A quiet neighborhood in Queens.
Gwen and Damian had changed into warm clothing as they arrived at a modest residence.
"This is where Spider-Man lived," Damian said, reading the information displayed on his handheld gaming console.
The internet was flooded with details about Spider-Man—his birth date, the schools he attended, his home address. There were even countless people claiming to be his close friends, and some outrageous ones claiming to be carrying his child.
Right now, anything related to Spider-Man meant instant attention and money.
"I'll knock," Gwen said.
Knock, knock, knock!
She gently rapped on the door.
"Hello? Is anyone home?"
"My nephew is dead. I don't know anything else. You reporters need to stop harassing an old woman like me," came a tired and resentful voice from inside.
Gwen frowned slightly. She understood that journalists would do anything for a scoop, but pestering Spider-Man's grieving family right after his death was beyond distasteful.
"Ma'am, you may not believe me, but I am also Spider-Man," Gwen said calmly.
A few seconds of silence passed.
The door creaked open, revealing a frail elderly woman with graying hair. Her eyes were swollen and red, filled with sorrow and exhaustion.
"Come inside."
The old woman's gaze lingered on Damian, who appeared much younger than Gwen. She hesitated for a brief moment before stepping aside to let them in.
"Thank you," Gwen said politely.
"Thank you, Grandma," Damian added with a sweet smile.
The old woman's stern expression softened slightly. Some of her wariness faded as she stepped aside.
Just as Gwen was about to speak, her Spider-Sense tingled.
It wasn't a warning of danger—rather, it felt oddly familiar.
Damian suddenly put away his gaming device and pulled out an obsidian dagger, looking toward the ceiling.
"Relax, kid. No need to be tense."
A masked man wearing a black trench coat dropped from the ceiling.
"Nice to meet you. I hope we can get along," another voice spoke up.
A black-haired young girl walked out of a room, followed by a mechanical spider-like robot.
"Uh, can someone help me? I'm stuck. The tools in this world are not very user-friendly," a muffled voice called out from the bathroom.
The elderly woman walked over, and after a moment, a drenched, cartoonishly short pig wearing a red and blue Spider-Man suit emerged.
Gwen and Damian stared in stunned silence.
What in the world was this?
And why hadn't Gwen's Spider-Sense stopped going off?
"So, you guys are all my—"
"—Kindred spirits!" three voices said in unison.
"We were all bitten by a radioactive spider (or pig) and gained our powers."
The masked man was the first to introduce himself. "I'm Peter Parker, but people call me Spider-Man Noir. My universe is currently in the year 1933. I'm a private detective, I enjoy Brooklyn's signature drink—egg cream—and I love punching Nazis."
He folded his arms as he spoke.
The black-haired girl, sitting atop her robotic spider, struck a playful pose alongside it.
"I'm Peni Parker, from the year 3145 in New York. My dad's robot houses a spider, and I have a psychic bond with it. We're partners for life!"
Her robot's screen displayed a happy '^_^' face.
Peni kicked her legs playfully, radiating an energetic and mischievous charm.
"I'm Peter Porker," the pig introduced himself. "I work as a photographer for the Howl Daily News. On duty, I sniff out the juiciest headlines like a bloodhound. Off duty, I despise journalists. They're just vultures feasting on the carrion of society."
His face scrunched in disgust, his distaste evident.
"I hate them, but I must admit—it's because of them that we're here together," Spider-Man Noir noted.
"When did you all arrive here?" Gwen asked, relaxing her stance.
Damian sheathed his dagger.
"I got here yesterday. Thankfully, Aunt May took me in," Noir Spider-Man said, casting a grateful glance at the elderly woman.
"I arrived late last night," Spider-Ham said, wobbling his round body.
"I got here an hour before you, big sis. By the way, is this your kid?" Peni asked, her big eyes blinking with curiosity as she looked at Damian.
Gwen was about to deny it when she noticed the vulnerable look in Damian's eyes.
(He must be scared in this unfamiliar world...)
(What would Pamela do in this situation?)
Gwen took a deep breath and said firmly, "Yes, she's my child. Damian Wayne. My name is Gwen Stacy, also known as Ghost-Spider."
She gently pulled Damian close and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
Damian's eyes widened briefly before settling into calm acceptance.
(Another new mom. Figures. My godfather sure collects women fast.)
"Mom," Damian called her softly.
Gwen's face turned red. She barely managed a quiet response, "Mhm..."
"Wow, so this big sister is a Spider-Mom! Maybe her kid will develop Spider-Powers too when they grow up!" Peni exclaimed excitedly.
"But she barely looks like an adult herself. If she had a kid at fifteen, I'd love to have a word with the father. Maybe introduce him to the barrel of my revolver," Noir Spider-Man said darkly.
"Only one kid? That's so few," Spider-Ham muttered in disappointment.
Gwen coughed lightly to change the subject. "Do any of you know why we're here?"
"No idea. We just got here," Noir Spider-Man admitted.
All eyes turned to Aunt May.
She sighed. "Follow me."
She led them to a storage room and pulled out a key. When she inserted it into the lock, the ordinary wooden door opened to reveal an elevator.
"A secret base. Every Spider-Man has one," Noir Spider-Man commented.
The group stepped inside.
As the elevator descended, the Spider-Hideout came into view.
Various Spider-Man suits were displayed, along with an array of unique transportation devices.
Aunt May approached a wall covered in notes and photos.
"One month ago, my nephew Peter Parker noticed an anomaly in this world's space-time fabric. He investigated and discovered that Kingpin was trying to open an interdimensional portal. Peter went to stop him. I thought he'd come back, bruised but alive, as always. But..."
Her voice broke. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Gwen didn't interrupt, instead looking at the wall of clues.
A large man in a suit dominated many of the photos.
Kingpin.
She had heard of him before. But then he vanished.
(Turns out, he didn't disappear—Frank Castle must've taken him out. The Devil's cartel has no room for trash like him.)
Quote of the Chapter:"A hero's legacy is not in how they die, but in those who carry on their fight."
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