The day the suit was finished was a Saturday evening.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Peter carefully took the neatly folded gear out of his backpack; her heart inexplicably began to race.
"It's done," Peter said, his voice carrying a hint of pride he hadn't even noticed himself. "As you requested, red and blue, loose and comfortable, but with protective functions."
He unfolded the suit, and Gwen's eyes lit up instantly.
It was a red and blue bodysuit, with a deep midnight blue as the main color, transitioning into a vibrant red from the waist to the shoulders. On the chest, a black spider spread its eight legs, its lines sharp and fierce, as if it were about to crawl away at any moment. The mask was matching, with white lenses covering nearly half of the area, currently reflecting the lights in the room.
"This is..." Gwen reached out and touched the fabric. The texture was soft yet tough, much lighter and thinner than she had imagined.
"High-strength elastic polymer base," Peter pushed up his glasses, starting his habitual technical explanation. "The outer layer is a laminated structure of Kevlar and carbon fiber, but I used a special process when handling it so that it's bulletproof without hindering movement. I added double-layered elastic material at the joints to ensure you won't feel restricted when climbing walls."
Gwen tried pulling on the cuff; the fabric had amazing elasticity, but it immediately returned to its original shape after snapping back.
"And this," Peter pointed to the inside of the suit, "I added a layer of thermostatic material in the interlayer. It uses the principle of phase-change energy storage—it releases heat when you're cold and absorbs heat when you're hot. That way, you won't freeze when you go out in winter."
Gwen was stunned.
Thermostatic?
She looked down at the suit, which didn't look thick at all, and then back at Peter.
"You even thought of this?"
Peter's ears turned red: "You said wearing tight-fitting clothes in winter would be cold, so I figured out a way to solve it."
Gwen was silent for a few seconds, then smiled softly.
"Thank you, Peter."
Peter shook his head and took the mask out of the bag: "The most complicated part is this. The lenses use liquid metal coating technology. I improved it a bit so that you can adjust the light transmission through this tiny button." He pointed to an almost invisible bump on the side of the mask, "One press changes the color, two presses enhance night vision, and a long press can switch between different visual modes—thermal imaging, zoom, wide-angle. Currently, only these functions are implemented, but more can be added later."
Gwen took the mask and examined it back and forth. The lenses looked like ordinary white lenses, but Peter said there were so many functions hidden inside.
"And one last thing," Peter took two small items out of the bag, "Communicators. I made two; one is installed in the mask, and one is here with me. This way, we can keep in touch whenever you go out."
He handed one to Gwen, and she examined it—it was an extremely small device, smaller than a fingernail, which could be easily attached behind the ear.
"Try it out," Peter said, putting his own on.
Gwen attached the device behind her ear, and a few seconds later, Peter's voice came clearly into her ear: "This is Peter, Spider-Man, do you copy?"
She was stunned for a moment, then instinctively replied: "Spider-Man copies."
The sound was very clear, without any static.
"The communication range is about three miles," Peter said, "I can find a way to expand it later."
Gwen looked at him, a strange feeling welling up in her heart. This boy, in two weeks, using her 3,000 yuan deposit and his own intelligence, had created a set of gear for her that could rival those of the superheroes in the movies.
"Peter," she started, "are you really just a high school student?"
Peter's ears turned red again, and he lowered his head to pack his backpack.
"I, I just like to tinker with things."
Night fell.
Gwen stood by the window, watching the sky outside gradually darken, her heart beating faster and faster.
The suit felt even more comfortable than she had imagined. The fabric fit her body perfectly without being so tight that it made her uncomfortable. She moved her limbs—there was no sense of restriction at all; on the contrary, it felt freer than wearing regular clothes.
She walked to the mirror and looked at the person in it.
It was a strange figure—a midnight blue and red intertwined bodysuit, a black spider logo on the chest, and white lenses covering most of her face. The suit perfectly outlined her figure: slender waist, slightly raised chest curve, long legs.
Gwen stared at herself in the mirror and suddenly felt a bit of a blush.
This was much more embarrassing than a hoodie.
But strangely, when she put on the mask and the white lenses covered her eyes, that sense of embarrassment suddenly vanished.
In the mirror, it was no longer her, but someone else.
A person called "Spider-Man."
She raised her hand and made a gesture commonly used by Spider-Man in the movies at the mirror—fingers together, wrist flicked upward. The person in the mirror did the same, the posture fluid and natural.
"This is Peter," Peter's voice came through the earpiece, "Spider-Man, do you copy?"
"Spider-Man copies," Gwen said softly.
"Are you ready?"
Gwen took a deep breath, looking at the night view of New York outside the window.
"Ready."
She opened the window, and the night breeze rushed in, carrying the distinct chill of a September night. But a slight warmth came from the inside of the suit, keeping that chill at bay.
Gwen climbed onto the windowsill and took one last look at the room—her bed, her desk, the empty piggy bank on her nightstand. Then she leaped, disappearing into the night.
The wind whistled in her ears.
