The Hand's base.
Candlelight flickered, illuminating several aged faces.
Alexandra sat in the head seat, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest. Her gaze swept over everyone present, finally landing on the empty chair.
That was Murakami's seat.
"Murakami failed," she began, her voice as calm as if she were stating the weather. "And he's compromised all our strongholds in New York."
Madame Gao sat opposite her and gave a cold laugh upon hearing this.
"He is Japanese, after all," she said, her tone carrying undisguised contempt. "He never learned the essence of my Huaxia. After living for eight hundred years, he still only knows how to fight and kill."
Sowanda frowned, his gruff voice echoing in the room.
"Now is not the time for infighting."
He looked toward Alexandra.
"Those taken by the Police, and the strongholds that were shut down—our losses are too great."
The Fixer leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly twirling a game piece.
"Correct," he said. "We need to eliminate that Spider-Man."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Madame Gao laughed again, the sound as shrill as a night owl's.
"Heh..." She looked at The Fixer. "You couldn't even kill a blind man, and now you're talking about eliminating Spider-Man?"
The Fixer's expression stiffened for a second.
"Matt Murdock," he spat the name through gritted teeth. "That Daredevil—he won't live much longer."
Madame Gao raised an eyebrow and said no more.
Alexandra's gaze fell upon The Fixer.
"What is your plan?"
The Fixer turned to Madame Gao.
"Madame Gao," he said, "don't you have a good relationship with Kingpin? Then..."
Madame Gao's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You want me to go to Kingpin?"
"Kingpin controls Hell's Kitchen," The Fixer said. "And Hell's Kitchen is that Daredevil's turf. If Kingpin is willing to act..."
Alexandra nodded.
"It's worth a try."
Madame Gao was silent for a few seconds before standing up.
"I'll pay a visit to Fisk Tower," she said. "But don't expect Kingpin to help for free. That fat pig has a massive appetite."
She turned toward the door, stopping halfway.
"By the way," she said without turning back, "I saw that Spider-Man's new suit. White, with a cape—it's quite nice."
She pushed the door open and left, leaving behind a trail of shrill laughter.
High above Manhattan, a white figure was swiftly gliding past.
Gwen was wearing her new suit, swinging in a graceful arc through the night sky. The night wind whistled past her ears, and her cape fluttered loudly behind her. That feeling—
It was incredible.
It was much more comfortable than the previous suit.
The fabric was light and form-fitting, allowing for completely unrestricted movement. The navigation system in her lenses clearly displayed her route, and sensors automatically adjusted the brightness of her vision. She could even see real-time data updates in her peripheral vision—wind speed, altitude, and distance to the target.
Just how much high-tech gear did Peter pack into this?
"Gwen," Peter's voice sounded in her earpiece, "I found it. The exact location of Fisk Tower."
"Tell me."
"The intersection of West 38th Street and 5th Avenue, Midtown Manhattan, north side of the Empire State Building."
Gwen silently noted the address.
"Zip code 10018," Peter added. "Also, that area has a nickname—"
"Hell's Kitchen," Gwen finished for him.
There was a second of silence in the earpiece.
"You knew?"
"Yeah," Gwen nodded. "I looked it up before. The most dangerous neighborhood in Manhattan. Gang wars, shootings, robberies, drug trafficking—it's practically daily life there."
"Right," Peter's voice turned serious. "And it's Kingpin's territory. Police presence is low, corruption is rampant, and the gangs are highly organized."
Gwen remembered the reports she'd seen before.
Hell's Kitchen, known as the Marvel version of Gotham.
Not because the architecture looked similar, but because the crime rate did.
There, gunshots ring out every day, and bodies appear every night. The Police can't handle it, or rather, they don't want to.
"And," Peter added, "that's Daredevil's turf."
Gwen paused for a moment.
Daredevil.
Matt Murdock.
Right, she almost forgot—that man in the devil mask mainly operates in Hell's Kitchen.
"Didn't you become allies with him before?" Peter asked.
"We did," Gwen said, "but it is his territory, after all. If I just barge in, I don't know if he'll mind."
Peter thought about it.
"I don't think he'll mind. Your goals are aligned—you're both dealing with Kingpin and The Hand."
Gwen nodded.
"I hope so."
She adjusted her direction and swung toward Midtown Manhattan.
Ten minutes later, Gwen entered the Hell's Kitchen area.
As soon as she entered this airspace, she felt the difference.
The air was thick with an indescribable smell—the stench of garbage, the smoke of gunfire, and a faint hint of something metallic. The buildings were more dilapidated than elsewhere, and the streets were darker. Occasionally a Police car would drive by, but its siren quickly faded into the night.
Gwen landed on the roof of a building, looking down at the street below.
Then she saw it.
On a street corner, several Black men were smashing the glass door of a convenience store.
"Looting," Gwen murmured.
She watched them rush into the store and run out with armfuls of items—snacks, drinks, cigarettes, and cash from the register.
A few passersby across the street took one look and hurried away.
No one called the Police.
No one tried to stop them.
Gwen took a deep breath, flicked her wrist, and shot a web toward the corner.
She swung down and landed right in front of them.
