Gwen was woken up by the morning news.
It wasn't that the volume was too high, but that the person speaking was so annoying—so annoying that even from two floors away, it made her Spider-Sense buzz.
She walked out of her room, yawning, and headed down the stairs; the sound of the TV in the living room grew clearer.
"... Take a look, Gotham... no, citizens of New York! Look at the so-called 'hero' you worship!"
Gwen's footsteps faltered.
She knew this voice all too well. J. Jonah Jameson, editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle, the person in all of New York who hated Spider-Man the most—no, that wasn't right; he was the person in all of New York who hated "masked vigilantes" the most.
She walked into the living room and saw George and Helen sitting on the sofa. On the TV screen in front of them, Jameson's face was flushed red, spittle flying.
"That masked, lawless spider-maniac staged another barbaric farce on the streets today!" Jameson waved a newspaper, on which a blurry photo could vaguely be seen—it was the image of Gwen hanging that gang member at the Police station entrance last night. "She dumped the suspect like trash at the Police station door and still has the nerve to brazenly claim she's upholding justice? Let me tell you the truth—this isn't law enforcement; this is a publicity stunt!"
Gwen walked to the dining table, sat down, picked up a slice of toast, and took a bite with an expressionless face.
A publicity stunt?
She had been busy until two in the morning, tying up that gang member tightly and attaching the recording of Murakami's conversation—although it wasn't a complete video, those recordings were enough for the NYPD to open a case. This was called a publicity stunt?
"Gwen," Helen turned her head and looked at her, "You look like you didn't sleep well?"
"Yeah, I was practicing the drums a bit late last night," Gwen said, without batting an eye.
George's gaze shifted from the TV screen and landed on his daughter, his eyes holding a hint of subtlety.
"Out on a date with Peter next door again?"
Gwen nearly choked on her toast.
"Cough, cough, cough—no!" She patted her chest, "We were just doing homework together!"
George raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. However, his expression clearly said: Yeah, right.
Helen shook her head with a smile, then looked at the TV, her expression turning serious.
"George," she asked, "Did that Spider-Man really leave the suspect at the Police station entrance?"
George nodded and took a sip of coffee.
"Yes. Not only that, she also left behind evidence." He paused, "Recordings. Conversations from The Hand. Enough evidence for us to make arrests."
Gwen kept her head down, pretending to be focused on eating her toast, but her ears were perked up high.
"So, today…" Helen asked.
"We're holding a mobilization meeting today," George put down his coffee cup, his expression becoming serious, "Targeting those masked vigilantes."
Gwen's movements paused.
"Spider-Man," George continued, "and those few that have popped up recently—Daredevil, and that one with a skull symbol on his chest, what's his name, The Punisher."
Gwen's pupils contracted slightly.
Daredevil? The Punisher?
They exist? And they exist as vigilantes?
Then the Daredevil of this World isn't a subordinate of Kingpin?
A surge of joy welled up in her heart, but she kept her face calm.
"Dad," she asked, pretending to be casual, "Is that Daredevil a good guy or a bad guy?"
George glanced at her.
"From what we can see so far, he is also fighting crime," he said, "but a mask is a mask, and the law does not recognize such vigilantism. So, the reason we are holding this meeting is to discuss how to deal with these... vigilantes."
Gwen nodded and didn't say anything more.
But she was already thinking about other things.
Daredevil is a good guy. Then she has a companion.
Although she didn't know if he would be willing to be a companion with her, at least she didn't have to avoid him anymore.
"Alright," George stood up and put on his Police uniform jacket, "I'm heading to work. Gwen, do you need me to drive you to school?"
Gwen shook her head, "No need, Peter is still waiting for me at the door."
George's movements paused.
He turned his head to look out the window and, sure enough, saw Peter standing under that old maple tree, carrying his backpack, looking toward the house.
George's expression became very subtle.
It was the expression of "a head of cabbage that you've painstakingly grown for over a decade suddenly being about to be rooted by a pig."
"…Fine," he squeezed the words out through his teeth and strode out the door.
Watching her dad's back, Gwen couldn't help but laugh.
Helen laughed too and patted her shoulder, "Hurry off to school, don't keep him waiting too long."
Gwen put on her backpack and walked out of the house.
In the morning light, Peter stood under the maple tree. Seeing her come out, his eyes lit up for a moment, then he quickly looked away.
"Morning, Gwen."
"Morning, Peter."
As the two were about to leave, a sound of footsteps came from behind them.
"Hey! Peter! Wait for me!"
