"Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet
but Josh Robert is a total jerk!"
In Midtown High's classroom, the English teacher was scribbling furiously on the board when Peter suddenly received a text message with that line.
The sender's name lit up: Gwen Stacy.
Drawing on his predecessor's memories, Peter turned his head toward the back-left corner of the classroom. A blonde girl with delicate features noticed his glance and broke into a radiant smile.
Buzz!
His phone vibrated again. Gwen had sent another message:
"I heard Josh gave you trouble again this morning. You okay?"
Gwen was one of Peter's friends—and if memory served, in the future the two of them would become something more.
Though… that ending had been a tragic one.
Recalling what he knew about Gwen Stacy from his past life, Peter typed back:
"I'm fine. But he's probably not."
Moments later, Gwen replied with a lone question mark—accompanied by the infamous Nick Young "confused" meme.
Peter set his phone aside and didn't answer further. Instead, he focused on his notebook, dredging up everything he remembered from the "Alien" world, scribbling down fragments of knowledge. He needed to figure out why the xenomorph embryo was affecting his body.
By five o'clock, as Peter stepped out of school, a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
"Peter, I heard about it!"
Gwen's voice chimed brightly from behind him. "You shoved Josh into the lockers? Nice work!"
Her smile said she was genuinely pleased. "Honestly, you should've done that a long time ago."
"Thanks," Peter replied casually with a nod.
But he had no real mood to talk to the blonde girl right now. Just as he turned to leave, his eyes caught a suspicious figure lurking around a corner, staring intently at Gwen.
"They're after her," Peter judged silently.
"I'm heading home. Be careful on your way," he said aloud, almost as an afterthought—repaying her kindness from earlier.
"Alright. I will. See you tomorrow!" Gwen responded, puzzled by his odd words but not pressing the matter.
Watching Peter leave, she sighed softly to herself:
"Maybe Peter's just in a bad mood today. I shouldn't expect everyone to think the way I do."
With a little self-reflection, she was about to head to the subway when her phone rang.
"Dad? I'm fine. I was just about to head home. Do you need me to pick up some quinoa? The fridge might be running low, I could—"
Her words were cut off by her father's serious tone:
"Gwen, did you receive any strange letters?"
"Strange letters?" Gwen frowned. "No… unless you mean that Christian Youth Camp invitation? The news said it's some scheme by Methodists, Baptists, and Congregationalists—basically a spiritual setback. That's what you mean, right?"
"…No, not that." Captain George Stacy sighed. "Never mind. Just come home soon. I'll explain when you get here."
As NYPD's police captain, George often crossed paths with criminals. Earlier that day, he had received a threatening letter warning him to watch his family's safety. Uneasy, he had called Gwen to check on her.
Blissfully unaware of her father's real worries, Gwen hung up and continued toward the subway.
Night descended.
And George Stacy's worst fear came true.
On a deserted street, Gwen was suddenly cornered by three burly men.
Once they confirmed her name, they lunged at her without hesitation.
Gwen broke free and bolted, forcing the men to give chase.
Ten minutes later.
"Okay, maybe we can talk this out," Gwen panted, cornered at the rooftop of an unfinished high-rise. "I can hand over the cash in my wallet if that's what you want."
But the three thugs, also panting from the chase, shook their heads.
"We don't care about money. It's you we want. Your old man crossed the wrong people, so you're coming with us."
"Do I get to refuse?" she asked, trying to stall.
"No."
The leader pulled a knife from his belt and advanced.
Gwen's breath caught. She instinctively stepped back—nearly tumbling over the edge of the roof.
Steeling her nerves, she glanced across to the next rooftop, about three meters away.
Could I make it?
She looked down. The fall was easily a dozen meters—serious injury, if not death, was guaranteed.
There's no way out.
Clenching her teeth, Gwen took several steps back, then charged forward at full speed. The thugs' shouts blurred behind her as she launched herself into the air.
This isn't strange at all, she told herself mid-leap, I've always been a little crazy anyway.
Wind roared in her ears. For a heartbeat she thought she might make it.
Her feet hit the opposite ledge with a heavy thud—then slipped.
Her balance gone, her body lurched forward into the void.
Her eyes widened in horror. In that instant, despair swallowed her whole. She reached out desperately, clawing at the empty air
Snap!
A hand shot out from the shadows and seized her wrist.
"Got you!"
The voice was warm, familiar.
From the darkness, Peter's face emerged, pulling her up with steady strength.
"Peter?" Gwen's eyes trembled with disbelief. In her darkest moment, the last person she expected was him.
"H-how… how are you here?"
But before he could answer, she threw herself against him, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you, Peter…"
The cold mask on his face softened, just a little.
The truth was, he hadn't come here specifically to save Gwen.
Something darker was at work inside him. That killing intent, raw and primal, gnawed at his soul, urging him to wander through the night.
For xenomorphs, the night was their natural hunting ground.
And now, with alien genes entwined in his body, Peter felt the same restless pull.
By chance, he had stumbled upon Gwen's pursuit and followed it to this rooftop.
Now, with Gwen trembling in his arms, her warmth pressed against his chest, Peter slowly raised his eyes.
Across the rooftop, the fleeing thugs had stopped, turning back to look at him.