They were startled, dropping their loot all over the ground.
"Who the—"
Then they saw clearly who was in front of them.
A white and pink suit with black web patterns and a cape on the back.
"Are you Spider-Man?!" the leader's eyes widened. "Whoa! New look!"
Another man approached, his face full of excitement.
"It really is Spider-Man! I've seen your videos online!"
Gwen was taken aback.
This reaction was a bit different from what she had expected.
She used her webs to entangle them, binding them together.
"Ladies," she said, her voice processed by a voice changer, "call the Police now."
The leader, despite being tied up, was still struggling excitedly.
"Can I get a picture with you? Just one! I'll post it on my feed!"
Gwen: "..."
"I have things to do."
She flicked her wrist, shot a web to the opposite rooftop, and vaulted into the air.
The disappointed voices of the men echoed behind her.
"Don't go! Just one!"
"I knew Spider-Man was a girl! I win!"
"She's so cool—"
Gwen swung away, and those voices gradually faded into the night wind.
She landed on a higher roof and looked back at the street.
The looters were still struggling on the ground, but a Police car had already appeared at the corner—someone must have called it in.
Gwen shook her head.
Hell's Kitchen certainly lived up to its reputation.
Even the looters are so... enthusiastic?
"Gwen," Peter's voice sounded, "that move you just pulled..."
"What about it?"
"It was pretty creative." He suppressed a laugh. "Webbing up looters and then having them call the Police on themselves."
Gwen laughed too.
"What else could I do? Drag them to the Police station myself? How long would that take?"
Peter chuckled.
"Fair point."
Gwen stood up and looked into the distance.
The tower was right ahead—Fisk Tower, Kingpin's empire.
The black glass curtain wall glinted coldly in the moonlight, towering into the clouds like a fortress standing in the heart of Hell's Kitchen.
"Target in sight," she said.
"Be careful," Peter's voice became serious. "Kingpin's security system is very tight, and members of The Hand might be inside. Madame Gao went to Fisk Tower tonight as well."
Gwen's brow furrowed slightly.
Madame Gao is there too?
"Understood."
She took a deep breath and slid off the edge of the roof.
Her white figure streaked through the night, silently approaching the tower.
Upon arrival, Gwen crouched on a crossbeam, looking down at the street below.
The main entrance of Fisk Tower was brightly lit, with several burly men in black suits standing at the door, expressionlessly scanning the passing pedestrians.
They weren't ninjas, just ordinary mobsters.
But Gwen knew the real danger was inside.
"Infiltration route?" she asked softly.
"There's a fire escape on the east side of the building," Peter said. "Go up from there to a vent on the fifteenth floor to enter the main building. Kingpin's office is on the top floor."
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
Gwen nodded and moved silently toward the east side.
Her movements were light, as light as a real spider.
The soles of her new suit had better adhesion, making walking on vertical walls feel like walking on flat ground.
She soon found the fire escape.
She pushed open the iron door; it was pitch black inside, with only the faint green light of the emergency exit sign.
Gwen slipped inside and climbed up the stairs.
The fifteenth floor.
The air vent.
She gently removed the louvers and crawled inside.
The duct was very narrow, only wide enough for one person to crawl through.
Gwen moved forward silently in the darkness like a real spider.
"Turn right in ten meters," Peter's voice sounded in her earpiece, "Below is the hallway. Thermal imaging shows five people patrolling."
Gwen crawled to the turn and looked down through the slats.
The hallway was brightly lit, and several burly men in black suits were walking back and forth.
They all had guns tucked at their waists, their expressions vigilant.
Gwen waited for a while, and after they had walked away, she gently pushed open the slats and crawled out.
She moved along the ceiling like an upside-down spider.
Crossing several corridors and avoiding a few patrols, she finally approached the top floor.
Kingpin's office.
The door was open.
Gwen hung upside down from the ceiling, peeking inside.
The room was very spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the night view of Manhattan.
Behind a huge desk sat a man—no, that couldn't be called a man.
That was a mountain.
Wilson Fisk.
Kingpin.
His physique was as massive as a mountain of flesh, but Gwen knew that beneath that fat lay astonishing power.
He could tear iron chains apart with his bare hands and punch through walls.
At this moment, he was sitting in his chair, back to the door, looking at the night view outside the window.
There was another person in the room.
An old woman.
Madame Gao.
She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, talking to Kingpin.
Gwen held her breath and pricked up her ears.
"...Murakami failed," Madame Gao's voice came, sharp and aged, "but that is not the point. The point is that Spider-Man."
Kingpin did not turn around.
"A little girl in a leotard," his voice was low, echoing in the room like muffled thunder, "how much of a threat could she be?"
"She is not an ordinary little girl," Madame Gao said, "She has superpowers and helpers—that Daredevil, and The Punisher. Last night, Captain America also appeared."
Kingpin was silent for a few seconds.
"Captain America," he repeated, "Samantha Wilson."
"She has teamed up with that Spider-Man," Madame Gao said, "If they really form an alliance, your empire—"
"My empire," Kingpin interrupted her, finally turning around, "no one can touch it."
Gwen finally saw his face clearly.