Gwen turned around and saw Harry Osborn running toward them. His blonde hair glimmered in the sunlight, and he wore that standard sunny smile on his face.
He ran up to the two of them, caught his breath, and then looked at Gwen.
"You must be Gwen, right?" He extended his hand, "I'm Harry, Peter's buddy~"
Gwen looked at The Hand extended toward her and was stunned for a moment.
Buddy?
Didn't you guys just meet yesterday?
She reached out, shook it, and nodded, "Gwen Stacy."
Harry pulled his hand back, slung his arm over Peter's shoulder, and smiled brightly.
"Peter told me so much about you guys yesterday," he said, "childhood friends, right? Grew up together? That's so nice; I never had that kind of childhood sweetheart."
With his arm around his shoulder, Peter's ears turned red again.
"I, I didn't say much…"
"You did!" Harry said with a laugh, "Said you go to school together, do homework together, and you even help her make things—hey, what kind of things?"
Peter's face turned even redder.
Watching this scene, a strange feeling welled up in Gwen's heart.
Harry Osborn.
The future second-generation Green Goblin.
The person who, in The Amazing Spider-Man, pushed Gwen to her death with his own hands.
Although that was a story from another Universe, and although the Harry of this World seemed sunny, cheerful, and harmless, Gwen still instinctively felt a hint of resistance.
It was like seeing a needle; even if you knew it hadn't pricked you yet, you would still subconsciously dodge it.
"Gwen!"
A voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
Gwen turned her head and saw Mary Jane running toward her, her red hair like a flame in the morning light.
"Don't you dare slip away today!" Mary Jane ran up to her, panting, "I'm going to announce something big!"
Gwen felt as if she had been granted a reprieve.
"Okay, let's go now then." She took Mary Jane's hand and walked quickly toward the school.
After walking a few steps, she turned back to glance at Peter.
Peter was looking at her, his gaze holding a hint of confusion, as if he didn't understand why she was suddenly walking so fast.
Harry said something next to him, Peter shook his head, and then the two of them followed.
Gwen withdrew her gaze and continued walking forward.
She knew her attitude just now was a bit strange.
But she couldn't help it.
At least not right now.
In the music classroom, the four of them sat in a circle.
Mary Jane stood in the middle, holding a stack of sheet music, her face filled with uncontrollable excitement.
"Guess what this is?"
Betty blinked, "A new song?"
"That's right!" Mary Jane handed out the sheet music to everyone, "I wrote it last night, both the lyrics and the music! Take a look!"
Gwen took the sheet music and glanced down at it.
The title had three words written on it: "Face It Tiger".
She was stunned for a moment.
Face It Tiger?
Why did this name sound so familiar?
"Face it, Tiger... you just hit the jackpot!" Mary Jane read the lyric aloud, her eyes sparkling, "How is it? Isn't it cool?"
Gwen's memory was suddenly triggered.
This was Mary Jane's classic line. In many versions of the Spider-Man stories, when Mary Jane first meets Spider-Man, this is exactly what she says.
Now she had turned this line into a song.
Gwen looked at the sheet music, a feeling she couldn't describe welling up in her heart.
"Gwen?" Mary Jane looked at her, "What do you think?"
"It's great." Gwen looked up and said sincerely, "It's really great."
Mary Jane laughed.
"Then let's start practicing!" She clapped her hands, "I've decided to officially release this song! I'll upload it to music platforms first, and if the response is good, we'll record an EP!"
Betty cheered. Glory also smiled.
Gwen picked up her drumsticks and took a deep breath.
The drumming started.
This time, she played with more heart than ever before.
Night fell.
Gwen changed into her battle suit, stood on the edge of the rooftop, and overlooked the city below.
"Spider-Man," Peter's voice sounded in her earpiece, "I've found that group of captured Chinese students."
Gwen's spirits lifted.
"Where?"
"Brooklyn, an abandoned factory. Similar to that warehouse from before, but more hidden." Peter paused, "They are going to be moved tonight; you only have one chance."
Gwen nodded.
"Understood, Alfred."
There was a two-second silence in the earpiece.
"You really do think of yourself as Batman?!"
Gwen laughed.
"Uh-huh~"
"Then give me a codename too," Peter said, "Can't keep calling me by my name; what if someone eavesdrops one day…"
Gwen thought for a moment.
"Then let's call you Oracle."
"Oracle?"
"Yes. You can look up anything; if you aren't an Oracle, what are you?"
Peter was silent for a few seconds, seemingly savoring the codename.
