Smoke curled above the Brooklyn skyline.
From a rooftop five blocks away, Gwen zoomed in with her visor. Flames poured out of the third floor of an old brick apartment building. Sirens wailed in the distance, but traffic blocked the fire trucks. People screamed from the windows.
"We're going," Gwen said.
Luffy didn't argue. He had already jumped.
The fire roared louder the closer they got. Gwen's heart pounded as she swung through a narrow alley and landed on the adjacent roof. Heat shimmered up from the walls, and ash flecked her suit.
She heard crying from an open window two floors up.
"Third floor, left stairwell!" she called.
Luffy leapt through broken glass into the building, arms up to shield his face. Gwen ran along the wall and launched a webline directly into the apartment.
Inside, a mother clutched her child in the hallway, choking on smoke.
"Ghost-Spider," the woman gasped.
Gwen pulled her mask tighter. "Hold onto me. Don't look down."
She spun a web harness around them and began to climb down the side of the building, feet tapping lightly on scorched brick. The smoke billowed out around them like fog, thick and suffocating.
Below, Luffy emerged through a cloud of steam, pushing aside fallen beams with his rubbery arms. He used his body as a shield as plaster fell from the ceiling, absorbing the impact and guiding two elderly residents to the stairwell.
Inside the building, the chaos deepened.
Gwen, back inside after dropping off the mother and child, heard coughing behind a door warped by heat. She kicked it open with a burst of strength, revealing a teenage boy huddled beside his unconscious grandmother.
"Hang on," she said, quickly securing a breath mask over the boy's face. She looped a webline around the older woman's waist and braced herself, hoisting them both out the doorway and toward the stairs.
The stairs had partially collapsed, but Gwen wove a quick ramp out of hardened webbing. She guided the boy down while carrying the woman over her shoulder.
Meanwhile, Luffy made his way to the roof, where a man was waving frantically.
"They said the exit was blocked!" the man shouted.
"Not anymore," Luffy grinned.
He grabbed the man and leapt to the next rooftop, cushioning their landing with a wide stretch of his legs. From there, he helped the man shimmy down a ladder to the alley below.
As Luffy returned inside, a final floor beam began to groan and collapse. Without hesitation, he threw himself between it and a woman who was crawling across the hallway. The beam slammed down against his back—and bounced. He straightened slowly, grinning.
"Rubber spine. Never gets old."
Firefighters arrived just as the last civilian exited the building.
Gwen and Luffy were already gone.
The next morning, the story was everywhere.
"Mystery Heroes Save Dozens in Brooklyn Fire" — one headline read.
A shaky cellphone video looped on the news. It showed a faint white silhouette carrying someone down the wall, and a blur of motion knocking through smoke below.
Jameson's face filled the screen not long after.
"This is what I've been warning you about! Masked vigilantes interfering with first responders! What if they made things worse? What if they set the fire to play hero?" he roared.
At the Stacy residence, Gwen sat stiffly on the couch, watching the report with her father.
George didn't speak right away. He leaned forward slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Pause it," he said.
She froze the screen.
George studied the image. "That blur... the web line..."
Gwen's fingers dug into her knees.
"You think it's them?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
George didn't answer. But he stood, walked to his home office, and came back with his corkboard map. He pinned a new marker — right over the apartment's location.
"Now I know they're real," he said softly.
At the precinct, George pulled footage from police body cams and surveillance drones.
Most feeds glitched at key moments — heavy interference, static blurs, missing timestamps.
But one clip had four frames that showed a white blur pulling someone from a window.
"Ghost-Spider," he murmured.
He added new notes to his folder:
Visual confirmation at scene.
Civilian witnesses confirm unregistered actors.
No damage attributed to vigilantes.
He stared at the name he'd written — Ghost-Spider — and for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find her or thank her.
That night at Field Alpha, Gwen sat cross-legged, her mask beside her, journal open.
Journal Entry:
We saved eleven people. I couldn't ignore the screams. I didn't think — I just moved.
Dad was watching. He knows someone was there. I'm not sure I can keep this secret much longer. Every time he looks at me now, I feel it. Like he sees something he's not ready to say.
I'm scared he'll find out.
But more scared of what I'll do if someone's in danger and I choose to do nothing.
Gwen wiped a tear from the page.
Luffy entered quietly, holding two hot chocolate pouches.
"We did the right thing," he said.
"I know. But lying to him is getting harder."
"You're not lying because you want to. You're doing it because you have to. Because if we don't keep this secret, we can't keep helping."
She nodded slowly. "I just... I don't know how long I can keep carrying both."
He sat beside her. "Then let me carry it with you."
The next day, they painted a small symbol onto one wall of Field Alpha — a stylized flame wrapped in a web and a straw hat.
Gwen labeled it: Civilians First. Always.
They updated the board:
Emergency Civilian Aid: ✅
Exposure Risk: Contained
Public Impact: Rising
Gwen stepped back.
"We're not just myths anymore," she said. "People saw us. And they believed."
Luffy nodded. "Then let's make sure they have a reason to keep believing."