Chapter 121: Conviction and Kinship

Kidnapped?

For some reason, upon hearing this, Gwen actually felt a sense of relief.

It is like when you have already braced yourself for the worst-case scenario, and someone suddenly tells you that while things are still bad, they are not as dire as you had imagined. You end up feeling grateful that it is not worse, rather than complaining about how bad it is. It is the same principle as Lu Xun’s analogy of breaking down a wall versus opening a window.

Hearing the word "kidnapped" in isolation might be hard to accept, but once you add the qualifier that there were no fatalities—that he was only kidnapped—the situation suddenly feels much more manageable.

That was Gwen’s exact state of mind.

When she had come downstairs and seen her mother’s frantic pace, bloodshot eyes, and tear-stained cheeks, she had momentarily feared that her father was gone forever.

Thank goodness... it was only a kidnapping.

Although this thought might seem like a dark, twisted irony, it was truly how Gwen felt at that moment. Because if it was a kidnapping rather than death, it meant one thing: she had a chance to save her father!

Yes, all those declarations she had made earlier about "not wanting to use her superpowers anymore" and "just being an ordinary teenage girl" were instantly tossed to the back of her mind. Could any personal conviction be more important than her father’s life?

It was not that Gwen was fickle; she simply knew how to prioritize. There was really no difficult choice to be made between not wanting to be Spider-Woman and saving her father’s life. Sometimes she could not understand the protagonists in Japanese manga who were willing to sacrifice their parents’ lives for the sake of some personal creed; such people were nothing but absurd.

"Was it the criminal Dad was tracking who kidnapped him?" Gwen asked.

Since she had decided to intervene, she naturally needed to gather as much detail as possible.

"Yes," Helen nodded. She wiped away her tears, momentarily surprised by her daughter’s composure, but she answered anyway: "The police station just called. They want me to come over to get a briefing on the situation... It’s alright, Gwen, you should go back to bed. I’ll be back soon."

As she spoke, Helen managed a strained smile.

But Gwen shook her little head. "I’m coming with you."

Looking at that small face, which wore an expression of resolve she had never seen before, Helen found herself nodding in a daze.

***

Inside the New York Police Department, the lights were burning bright.

To have the Chief of Police snatched away in front of a large group of officers—there could be nothing more humiliating in the world. As the tactical teams returned that night, the atmosphere in the precinct plummeted to freezing, heavy with suffocating tension.

The deputy chief, a man in his thirties, sat in his chair, his leg bouncing incessantly. Every so often, he would reach up to pull at his hair and then let his hand drop abruptly. These gestures were enough to display the frustration in his heart.

Unlike the tropes in popular fiction, where the deputy chief would be the happiest person if the chief were captured because he might be able to take over, the reality was quite different. If the Chief were captured and not rescued, leading to his death in the line of duty, the position would never go to a deputy like him. Instead, a stranger with broader connections, stronger ties, and a more impressive resume would certainly be parachuted in.

Therefore, compared to some unknown stranger, the deputy chief felt that George, the Chief he had known for many years, was much more reliable.

He was anxious. He was desperate to get Chief George back.

Yet, he had no leads. At times, he even wondered: if they actually found Chief George, would the police department even have the capability to snatch him back? After all, the perpetrator had moved through their heavy encirclement as if it were an empty room before seizing the Chief.

Rubbing his temples, the deputy chief felt a splitting headache.

The mission had been difficult from the start. Four months ago, a dangerous criminal known as "Rhino," who had escaped from Ryker’s Island, had resurfaced after attacking Oscorp, and their detectives had managed to pick up his trail again. This guy had always been on the highest-priority wanted list, and his threat level was classified as extreme.

When Chief George received the news, he had made a snap decision to cancel his leave and lead a massive force of officers in a full-scale search for Rhino. Everything had proceeded as usual. As their manpower increased, they found clues one by one, gradually tightening the net until they finally pinpointed Rhino's exact location.

Then came the formal arrest.

In what should have been a foolproof operation, a rare error occurred. Chief George had been standing at the rear of the perimeter, providing on-site tactical command to ensure the net tightened in an orderly fashion, aiming to catch the fugitive like a turtle in a jar.

But that was when the accident happened.

No one had expected that the silver-skinned Rhino would use the massive horn on his head to shatter the ground beneath Chief George’s feet, bursting forth from the earth below. He then snatched Chief George like a hawk grabbing a chick.

It all happened too fast; the front-line troops didn't even have time to react. By the time they did, Rhino was already running off into the distance, clutching the Chief. Because their beloved leader was in the monster's grip, the officers didn't fire a single shot—they were terrified of hitting him.

When the dust finally settled, the officers found a sandwich, carefully wrapped in a plastic bag, left exactly where Chief George had been standing.

Staring at the sandwich on the table, the deputy chief fell into deep contemplation. It was the only item left behind before the kidnapping; the Chief must have been trying to convey some sort of message. But after all this time, no one in the department could decipher the hidden meaning behind it or what the Chief was trying to tell them.

Had he realized something beforehand? Or had it simply fallen out during the crisis? They had no way of knowing.

After a series of intense debates, the deputy chief had finally decided to inform George’s wife, Mrs. Helen, of the kidnapping. Perhaps the person closest to him could decipher the meaning of the sandwich.

Counting the time, they should be arriving soon.

The deputy chief looked toward the precinct entrance, thinking to himself. Sure enough, a moment later, an elegant and charming woman walked through the front doors, holding the hand of a little girl so adorable she could melt one's heart.

Helen and Gwen had arrived.