Stiffness.
That's the word for Cindy Moon's mood right now.
She never dreamed Ronan would call her out like this.
It hit so fast.
Her only relief? The homemade mask she'd slapped on.
Her heart prayed Ronan didn't ID her—just saw some random stalker.
But either way, Cindy Moon was busted!
So, ignoring whatever Ronan might say, she bolted.
Run—whatever happens, just run.
Ronan didn't stop her. He watched, grinning, like he was savoring her fleeing silhouette.
Barely ten meters out, familiar webbing snagged her tight.
Cindy Moon's dash screeched to a halt.
She whipped around, stunned—and saw an even more familiar face.
Peter Parker!
Next sec, a yank from the webs hauled her back.
Back toward Peter Parker's spot.
Bang!
Midair, Peter met her—hands whipping hers behind her back. More webbing coiled her wrists and waist into a tight bind.
A light shove, a web shot from his right hand—they dangled from a streetlamp.
Ronan smirked as two "spiders" hung upside-down from the lamp.
Normal folks seeing this? They'd lose it.
Too freaky.
One in a red spider hood, the other in a DIY black one.
Both dropping in sync, parallel from the lamp.
Straight out of a Lovecraft tale or comic panel.
"Hey, timing perfect or what?"
"Stranger, I'm Spider-Man—snap a pic for the 'net if you want."
Peter Parker's cocky tone rang out.
Cindy Moon gaped at him.
What happened to Peter Parker?
Not long ago, he'd seemed like a hardcore introvert.
Now—
Hearing that line, she half-thought she'd got the wrong guy.
This Peter Parker and the old one? A tape's A and B sides.
For some reason, a tiny thrill flickered in her chest.
"Cut it, Peter—no need to fake it."
"If I'm right, Ms. Moon's long sniffed out who you are."
Ronan rolled his eyes.
He'd almost praised Peter—short time with Steve Rogers, big growth.
But this? Kid still had some growing to do.
She's tailing Ronan—she'd have Peter's ID locked down tight.
"Huh?"
Peter scratched his head, glancing at Cindy Moon.
She stayed mum—awkward silence thickened.
Ronan watched them stare, nearly cracking up.
Since confirming his tail was Cindy Moon, dusty memories surfaced.
A Marvel-obsessed pal from his past life—movies, comics, the works.
He'd ranted: Spider-Man's girls in other 'verses were trash. Only Cindy Moon was Peter Parker's "destined one."
Reason? Simple.
The spider that bit Peter didn't die—it bit Cindy Moon next.
That's fate.
Plus, their pairing? Batman and Catwoman-tier perfection.
Too bad Cindy Moon's a niche name—only hardcore comic fans knew her.
Most just knew Peter's big two.
That's why it clicked late—she's got spider powers too.
"Alright, Peter, it's late."
"Let's wrap this quick."
Ronan yawned, sleepy.
"Wrap it quick?"
"What's that mean?"
Peter didn't catch it.
No battle plan prepped.
"Duh—take her out."
"You've tailed her this long, nabbed her—find a quiet spot, dig a hole, bury her."
"People vanish in New York nightly—no one'll point at us."
Ronan deadpanned, straight-faced.
His eyes flicked to Cindy Moon.
Her panic spiked as he spoke.
She never pegged Ronan as this ruthless.
Just tailing him—and he'd bury her?!
Her masked eyes darted wild—Ronan nearly lost it laughing.
Love stalking?
Taste society's dark side!
"No, no, Ronan—no need for that."
"Cindy—Ms. Moon—just followed you. No malice, right?"
"Doing this… we'd be murderers!"
Peter shook his head hard.
He'd spared Connors—a killer of plenty.
A girl like Cindy Moon, with that fleeting spark?
No way he could stomach it.
"No, Peter, we need to."
Ronan fixed him with a grave stare.
Peter froze, eyes locking on—searching for why.
"First, she knows you're you."
"Let her go, and someday 'Peter Parker is Spider-Man' could spread across America."
"Then? Expulsion, hate, the works."
"Worse—Uncle Ben and Aunt May'd be targets because you're exposed."
"Remember what I told you?"
Ronan's face stayed stern, pinning Peter.
He wrestled his lips, fighting a grin.
