New York Police Department
Night approached with a weary heaviness. Inside the NYPD building, the pale glow of office lights still illuminated stacks of paperwork, accompanied by the distant clink of coffee cups being set down on desks.
After an entire day buried in reports, George rose from his chair, grabbed his worn coat, and let out a long sigh.
"Another day, another pile of problems…" he muttered.
He turned off the monitor, but the moment he stepped away, the screen flickered back to life on its own. A brief electronic sound echoed for a few seconds—subtle, yet precise.
Outside, George was already walking toward the parking lot, the cold night air brushing against his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Hey, Gwen. Are you still at Arthur's place? Do you need me to pick you up?" he asked, adjusting his coat as he walked.
On the other end, Gwen's light, cheerful voice replied: "No need, Dad. I'm already home. But if you don't get back soon, Mom's going to be mad."
George paused for a moment, frowning. "Didn't she say she'd be back later?" he thought silently.
"Alright, alright. I'm on my way," he finally replied with a small smile.
---
At the Stacy House
Gwen sat on her bed with a clipboard resting on her legs, her expression one of pure concentration. The paper in front of her was covered in sketches—lines, curves, quick notes, and small symbols.
"Since I have spider powers…" she said to herself with a half-smile, "I think it'd be cool to add some spider elements to the suit."
She picked up a pen and began redrawing the lines with more conviction. Her ideas flowed like invisible webs being woven by her imagination.
The soft scratching of the pen against the paper filled the room, and little by little, the sketch of the Spider-Gwen suit came to life.
"Perfect…" she murmured, lifting the drawing toward the light. "Now, the material…"
She opened her closet and started rummaging through her clothes until a black-and-white yoga outfit caught her attention. She touched the fabric with her fingers—tight, elastic, yet incredibly comfortable.
Holding the outfit in one hand and the sketch in the other, a spark lit up in her eyes. "This… is exactly what I needed."
---xXx---
Helen's voice echoed from downstairs: "Gwen! Your father's back! Come down for dinner!"
Startled, Gwen realized an entire hour had passed without her noticing. Her sketch was now more detailed, almost professional.
"Coming, Mom!" she replied, leaving the papers on her desk and heading downstairs.
At the dinner table, the Stacy family gathered in a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Helen served dinner with a smile, while George tried to mask his exhaustion with humor. Gwen shared small stories about her day, and George, as usual, let slip a few details about work—only to be reprimanded by Helen's stern look and the sound of her spoon tapping against the plate.
After dinner, George went to the living room to watch the news.
The city was, curiously, calm—at least within what could be called "calm" there. No major crimes, no mutant appearances. Just the monotony of political campaigns and the same old false promises.
Then the sharp ring of his phone shattered the quiet.
George answered—and his expression changed instantly. "Are you sure!? … Understood. I'm on my way!"
Gwen stood up immediately. "Dad, what happened?"
He grabbed his coat, his expression serious. "Someone hacked into the precinct's database. The tech team is trying to trace the intruder, but I need to go now."
Helen crossed her arms and sighed. "It's always like this…"
"Don't worry, Mom," Gwen said, trying to reassure her. "At least this time it's just a hacker. Nothing dangerous."
Helen nodded, resigned. "Alright… at least it's not a chase or a shootout."
"Mom, I'm going to my room now."
"Okay, sweetheart. I'll warm up a glass of milk for you later."
"Thanks, Mom~" Gwen replied, kissing her cheek before heading upstairs.
---xXx---
Back in her room, Gwen turned on her computer and began researching everything she could about webs, patterns, and spider biological structures.
Fascinating images appeared on the screen—diagrams, macro photographs, and descriptions of the strength and elasticity of natural silk.
One of them captured her attention. "Spider silk…" she murmured. "Strong, light… and almost impossible to break."
She smiled. The idea was beginning to take shape.
"A web-shooter…" she whispered.
---
On the Other Side of the City
Meanwhile, Arthur stared at his computer screen with a fixed, impassive gaze. The lines of decoded data finally displayed what he had been looking for.
"So that's it…" he muttered quietly.
"I knew there was someone above him, but I didn't think it would be the Kingpin himself… Hell's Kitchen, huh? Typical."
