"We've arrived."
The taxi driver's voice pulled Jean out of her thoughts. She lifted her gaze and saw, through the window, the familiar front of Arthur's house.
The same house she had sworn to herself she wouldn't step into again for a long time.
After paying the fare, Jean got out of the car, adjusted the strands of fiery red hair that fell over her shoulders, and took a deep breath of the cool street air.
"It's been a long time since I was last here…" she murmured, crossing her arms and staring at the gate as if it, too, had memories to return.
She pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed briefly before footsteps sounded from inside.
The door opened.
Arthur appeared — casual, wearing a simple shirt, looking slightly surprised.
"Jean?"
"Surprised to see me?" She arched a brow with a half-smile.
"A bit. I figured that after last time, my place would be on your 'do-not-visit' list."
"Oh, come on, Arthur." Jean rested one hand on her hip. "It wasn't that bad."
"Not that bad?" He crossed his arms. "Last time you came here, half my backyard turned into a crater, and the electrical system caught fire. I had to shower with cold water for a week."
Jean tried to stifle a laugh — and failed miserably.
"Okay, maybe it was a little bad. But in my defense, you provoked me."
"Oh sure. All I said was that telekinesis would be perfect for opening a bottle of wine — and you decided to prove it by blowing up half my house."
"It was a minor scientific accident," she said, raising her voice with theatrical flair.
Arthur sighed, though a faint smile escaped.
"Right, right. Come in before you decide to remodel the gate too."
Jean chuckled, brushing past him with an air of mock confidence.
"I promise I won't destroy anything. For now."
---
A few minutes later, in the backyard.
"Want something to drink?" Arthur asked, already opening the kitchen door.
"If you still have something that doesn't explode, I'll take it."
He rolled his eyes and went to fetch the drinks. Jean took the opportunity to look around. Despite the time that had passed, everything looked the same — the neatly trimmed lawn, the wooden bench where they had talked before, and that irritating sense of peace that only Arthur's house seemed to have.
"Okay, here you go," he said, returning with two steaming cups.
"Tea?"
"Matcha," Arthur replied, handing her one. "It's amazing. And try not to lift the cup with your mind this time, okay?"
"Funny."
Jean took the cup and looked at the green liquid. The aroma was subtle, yet mesmerizing.
Curious, she took a sip.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Oh my God… this is delicious!"
Arthur rested his chin on his hand, watching her with a satisfied smile.
"Told you. Matcha is basically the elixir of calm — which means you should probably drink about five cups. Maybe more, considering you teach children."
"Funny guy, part two." She rolled her eyes, taking another sip. "Seriously, why didn't you ever make this for me before?"
Arthur raised a brow.
"Jean, have you forgotten that, aside from that Tony Stark party, the last time we saw each other, Wolverine was trying to turn me into carpaccio?"
Jean paused, blinked a few times, then burst out laughing.
"Okay… point for you. But admit it — you did provoke Logan."
"All I said was that he looked like a grumpy raccoon. I didn't think he'd take it personally."
"Arthur, you called him a raccoon in front of everyone."
"So what? It was a term of endearment."
"An endearment — for Logan? And even worse, knowing he still held a grudge against you." Jean teased, shaking her head.
"The past should stay in the past," Arthur replied instantly.
Jean laughed, setting her cup on her knee.
"Oh, how I missed this… your terrible attempts at diplomacy."
Arthur gave a small smile.
"And I missed your dramatic entrances — blowing up gates, lighting things with your mind, and ruining my home insurance."
She looked at him sideways, her smile softening.
"You should be grateful. I keep your life exciting."
"And I keep your therapist employed," he shot back, taking a sip of his tea.
Jean laughed, a clear, melodic sound. "Touché, Arthur. Touché."
They fell into a comfortable silence, listening only to the faint city noises and the gentle rustle of wind through the trees.
"So…" Arthur finally broke the quiet with his usual casual tone. "Did you come all the way here just to compliment my tea, or is this an official visit from the most beautiful redheaded mutant on the planet?"
Jean smiled, resting her chin in her hands.
"That depends. Are you offering me another cup?"
Arthur sighed.
"Knew there was a second motive."
---xXx---
Inside a massive black aircraft carrier slicing through the clouds above the Atlantic, a symphony of light and sound filled the metallic corridors.
Screens, monitors, and control panels flashed nonstop, projecting holograms, satellite images, and live surveillance feeds.
It felt as though the entire world was being watched from there.
And, in a way, it was.
Hundreds of agents in dark uniforms moved briskly from station to station, each bearing the insignia of a silver eagle — and below it, the unmistakable letters:
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
The unseen heart of global security.
At the center of the command deck, a man with a stern expression observed everything from an elevated platform.
The blue glow of the monitors reflected off his leather jacket and the black eye patch that covered his left eye.
Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
As the crew worked, a steady female voice called out behind him.
"Director Fury, we've got something interesting coming out of New York."
Nick turned slightly, recognizing the voice instantly — Maria Hill, his most trusted deputy.
"Define 'interesting,' Agent Hill," he replied, eyes still on the screens below.
She stepped forward and handed him a tablet.
On it, shaky footage showed a masked figure swinging between skyscrapers — graceful, agile, clad in a distinctive black, white, and pink suit.
The video had clearly been filmed by an excited civilian, judging by the background cheers.
"A new vigilante," Hill explained. "Civilians are already calling her Spider-Woman. She stopped an armed robbery in the Fifth District, saved a hostage, and disappeared right after."
Nick watched for a few seconds, eyes narrowing as the video's glow reflected across his face.
"Hmm…"
"Should I open a file?" Hill asked.
Fury swiped across the screen, pausing on a clear frame of the girl. Even with the mask, it was obvious — she was young. Very young.
"How old do you think she is?"
"Eighteen, maybe nineteen," Hill estimated after a brief look.
The director exhaled slowly, handing back the tablet.
"So just another kid with superhuman reflexes and way too much justice for her own good."
Hill crossed her arms.
"Kid or not, she's getting attention. It's already the most shared video of the day. If she keeps showing up, she'll have half the press — and every bounty hunter in New York — after her."
"And the other half trying to sell action figures with her face," Fury muttered, turning back to the main display.
Hill waited for instructions.
"Do you want me to send a recon team?"
Nick thought for a moment. The constant hum of the helicarrier's turbines filled the silence.
"Negative," he said at last, his tone half-irritated, half-calculating. "As long as she's not blowing anything up, killing anyone, or attracting aliens… S.H.I.E.L.D. has bigger problems."
Hill raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Such as stopping Stark from turning the military satellites into his personal advertising network."
She gave a faint smirk. "Fair enough."
Fury turned back to the reinforced windows, gazing out at the dark sky.
"But keep an eye on her," he added, more serious now.
Hill nodded and walked off to carry out the order.
Fury stood there for a moment, the tablet still in his hand.
The frozen image of the girl — Spider-Woman — swinging across the skyline stared back at him.
He shook his head and muttered under his breath,
"Brave kid… or just stupid enough to dive into this world."
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."