Marvel: Life is Good

Gwen Stacy.

The cute blonde lay on her bed, glancing at her phone from time to time. Not that she was waiting for a call… but a girl could dream, right? Lately, her life had taken some pretty sharp turns. Her mom had become a police captain, and before transferring precincts, they'd moved to a new place. With the new home came a new school. She was surrounded by unfamiliar faces now, and it was harder to make it to band practice with the girls. Thankfully, her grades hadn't taken a hit—Gwen was a smart cookie, always a few steps ahead of the curriculum.

Then there was that second trip to Oscorp, arranged by Petra Parker—her new friend. Petra, in all her nerdy glory, had been excited to share that it wasn't her first time visiting an Oscorp lab. She even confided that she was slated to join their program after graduation, with a job offer already lined up. Hard to doubt her—she was besties with Harry Osborn, one of Nora Osborn's heirs, after all. Plus, Petra was a genius. That added credibility to her story.

And then there was that spider. Gwen shuddered. It had fallen on Parker, who brushed it off—and straight onto Gwen. The damn thing bit both of them. Petra got the neck, Gwen got her arm. They bolted from the tour and went straight to the hospital, where doctors assured them the bites looked worse than they were. They got a prescription for pills and ointment, then went home. Gwen slept fitfully that night and woke up drenched in sweat, feeling wrecked. She'd blamed the meds or the doctors, but the next day at school, things only got weirder.

Parker… felt different. It wasn't something she could describe. Petra had never stood out in any way before, but now? She radiated… something. Familiar. And Petra kept looking at her, eyes full of secrets. Questions and confusion piled up until the truth smacked them both a few days later.

They hadn't just gotten sick. They'd changed.

Their reflexes sharpened. Strength skyrocketed. Agility? Off the charts.

Petra was ecstatic—her eyesight was perfect for the first time in her life. She figured out how to stick to walls and scuttle around like some human spider. A few days later, she even whipped up a ridiculous costume and started making cash in underground cage fights. When Gwen asked why, Petra shrugged. "Projects cost money, and we're not exactly rich." Then her Aunt Betsy was killed. Petra's whole world turned upside down. Not long after that, a new hero started swinging through New York City…

It freaked Gwen out.

Not just Petra's sudden shift from shy geek to vigilante badass, but her own body's unnerving metamorphosis. What else was going to change? What would she become? And what was she supposed to do with this power?

Petra embraced her new destiny without hesitation. Gwen? She wasn't so sure. Her mom had mixed opinions on heroes, but even she respected some of them. Fame, respect, admirers—those perks sounded sweet. But risking her neck for strangers? That was a whole different story.

Her mind wandered back to that club night.

Her friends had dragged her out for some fun after noticing how off she'd been. It had started well enough—music, dancing, and a cute guy her age who couldn't keep his eyes off her. They danced all night. But an irrational sense of dread gnawed at her, which she stubbornly ignored. When he leaned in for a kiss, alarms blared in her mind. Danger. She squashed the feeling. He wasn't resisting, and maybe her luck had finally turned around…

The kiss sent her head spinning. Everything blurred.

She remembered fragments—her friends watching jealously as she left with him. A car ride. A dark alley. Being transferred, dazed and weak, into a van. The "guy" turned out to be a disguised woman. The people waiting were shadier still. Someone injected her with something, and the world went black.

She woke up in a basement, chained alongside other kidnapped girls. Some of them had been there for days. Her powers? Useless. Afterall her fellow captives had no superhuman abilities to protect them. And three armed women guarded them—always with guns trained, always alert.

Gwen made herself one solemn promise that night: she'd never ignore her instincts again.

Terrified, shaken, she kept her cool. She didn't shout about her mom being a police captain. That would've been a death sentence. The next day, as night fell, the door above creaked open. Footsteps descended the stairs. Some of the girls whispered that this was it—the transfer to somewhere worse.

Instead, a boy appeared. His face was shrouded in a bright halo of light, his voice calm and polite as he explained that the kidnappers were neutralized. He was here to set them free.

