Third period, English class.
Gwen rested her chin on her hand, staring at the words on the blackboard, but her mind was elsewhere.
The Brooklyn Docks the day after tomorrow, that shipment Murakami mentioned, and those people being used as "donors"—these things were like a tangled mess, knotted together, impossible to unravel.
"Class," Mrs. Winterhalter's voice pulled her back to reality, "we have a new student joining us today."
Gwen raised her head, following everyone's gaze toward the door.
The door was pushed open, and a boy walked in.
Blond hair—not a pure platinum, but a light brownish-gold, like a mixture of sunshine and honey. Blue eyes, very blue, as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. His face was handsome and soft, with clean, defined lines that didn't lack strength. His posture was tall and straight, standing with a natural and relaxed grace that carried an innate sense of composure.
He was wearing the Midtown High School uniform, yet on him, it looked as sharp as a custom-tailored suit.
Gwen's pupils contracted slightly.
She knew this face.
No, or rather, the original owner of this body didn't know him, but she did.
Harry Osborn.
"Hello, everyone," the new boy said, his voice clear and bright with a hint of a smile, "my name is Harry Osborn, and I've just transferred from California. I look forward to getting to know you all."
A stir ran through the classroom.
The name Osborn was known to everyone in New York. Oscorp Group, a giant in the field of biochemistry, a multinational corporation on par with Stark Industries (though in this World, Stark Industries wasn't owned by a Stark).
A rich kid.
And a top-tier rich kid at that.
Mrs. Winterhalter gestured with her hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.
"Harry, why don't you sit next to Peter?" She pointed to the empty seat beside Peter, "That spot has been empty, so it works out perfectly."
Harry nodded and walked over with his backpack. As he passed Gwen, his gaze lingered on her face for a split second, then he nodded politely and continued walking.
Gwen nodded back in response, but her mind was on other things.
Harry Osborn.
The second Green Goblin.
If Harry had appeared, could Norman Osborn be far behind?
The plot of the first Green Goblin was about to begin.
Gwen tilted her head slightly, watching Harry sit down next to Peter. The two of them nodded at each other and then each opened their textbooks.
She recalled the Spider-Man stories from her past life—the friendship between Harry and Peter, starting as high school desk mates, to their eventual falling out as brothers, and finally to their life-and-death reliance on one another. It was a long and tortuous road, filled with laughter and tears.
Now, that road had begun.
But in this life, Peter hadn't been bitten by the spider. In this life, it was she who had gained the spider's powers.
So, where would Harry's path lead?
Gwen retracted her gaze and continued staring at the blackboard.
She didn't know.
But she knew one thing—she couldn't let Harry become the Green Goblin. She couldn't let anyone become the Green Goblin.
No matter how many villains were in this World, there was one thing she had to do: keep those who were supposed to die alive, and keep those families that were supposed to be broken whole.
Even if it was just one.
The bell rang, and the classroom instantly became lively.
Gwen packed up her textbooks, catching out of the corner of her eye that Harry was already chatting with Peter.
"Your name is Peter, right?" Harry leaned back in his chair, his posture very relaxed, "Mrs. Winterhalter mentioned it just now."
Peter nodded: "Peter Parker."
"Parker?" Harry thought for a moment, "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere... Never mind, it's not important." He reached out his hand, "We're desk mates now, looking forward to it."
Peter looked at the extended hand, paused for a moment, then shook it.
"Looking forward to it."
Gwen watched this scene, suddenly feeling like laughing.
Was this what friendship between men was like?
They hit it off in less than three sentences.
"Gwen!" Mary Jane ran over and grabbed her, "Come on, let's go, I have something to tell you guys!"
Gwen was dragged away by her, and as they passed Peter and Harry, she heard Harry saying: "...Surfing in California is really awesome, I'll take you sometime. Do you know how to surf?"
"No..."
"No problem, I'll teach you!"
Gwen couldn't help but look back.