He crossed his arms, reflecting for a few seconds. "Well, this is perfect. I still have scores to settle with him."
He stood and walked toward a metal cabinet secured with multiple locks. After entering a code, the door opened with a click.
Inside was a carefully folded black suit.
Arthur dressed calmly and adjusted the vest.
He could simply erase everything—no, that would be far too efficient. Efficient, yes… but not fun.
Afterward, he stretched lightly and headed toward the window.
"Time to work…" he murmured before leaping out.
---
Hell's Kitchen
It didn't take long to reach his destination. The night air smelled of smoke and rust. Red lights flickered in the alleys, reflecting off puddles from recent rain.
From atop an abandoned building, he observed the heavily guarded compound below. The sporadic glow of cigarettes betrayed the guards' positions. Distant footsteps, muffled laughter, and the metallic click of weapons being checked filled the air.
Arthur adjusted his mask, the katana resting diagonally across his back. The black fabric of his stealth suit absorbed the light, turning him into a living shadow.
"Let's see… thirty men outside… three snipers… at least ten rotating inside…" he counted in a low voice, analyzing the patrol patterns. "Not bad… for a rat's nest."
He gave a faint smile. "It's been a while since I've done this… I might be a little rusty."
Thunder split the sky, and using the sound as cover, he jumped.
The landing was silent. His boots touched the wet ground without a sound. Arthur moved with the precision of a trained hunter, every step calculated, his breathing completely controlled.
One guard leaned against a container, distracted, typing on his phone. Arthur approached from behind, grabbed his head, and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. The crack was drowned out by the distant roar of traffic.
The body fell slowly, and Arthur dragged it into the shadows. "One," he murmured, impassive.
The next guard didn't even notice him. Arthur slipped behind him like a ghost, and in one swift, clean motion, a sword shot from the Gate of Babylon straight through his chest. Blood mixed with rainwater, flowing like dark ink across the asphalt as the weapon dissolved, returning to the Gate.
"Two…"
Two more approached from the side, chatting about something trivial. "This shift sucks…" one of them said.
Arthur hid behind a pillar, waited for the right moment, and advanced.
With a quick movement, he kicked the back of one man's knee, forcing him to collapse, and snapped his neck before the other could react. The survivor tried to draw his weapon, but Arthur had already struck him with a lateral blow, breaking his arm with a dry crack.
The man attempted to scream, but a sword fired from the Gate of Babylon pierced him through.
"Three and four…"
His expression remained cold, unshaken.
On the upper floors, the snipers watched the streets, unaware of the massacre unfolding below. Arthur climbed the side of the building using cables and metal structures, his body moving lightly.
One sniper was distracted, staring at the horizon with a cigarette between his lips. Arthur pulled him back, covered his mouth, and snapped his neck with a quick motion. The body fell silently onto the concrete.
The second turned in surprise but was knocked unconscious with a punch.
The third tried to flee but was intercepted in the hallway by a sword launched from the Gate of Babylon.
"Snipers neutralized…"
Arthur ignored the rest and continued forward.
At the main entrance, two guards stood by the gate. Arthur kicked it open violently.
Then he advanced calmly, killing anyone who stood in his way with swords fired from the Gate of Babylon.
Within minutes, the exterior area was covered in bodies. The ground reflected rain mixed with blood.
Arthur walked slowly through the courtyard, unhurried.
Reaching the main door, he pushed it open lightly. The metal creaked, granting access to the inner corridor—where ten men still remained.
One of them spotted him and shouted: "It's him! Open fire!"
Bullets ricocheted off the walls, but Arthur moved at almost supernatural speed as dozens of golden portals opened around him, firing various weapons at the men.
In an instant, the place was cleared. He walked toward the main office of the building—the center of the operation.
He turned on the computer and connected a portable device. The screen flickered, and he found exactly what he wanted.
Information, contracts, dozens of pieces of evidence linking Damian Silver and Wilson Fisk to the criminal underworld.
"Now that's more like it…" he murmured, a faint smile forming beneath the mask.
"George is going to love seeing this…" he chuckled, and with a click, began extracting the data.
---
(End of Chapter)