In a rundown civilian house in Queens, New York, Peter Parker lay silently on a pink, girlish bed. Due to extreme blood loss and exhaustion, he was completely spent. He remained unconscious, showing no signs of waking.
All of Peter's clothes had been removed, and the deep knife wound on his back had been carefully stitched and bandaged. Outside, heavy rain poured down, with fat raindrops striking the old, worn-out roof tiles, making a constant crackling sound.
Inside the dimly lit room, a beautiful silver-haired woman sat quietly by his bedside. She gazed at the unconscious Peter Parker with a soft, tender expression.
Suddenly, water began to leak through a crack in the ceiling. A single drop of rain fell directly onto Peter's face. The woman immediately frowned in annoyance.
"This damn house leaks every time it rains. One day, I'm going to tear you down and rebuild," she muttered.
She gently reached for a towel, intending to wipe the drop off Peter's face and move the bed to a drier spot. But just as she was about to touch him, Peter's eyes snapped open.
In a flash, he grabbed her wrist tightly and flipped upright, immediately pinning her by the neck.
"Who are you?! What are you trying to do? Speak, or I'll kill you!" he growled.
His eyes were wide with fury, and his body radiated a tense, dangerous energy. Given what he had just been through—barely escaping death—his aggression was understandable. He had exhausted his strength to kill those two gangsters and survive. Having narrowly clung to life, he was determined not to lose control again.
In truth, Peter had already regained consciousness a minute earlier. But his keen senses had detected someone sitting quietly beside him. So he remained still, eyes closed, feigning sleep.
He needed to assess the situation first. He couldn't risk exposing himself prematurely. He had also been waiting for the perfect moment to counterattack. However, while he waited, he noticed that the woman beside him bore no hostility. She had, in fact, treated and bandaged his wound.
Still, having walked so close to death, Peter refused to lower his guard. He waited patiently until the drop of rain created the perfect opening. Even then, he had chosen not to kill—just to subdue—because he sensed no threat from her.
To his surprise, the woman then called out his name.
"Peter, it's me—Hardy. We met before, at the Empire University freshman dance, remember?"
Though her throat was being choked, she managed to speak with effort.
Peter's eyes widened in surprise.
His enhanced intellect activated, and within moments, he pulled the name from the original Peter's memory. The woman in front of him bore a 90% resemblance to Felicia Hardy, a silver-haired girl Peter had met at the university dance.
Back then, Hardy had been naive and youthful. Now, she was elegant, alluring, and mysteriously charming. Yet their appearances were nearly identical.
That was when Peter understood: the woman he was choking really was Felicia Hardy, his old university acquaintance.
As a transmigrator, Li Ran, now in Peter's body, knew even more. Felicia Hardy was the Marvel Universe's well-known anti-hero, Black Cat. Though this world seemed different from the one he remembered, the connection was too strong to ignore.
"Hardy? It's really you? How did you get here?" he asked in disbelief, releasing her hand.
His mind flashed back to university. The original Peter Parker had been a diligent student focused on academics, hoping to change his fate through knowledge. But this attitude made him a social outcast. His peers saw him as a nerd, isolated and ridiculed.
Felicia Hardy had been one of the few people who talked to him.
They met at the freshman dance. While everyone else danced, Peter had stood alone, attending only to earn some extra credits. He hadn't planned to engage.
But that night, Felicia—ostracized because of her naturally silver-white hair—became the target of bullies. Seeing this, Peter intervened. He stood up for her, even getting beaten in the process. That night, they became friends.
Three months later, Felicia disappeared without a word.
He hadn't seen her again—until now.
"Peter, it's a long story…" Felicia said hesitantly.
"If it's hard to talk about, then don't," Peter replied.
Though he didn't know why she had vanished or why she was here now, the fact that she saved his life was proof of her good intentions—at least for now.
And given what he knew of her other selves across universes, it was likely she had an extraordinary identity here too.
"You saved me. I owe you big time," Peter said sincerely.
"It's nothing. You saved me once too, back at the dance. We're even."
"It's different. I only stood up for you."
"You also took a beating for me."
"…"
"Can we not bring that up? It's kind of embarrassing."
"Embarrassing? I thought you were super manly back then."
"Cough, cough… really?" Peter's face flushed red.
"Yes, incredibly manly," she said with a smile, leaning closer.
Peter's heart raced. He had never been in such an intimate situation before. The subtle scent of her perfume made him slightly dazed.
Then, a sharp pain in his back snapped him out of his thoughts. He winced and lay back down in discomfort.
"Is your wound hurting again?" Felicia asked, concerned.
Peter nodded.
"The anesthetic I gave you only lasts about an hour. If it's unbearable, I can give you another dose. Do you want it?"
Peter gritted his teeth and shook his head. "No need. I can endure it."
Felicia nodded, walked over, and poured him a glass of water. But just then, her phone rang. She answered it, and her expression subtly changed—though Peter noticed.
"I'm sorry, Peter. Something urgent came up. I have to go. Please stay here and rest for the next few days," she said, placing keys and new clothes beside him. "There's enough food in the fridge. I'll be back soon. Just trust me and don't go out, okay?"
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left.
Peter didn't know where she went or what the urgent matter was, but her solemn expression spoke volumes. She was clearly involved in something big.
However, now wasn't the time to worry about that. He had more pressing matters.
Gritting his teeth, Peter slowly sat up, changed into the new clothes she left, and peered out the window to check the surroundings.
Seeing nothing suspicious, he left the house and hailed a taxi to his former home. For safety, he asked the driver to circle the block twice. Only after confirming there was no threat did he get out.
Inside, the familiar surroundings brought back flashes of Peter's past. But the images quickly turned dark—Aunt May, lying lifeless in a pool of blood.
Though he wasn't the original Peter Parker, fury surged inside him. His fists clenched tightly.
"I'll get revenge. I swear I'll kill those bastards," he muttered.
He headed upstairs and opened his wardrobe. Hidden behind the clothes was a small compartment. He reached inside—and sighed with relief.
Inside was a small iron box containing a bottle of green serum and a folded sheet of paper covered in genetic formulas.
This was the basic formula for interspecies gene fusion, left behind by the original Peter's father.
Though this "basic formula" had not been tested, the original Peter had used it to write a groundbreaking academic paper.
Back then, he believed he fully understood the subject. But now, with his heightened intelligence, Peter realized how flawed it was. The paper was riddled with errors, and the formula—though visionary—was fundamentally flawed.
He burned the formula to ash without hesitation.
He then pocketed the green serum and gathered some experimental tools from his room, hurrying back to Felicia's house.
It was midnight when he returned, but Peter showed no signs of fatigue. Instead, he carefully arranged the equipment on the desk.
Putting on safety gear, he poured the green serum into a test tube and began his work.
The green liquid was the work of his former advisor, Professor Curt Connors, a one-armed researcher obsessed with lizards' regenerative abilities. Connors had extracted lizard DNA, attempting to fuse it with human genes to regrow his own arm.
Peter, as his student, had participated in those experiments—hundreds of them, all failures.
But he had secretly brought home the last remaining sample of the serum.
After the attack that almost killed him, Peter could no longer wait.
He needed power—and he needed it now.
With fierce determination, Peter immersed himself in his late-night research.