Harry had already draped his arm over Peter's shoulder, smiling brightly. Peter, with an arm around his shoulder, looked a bit bewildered, but the corners of his mouth were also slightly turned up.
Alright then.
Men's friendships—they just happen.
In the music room, Betty and Glory had already arrived.
Mary Jane pushed Gwen into a chair, stood in the center herself, hands on her hips, her face filled with uncontrollable excitement.
"Guess what?"
Betty blinked: "Did you win the lottery?"
"Better than winning the lottery!" Mary Jane pulled out her phone, tapped it a few times, and turned the screen toward everyone, "Look!"
The screen was frozen on the YouTube interface, the dark mode glowing faintly, the video title shining cold white in the darkness. The view count in the bottom right corner was striking—470,000.
Gwen leaned in to look and realized it was the recording of their performance at the competition.
"I uploaded the video from the competition," Mary Jane said, "it's only been up for a day, look at these views! And the comment section—'The lead singer's voice is so good', 'The drummer girl is so cool', 'What's the band's name?'—did you see?"
Betty leaned in to look, her eyes widening.
"Oh my god..."
Glory pushed up her glasses, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face.
"So," Mary Jane retracted her phone, her gaze sweeping across the three of them, "I think we aren't far from releasing an album."
Betty cheered. Glory also smiled.
Only Gwen was silent.
"Gwen?" Mary Jane looked at her, "Aren't you happy?"
Gwen came to her senses and shook her head: "I am."
"Then why that look on your face?"
Gwen paused, thought for a moment, and decided to say it anyway.
"Mary Jane, the entertainment industry isn't as easy as you think."
Mary Jane was stunned.
"First, you need a professional agency," Gwen said, "second, you need reliable distribution and promotion channels, and most importantly—" she paused, "have you heard of the unwritten rules in the industry?"
The music room was quiet for a few seconds.
Betty and Glory looked at each other.
Mary Jane's expression became serious.
"Gwen," she said, "I've thought about what you said. But I'm not doing music to get famous."
She walked to the window and looked at the sky outside.
"I just want more people to hear our songs," she said, "the songs we write ourselves, the things we want to say. If there are people willing to listen, that's enough."
Gwen looked at her, suddenly not knowing what to say.
Mary Jane turned her head and smiled at her.
"As for all that messy stuff you're talking about," she said, "the four of us are in this together, what is there to fear?"
Betty walked over and patted Gwen on the shoulder.
"Exactly, the four of us together."
Glory also nodded.
Gwen looked at the three of them, a wave of warmth rising in her heart.
"Alright," she smiled, "then together it is."
Night fell.
Gwen put on her suit, climbed out the window, and swung into the night sky of Brooklyn.
Tonight wasn't about the Brooklyn Docks—the docks were for tomorrow. Tonight she was heading to another place, a lead Peter had only uncovered this afternoon.
"Murakami is going to a place tonight," Peter's voice sounded in her earpiece, "Lower Manhattan, an abandoned theater. The Hand often holds meetings there."
Gwen landed on a rooftop, overlooking the street below.
"Specific location?"
"Three hundred meters ahead, turn right. Opposite that red sign."
Gwen followed the directions and quickly spotted the abandoned theater. The doors were sealed shut, and the windows were boarded up, looking as if it had been deserted for many years.
But Gwen's hearing told her that there were people inside.
"How do you get in?" Peter asked.
Gwen circled the theater and finally found a vent on the east side.
"The old way," she whispered, then pried open the louvers and crawled inside.
The duct was narrow, just enough for her to crawl through. Like a real spider, she moved silently through the darkness.
"Ten meters ahead, turn right," Peter said, "the main hall is below. Thermal imaging shows thirteen people inside."
Gwen crawled to the turn and looked down through the vents.
Below was an abandoned hall, which must have once been the theater's auditorium. Now the seats had all been removed, leaving only an empty space and dusty floors.
Thirteen people were standing scattered about, dressed in various outfits, some in suits, some in ninja gear. Gwen's gaze swept over them and finally landed on a familiar figure—
Murakami.