And he melted the lock. With his bare hands.

Elegant, serene, and utterly mesmerizing—he was like a storybook prince, a warrior of justice come to life.

Even if the name he gave himself—Mister Mutant—made her giggle.

Did it matter? Hell no. He was a hero.

All the girls watched him with wide eyes and pounding hearts, but she got his number. He even seemed interested in her.

Gwen bolted to the mirror, giving herself a critical once-over.

Not bad. Sure, her chest was… modest. But she was only seventeen. Plenty of room for growth. Her mom had a fantastic rack—there was hope. She had a toned, athletic body. No extra fluff. Her butt, though… yeah, she'd be hitting squats tomorrow. A girl's gotta think ahead.

He might not even call.

But a rounder butt never hurt anyone.

Later, talking to her mom, Gwen realized just how lucky they'd been.

The police had nothing. No leads on her disappearance. Her mom hadn't slept in two days searching for her daughter. Then Gwen had called with the address and handed over the criminals on a silver platter.

They learned from interrogations that the girls would've been moved the next night. After that? Slavery. Organ harvesting. Or worse—entertainment for the rich and depraved.

Could Gwen have escaped on her own? Maybe. Maybe.

But that boy hadn't waited to find out. He'd saved them. Asked for nothing in return.

A mutant.

People had always warned her about them. Monsters, they said. Dangerous freaks. She'd heard the stories, seen the fear.

But this one?

Mutant or not, he was a goddamn hero.

Wait… Hold on… I need to meet with Parker! Talk to her—maybe she knows him? Supers often team up, right? Or… Or maybe I should wear a suit too? That'd definitely boost my chances of catching his interest! I could even suggest we form a team!!! Yes, yes! I need Petra right away! To be or not to be—question solved. Helping people is a noble and worthy goal! I'll be just like Mom, serving and protecting the people of America! Sure, the guy's interesting, but it's not about that—it's about making the world a better place! Yeah, totally. That's it!

The girl began frantically scrolling through her contacts, looking for Parker's number.

Hydra-Auntie (1) and Mama Betty

Elizabeth fiddled nervously with her wedding ring, keeping a wary eye on her very excited mentor pacing the room. What she had expected to be a routine meeting had taken a far more unusual turn. Normally composed and calm, the older aristocrat was practically giddy—exactly how she got when another of her self-proclaimed brilliant schemes took form. These moments always made Betty feel a gnawing sense of impending doom. Especially when the plans concerned her.

"Everything is going even better than I hoped—perfectly, in fact. No doubt about it, Mister Mutant is our Tobias." The woman plopped herself into a chair, leaned back with a satisfied smile, and stared at the ceiling. "Our narrow-eyed 'friend' seems quite intrigued by a business proposition with a price of exactly one head. Or maybe it's someone else's idea—that doesn't really matter. But, Betty, see if you can get more info from our boy the next time you meet. In private, please. We don't need Judy's hysterics. Get the details—but also make sure Tobias knows you approve. Lay it on thick: motherly pride, concern for his well-being, the whole shebang… Ah, you know the drill. Just make him feel your warmth."

"Understood. I'll handle it," nodded the police lieutenant.

"Good. Very good. Now, SHIELD is finally stirring—they're actively targeting known mutants. The Avengers Initiative is a go, and that's exactly what we need right now. Tobias will draw attention just by acting as he does, so there's no need to reveal his identity outright. A teenager melting metal with his bare hands? I doubt even the most clueless idiots could miss the connection between those lab footage leaks from Stryker's facility and the testimony of those rescued slaves. And the fact that one of them is your captain's daughter? Oh, that's just delicious. A debt from someone so high up in the police force will come in very handy.

"If Tobias grows quickly enough and makes a loud enough entrance, SHIELD will have no choice but to offer him a spot. And when that happens, we'll leak info about Project X-23 to our Japanese 'friend'—let the boy find himself at least one white girl! This rainbow-colored mess of a future harem is already exhausting me. We'll spotlight the X-23 case in the media: a government scheme to train a sentient, underage girl like a weapon just because she's a mutant. We'll highlight Tobias' role in it. SHIELD won't be able to ignore that kind of pressure."

