, I let my hair grow out, son. So what?

"No problem, no problem," I said back. We broke apart and I looked around, seein' no sign of my pops. "Where's pops at?"

"He called me earlier today and said that he was gonna be swamped with a new case coming in," Ma said. "Honestly, I think being a cop is gonna run him into the ground someday."

"Hey, come on, ma! Don't say that," I replied. "Pops out there savin' people just like the Scarlet Spider."

My ma's eyes widened at that name. "Araña escarlata," she whispered. Yeah, I'm half-Latino if you couldn't tell. "Miles, I heard stories about him. He's a crazy man."

"Crazy?!" I exclaimed, shocked. "He's just like pops: savin' people and beatin' up bad dudes. What's crazy about that?"

"Just be careful out there," she said back.

I sighed. "Ma, look. I know you and pops always worryin' about me, but don't. I was kinda lost in Manhattan, but this is Brooklyn. Safer here, son."

Ma nodded at me and I left up out of my house. Finally.

Walkin' down the sidewalks with the sounds of Post Malone in my ear, I think back to that crazy gas incident a few months back; I was just gettin' home from school, then all of a sudden, some green gas showed up outta nowhere and...you'll see in a little bit.

I'm walkin' through a short alleyway and I stare up the wall of the right building; turnin' my head both ways and makin' sure the coast is clear, I put my left hand on the wall, followed by my right hand. I'm pullin' myself up on the wall, but the crazy thing is:

I'm not fallin' down. I'm crawlin' on the wall.

You heard it right here from the source, son. I'm a human spider. Like a Spider-Kid or somethin...

I crawled all the way up and made it to the rooftop of the building; I'm starin' off into the distance and I can see Prospect Park is not too far from here. I ran and jumped to the next rooftop over and landed near a billboard. I took out the red and black spray paint cans from out my backpack and start sprayin' on the board. It was gonna be a red and black spider logo with a web pattern all around. I know taggin' is considered a crime, but it shouldn't be; it's art, son.

Grinnin', I think about what that gas has given me; man, my friends Anya, Sam, and Kamala is gonna be so jealous, son!

Red Widow and Chat Noir

"Come on, Spider! Catch me if you can!"

"Ugh, it's always this with you!"

Jessica Drew Parker, alias the Red Widow, was currently engaging with the thief known as the Black Cat, only this time, things were a tad different. While yes, they were on their familiar territory of every damned rooftop in Manhattan, it just wasn't the same.

Notably, the platinum blonde wasn't hauling ass from rooftop to rooftop with the spider-girl swinging after her and vowing to take her to jail. Also, as the Black Cat discovered, there seemed to be little to no mirth in the Red Widow; no silly reactions or flustered attitude or nothing.

The Cat frowned at the Spider. "What's with the attitude here?" she questioned, inching closer to the Red Widow.

Widow, on the other hand, pushed Black Cat away. "We haven't seen each other in weeks, months even, and this is how we end back up? You robbing and stealing again? This is starting to get old."

The cat burglar shrugged. "Hey, it's what I do. The thrill, the rush, what else can you ask for?"

"But still," the Red Widow beckoned. "Is this the only thing you have going for you, kitty?"

Black Cat looked down at the red ruby she was holding and sighed; of course, she figured it would come to this someday. "The way you say it makes me sound like a loser," she said, her voice bitter.

"I didn't mean it that way," Red Widow replied.

"Oh bulls&*t, yes you did," Black Cat snapped. "God, you sound just like my mom sometimes."

Jessica froze at that remark; it appeared that she learned something new about the cat burglar even if she didn't intend to. "Kitty," Jessica began. "I swear to God, I-I didn't mean to come off as a total judgmental bitch. You gotta believe me on that one."

"Uh-huh, yeah sure," Black Cat dismissed. "You know, if she were here right now, I can just see her saying 'This isn't good for you Felicia!' 'You shouldn't be like your father, Felicia!' Bitch and moan, bitch and moan!"

Red Widow fidgeted, not knowing how exactly to approach this situation. "I-it just sounds like she's concerned about you."

"Concerned? Pssh, gimme a break," Black Cat sneered. "She doesn't even know I'm gone."

Red Widow came and placed her hand on the Cat's shoulder. "Sounds like you have a whole plethora of issues. Perhaps you need some therapy."

Black Cat groaned and sank down onto the ledge of the roof. "Stuff's been going on lately, spider. I don't even know if my friend Jessica can help."

"If you tried talking to her, then you'd find out. She's a pretty reasonable person, so there's that," Red Widow reasoned, pumping herself up.

"Maybe," the platinum blonde said. She placed the red ruby into Red Widow's hands, giving it back to her. "Take this. I can find another like it some other day."

Black Cat prepared to jump off the rooftop ledge and into the night before the Red Widow exclaimed "Wait!"

The platinum blonde turned around to see the brunette in front of her; Jessica raised her hands to take off Felicia's mask, prompting the thief to gasp. "Wh-what're you doing?" she asked.

Jessica peered into Felicia's lime green eyes. "I really want you to think about some things, kitty. I know this isn't the only thing you're good at. There's more to life than this."

Felicia sighed and took her mask back. "I-I think this is the only thing I'm good at." She put her mask back and afterwards hugged Jessica.

"There's something big going down soon," she whispered into the Red Widow's ear. "A real big time kinda guy is heading to New York. You better be prepared."

Red Widow returned the hug and stared up at the starry sky; whatever was out there, she was sure to be ready alongside her friends.

Phew. This is the intermission to the whole story. A break from the action.