Chapter 112: An Alternative Worldline

Zhong Shenxiu was ninety percent certain that the black and white figure was indeed Gwen. The remaining ten percent of uncertainty stemmed from his inability to fathom Gwen’s motivation for becoming a "female Spider-Man." Everyone has a motive for their actions, no matter how trivial, but a motive always exists. Zhong Shenxiu simply could not understand why Gwen—a perfectly normal young girl whose father was the New York Police Commissioner—would feel the need to take on the thankless, grueling role of a masked vigilante, even with superpowers.

Superpowers notwithstanding, Spider-Man’s body was still made of flesh and blood. A bullet would still draw blood, a fall from a great height would still hurt, and prolonged exertion would still lead to exhaustion. Gwen did not have a super-healer like Zhong Shenxiu, nor did she have a thoughtful tailor like Ivan. She had to handle everything herself; if she got hurt, she had to endure it in silence... unless, of course, she had revealed her powers to her parents.

Thinking of this, Zhong Shenxiu shook his head. If her parents knew the truth, they would never allow Gwen to be a masked vigilante in the city, facing off against vicious criminals. It wasn't a lack of faith in her abilities; it was simply the nature of parents everywhere—they would rather their children live ordinary lives than see them suffer.

In the original timeline, Gwen became Spider-Man because Peter Parker was never bitten by the spider; instead, Gwen was the one bitten. Later, after being relentlessly bullied at school and growing up timid, Peter invented an enhancement serum that transformed him into the Lizard. Only after Gwen defeated him and watched her dear friend perish did she realize the true meaning of heroism, eventually growing into a Spider-Woman. But now, Peter was alive and well, having successfully resolved his school bullying issues through his own efforts. Consequently, that original storyline offered no reference value to Zhong Shenxiu.

Gazing at the crimson sunset on the horizon, Zhong Shenxiu withdrew his wandering thoughts. Forget it, overthinking wouldn't solve anything. He would just wait for Peter to return from school and ask him if he knew anything. Peter had crawled back through his window at dawn that morning and headed to school as usual.

***

In an alleyway on the first street of Queens, New York.

This alley was Peter’s "dedicated changing spot," much like a phone booth for Superman. After school at Midtown School of Science and Technology, Peter came here, stripped off his backpack and clothes, and donned the red spider-suit that Ivan had sewn for him by hand. As he put it on, a sense of familiarity instantly washed over him. It was far more comfortable than yesterday’s black spandex, Peter thought.

He walked over to a square dumpster and found a concealed gap between the bin and the wall—a spot so well-hidden that one would miss it without a close look. This was where Peter usually hid his bag and clothes. Previously, he had clumsily used spider-webs to stick them to the wall, but they kept getting stolen. He could never understand why thieves would climb a ten-meter-high wall and struggle to tear through his tough webbing just to steal a ragged old bag that contained nothing but worn-out clothes. Could it be they found it challenging? It wasn't until Zhong Shenxiu suggested this spot that Peter finally escaped the embarrassment of needing a new bag every three days.

As Peter was stuffing his clothes into the gap, suddenly, a faint, subtle vibration hummed from among his garments. It was nearly imperceptible, but with Peter’s heightened senses, he felt it clearly. Without much thought, he knew what it was. He pulled the clothes back out, rummaged through the pockets, and retrieved a device that looked like a pager—an invention of Ivan’s for secure communication. Its signal only covered most of New York, but according to Ivan, it was secure and virtually impossible to intercept. Seeing the device, Peter couldn't help but picture Ivan’s confident grin, showing off his yellowed teeth. Ivan often used it to contact him; even yesterday, after reaching the base, that was how he had sent his messages.

*Wonder what he wants,* Peter thought while opening it.

As soon as he saw the cheap LCD screen, Peter’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. It wasn't Ivan. Their channel had three people, and the third was, naturally, Zhong Shenxiu. Zhong rarely sent messages. This was a rare communication from him: "Peter, let Spider-Man take a day off. Come straight to Zhong Shen Clinic to see me after school."

*Is Xiu in a hurry?* Peter wondered. He didn't hesitate, pulling out the tiny keyboard to reply: "Okay, Xiu, I'm heading over now." He stared at it for a moment, feeling "Okay" sounded a bit too cold. He deleted it and, imitating Wanda’s cutesy tone, typed: "Okay~ I'm coming now." *Yeah, that feels better.*

A reply came quickly: "Understood. I'll be waiting for you at Zhong Shen Clinic."

Satisfied, Peter tucked away the communicator, grabbed his bag, and swung his webs between the skyscrapers, heading toward Ingram Street.

***

Tony woke up in a specialized room at the New York branch of S.H.I.E.L.D. Staring at the stark white ceiling, he was dazed for a moment, wondering how he had ended up there. Then, like waking up from a hangover, he began to piece together the events of the previous day.

And then—*thud!*

Tony instinctively raised his right hand.

There was nothing there. The empty, severed limb showed no exposed bone, just a small clump of tender, congealed flesh. Looking at the smooth, clean cut on his iron suit’s wrist, Tony felt a sense of unreality. Was his hand really gone? He tried to clench his right fist, only to realize that the movement, once so effortless, was something he could never do again.

Tony pursed his lips. A flicker of light passed through his eyes, and he lay back down, lost in thought.

*Sigh...*

A heavy sigh echoed through the room. Outside, Coulson had been notified the moment Tony woke up and had been watching him through the surveillance camera. His agents had wanted to go in immediately, but Coulson had held them back. Looking at the now-humbled, sorrowful Tony Stark, Coulson understood: he needed some private space. Besides, the best person to handle this was already on the way.