A Life in Marvel
Chapter 7 - Part 5
"They need to evacuate a larger radius," Morgan said, his voice tight. "If that weapon goes critical, it won't just be the monument coming down. It'll take out the entire reflecting pool area."
"We have to tell them!" Ned cried, gesturing frantically toward a police officer.
"They won't listen to a bunch of kids," Flash said, his voice uncharacteristically devoid of its usual sneer. It was replaced with a genuine, raw fear. "They'll think we're playing games."
"He's right," Morgan agreed. "We can't help Peter from down here by shouting at cops. But we can give him a chance." He turned his full attention to Ned. "Leeds, I need you to access the monument's maintenance network. There has to be a remote system for the lightning rods, something to ground electrical discharge."
Ned's eyes widened. "You want me to… what? Hack a national monument?"
"Can you or can you not?" Morgan pressed, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Can I?" Ned said, a flicker of his old self returning. "Please. That thing was running on a Windows 98 server until last year." His fingers were already flying, his phone screen a blur of code and command prompts.
"Gwen," Morgan said, turning to her. "You're the only one who could get up there fast enough to help him directly. But he's trying to stabilize the structure. Getting in the way would be a bad idea."
"I know," she said, her jaw tight with frustration. "But I can't just stand here."
"You're not," Morgan said, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "You're my backup plan. And my eyes." He pointed to a nearby construction site. "See that crane? The one with the wrecking ball?"
She nodded.
"I need you to get to the controls for it. Be ready," he said.
"Ready for what?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But when I tell you to do something, do it. No questions."
She looked at him, at the absolute, unshakable confidence in his eyes, and nodded. Without another word, she turned and sprinted toward the construction site, her movements a blur of fluid grace.
Liz and Flash just stood there, frozen, useless spectators to a disaster they couldn't comprehend. Morgan ignored them, his entire being focused on the massive stone structure groaning above them. He could feel the frantic, desperate energy of Spider-Man at the top, the wild, uncontrolled hum of the weapon falling, the grinding protest of metal and stone. He closed his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him, filtering out the noise, searching for the one pattern that mattered.
"The weapon," he whispered, his eyes snapping open. "It's not just resonating. It's building to a critical overload. It's going to be a bomb."
"I'm in!" Ned yelled triumphantly. "I've got the maintenance network! What do you need me to do?"
"The lightning rods!" Morgan shouted. "They're all connected to a central grounding grid, but it's got a failsafe, a surge protector that's probably older than my dad. I need you to override it. Reroute all the power directly to the grounding rods. Turn the entire monument into one giant lightning rod."
"To do what? Attract lightning? There isn't a cloud in the sky!"
"The weapon isn't just energy, it's a phase disruptor," Morgan explained, his words coming fast. "When it overloads, it won't just explode. It'll release a massive electromagnetic pulse. The grounding rods can't discharge it, but they can channel it. They can direct the blast!"
"To where?" Liz cried, her voice trembling.
"Up," Morgan said, pointing to the sky. "Straight up. Away from everyone."
Ned's fingers were a blur. "Okay! Okay, I'm bypassing the failsafe… rerouting the conduits… I think… I think it's working!"
On cue, a low hum emanated from the base of the monument, and a faint blue electrical corona began to flicker around the tips of the lightning rods.
"Now, Peter," Morgan whispered, looking up at the precarious spire. "You need to get out of there. Now."
***
High above, Peter was living a nightmare. The capstone was tilting at a sickening angle, the entire world slanted beneath his feet. Every few seconds, a new web line would snap with the sound of a gunshot, the vibrations from the weapon below making it impossible to create a stable anchor. He could feel the deep, grinding shudder of the monument about to tear itself apart.
Then he felt it. A new energy. Not the chaotic, destructive buzz of the weapon, but a focused, controlled hum. He looked down and saw the blue corona flickering around the lightning rods. Ned. It had to be Ned.
His phone buzzed in his suit's pocket. He risked letting go with one hand to answer it, a voice coming through the suit's comms.
"Peter, get out of there," Morgan's voice said, calm and clear over the chaos. "We've channeled the energy. It's going to blow up. Get to the highest point and jump."
"Jump?! From where? There's nowhere to go!"
"The crane," Morgan said. "Gwen's in the control cab. She's going to swing the wrecking ball to you. Jump to it. It's your only chance."
Peter looked over at the construction site. He saw the massive steel arm of the crane, and Gwen, a tiny figure in the operator's cab. He trusted her. He trusted Morgan.
"I'm on my way," he yelled into the comm.
He fired a web, not at the failing monument, but at the steel framework of the crane itself. He launched himself into space, a red and blue streak against the D.C. skyline. Below him, he could see the tiny figures of his team, looking up. He could see the emergency lights, the panicked crowds. He could see the weapon, a glowing ball of green energy, as it finally hit the bottom of the shaft.
There was no explosion. Just a blinding, silent flash of white light.
Peter was in mid-air when the EMP hit. It was like a physical force, a wave of pure energy that slammed into him. Every system in his suit went dead. The lights in his mask flickered and died. The comms went silent. He was blind, deaf, and falling.
He hit the side of the crane with a bone-jarring impact, his gloved fingers scrabbling for purchase. He found a handhold, his own strength the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death. He was clinging to the cold steel, dazed and disoriented, the world a silent, blurry mess.
He looked up and saw it. The wrecking ball, swinging toward him, a massive steel pendulum. And on the other side of it, standing on the ball itself as if it were a solid platform, was Gwen.
