"Okay, this is a surprise," Peter said, raising an eyebrow.
Gwen smirked, leaning back slightly in her chair. "I collected this before… before I became Spider-Woman."
Peter blinked. "You did? Why?"
"Do you remember that time you grabbed me on the roof? I was being chased by that gang. You saved me, sure, but I realized something then—what if no one's there next time? What if I have to save myself?" Gwen's voice carried a hint of pride. "I decided I couldn't always rely on others. I had to be able to fight back."
Peter's gaze drifted to the object in question. "And this? You used this to save yourself? How did you even get your hands on it?"
Gwen shrugged confidently. "My dad is the police chief. I always have my ways."
Peter fell silent, digesting this new revelation.
She's changed… She's more confident now.
The thought of Gwen casually walking around with a grenade in her possession while going to school, riding in cars, or even talking to him felt bizarre.
Seeing Peter's skeptical look, Gwen quickly clarified, "I just hid it in the basement! I didn't actually use it much."
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Wouldn't be surprised if you told me you kept it in your pocket."
Gwen pouted, crossing her arms. "You're the worst."
The café was quiet except for the soft hum of conversation around them. A waitress arrived, setting down the coffee they had ordered.
Gwen hesitated before speaking again. "You'll keep my secret, right? Peter?"
Peter looked at her, then at the grenade he had confiscated. He smirked. "Of course."
There was no way he'd tell anyone.
After all, this was one of the few secrets he had on Gwen.
He grinned. "FragWoman."
Gwen, who had just taken a sip of her coffee, choked. "Excuse me?!"
"FragWoman," Peter repeated, amused. "You know, like a woman who's dangerous and can take down her own team if not careful."
Gwen shot him a glare, but her cheeks were slightly pink.
Late That Night
Peter sat at his desk, eyes fixed on the footage captured by the Gem Wasp.
Gwen was already asleep, but he was too restless. His mind kept circling back to something.
The woman at the mine entrance—he had seen her before.
While investigating that werewolf-themed movie company, he had come across a photo of her.
Fletcher.
A senior executive at the film company.
But why was she at the mine?
Peter frowned, deep in thought, as he gazed into the darkness outside his window.
Midnight - An Ominous Presence
The world was silent.
Then—
Peter's eyes snapped open.
A shadow flickered past.
He sat up, his enhanced senses kicking in immediately.
Something's here.
The dark silhouette darted to the corner of his room before disappearing into the bathroom.
Peter moved quickly, his black exoskeleton forming over his arms as he crept forward. Sharp claws extended from his fingers.
He reached the bathroom door, hand hovering over the light switch.
Click.
The room was instantly flooded with bright, artificial light.
Peter's eyes narrowed.
A red helium balloon floated in the corner.
Its glossy surface reflected the light as it bobbed slightly, drifting closer.
On the balloon was a picture of a cake, the flames of the candles forming words:
Happy Birthday.
Peter's frown deepened.
Today isn't my birthday.
The balloon twisted, revealing the other side.
The cake was gone.
In its place was a grinning skull, its mouth lined with jagged teeth. A speech bubble emerged from between the teeth, reading:
Happy Death Day!
Peter exhaled sharply.
This is a dream.
He knew it now. The odd distortions, the unnatural movements—he was inside his own subconscious.
But that didn't mean he was safe.
The balloon continued to float lazily, as if taunting him.
With a swift motion, Peter slashed at it with his claws.
POP!
Thick, black blood exploded outward.
It splattered onto the mirror, dripping like tar, mingled with white chunks—like maggots suspended in resin.
Peter took a step closer, wiping a clean spot on the mirror with his sleeve.
His reflection stared back at him.
But something was off.
His own face seemed… normal. Cold, focused. His chestnut hair fell messily over his forehead.
Then—
Movement behind him.
In the mirror, beyond the veil of blood, a blurry figure loomed.
A voice whispered:
"Nine more left. Then, it's your turn."
Peter spun around, claws ready.
A dark figure lunged at him, wielding a crimson blade.
Peter reacted instantly, raising his claws to block—
The Dream Warps
Darkness swallowed him whole.
His stomach lurched as he fell into a void, weightless and lost.
Then—
The stench of antiseptic hit his nose.
Peter landed on his feet with a quiet thud.
His surroundings had changed.
A hospital.
The air felt thick, pressing in around him. The scent of decay clung to every surface.
He clenched his fists, steeling himself.
Something wasn't right.
Then—hands.
Sticky, wet hands reaching for him.
Peter stiffened as Gwen stepped forward.
Her hands were drenched in blood.
She pulled off a mint-green medical mask, revealing her face—pale, her right eye covered with medical tape in the shape of an X.
"Hi," she said, her voice eerily casual. "Good evening, Peter."
Peter didn't move.
"You're not Gwen," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted her head. "I am Gwen. Or… future Gwen."
Peter's gaze sharpened.
"You pulled me into this dream, didn't you?"
"Maybe," she mused, scratching at the tape on her eye. "Sorry, it's itchy."
"If this is just a dream," she continued, "why don't you wake up?"
Peter didn't answer.
He just stared at her.
His exoskeleton began covering his body again, layer by layer.
"You're not Gwen," he said slowly. "You're just pretending to be her."
Future Gwen's expression didn't change.
"Why are you so calm?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be afraid? Desperate? Angry?"
Peter's eyes remained cold.
"I don't fear illusions," he said simply.
Future Gwen grinned. "We'll see about that."
The hospital around them seemed to breathe, the walls shifting.
The darkness deepened.
And then—
Everything shattered.
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