The cool night air of Manhattan whipped around the spire of the skyscraper, a sharp contrast to the heated adrenaline still pulsing through Peter Parker's veins. He was still lost in his own thoughts, staring out at the city lights and wondering if he had truly hit a "ceiling," when a sound broke the silence.
It wasn't a loud sound. It was a clear, melodic woman's voice that seemed to drift on the wind, landing right behind them with impossible lightness.
"It was really hard to find you guys. I heard the rumors, saw the shaky camera footage from the Expo, and I've been tracking your 'signature' for hours. Honestly, you two don't make it easy."
Peter froze. His Spider-Sense hadn't just tingled; it had hummed with a strange, harmonic frequency he had never felt before. Beside him, Huang Liang's body coiled like a spring. As a martial artist who could hear a pin drop from three blocks away, he was mortified. Someone had scaled a hundred-story building and walked right up to their backs without making a single vibration.
The two of them spun around instantly, hoods up and masks secured, ready for a fight.
Standing near the edge of the roof was a figure that looked like a mirror image of Peter's own destiny. She was lean, elegant, and clad in a suit that radiated a modern, punk-rock energy. Unlike Peter's traditional red-and-blue, her costume was a striking palette of bone-white and deep purple, with a stylized hood that framed a mask with neon-pink accents around the eyes.
It was Gwen Stacy, though the world—and the boys in front of her—didn't know that name yet. To the multiverse, she was Spider-Gwen. To herself, she was just a girl trying to find where she belonged.
Huang Liang took a defensive stance, his eyes narrowing behind his goggles. "Is she... a fan?" He glanced at Peter, a smirk hidden beneath his mask. "I didn't know your fan club had people who could climb skyscrapers in high-end cosplay. Is this what a 'super-fan' looks like these days? She's quieter than a ghost."
Huang Liang wasn't just teasing. He was testing the waters. He knew that no ordinary human, no matter how dedicated, could sneak up on a Master of Wing Chun and a boy with a psychic warning system. He was half-expecting her to be a high-tech assassin sent by Hammer's remaining goons.
Peter, however, was caught off guard by the sheer aesthetics. "Wait, you're a fan? Really?" He scratched the back of his head, his lenses widening. "I mean, your suit is incredible. The hood is a great touch. It actually looks way more professional than mine. Did you make that yourself?"
"Whoosh!"
The white-clad figure didn't answer with words. She moved like a blur of static, crossing the distance in a heartbeat. Before Peter could finish his compliment, a white boot connected solidly with his sternum.
Crack!
Peter managed to cross his arms at the last microsecond, absorbing the brunt of the impact, but the sheer force of the kick sent him skidding backward across the rooftop. He hit the ledge, tumbled over, and for a second, he was free-falling toward the street. He fired a web-line instinctively, swinging in a wide arc and pulling himself back up to the roof with a grunt of effort.
"Okay! Definitely not a fan!" Peter yelled, landing back on the concrete and shaking out his numbing arms.
"Of course you're mutated," the woman said, her voice buzzing with a hint of excitement. She didn't look aggressive anymore; she looked... relieved. "An ordinary person would have been a pancake after that. I've been living in my own head for weeks, wondering if I was the only freak in New York. I had to be sure."
She had attacked him for two reasons: one, because Peter talked too much and she hated being called a "fan girl," and two, because she needed to see if his power was real.
Snap!
Huang Liang didn't wait for a conversation. He flicked his wrist, sending a burst of Qi-infused air—a long-range "acupuncture" strike—toward the woman's shoulder. It was meant to paralyze her arm instantly.
But she didn't just move; she vibrated out of the way. With a grace that rivaled Peter's, she twisted her body mid-air, the strike whistling past her ear and cracking the concrete behind her.
"What?" Huang Liang stared in genuine amazement. Peter was fast, but Peter usually relied on his reflexes to "scramble" out of danger. This girl moved with a pre-cognitive fluidity that looked almost identical to Peter's Spider-Sense. "She reacted before I even moved my hand. Peter, she's just like you."
The woman landed in a crouch, staring at Huang Liang's hand. "Wait. What was that? Some kind of invisible dart? Why don't I have that power? Is that part of the spider package?"
"Hold on! Everyone chill!" Peter shouted, stepping between them. He held up his hands, palms out. He could feel it now—the "resonance." It was like a tuning fork vibrating in his chest whenever she was near. "Liang, stop. She's... she's one of me."
He turned to the girl in white. "You were bitten, weren't you? By a spider? A specific one?"
The girl stood up slowly, her shoulders relaxing. "Yeah. About three weeks ago. I was at that Oscorp science exhibition—the one with the 'genetically enhanced' arachnids. One of them got out. I felt the sting, got dizzy, went home to sleep it off, and woke up able to stick to my ceiling. I thought I was a mutant. I thought I'd have to go to that 'State of New Hope' place everyone talks about... until I saw you on the news fighting robots."
Peter's eyes lit up behind his mask. The jealousy he had felt earlier toward Huang Liang's "cultivation" vanished, replaced by the sheer joy of finding a peer. "The exhibition! I was there too! I woke up and I didn't need my glasses anymore. I went from being a scrawny nerd to... well, this."
Huang Liang watched them, his lips twitching into a wry smile. Peter was officially off to the races, recounting every detail of his transformation like they were old war buddies at a reunion. The "Spider-Duo" had just become a "Spider-Trio," and Huang Liang realized he was now officially the "third wheel" in terms of biological origin.
"So, what about you?" The girl turned her attention to Huang Liang. "Kung Fu Spider. Did you get the bite too? Or did you just like the theme?"
"Actually, you've got me pegged wrong," Huang Liang explained, spreading his hands. "I'm not a mutant. I don't have a 'spider-sense' or sticky fingers. Everything I do comes from the martial arts my Master taught me. I wear the mask because I'm Peter's partner-in-training, but I'm a human who worked for his power."
"Martial arts?" The girl's lenses sparkled. "You can do that just by practicing? I don't possess a single 'strange ability' that isn't physical. Can I learn to throw invisible air punches too?"
Huang Liang hesitated. He looked at her—this girl who had just appeared out of the night with the same potential as Peter. "That... isn't a question for me. You'd have to ask my Master, Huang Wen. He's the one who decides who walks the path."
"Huang Wen," she repeated the name, as if filing it away. She turned back to Peter. "Look, I came here because I'm tired of hiding. I've seen what you guys do. You're not just 'vigilantes,' you're a team. I want in."
Peter looked at Huang Liang, who gave a silent nod. If she was like Peter, she was too dangerous to leave wandering the streets without guidance.
"Alright," Peter said, his voice brimming with excitement. "Welcome to the club. I'm Spider-Man. He's the Kung Fu Spider. What do we call you? White Widow? Spider-Girl?"
The woman shook her head, her white hood catching the moonlight. "No. Those don't fit. You can call me... Ghost Spider."