Zoom in, and Peter'd see them twitching.
Peter blanked again.
Ronan's old words echoed—identity exposed screws more than just him.
Everyone around him too!
Now, Peter wavered.
He could take the heat—millions cursing, no fear.
But Ben and May, who raised him?
That he couldn't bear.
His hesitation deepened.
Seeing him mute, Cindy Moon's eyes bulged.
She sensed it—Peter teetered on the edge.
A nudge, and he'd tip.
If he crossed that line, her fate was sealed.
Dead for sure.
"No, trust me—I won't spill your identities!"
Cindy Moon finally spoke.
Peter's head snapped up—through the mask, Ronan felt a flicker of hope in him.
Tsk tsk tsk.
Ronan shook his head.
Steve Rogers' training had leveled Peter up.
But this choice? Still shaky.
No sharp judgment.
Gotta tell Steve—focus on that next.
A beastly body with no matching heart's just a fancy house on sand.
Foundation cracks, it's done.
"How you gonna prove that, Ms. Moon?"
Ronan grinned at her.
He had a million ways to wipe tonight from her mind—but not yet.
"I—"
Cindy Moon choked.
No proof.
She meant it, sure—but convincing Ronan?
No dice.
That "vow" was too flimsy—who'd buy a word-of-mouth promise?
If roles flipped—someone knew her powers, swore silence—she wouldn't buy it either.
Her defeated look drew a sigh from Ronan.
This girl's sharper than Peter.
Way sharper.
One line, and she got the stakes.
Peter? Still clueless if he caught the drift.
"I can't prove it."
"All I can say—I swear I won't talk, and I won't."
"If you don't believe me, kill me."
Cindy Moon sucked in a breath, eyes shut.
In the quiet alley, her shaky breaths echoed.
Ronan smiled silent.
Honest?
Maybe a pinch.
Mostly, a retreat-to-advance gambit.
"I can't prove it, so kill me"—fishing for a lifeline.
Not from him—from Peter.
He shrugged, right hand rising toward her on the lamp.
Like a thought could end her right there!
"Wait!"
Four, five seconds—Peter cracked.
Cindy Moon exhaled tiny; Peter laughed again.
They'd both waited for him to bite. Five more seconds of silence?
Well—
"Peter, got a better idea?"
Ronan turned, eyes teasing thicker.
Peter dodged the vibe, tilting up.
"Ronan, you said you can wipe memories with spells, right?"
He yanked off his mask, locking eyes.
Like he wanted Ronan to read his soul.
"Yup, I can."
"So?"
Ronan nodded—yep, he's got it.
"Erase 'Peter Parker is Spider-Man' from her head."
"Can you?"
"No exposure, no killing—better, right?"
Peter rushed it out—a perfect fix.
Ronan gave him a deep look, smirking.
"Sure, your call—I won't argue."
He grinned, leaving half unsaid.
Future's full of A-or-B forks—no C, D, or extras.
When Peter can't "win both ways," that's the real test.
And it's close.
"Let's do it."
Peter glanced at Cindy Moon.
Even masked, he seemed to see her face.
She froze—her spider-sense caught a sad vibe.
From Peter, right beside her.
"Peter, besides my powers, I never lied to you."
"Tonight too—"
She scrambled to explain.
"Enough."
Peter cut her off.
"Sorry, can't tell truth from lie now."
"Everything you showed me was fake."
"I can't trust you—really, I can't."
Twice he said it, turning away, mask back on.
As it slid down, Ronan glimpsed a glinting tear fall.
"Ronan, help me."
Peter's voice shifted.
Ronan sighed.
Young love's a mess…
He shook his head, hands weaving seals.
"Peter, believe me—I didn't lie."
"Those words were—"
Cindy Moon kept pleading; Peter tuned out.
A spell zapped her dead-on.
Her voice died mid-sentence.
As the glow pulsed over her, Ronan caught a second tear.
---
Next morning.
Peter Parker trudged his bike into school, drained.
Dark circles screamed sleepless night.
Head down, wordless.
Halfway, he stopped.
Spider-sense pinged—someone ahead, blocking his path.
Irritated, he looked up, ready to snap.
Then froze.
Cindy Moon stood there, beaming, waving light.
"Hi, Peter."