For the first time, Gwen experienced the feeling of free-falling in the air—her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest, blood rushed backward, and the whole World was spinning. Then, she instinctively flicked her wrist, and a strand of Silk shot out, sticking to the wall of the opposite building.
Her body was jerked, the momentum of the fall stopped, and she swung in an arc through the air toward that building.
When she landed, she stumbled and almost fell, but eventually steadied herself.
Gwen stood on the edge of the roof, panting heavily.
That just now was too thrilling.
"Gwen?" Peter's nervous voice came through the earpiece, "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," she calmed her breathing, "just... still adapting."
"Be careful, take it slow."
Gwen nodded, realizing Peter couldn't see her, so she said, "Got it."
She stood on the roof, overlooking New York below her.
The brightly lit streets, the endless flow of traffic, and the colorful billboards on high-rise buildings in the distance. This was the city she had lived in for over a decade, but looking down from above at this moment, everything had become strange and fresh.
She took a deep breath and leaped out again.
This time, she swung more steadily.
The Silk stuck to the wall, and she used her momentum to fly forward, then shot another strand of Silk at the lowest point of the arc. Once, twice, three times—gradually, she found her rhythm. The feeling of flying in the air made her feel freer than anything else.
"Gwen," Peter's voice came again, "I hacked into that gang's system."
Gwen's attention was instantly focused.
"Did you find anything?"
"Their name," Peter said, "is The Hand."
The Hand.
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
Of course she knew what The Hand was—they were the core villains in Daredevil and The Defenders, a ninja organization from K'un-Lun that believed in a mysterious religion and possessed the power to bring the dead back to life. They coveted dragon bones, craved immortality, and ran drugs, arms, and human trafficking in the underground World of New York—
and organ trafficking.
"Gwen?" Peter didn't hear a response and was a bit worried, "Do you know this organization?"
Gwen snapped back to reality: "A little. They are ninjas from the East who believe in something called 'The Beast.' They have always been looking for something called 'dragon bones,' which is said to grant immortality."
There was a few seconds of silence in the earpiece.
"How do you know all this?" Peter's voice was filled with surprise.
Gwen paused. Of course, she couldn't say she was a transmigrator, or that she had watched those TV shows and comics.
"I... guessed," she finally said, "keep searching."
Peter didn't press, but Gwen knew he must be suspicious.
"They have several strongholds," Peter said, "I currently found one, an abandoned warehouse in Lower Manhattan. A batch of 'cargo' is being delivered there tonight."
"Cargo?"
"It should be people," Peter's voice sank, "I saw in their communication records that the organ removal surgeries in the last few days are all related to this stronghold."
Gwen clenched her fists.
"Send me the address."
"Gwen, it's your first time out—"
"Send me the address."
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly.
"Sent. Be careful."
Gwen looked down at the small receiver Peter had installed on her wrist—a red dot was displayed on it, about two kilometers from her current location.
She took a deep breath, changed direction, and swung toward that red dot.
Twenty minutes later, Gwen was lying on the roof of a building opposite an abandoned warehouse, observing the target through night-vision goggles.
The warehouse was dilapidated, the walls covered in graffiti, and the windows boarded up. But there were several black vans parked at the entrance, with no markings on the bodies. Occasionally, people would enter and exit, all dressed in black, moving in perfect unison.
"They're ninjas," Gwen said softly.
"How do you know?" Peter asked.
"Their movements," Gwen said, staring at the people. "Ordinary people don't walk like that. Their footsteps are light, and every step is steady, as if they've been trained."
The sound of typing came through the earpiece.
"I've pulled up the surveillance around the warehouse," Peter said. "Six people went in tonight, three vehicles, and two more vehicles arrived ten minutes ago. If each vehicle can hold ten people..."
He didn't continue, but Gwen understood.
"I have to go in and take a look."
"It's too dangerous—"
"Peter," Gwen interrupted him, "if there are dozens of people inside waiting to have their organs harvested, I can't just ignore it."
Peter was silent.
Gwen took a deep breath, slid off the edge of the roof, and landed silently on the ground. She moved along the shadows, placing each step lightly. The soles of her suit seemed to have some kind of adhesive structure, making almost no sound as she stepped on the ground.
There was a broken window on the side of the warehouse, with a loose board. Gwen gently pried it open a crack and slipped inside.
The inside of the warehouse was much larger than it looked from the outside. It was piled with debris and covered in dust, looking as if it had been abandoned for many years. But Gwen's hearing told her there were people inside.
She followed the sound, moved through a pile of scrap, and saw a door.
Light shone through the crack in the door.
Gwen leaned over to look inside.
It was a modified space. Several operating tables were lined up, with shadowless lamps shining a pale, sickly light. A few people in white lab coats were busy, and in the cages nearby were over a dozen people—men and women, all with their eyes closed, as if they had been injected with sedatives.
A wave of nausea churned in Gwen's stomach.
Just then, a voice came from behind her.
"Who are you?"
Gwen turned around abruptly and saw a person in black standing behind her, wearing a mask with only their eyes exposed. Those eyes were staring at her, a dangerous glint flashing in their pupils.
