Lorien and Gwen watched as Wanda left.
The two exchanged a glance and let out a helpless sigh.
Superheroes were just that busy. You couldn’t say they had sothing to do every day, but even when they didn’t, they still couldn’t seem to sit still.
"Anyway," Lorien muttered to himself, "I’m not becoming a superhero. Too busy, too tiring."
Gwen thought it over and nodded.
"I don’t want to be one either. It feels like working a regular job.
If I could, I’d rather be a freelance superhero—fight criminals when I run into them, and just live a normal life when I don’t. That’d be perfect."
"She’s right," Lorien thought. He nodded approvingly and raised his fist.
Gwen grinned and bumped it with her own. A silent agreent.
...
Co to think of it, Spider-Gwen’s personality really was like this. Out of all the Spider-Man variants, she was easily the most low-key and straightforward. She handled things well, stayed level-headed, and—just like she’d said—didn’t want to be a full-ti superhero.
She wanted to be a part-ti one.
Lorien liked that idea.
Professional hero? No thanks.
Hero for fun? Sure, why not.
That was the difference.
Wanda had almost the sa mindset, which was probably why the three of them clicked so well in the first place.
...
Lorien checked the ti—it was already 9:30 p.m. That’s when sothing hit him. He turned to Gwen.
"Gwen, do you have a curfew?"
She ca from a good family. Her father was the Chief of the NYPD, so having a curfew would be completely normal.
Gwen: !!!
Her eyes went wide.
She imdiately reacted.
"What ti is it now?"
"Nine-thirty."
"Oh no! Lorien, I have to be ho by ten at the latest!"
Before Lorien could respond, Gwen had already grabbed his hand and taken off running.
"Co on, let’s go!"
...
So, she really did have a curfew. And with her father’s position, it was probably a strict one.
That ant Lorien had been dragged out by Wanda at around seven or eight in the evening, and now, at 9:30, he was being dragged back by Gwen.
What was this? Back and forth like a yo-yo?
They had half an hour to get from this district to another.
Fortunately, Spider-Gwen didn’t live all the way out in Queens like most other Spider-Heroes. Otherwise, making it back in ti would’ve been impossible.
The two of them sprinted across grass and streets, flagged down a passing taxi, crossed a bridge, and sped down the highway.
Finally, at 9:55 p.m., the cab pulled over on a road not far from Gwen’s house.
Lorien tossed the fare to the driver and hurried with her toward the door.
At 9:58 p.m.—
"Lorien, bye! Sweet dreams~!"
"Sleep well, Gwen." He waved back with a smile. "And by the way—your performance was great!"
That last line made Gwen so happy she nearly jumped. She blew him a kiss, then quickly dug her keys from her bag and slipped inside at the last possible minute.
"I’m ho! Not late!"
Lorien stood outside, watching until she was safely through the door before turning to leave.
"Sir, wait a mont. I think we need to talk."
A figure stepped out from the side door of Gwen’s house.
Lorien turned his head and recognized him imdiately—the NYPD Commissioner, George Stacy.
After calling out to him, George walked over at an unhurried pace, gave Lorien a quick once-over, then nodded in apparent satisfaction. He extended a hand in a friendly gesture.
"I think this might take a little ti. Maybe we can find sowhere to sit and talk?"
Lorien glanced at the ti.
10:03.
Plenty of ti.
He nodded and motioned, "Alright, let’s go."
...
The two n walked side by side toward the nearest bar.
"Sir, where did you et my daughter Gwen?"
Before Lorien could answer, George offered a polite apology.
"Sorry, I’m a police officer, so I might sound a little... direct."
He’d only said "police officer," not "commissioner." Clearly, he wanted to get to know the man who had brought his daughter ho before anything else.
His attitude was good, his tone friendly, so Lorien nodded to show he didn’t mind and was willing to talk.
"At a dical exchange conference. Your daughter was with a research team—we t there."
At that, George’s eyes lit up.
A dical exchange conference ant Lorien was soone in the dical field. That ant his daughter hadn’t fallen in with soone shady or useless, but with an educated, capable man.
In the U.S., doctors were highly respected. Any competent doctor had a bright future ahead of them.
That alone put George at ease.
"So it was that conference. I heard Dr. Stephen Strange, the famous surgeon, was there as well. And a psychologist—not widely known to the public, but very well regarded in professional circles.
It was a good conference. All elites.
Which team were you with, sir?"
Lorien: ...
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