Parker's home.
Peter sat at his desk, studying the CT scans in his hand with a grave expression.
After a long while, he set the scans down and turned his gaze to the tabletop.
There sat a transparent glass jar, inside which a creature writhed.
Peter picked it up and examined it closely.
Within crawled an insect, its body encased in a peacock-green metallic shell.
This insect was called a "jewel wasp," something he had discovered in his backyard.
Despite its metallic sheen and seemingly harmless appearance, the jewel wasp was anything but. In fact, it was said that the very concept of the Xenomorph had been inspired by this insect.
The name might sound beautiful, but the creature itself was as ruthless as an alien predator.
Peter opened the jar and tossed a cockroach inside.
"Whizz!"
The jewel wasp immediately raised its stinger and plunged it deep into the cockroach's body.
Paralyzed, the cockroach froze instantly.
The wasp shifted, then drove its stinger straight into the cockroach's brain.
The motion was eerily similar to a Xenomorph's horrifying inner jaws piercing through a victim's mouth.
According to reports, once the female jewel wasp gained control over its prey, it would use its antennae to guide the cockroach back to its nest, where it would obediently sit still.
There, the wasp would lay an egg in the cockroach's abdomen, and the unfortunate host would remain in place, patiently awaiting the larva's hatching.
Setting the jar back down, Peter turned his eyes toward the night outside the window.
Was he the cockroach trapped inside the glass… or the wasp?
"Bzzz~!"
His thoughts were broken by the sudden ringing of his phone.
The caller ID displayed: Gwen Stacy.
After a brief hesitation, he answered.
"Hey, Peter. Good evening."
"Evening, Gwen."
Her voice carried concern. "You didn't come to school today. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't feeling well, so I stayed home."
Peter casually gave an excuse for skipping school.
"I see. I was going to stop by, but things at school tied me up. Next time, at least give me a heads-up. I could've had Ms. Fisch write you a note, and then you wouldn't get chewed out tomorrow."
Gwen rattled off her words in a rush, her worry for him evident.
"Thanks, Gwen. I might ask for your help next time."
Peter gave a small laugh and thanked the warm-hearted girl.
"No, I should be thanking you! If it weren't for you, I probably would've fallen off that rooftop. Maybe… maybe in some parallel world, I really did."
Her imagination running wild, Gwen added, "I mean, I do a lot of reckless things. It's not exactly the best habit."
"Well, I'm just glad you're okay. Get some rest. Good night."
"Good night."
Thud!
Hanging up, Gwen tossed her phone onto the bed.
Then she let herself collapse backward onto the mattress.
Ever since that rooftop incident, her feelings toward Peter had grown complicated.
In her memory, Peter had always been the boy people teased with silly pranks—like being sent to fetch a "left-handed wrench."
(Note: A "left-handed wrench" is a classic prank, since wrenches aren't right- or left-handed. The joke is to send someone searching for something that doesn't exist.)
But after that night on the rooftop, Peter no longer felt like the same timid boy.
She couldn't quite say whether it was better or worse… only that she liked this new Peter—the one who had stood tall on the rooftop—far more than the self-conscious Peter of before.
"Maybe Dad's right. Deep down, I really do long for a little rebellion."
She muttered to herself, then pulled out her phone and opened her music player.
Rock music filled the room, lyrics echoing with haunting imagery.
Her thoughts grew restless.
"Like a phantom… like a wandering ghost," she murmured, half to herself. "Honestly, I feel a bit like that lately—lost in my own thoughts, drifting like a shadow."
The next morning.
Peter had barely stepped into school when he ran into Gwen.
"Hey, Peter! Morning!"
She greeted him brightly, golden hair catching the light, her delicate features framed by a stylish baseball jacket that gave her a vibrant, youthful charm.
"Miss Stacy, next time wear your uniform. Watch your attire."
Before Peter could respond, a balding middle-aged man nearby raised his voice in warning.
"Of course, Mr. Morton. Thank you for the reminder."
Gwen turned with a polite smile.
Mr. Morton was the assistant principal of Midtown High, responsible for maintaining discipline.
Breathing a quiet sigh, Gwen turned back to Peter and whispered, "Morton always tries to play the part of a charming John Wayne when he's disciplining students… but it never really works."
"John Wayne?"
Peter blinked, unable to follow her train of thought.
"You don't know John Wayne? Hollywood's greatest cowboy, one of the most iconic figures in American culture."
To Gwen, Peter suddenly seemed like his old, slightly clueless self again.
"I know a brand of toilet paper called John Wayne. Its slogan was: 'It's rough, it's tough, and it doesn't take crap off anyone.'"
Peter recalled and shared it with a straight face.
For a moment, Gwen stared blankly.
Then, completely breaking her ladylike image, she burst into laughter.
"Ha! That's so deadpan it's hilarious, Peter."
She clutched her stomach, laughing until she could barely breathe.
Being called "humorous, witty, and adorable" left Peter speechless.
This was the first time anyone had ever described him like that.
Words like that… applied to him?
"…Thanks for the compliment, but I doubt anyone else would agree."
Ignoring the curious glances of students passing by, Peter added dryly, "Maybe you should work on your expression management."
"Sorry."
Gwen quickly pulled herself together and apologized, still smiling. "It was just too funny…"
Peter shook his head, baffled by her strange sense of humor, and walked toward the classroom building.
"Those guys who tried to kidnap you—any updates?" he asked as Gwen caught up.
"No idea. Dad said they were from the Hand, but apparently they've run into some trouble of their own lately."
Her tone grew more serious. "Because of my dad's crackdown on them, they came after me in retaliation."
"If I ever become a superhero, the first ones I'd deal with are those bastards!"
Gwen's teeth clenched as she spat out the words.