He was standing at the very front, saying something. But the distance was too great, and Gwen couldn't hear clearly.
She needed to get closer.
Gwen's gaze swept over the top of the hall, seeing the hanging chandelier frames and beams. A thought occurred to her.
She gently pushed open the shutters, crawled out from the ventilation duct, and silently climbed onto the nearest beam.
Then she adjusted her posture, hooked her legs onto the beam, and hung upside down.
The field of view instantly widened.
"What are you..." Peter's voice carried a hint of surprise, "Doing Batman?"
Gwen gave a soft "Mm."
"It's actually quite convincing," Peter said, "But when Batman hangs upside down, his cape hangs down. Your braid..."
"Shut up."
Peter chuckled softly and didn't speak again.
Gwen adjusted her lenses—thermal imaging mode activated, and the thirteen people below turned into thirteen red dots, clearly marking everyone's position.
She gently pressed another button on the side of her mask, and the hidden camera started recording.
Murakami's voice could finally be heard clearly.
"...Madame Gao is ready on her end," he said, "As long as Kingpin nods, that batch of dragon bones can be transported out."
Gwen's pupils constricted slightly.
Madame Gao. Kingpin. Dragon bones.
Two of the five leaders of The Hand had appeared at once.
Another ninja stepped forward: "What does Kingpin say?"
"Still considering," Murakami frowned, "That fat pig has an increasingly large appetite. He wants a thirty percent cut."
"Thirty percent? On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that he is Kingpin," Murakami said coldly, "And that he holds the channels we need. Without him, those goods can't leave New York."
Gwen hung upside down on the beam, recording these conversations word for word.
Fisk Tower.
Kingpin.
Wilson Fisk, the emperor of the New York underworld.
If he really teamed up with The Hand—
Things were getting more complicated.
"Gwen," Peter's voice rang out, "Someone below is walking toward you."
Gwen looked down, and sure enough, a ninja was walking in her direction.
She held her breath, hanging upside down without moving.
The ninja walked directly beneath her, stopped, and looked around.
Gwen's palms were slightly sweaty.
If he just looked up—
But the ninja didn't look up.
He scanned the area, found nothing unusual, and turned back to his original position.
Gwen let out a soft sigh of relief.
Just then, Murakami spoke again.
"And that Spider-Man," he said, "Have you found out who she is?"
The other ninja shook his head: "Not yet. She is very cautious and never leaves a trace."
"Keep looking," Murakami said, "Find her, kill her."
Hearing this, Gwen felt her anger flare up again.
But she held it back.
She wasn't here to fight.
She was here to collect evidence.
Murakami gave a few more instructions, then waved his hand to dismiss the meeting.
The ninjas began to retreat, leaving the theater through various exits.
Gwen hung upside down on the beam, watching the last ninja walk out the door, then dropped lightly back to the ground.
"Did you get it?" Peter asked.
"Got it," Gwen said, "Murakami, Madame Gao, Kingpin, dragon bones—all recorded."
"Great," Peter's voice was filled with excitement, "Now your dad has evidence."
Gwen nodded, just about to leave, when she suddenly saw another person in the corner of the hall.
A gang member—probably a minor leader, left behind to clean up.
He was bending down to pick something up, completely unaware of anyone behind him.
The corners of Gwen's mouth curled up slightly.
She landed lightly behind him, flicked her wrist, and a strand of webbing wrapped around his ankle.
Before the man could react, he was hauled upside down and suspended in mid-air.
"Ah—!!" he screamed.
Gwen hung upside down in front of him, her white lenses facing his face.
"Shh—" she held up a finger, "Quiet."
The man looked at her in terror, trembling all over.
"Wh-who are you?"
Gwen didn't answer his question.
"Where is Murakami?" she asked.
"I-I don't know..."
Gwen flicked her wrist, loosening the webbing a bit.
The man dropped a few inches, screaming in fear again.
"I really don't know! I'm just a small fry!"
