They finally made it to Rome.
The Eternal City. The City of Seven Hills. It was supposed to be a place dripping with historical romance and cinematic beauty—a metropolis that could easily rival Istanbul if it were still in Greek hands. It was an atmosphere built entirely on beautiful, postcard-perfect filters.
But filters were meant to be broken.
For example, Peter and Gwen encountered three separate pickpockets just waiting in line for the Colosseum. With the local polizia nowhere in sight, Peter had to settle for subtly intimidating the thieves, bending a few metal coins in his bare hands until the crooks scurried off into the alleys.
The pickpockets weren't the only reality check. They had splurged on top-tier tickets, riding a cramped elevator straight to the upper rings of the Colosseum. Peter figured the higher price tag would thin out the crowd. He was completely wrong. Looking down over the railing, they were greeted by an absolute sea of tourists.
"Wow," Gwen murmured, leaning against the ancient stone railing. She scratched the back of her head, her awe clearly warring with mild confusion. "It really feels... crowded."
The Colosseum was undeniably grand, but it was also entirely gutted. The arena floor had collapsed centuries ago, exposing the subterranean labyrinth of stone cells where gladiators and wild animals had once waited for slaughter. The remaining pillars were severely weathered, and only a small, reconstructed wooden platform existed for the swarms of tourists to stand on.
"Honestly? It's kind of a pity," Gwen said, resting her chin on her hand. "You grow up seeing all these pristine photos, imagining what a wonder this place used to be. But standing here, it just looks so much more dilapidated than it does on TV."
Peter stepped up beside her, lifting his father's old Canon camera to snap a quick profile shot of her against the ruins.
"After the Western Roman Empire fell, nobody maintained the place," Peter explained, adjusting the lens focus. "It basically became a giant, free stone quarry for the locals. A lot of the Renaissance churches were literally built using marble stripped right out of these walls. It took massive structural damage before the Vatican finally stepped in during the 17th century, declared it a holy site, and put it under protection."
Gwen slowly turned her head, giving him a flat, deeply unimpressed stare. "You go to high school. You pretend to have a corporate internship. You spend half your nights swinging around as Spider-Man. Where do you possibly find the time to memorize useless historical trivia?"
Peter lowered the camera, offering a crooked grin. "I don't know. I read a plaque once? It stuck."
He raised the camera again and clicked the shutter. Gwen let out a slow breath. The Mediterranean breeze caught her blonde hair. She looked out over the crowd, the playful annoyance draining from her shoulders.
"Hey," she started, her voice dropping. "About yesterday. I'm sorry."
Peter blinked, lowering the camera entirely.
"I didn't have any right to snap at you," Gwen continued, turning her back to the drop. "I know you were handling a classified crisis. I know that wasn't actually you on that date. I was just..." She paused, her fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against the ancient stone. "I realized that I just felt completely useless."
Peter shifted his weight. "Gwen, we've talked about this."
"I know we talked about it," Gwen shot back, glancing around to ensure nobody was within earshot. "But reaching a conclusion doesn't make it easier to live with. You put that suit on every single day. You fight people who can level city blocks."
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Do you want to know what the worst part is, Peter? You never tell me the truth. You never tell me how dangerous a mission is, or how terrifying the thing you're hunting actually is. I just have to sit in a hotel lobby, completely blind, wondering if you're going to die today. And I can't do a damn thing to help."
That was the root of her anger yesterday. It wasn't jealousy over an LMD dating Cindy Moon's LMD. It was the suffocating reality of her own powerlessness. The Kovacs incident had triggered latent abilities, but they were practically useless in a firefight. She was still just a baseline human. She couldn't fight a living hurricane.
If I had Carol Danvers' powers, Gwen thought bitterly, at least I wouldn't have to wait on the sidelines.
Peter leaned against the railing, his shoulders slumping. "Gwen, if you could actually fight, I'd probably lose my mind. I'd be terrified you'd throw yourself into a meat grinder just to cover my blind spot. We're wired exactly the same way. You wouldn't hold back."
"What about Cindy?" Gwen challenged. "Aren't you worried about her?"
"I am," Peter admitted quietly. "That's why I bench her. There are plenty of terrifying fights I don't call her in for, and she never even knows they happened."
Gwen opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. A helpless, hollow laugh escaped her lips. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, staring at the cracked masonry.
"You've traveled the multiverse," she said suddenly, shifting tracks. "Aside from Earth-65... aside from the universe where I got the spider-bite... what are we like in the other realities?"
Peter froze. His blood ran instantly cold. Of all the topics she could have pivoted to, this was the absolute worst.
He opened his mouth to lie, but she was staring right at him, her eyes bright and expectant. He couldn't do it. He let out a long, defeated exhale.
"From what I know?" Peter said, his voice entirely stripped of humor. "In most of the multiverse... we fall in love. And then you die."
Gwen stared at him. The breath hitched in her throat. Suddenly, his obsessive, suffocating need to keep her off the battlefield made horrifying, crystal-clear sense. She gripped the stone railing, her knuckles turning white.
"Okay," she whispered. "How? How does Gwen Stacy die?"
"The Green Goblin," Peter said, staring blankly at the ruined arena floor below. "He figures out who I am. He figures out what you mean to me. He throws you off a bridge, and..."
Peter swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He couldn't finish the sentence. Even now, the physics of that moment tore at his sanity. Did the whiplash of Spider-Man's web snap her neck? Was she already dead from the shock of the fall before the webbing even caught her? It didn't matter. The result was exactly the same.
"I promise you," Peter said, turning his head to look her dead in the eye. "That is never going to happen to you."
Gwen swallowed hard. "Because the Green Goblin is dead?"
Peter gave a single, rigid nod. He didn't know if the Goblin was truly gone. Emma Frost had scanned Norman Osborn's brain and declared the Goblin persona completely eradicated. But Emma had also warned him that the Goblin was an apex predator inside Norman's subconscious. It could simply be hiding in the dark, waiting for a moment of weakness.
Still, the AI was dismantled, and Norman was currently stable. Gwen was safe. For now.
Gwen forced a bright, entirely artificial smile. She spun around, leaning her back against the ancient marble, framing herself against the Roman skyline.
"Okay. Wow. Let's permanently skip that topic. You look like you're about to throw up."
She struck an exaggerated, touristy pose, forcing the tension out of her shoulders. "Come on, Parker. Take a few more pictures for me?"
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