A huge head, a short and thick body where the neck was almost invisible, and a pair of small eyes flashing with cold light.
He was wearing a white suit and tie, looking like a ball of meat in clothes.
But that gaze made Gwen's Spider-Sense tingle.
Danger.
Extremely dangerous.
"I don't want to get involved in The Hand's business," Kingpin said, "Resolve your grievances with that Spider-Man yourselves."
Madame Gao's expression changed.
"Mr. Kingpin—"
"But there is one condition." Kingpin raised his hand, interrupting her, "Don't cause trouble on my turf. Hells Kitchen is mine."
Madame Gao was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.
"Understood."
She turned to leave, but stopped when she reached the door.
"By the way," she said without looking back, "that Spider-Man's new suit is quite nice. White and pink, with a cape."
She pushed the door open and left.
Only Kingpin was left in the room.
He sat in his chair, watching the night view outside the window, silent for a long time.
Then he spoke.
"Come out."
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
Was she discovered?
She didn't move.
Kingpin's gaze turned to the ceiling, specifically to the beam where she was hiding.
"Hanging upside down from the ceiling," he said, "aren't you tired?"
Gwen took a deep breath, dropped from the beam, and stood before him.
Moonlight shone in from the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating her white and pink suit, the black web patterns, and her long blonde hair.
Kingpin looked at her, a glimmer flashing in his small eyes.
"Spider-Man," he said, "nice new look."
Gwen did not reply.
She was observing.
Kingpin's physique—huge, but his movements were by no means slow.
His hands were resting on the armrests, ready to lunge at any moment.
His gaze—calm, calculating, like a dormant beast.
"What did you come here for?" Kingpin asked.
Gwen thought for a moment.
"To see," she said, "to see what the emperor of New York's underworld looks like."
The corners of Kingpin's mouth curved slightly—the arc was very faint, but Gwen saw it.
"Saw it?"
"Saw it."
"What's the feeling?"
Gwen tilted her head.
"Like a mountain of flesh."
Kingpin froze for a second.
Then he laughed.
The laughter was low, echoing in the room like muffled thunder.
"Interesting," he said, "you are more interesting than I imagined."
Gwen did not laugh.
"Madame Gao came to see you, wanting you to help her deal with me?"
Kingpin stopped laughing and looked at her.
"Yes."
"Did you agree?"
"No."
Gwen raised her eyebrows.
"Why?"
Kingpin stood up and walked toward her.
His steps were steady, each one carrying a sense of oppression.
Gwen instinctively took a step back, but forced herself to stand firm.
Kingpin walked up to her, looking down at her.
He was over two meters tall, standing there like a tower.
"Because," he said, "I don't need to help anyone. What I want to do, I do myself."
Gwen tilted her head back to look at him.
"What do you want to do?"
Kingpin was silent for a few seconds.
"Maintain order," he said, "Hells Kitchen needs order. Whether you like it or not, I am here, so there is order here."
Gwen frowned.
"By drug trafficking? By human trafficking? By organ smuggling?"
Kingpin's mouth curved again.
"Do you think the Police can handle it?" he said, "Do you think that blind man in a mask can handle it?"
He turned and walked back to the window.
"This World is more complex than you imagine. Little Spider."
Gwen stood in place, watching his back.
Her Spider-Sense kept ringing, but Kingpin had no intention of making a move.
At least not now.
"I will remember your words," she said.
Kingpin did not turn around.
"Go. While I haven't changed my mind yet."
Gwen took one last look at him, then flicked her wrist, shooting a web strand at the ceiling.
She crawled back into the ventilation duct and disappeared into the darkness.
Kingpin stood by the window, watching the night view outside.
After a long time, he chuckled softly.
"An interesting little one."
In the night sky of Manhattan, a white figure swept past.
Gwen swung between the buildings, her mind still replaying the conversation with Kingpin just now.
"Gwen," Peter's voice sounded, "are you okay? My heart almost jumped out of my chest just now—you just stood in front of him like that? Do you know how dangerous he is?"
"I know," Gwen said, "but he didn't make a move."
"That's because he didn't want to cause a scene on his own turf! Not because he's afraid of you!"
Gwen laughed.
"I know."
She landed on a rooftop and stopped to catch her breath.
The night wind blew, ruffling her cape.
She looked down at Hells Kitchen beneath her feet.
The looting was still continuing, gang wars were still continuing, and in those dark corners, who knew how many things were happening.
"Peter."
"Hmm?"
"This World is really very complex."
Peter was silent for a few seconds.
"Yeah," he said softly, "that's why it's even more necessary for someone to do the right thing."
Gwen laughed.
"You sound like Captain America when you say that."
"Then can I go ask for an autograph?"
Gwen laughed out loud.
"Wait for me to ask for you."
She stood up, looking at the distant Fisk Tower.
Kingpin was still there. Madame Gao was also somewhere. Murakami was on the run. Silk was in the shadows.
There was still so much to do.
But at least tonight, she came out alive.
At least tonight, she saw her opponent clearly.
Gwen took a deep breath, flicked her wrist, and a web strand shot toward the opposite rooftop.
The white and pink figure leaped into the night sky again, disappearing into the lights of Manhattan.