Gwen loosened it a bit more.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" The man broke down, "He went to Fisk Tower! To see Madame Gao! That's all they said, I really don't know anything else!"
Gwen stared at him, judging if he was lying.
The man was covered in snot and tears, shaking like a leaf.
He probably wasn't lying.
Gwen flicked her wrist, tightening the webbing.
The man hung in mid-air, looking at her in terror.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.
Gwen thought for a moment, suddenly struck by a mischievous impulse.
She cleared her throat, lowered her voice, and said in a deep, mysterious tone:
"I am an Avenger. I am the night. I am—Batman."
The man was stunned.
"Bat...man?"
"Yes," Gwen nodded solemnly, "Remember that?"
The man nodded foolishly.
Gwen flicked her wrist, and the webbing slowly lowered him.
Just as his toes were about to touch the ground, she delivered a light hand-chop to the back of his neck.
The man collapsed to the ground, completely knocked out.
"Good job, Gwen," Peter's voice sounded in the earpiece, with a smile, "Batman."
Gwen smiled.
She looked at the unconscious gang member on the ground, then at the webbing in her hand.
Batman.
She remembered the movies she had seen in her past life—Batman standing on a rooftop, his cape fluttering in the night wind.
The sonic device on the soles of his boots emitted high-frequency sound waves, summoning thousands of bats.
The sound of Police gunfire and the bats' ultrasound intertwined, echoing under the night sky like a dark symphony.
Gwen suddenly had an idea.
"Peter," she said, "Can you design a sonic device? The kind that can summon spiders."
Peter was silent for a few seconds.
"Like Batman's?"
"Yes."
Peter was silent for a few more seconds.
"Theoretically possible," he said, "But it takes time to study the auditory frequency of spiders. Most importantly—"
The two spoke at the same time:
"Funding."
Gwen sighed.
"Knew it."
She tied up the unconscious gang member, ready to take him away.
Just then, her gaze swept across the theater entrance, and she saw a homeless man sitting on the steps.
The man was wearing an old, ragged overcoat he had scavenged, eating from an expired can with a spoon.
Gwen looked at him, then at the gang member in her hand—this guy definitely wasn't a good person, but just handing him over to the Police seemed to be missing something.
She thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled.
She dragged the gang member over and stopped in front of the homeless man.
The homeless man looked up, saw her, and was stunned.
Gwen nodded at him, then flicked her wrist, webbing wrapping around the gang member, and flew into the air with him.
The moment she took off, she looked down and said one thing to the homeless man:
"Nice coat!"
The homeless man stared blankly as she disappeared into the night sky, looked down at his own ragged coat, and a confused expression appeared on his face.
"...Thanks?" he said to the air.
In the night sky, Gwen dragged the unconscious gang member, swinging toward the NYPD.
"That 'nice coat' just now," Peter's voice sounded in the earpiece, "Was that also a Batman reference?"
"Yes."
"You really are..." Peter paused, then chuckled softly.
Gwen smiled too.
The night wind blew, carrying the chill of early autumn.
She swung across the rooftops, watching the lights of New York beneath her feet, and a strange feeling suddenly welled up in her heart.
She was Spider-Man.
She was Batman.
She was—herself.
Whatever The Hand, whatever Kingpin, whatever the Five Leaders.
Come one, catch one.
Come two, catch a pair.
Gwen landed on the roof of the NYPD headquarters, placed the gang member gently on the rooftop, and tied him up tightly with webbing.
Then she stood on the edge of the roof, looking at the distant Fisk Tower.
The tower was brightly lit, like a fortress standing in the center of the city.
Kingpin was inside.
Madame Gao was inside.
Murakami was also inside.
Gwen took a deep breath.
"Peter," she said, "Tomorrow, the docks. The day after, Fisk Tower."
"...Are you sure?"
"Sure."
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then said softly:
"Okay. I'll help you."
Gwen smiled.
She turned and leaped into the night.
In the night wind, she heard her own heartbeat, steady and strong.
That was the heartbeat of battle.