The next day, Peter and Cindy hit another major Roman landmark: the Pantheon. It wasn't a date. It was strict, off-the-books reconnaissance. And thankfully, the area was currently devoid of raging elemental monsters.
The current Pantheon had been rebuilt by the Roman Emperor Hadrian around 125 AD. Because the Vatican converted it into the Church of St. Mary and the Martyrs in the 7th century, it miraculously escaped the brutal scavenging that gutted the Colosseum. It had been repaired, maintained, and perfectly preserved through the Middle Ages.
However, the towering statues of the Roman pantheon that once lined the rotunda had long since vanished. Only Christian icons and saints remained in the alcoves.
"Rome had a habit of aggressively incorporating the myths of conquered territories into their own belief system," Peter murmured, keeping his voice below the echo of the tourist crowds. "They patched the gaps in their pantheon with stolen gods. Theoretically, an Egyptian deity could have been worshipped here in secret."
Cindy gave a short, tight nod. As a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative trained to observe and gather data, she already knew the historical context. That was exactly why they were here. They needed to find out if this ancient structure harbored a subterranean temple dedicated to Neith and Anansi, similar to the one they had found in Taranto.
It turned out to be neither.
Their spider-senses did register a faint, rhythmic thrumming beneath the marble floor, but it was incredibly weak. It lacked the overwhelming spiritual gravity of the Taranto ruins.
Peter tapped his chin, stepping behind a massive marble pillar to break his line of sight with the tourists. He sat cross-legged on the floor. Drawing on his mystic training, he pushed his consciousness out of his physical body. His astral form separated from his flesh, dropping effortlessly through the solid stone floor into the dark earth below.
He found the target almost immediately.
Buried directly beneath the Pantheon was another Pantheon. An older, darker, mirrored structure. There were no magical barriers protecting this one. Instead, Peter floated through a debris field of modern, rusted equipment. It bore the heavy, brutalist design markers of either Hydra or the Third Reich. The machinery was completely destroyed, and the access tunnels were caved in with tons of blasted rubble.
Hydra had been here. And they had aggressively buried whatever they found.
Peter snapped his astral form back into his body. He gasped, his eyes flying open. He pushed himself off the floor and quickly briefed Cindy.
"It's a dead end for now," Peter whispered, dusting off his jeans. "But the main chamber down there isn't fully collapsed. I still have a Sling Ring. We can just cut a portal straight into the room."
The lack of oxygen down there was a minor tactical hurdle, but nothing a sustained portal or a couple of requisitioned SCUBA tanks couldn't fix. They just had to wait for Steve Rogers and Logan to finish their detour and link up with them in Rome. They couldn't hit a buried Hydra site without heavy backup.
Until then, they were officially on standby.
"So," Peter said, gesturing vaguely at the towering columns. "You have any particular tourist traps you want to hit?"
Cindy held up her printed admission ticket. "We paid for these. Let's at least finish looking at the actual Pantheon."
They walked toward the center of the rotunda, craning their necks to stare up at the architectural marvel. The massive, unreinforced concrete dome stretched over forty meters across. At the very apex, the oculus—a massive, unglazed skylight—poured brilliant Mediterranean sun directly onto the marble floor. During the summer solstice, that beam of light perfectly struck the entrance, framing the Roman emperor in divine radiance.
Cindy stared up at the open sky. "Have you ever heard the theory that a massive chunk of Roman history was entirely fabricated just to give Western civilization a longer, more prestigious timeline?"
Peter blinked, his head whipping toward her. "Wait, what?"
Cindy let a rare, genuine laugh slip past her usual stoic S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol. "You know, the kind of historical fabrication that claims Napoleon spent three years in Egypt, supposedly fighting a massive war, but actually built dozens of pyramids and the entire Valley of the Kings? And then he supposedly went back to France, reigned as Emperor for a decade, but somehow couldn't manage to finish building the Arc de Triomphe?"
Peter stared at her. "Is that a real conspiracy theory?"
"Yeah," Cindy said, a faint smile touching the corners of her mouth. "There's an actual book published after he died called The Non-Existence of Napoleon. It argued his entire life was a solar myth fabricated by the ruling dynasty. It's a fun read."
They drifted through the rest of the rotunda, pausing to look at the Renaissance tombs. Raphael was buried here. They stood quietly in front of the master painter's sarcophagus for a minute before finally stepping back out into the sunlit piazza.
Cindy stopped by the fountain. She tilted her head back, letting the sunlight hit her face.
"I was just thinking," Cindy said, her voice dropping. "If it wasn't for that radioactive spider at the Osborn Tech Expo, we probably never would have met."
She turned to look at Peter, her dark eyes locking onto his. "I never really knew what I wanted to do with my life. Maybe I still don't. S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me in, and I just... followed orders. I do what Fury asks me to do. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking that's fine."
Peter shifted his weight. He recognized the tone. It was the exact same crushing sense of aimlessness Gwen had vented about back at the Colosseum. Cindy didn't have a grand crusade. She was just surviving her own powers.
"So," Cindy said, stepping a fraction of an inch closer. "It's been a while. Has your answer changed?"
"My answer to what?" Peter asked, his pulse kicking up slightly.
"Why you put the mask on. Why you became Spider-Man. Do you do it just because you have the power? Or is it something else?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't entirely sure what he had told her the last time they had this conversation on the roof of the Osborn building. He decided to deflect. "When you're out there, shooting web, saving people... how does it make you feel? Do you feel satisfied?"
Cindy held his gaze. "When I'm with you."
Peter choked on his next breath. "Oh. Uh." He scrambled for words, his hands gesturing awkwardly. "Okay. Wow. That... might not fix the root of the problem, Cindy."
He dropped his hands, forcing himself to hold her stare. "Look, if you're going to keep putting the suit on, you have to feel something for the job itself. You don't need a grand, noble mission statement from day one. You just need to figure out if this path actually fits who you are. And if it doesn't... you're allowed to walk away."
Cindy's eyes widened slightly. "Give up?"
"If you aren't built for this, you can stop," Peter said firmly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. can't force you. Nobody can. You're free to choose." He offered a small, crooked smile. "I can't give you a magic answer. All I can do is stay by your side and help you figure it out. That's it."
The rigid tension in Cindy's shoulders finally broke. She let out a soft, genuine laugh.
"That's enough," Cindy said, bumping her shoulder against his. "Thanks for being here."
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