She looked at Betty with a sudden intensity, the humor draining from her voice.

"And then, once he's safely ensconced within SHIELD, we'll play your card, dear."

Betty's tension visibly spiked. "What exactly do you mean?"

"One potential scenario: we 'discover' lingering Hydra cells operating in the U.S. We'll offer up some expendable idiots—useless cannon fodder who know nothing. And you, my dear, will be listed among them. That information will inevitably reach Tobias. His affection for you will be the perfect motivator to turn him to our side."

"But that would dest—"

"Destroy any chance of him staying in the light, yes. Exactly. But it's just one possibility. If we no longer need to hide, or if Tobias becomes more valuable as something else—" The aristocrat broke into a laugh. "We'll have our own Captain Hydra! A symbol to counterbalance Rogers. The key is for Tobias to have an impeccable reputation by then—ideally with a massive fanbase of adoring girls. And a strong harem. Right now, besides that useless animal, he has a teleporting mutant at his side. But if the energy vampire, Hulk and regenerating X-23 follow him, we'll hit the jackpot.

"Besides, a teenage libido and the right… environment work in our favor. Who knows how many strong young women will flock to him, instinctively driven to protect their alpha. And remember, Betty," she said with a knowing look, "they'll all do it willingly."

She laughed again, genuine and full of wicked delight. If Elizabeth didn't know her so well, the infectious mood might have made her smile too.

Queenpin, aka Willa Fisk

The massive woman sat listening grimly to her underling's weekly report. Nothing catastrophic—but nothing particularly exciting either. The usual dance with Silver-Haired: a never-ending cold war for control of different city sectors. They fought over smuggling, gambling, and brothels, though narcotics and human trafficking weren't her rival's style. That self-righteous Sicilian hag treated those trades with disdain, keeping her hands clean—and conveniently dodging the attention of both Daredevil and Punisher. The latter, according to rumors, even bought exclusive booze from one of Silvermane's suppliers.

Fisk's scowl deepened. The mutant who wrecked her last shipment had been too efficient. The whole transport was lost, and nobody even managed to fire a shot. Was he a vigilante? Maybe—but the operation had been surgical, not some messy hero stunt. A problem either way. Still, none of her people involved were worth mourning. Even the ones who knew a few names had already gone underground—or under dirt.

But for one of the captives to be the daughter of a police captain. That might have just been a blessing in disguise after all.

The next shipment would follow a new plan with a different, more competent crew. Plus, it was time to get some serious muscle watching over things. You couldn't rule out the possibility of a new "hunter of bandits" popping up and deciding to make Queenpin their primary target, throwing her entire life into chaos. Better to dig up whatever intel they could on "Mister Mutant."

What really had Fisk on edge, though, was the news about the growing number of Hand operatives in New York. They weren't moving—just gathering and lurking in the shadows. What were they waiting for? She didn't have a clue. Maybe she'd try hiring a few of their specialists for some low-risk jobs—just enough to get a feel for their skill level.

But her biggest headache came from a couple of vampire nests in the city. Sneaky little bloodsuckers. They had a nasty habit of snacking on people from the night streets—her people, to be exact. Naturally, these fang-faced bastards preferred their meals from the criminal underbelly: no pesky legal issues, minimal fuss over missing persons, and it was easy enough to stage a "murder" as a gang-related hit. Hell, even the cops would breathe a sigh of relief, turning a blind eye to any "oddities." Those blood-sucking bitches… Maybe it was worth enlisting the Hand to track down the nests. If they could wipe them out for a reasonable price, that'd be perfect.

She'd also need to spread a few well-placed rumors to attract the attention of hunters. The more heat on those red-eyed freaks, the better.

With a heavy sigh, Fisk dismissed her assistant and grabbed her phone. Some orders needed a personal touch. Couldn't trust everything to underlings—not when things got… tricky.

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(1) TN: It's a nickname the Russian audience gave to her.