She had jumped from the crane's arm, using her own incredible strength and agility to land on the moving sphere. She had her hand outstretched, her face a mask of fierce concentration.
"Peter, jump!" he heard her yell, her voice faint over the ringing in his ears.
He didn't hesitate. He pushed off the crane, launching himself toward the swinging wrecking ball. It was a desperate, insane leap. He missed her hand by inches, but his fingers caught the heavy steel chain attached to the ball. The jolt nearly dislocated his shoulders, but he held on.
The crane operator, finally seeing what was happening, began to lower the ball, swinging it back toward the safety of the construction site. Peter and Gwen clung to the chain, dangling high above the ground, two tiny specks of life on a massive steel pendulum, silhouetted against the smoke-filled sky.
The descent was slow and terrifyingly silent. Peter's suit was dead, his comms offline, and the only sound was the groan of the crane's cable and the howl of the wind around them. He clung to the thick chain, his knuckles white, the cold steel biting into his palms. His head was still ringing from the EMP, his vision swimming. He was blind without the suit's HUD, deaf without its amplified audio.
Gwen was a steady presence beside him, her grip on the chain firm and sure. She wasn't just holding on; she was stabilizing them, using her own strength to counteract the swing of the massive wrecking ball. She had one arm wrapped around the chain, her other hand holding onto his wrist, an anchor in the storm.
"Peter?" she called out, her voice thin in the wind.
"I'm here," he grunted, shaking his head to clear the fog. "What happened? The suit… it's dead."
"EMP," she shouted back. "From the weapon. Morgan knew it was coming. He had Ned channel the energy up through the lightning rod. It saved everyone."
Peter's mind reeled. Morgan. Of course. While he was webslinging and panicking, Morgan had been on the ground, turning a national monument into a giant lightning rod to prevent a city-block-leveling explosion. A fresh wave of inadequacy washed over him.
The wrecking ball finally swung over the construction site, the crane operator lowering it with agonizing slowness. Peter's feet touched the ground first, and he collapsed, his legs giving out from under him. Gwen landed lightly beside him, a blur of motion that steadied him before he could fall.
"Easy," she said, her hand on his shoulder.
He ripped the mask off his face, sucking in a lungful of dusty, smoky air. The world came back into focus—the blinking lights of emergency vehicles, the stunned faces of construction workers, and, running toward them, the rest of his team.
Liz was the first to reach them, her face a mess of tears and relief. She threw her arms around Peter, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh my god, you're alive! You're both alive! I thought… I thought you were dead."
Peter stiffened, his body aching, his mind still a jumble of guilt and adrenaline. He awkwardly patted her back. "Yeah. I'm okay. We're okay."
Ned was next, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and utter, unadulterated hero worship. "Dude! You rode a wrecking ball! And Gwen! You were on it! That was the most insane thing I have ever seen in my entire life!"
Even Flash was silent, his usual bravado completely gone, replaced by a slack-jawed awe. He just looked at Peter, then at Gwen, then at the smoking ruin of the Washington Monument in the distance, his brain unable to process the sequence of events.
And then there was Morgan. He stood apart from the chaos, leaning against the fender of a police car, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't rush over. He didn't offer hugs or words of relief. He just watched them, his expression unreadable. But Peter could feel his gaze, a steady, analytical weight that seemed to see right through him, past the broken suit and the foolish bravado, to the scared kid underneath.
Peter finally extracted himself from Liz's hug and stumbled over to Morgan, the shredded remains of his suit feeling heavier than ever. "You… you knew," Peter said, his voice hoarse. "You knew what that weapon would do."
Morgan gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "I read the schematics. It was a phase disruptor, not just a bomb. An uncontrolled detonation would have been… messy."
"You saved everyone," Peter stated, the words feeling inadequate.
"We saved everyone," Morgan corrected, his gaze flicking from Peter to Gwen, who had followed him over. "Ned did the heavy lifting on the network. Gwen got you the extraction. I just pointed. You were the one who took the fight to them."
Peter looked at Gwen, who just shrugged, a small, tired smile on her face. "Told you I wasn't just a science geek."
***
The Decathlon victory, the national championship, was forgotten. The shiny trophy they had earned was sitting somewhere in the now-evacuated hotel, a meaningless piece of metal in the face of real-world consequences. The medal ceremony, the celebration, the glory—it all felt like a joke. They had won, but the cost had been almost unthinkable.
As emergency services swarmed the site, and federal agents in black SUVs began to arrive to take statements, the Midtown High team huddled together on the fringes. They were a unit, bound by a shared trauma that no trophy could ever represent. Liz and Ned were leaning on each other, Flash was uncharacteristically quiet, and Gwen stood beside Morgan, their shoulders touching.
Peter watched them from across the way. He saw the easy camaraderie, the quiet support they offered each other. He had fought to keep them safe, to be their hero, but in the end, he had just dragged them into his dangerous world. He hadn't protected them. They had protected each other, and Morgan, with his cold, calculating intellect, had been their field general.
The responsibility of being Spider-Man felt heavier than ever. It wasn't just about stopping muggers or catching car thieves. It was about making impossible choices, about facing threats that could level cities, and about knowing that the people you cared about would always be caught in the crossfire. He had wanted to help his friends, but his responsibility as Spider-Man had pulled him away, and in return, it had nearly destroyed them.
As he was loaded into an ambulance for a mandatory check-up, he caught Morgan's eye one last time. There was no judgment there, no anger. Just a quiet, knowing look, an acknowledgment of the heavy price of power. Peter looked away, a grim determination settling in his gut. This was his life now. And he had to learn how to balance it, before he lost everything.
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