Author's note: leave comment and Enjoy
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The bells of Midtown School of Science and Technology rang with a shrill, metallic persistence, signaling the end of another day in the academic grind of 2017. For Gwen Stacy, the sound was a relief. She gathered her notebooks, tucking her pen behind her ear as she navigated the crowded hallways.
New York was still a city on edge. Even a year after the Avengers had publicly split during that mess in Germany, the atmosphere felt charged. You couldn't walk two blocks without seeing a Stark Industries billboard or a "Thank You for Your Service" mural dedicated to Captain America—even if the Captain was technically a fugitive now.
"Watch it!" Gwen muttered as a boy with messy brown hair and an oversized backpack nearly collided with her while rushing toward the exit. She didn't know his name—he was just one of those quiet kids from her honors chemistry block who always looked like he'd just woken up from a nap or a fever dream. He mumbled a frantic apology and disappeared into the crowd, likely heading for some internship or club.
Gwen shook her head, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Midtown High... where the geniuses are the clumsiest people on the planet."
She stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. The sky over Queens was a pale, dusty orange, the kind of hue that promised a cold night. Instead of taking the bus, Gwen decided to walk toward Central Park. Her father, Captain George Stacy, was likely still at the precinct dealing with the latest surge in "enhanced" related petty crimes, so she was in no rush to get back to an empty apartment.
She liked the park at this hour. It was a rare pocket of nature in a world of steel and glass. As she walked, her mind drifted to her mid-term project. She wanted to do something on biologie, after all it was her favorite subjects or maybe geology.
She was near a secluded grove of birch trees, far from the main tourist paths, when she heard it. It wasn't the roar of an engine or the boom of a sonic jet. It was a sharp, piercing hiss, like a red-hot iron being plunged into ice.
Gwen looked up. A streak of violet light tore through the darkening sky, moving much faster than any drone or bird. It was small—barely a speck—but it left a shimmering trail of dark smoke in its wake.
Thud.
The impact was soft, muffled by the thick layer of damp leaves and earth. It landed barely thirty feet from where she stood.
Gwen froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. Logic told her to stay back. The world was dangerous; things that fell from the sky usually brought trouble. But her scientific curiosity, that burning need to know, was far stronger than her fear.
"It's too small for a ship," she whispered to herself, stepping carefully over a fallen log. "A meteor? A fragment?"
In the center of a tiny, shallow crater lay an object. It was no larger than a tennis ball, a smooth, obsidian-like capsule that seemed to absorb the fading light around it. It wasn't jagged or rocky; it was perfectly aerodynamic, looking more like a polished piece of jewelry than a piece of space debris.
Gwen knelt at the edge of the mini-crater. The ground wasn't burning, but a faint, sweet-smelling vapor rose from the object. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and tentatively reached out.
"Warm..." she noted, her voice trembling with excitement.
She picked it up. The "stone" was surprisingly heavy, its surface slick and glass-like. Beneath the dark exterior, she thought she saw a faint, rhythmic pulse of violet light, but she dismissed it as a trick of the twilight. To her eyes, it was a miracle. A piece of the cosmos, delivered right to her feet.
"You're going to get me an A+," she grinned, feeling a rush of triumph.
She didn't want to risk losing it or having a park ranger confiscate it. She unzipped the small side-pocket of her denim jacket—the one closest to her chest—and nestled the stone inside. The warmth of the object seeped through her shirt, a comforting heat that felt almost like a heartbeat.
As she made her way out of the park and toward the subway, Gwen felt a strange sense of elation. She felt energized, her senses suddenly sharp. She could hear the distant hum of the city with crystalline clarity; she could smell the rain coming from miles away.
She didn't notice that the weight in her pocket was changing.
Inside the dark, cramped space of the jacket pocket, the "stone" was no longer solid. The anomalous shell, designed only to survive the friction of the atmosphere, was dissolving. A viscous, ink-black substance began to leak through the fibers of the tissue she had wrapped it in.
It didn't fall to the ground. It didn't stain her jacket.
Like a living ink, the substance moved with purpose. It felt the warmth of Gwen's skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. It felt the steady, vibrant rhythm of her heart.
By the time Gwen reached the door of her apartment and fumbled for her keys, the obsidian capsule was empty—nothing more than a hollow, brittle shell of cosmic dust.
Gwen stepped inside, shivering slightly as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her. "Dad? You home?"
Silence greeted her. She sighed, dropping her bag on the sofa. She felt... different. A strange tingle was crawling up her spine, a sensation of fullness she couldn't explain. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve her prize, wanting to place it under her desk lamp.
Her fingers found only the scarf and a few crumbs of black, dried soot.
"What? No... no, no, no!" she gasped, turning the pocket inside out. "It must have fallen out. How could it fall out?"
She checked the floor, her bag, the hallway. Nothing. The stone was gone.
Gwen slumped against her bedroom door, tears of frustration pricking her eyes. All that luck, all that science, gone because of a hole in a pocket she hadn't noticed.
"I'm such an idiot," Gwen whispered, wiping a frustrated tear from her cheek as she sat on her bedroom floor. She stared at the empty pocket of her jacket, devastated. Her "miracle" was gone, likely lost in the dirt of Central Park.
Inside her mind, unseen by Gwen's eyes, a translucent blue window flickered into existence, visible only to the consciousness now woven into her cells.
[INTERFACE: ONLINE] [HOST VITALS: STABLE / EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETECTED] [ADAPTATION: 99% COMPLETE]
Time to say hello, he thought, feeling the strange, thrumming connection to the girl's nervous system.
"Don't cry," a voice resonated—not through her ears, but directly within her mind. It was calm, surprisingly human, and a little bit nervous.
Gwen froze, her breath catching in her throat. She spun around, eyes wide, searching the empty corners of her room. "Who's there? Dad? Is this some kind of prank?"
It's not a prank. And I'm not 'lost', the voice continued.
"You're... the meteorite?" she whispered, her voice trembling between terror and scientific awe.