She didn't hesitate.
With a flick of her wrist, a web shot out, sticking accurately to the person's face. Before the person could react, their eyes were covered. Gwen stepped forward and chopped at the back of their neck with her hand.
The person in black collapsed to the ground.
Gwen caught her breath and was about to turn back when she suddenly heard more footsteps behind her.
She turned her head and saw at least ten people in black rushing from all directions, surrounding her.
"Peter," she said softly, "I think I've been discovered."
Peter's nervous voice came through the earpiece: "Can you run?"
Gwen scanned the people in black, then looked at the operating tables in the operating room and the unconscious people in the cages.
"I can run," she said, "but I don't want to run."
She struck a starting pose—something she'd seen in movies, not knowing if it would be useful.
The people in black moved.
Their movements were extremely fast and uniform, like machines that had undergone rigorous training. But Gwen was faster. She dodged to the side, avoiding the first person's attack, and simultaneously flicked her wrist, webbing the second person's ankle and pulling hard.
That person fell to the ground, knocking over two people behind them.
But the others kept rushing forward.
Gwen jumped up, kicked off the wall, and flipped in the air, dodging three knives thrusting at her simultaneously. As she landed, she swept her leg, tripping two people, then used the momentum to spring up and punch the fourth person in the chin.
That person's head tilted back, and they collapsed to the ground.
"Gwen!" Peter's voice sounded in her earpiece. "Behind you!"
Gwen didn't turn around. She felt the wind, rolled to the side, and a knife grazed her shoulder, slicing off a few strands of hair. She rolled up, kicked the person in the back of the knee, and as they lost their balance, she followed up with an elbow strike to the back of their head.
Another person fell.
But more were still rushing in.
Gwen panted, watching the people in black. They were like tireless machines—one fell, two more replaced them. And she was only one person; her stamina was limited.
Just then, a voice came from the depths of the warehouse.
"Stop."
The people in black stopped in unison.
Gwen looked toward the sound and saw a woman walking out of the shadows.
She was wearing a red ninja outfit, her face unmasked, revealing a cold and beautiful face. Her long black hair was draped over her shoulders, and her amber eyes shimmered in the light.
Gwen's pupils contracted.
She recognized those eyes.
"...Silk?"
The woman paused, then smiled.
"So it's you." She looked Gwen up and down. "The new suit is nice. Better looking than mine."
Gwen didn't lower her guard. "Are you also with The Hand?"
"I'm their..." Silk thought for a moment, "business partner, I suppose. They pay me, and I help them solve some trouble. Like tonight."
She looked at Gwen, her smile deepening.
"Did you come looking for trouble tonight?"
Gwen pointed toward the operating room. "Are those people trouble?"
Silk glanced in the direction she was looking and shrugged. "They are business."
"Business?" Gwen's voice turned cold. "A business of selling living people like spare parts?"
Silk raised an eyebrow. "You have quite a sense of justice. Interesting."
She walked closer, and the people in black automatically made way.
"Little Spider," she said, "how have you considered the proposal I gave you last time?"
Gwen didn't move. "I said, I refuse."
"Still so stubborn." Silk sighed. "You know, I used to be like you, thinking I could save the World. Later, I realized the World doesn't need saving at all. It's just how it is—the strong eat meat, and the weak are eaten. All you can do is choose your position."
Gwen stared at her, silent for a few seconds.
"I've chosen," she said. "Opposite you."
Silk was stunned for a moment, then laughed out loud.
"Interesting." She turned and walked back. "I'll give you some face tonight; you can take these people. But next time, I won't hold back."
"Stop." Gwen called out to her. "Where are you selling the organs harvested from those people?"
Silk stopped and looked back at her.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Tell me."
Silk was silent for a few seconds, then said a name.
A name Gwen had heard countless times in her past life.
Her hands slowly clenched.
"You can go now," Silk said. "Next time we meet, we will be enemies."
She disappeared into the darkness. The people in black also retreated, receding like a tide, leaving only a mess and Gwen standing there alone.
"Gwen?" Peter's voice came through. "Are you okay? Who was that person just now?"
Gwen took a deep breath.
"It's Silk," she said. "The person who injected me with the drugs."
"What did she say?"
Gwen was silent for a few seconds, then said softly, "She said the buyer of those organs... is a place called 'K'un-Lun'."
Peter's confused voice came through the earpiece: "K'un-Lun? Isn't that a mountain in myths?"
Gwen didn't answer.
She looked at the unconscious people in the operating room, at the pale shadowless lamps, and remembered the various stories she had seen in the news in her past life.
This World was even more complicated than she had imagined.
"Peter," she said, "call the police. Let my dad handle the rest."
"What about you?"
Gwen turned and walked toward the depths of the warehouse.
"I'm going to chase her."
"Gwen—"
But she had already disappeared into the darkness.
The night wind blew, carrying away some of the scent of blood. The night sky of New York was still brightly lit, as if nothing had happened.
But Gwen knew, tonight was just the beginning.