"…Are you treating me like Barbara?"
"Barbara?"
"Batgirl," Peter said, "She later became Oracle, providing intelligence support for Batman."
Gwen was stunned for a moment, then laughed out loud.
"You've read/watched Batman?"
AI Model: gemini-3.0-flash
"I saw it while looking up information," Peter's voice held a hint of embarrassment. "Just seeing how other vigilantes do things."
Gwen smiled and shook her head.
"Alright, Oracle," she said, "give me the location."
"Brooklyn, Foster Avenue, an abandoned textile factory." Peter's voice turned serious. "The hostages are in the Underground Room, about seven of them. At least ten guards, all armed. Be careful."
"Don't worry," Gwen slid down from the edge of the roof, "I have a Passive Skill."
"What Passive Skill?"
"Spider-Sense."
She leaped into the night.
A line of Silk shot out, and her body traced an arc through the air.
Twenty minutes later, Gwen landed on the roof across from the target factory.
The factory was even more dilapidated than imagined, with windows bricked shut and walls covered in graffiti. Several black vans were parked at the entrance—unmarked, but Gwen recognized them as The Hand's specialized transport vans.
"Is this the place?" she asked.
"Yes," Peter said. "The main gate is locked, but you can circle around to the back. There's a vent next to the back door; just pry the grille open to get in."
Gwen circled to the back of the factory and indeed saw the vent. The grille was secured with screws, but it was no problem for her. With a gentle pry, the screws snapped right off.
"I'm in," she whispered, crawling into the ventilation duct.
The duct was narrow, but a bit more spacious than the one in the theater. She crawled forward, trying to remain silent.
"Turn right ahead," Peter said. "The entrance to the Underground Room is just below. The hostages should be inside."
Gwen crawled to the exit, gently pushed open the louvers, and peeked down.
Below was a converted Underground Room. Several concrete pillars supported the ceiling, and the surrounding area was cluttered with junk. In the center clearing, seven bound people were huddled on the floor—there were young students, middle-aged workers, and a girl who looked to be in her early twenties.
Ten guards stood nearby, some smoking and others playing cards.
Gwen's lenses switched to Thermal Imaging Mode, and seven red figures became clearly visible.
"One, two, three..." she counted, "Seven in total. The bundled kind."
"How do you plan to save them?"
Gwen's gaze swept over the Underground Room.
The ceiling was high, with many crossbeams and pipes. The guards were scattered, with no unified direction of attention.
She had an idea.
Gwen slipped quietly out of the vent and silently climbed onto the nearest crossbeam. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she shot a line of Silk toward the opposite beam, pulling a thin line tight between the two.
She stepped onto it, her body swaying slightly as she stabilized her balance.
Then she hung upside down, hooking her legs over the Silk, her entire body suspended in mid-air.
Just like Batman.
"You're..." Peter's voice was filled with surprise.
"Shh—" Gwen whispered, "watch closely."
She took a deep breath and began to swing her body.
The Silk was very elastic; she swung higher and higher, the amplitude increasing. The guards were still playing cards and smoking, completely oblivious to the anomaly above their heads.
Gwen calculated the angle and released her legs at the moment she was closest to the ground—
She slammed into the group of guards like a cannonball, both feet kicking into the chests of two guards simultaneously. Before the two could react, they were sent flying, crashing into the wall and losing consciousness.
The moment she landed, Gwen followed through with a sweep kick, tripping three people nearby. The three fell into a heap, and the cards in their hands scattered all over the floor.
The remaining five guards finally reacted and drew their guns.
But Gwen was already moving.
She flicked her wrist, and Silk entangled the nearest guard. With a forceful pull, the man was yanked over, crashing into another guard. The two rolled together in a heap.
A third man raised his gun to fire, but Gwen dodged to the side, the bullet grazing past her shoulder. She stepped forward and slammed a fist into his jaw; his eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the ground.
The fourth man had just raised his gun when Gwen was already in front of him. She grabbed his wrist, gave it a gentle twist, and the gun fell to the floor. Then, with a knee strike, the man clutched his stomach and collapsed to his knees.
The fifth man turned and ran.
Gwen flicked her wrist, and Silk entangled his ankle. The man took two steps before falling flat on his face, eating dirt.
"When the combo count is high enough," Gwen clapped her hands, "you can trigger AOE Effects."
There was two seconds of silence in the earpiece.
"Are you playing a game?" Peter's voice was full of helplessness.
"Life is a game." Gwen smiled as she walked toward the hostages.
She crouched down and gently tore through the ropes binding them.
"You're safe now," she said.
The hostages stared at her blankly, their faces full of the daze that comes after surviving a disaster.
A Chinese-American young man who looked like a college student was the first to react.
"Are you... Spider-Man?" he asked.
Gwen nodded.
The boy's eyes instantly turned red.
"Thank you... thank you..."
A man who looked like a middle-aged worker sat up, rubbing his wrists, his face full of relief.
"I just came here to work... they said room and board were included, but as soon as I got off the bus, I was tied up..."
Gwen looked at the last person rescued—a young woman in her early twenties, dressed like an international student who had just arrived in New York.
The girl was also looking at her, her eyes red, but she wasn't crying.
"I was tricked here by that Black guy, Michael," she said. "He said he'd help me find a job, but then..."
She couldn't go on.
Gwen looked at her, a wave of complex emotions rising in her heart.
Walking RMB.
The term flashed through her mind.
She remembered the news she had seen online in her previous life—Chinese students missing, Chinese workers being scammed, Chinese women being trafficked. Those people called them 'Walking Wallets' because Chinese people were hardworking, enduring, and afraid to speak out when things happened, making them the best prey.
Gwen clenched her fist, then slowly relaxed it.
"Alright," she stood up, "you're safe now. I know a righteous Police officer, Captain George Stacy. I'll contact him and have him come pick you up."
The hostages nodded repeatedly.
Gwen walked to the side and pressed her earpiece.
"Oracle," she lowered her voice, "help me contact my dad. Make it anonymous."
"Understood," Peter said. "How do you plan to explain the hostages?"
"Just say... a tip from a concerned citizen." Gwen thought for a moment. "Anyway, my dad should really need this kind of 'concerned citizen' right now."
Peter gave a low laugh.
"Alright, I'll get on it."
Gwen walked back to the hostages, looking at their faces, and suddenly remembered something.
"By the way," she asked the student girl, "the Michael you mentioned, he's that Black guy?"
The girl nodded.
"What does he look like?"
The girl gave a description.
Gwen committed the information to memory, planning to tell Peter later so he could look into who this 'Michael' was.
To dare carry out such business in New York, whether they were from The Hand or some other organization—
She wouldn't let a single one of them go.
"Alright," she said, "the Police will be here soon. You wait here; I'm leaving first."
The seven rescued people stared at her in a daze.
"Aren't you going to wait for the Police?" the college student asked.
Gwen shook her head.
"I have other things to do."
She walked to the wall and looked back at them.
"Remember," she said, "if anyone asks who saved you, say—you don't know. Understand?"
The people looked at each other, then nodded together.
Gwen smiled.
She flicked her wrist, Silk shot toward the ceiling, and she soared into the air, vanishing into the darkness.
The night wind blew, carrying away some of the scent of blood.
The hostages stood in place, looking at the empty Underground Room, unable to speak for a long time.
After a long while, the student girl softly said a sentence.
"She's so cool."
In the earpiece, Peter's voice sounded.
"Gwen, the contact with your dad is set. He said he's sending people over immediately."
"Got it." Gwen swung through the night sky, watching the distant Police car lights gradually approaching.
"Also," Peter paused, "that Michael, I found him. He's a peripheral member of The Hand, specifically responsible for scouting targets in Chinatown."
Gwen's eyes narrowed.
"Location?"
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you think?"
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly.
"Manhattan, Chinatown, upstairs from the Old Shu Capital Hot Pot Restaurant. Room 304."
Gwen changed direction and swung toward Manhattan.
"Gwen," Peter's voice held a hint of worry, "you've been busy all night, aren't you tired?"
"Tired," Gwen said. "But as long as that person is still at large, I won't be able to sleep."
Peter didn't try to persuade her further.
He knew it was useless.
In the night sky, the red and blue figure continued forward, heading toward Chinatown.
In the distance, the NYPD Police cars had already arrived at the abandoned factory. George Stacy got out of the car, looking at the rescued hostages with a complex expression.
"Who saved you?" he asked.
The hostages looked at each other, then shook their heads in unison.
"We don't know."
George was silent for a few seconds.
He looked up at the night sky.
There was nothing there.
Only the moon coldly illuminating the city.
...
At this moment, Chinatown.
Gwen landed on the roof of an old apartment building, looking down at the street below.
The sign for the Old Shu Capital Hot Pot Restaurant was still lit, its red neon lights particularly conspicuous in the night.
She took a deep breath and slid down from the edge of the roof.
Tonight, there was one more person to catch.