When Spider Man came to, he found himself lying at the end of a dark alley. A flashlight's beam wavered distantly in front of him. An intense scream echoed in his ears. "Stop…" Spider Man blurted out.
But the voice he put out was not as potent as before, filled mostly with whispered tones, making it sound less like a command and more like pleading.
Spider Man found he could not move.
As he voiced his plea, the flashlight turned towards him. His vision brightened and he could barely see several big kids standing against the wall. The largest might be around thirteen or fourteen, the smallest perhaps only ten years old.
They were assaulting a younger child.
Spider Man initially thought that this was just a common instance of children's roughhousing, at worst a group bullying. That was until he noticed a blood-soaked crowbar in the hands of the oldest child.
A sticky, cold liquid trickled down from his forehead, and only then did Spider Man realize he'd changed bodies. After the initial sense of alarm subsided, he found that he could not see out of one eye, and his other eye's vision was constantly wavering.
"Bang!"
The crowbar crashed onto the surrounded child's head. After the last mournful cry, the child was dead.
The other kids started walking towards Spider Man. Fear spread through Spider Man's heart. He made a full effort to struggle, but he could hardly control any of his limbs. Half his body felt completely numb.
Spider Man tried to speak, but couldn't articulate a full sentence. He only heard the oldest child say, "If you don't wanna die, you better not steal anything in your next life!"
"Bang!"
Spider Man lost consciousness. After a long, unending darkness, he found himself in a dimly lit room. His right leg was aching intensely, but at least he wasn't dizzy anymore.
Within his blurred vision, the face of a girl came into view. Her fingers were skeletal due to malnutrition, yet her face had a bit of baby fat. She spoke with a distinctive Gotham accent.
"Jean, are you okay? You got beaten up badly by Johnny and hit your head. I thought you were dead," she said.
Spider Man struggled to sit up, shaking his head, he uttered: "I'm not… I'm not…"
"I know, I know. Don't worry, we've eaten well in the last two days. Skipping a meal today doesn't matter much. Even Golden Hand, the master thief of the back alley, has his off days," she cooed.
"Yeah, yeah, Jean, don't worry. We can work now," a more childlike voice emerged from behind the girl.
The girl turned her head and scolded: "Jimmy, I've told you before, you and your sister are too young and short. You wouldn't be able to steal anything. You're not allowed to go out."
"But Jean's hurt. If we don't work, none of us will have anything to eat," The childlike voice protested, "Besides, my brother and I are turning eight next year."
Spider Man took a deep breath and shouted, "Hold on! Can someone please explain to me what's going on here? I… I was supposed to be on the Apocalypse Star…"
"Jean, are you okay? Do you have a fever?"
At once, several children gathered around. Apart from the girl named Lan, there was a pair of twins, two skinny boys, a girl with braids, and a little girl who looked only three or four years old.
Spider Man swallowed back his questions.
Because these kids appeared totally wretched.
The eldest girl leading them looked slightly better with a bit of meat on her face, but judging by her revealed wrists and fingers, she was clearly nothing but skin and bones. The twins were utterly skinny and small. The rest of the kids were not only thin but also pale with hollow cheeks and worn-out clothes.
To Spider Man, the Queens District where he lived and the nearby Bronx were already considered impoverished. Despite this, he hadn't seen such children there. They looked just like child survivors captured in war reports.
No, it's actually worse, Spider Man realized. The child survivors only had tattered clothes and faces smudged with the ashes of artillery. However, their physical traits and facial features suggested they previously lived a decent life. In contrast, these kids evidently had been undernourished for a prolonged time, stunting their growth.
Spider Man recalled that the younger twin said they would be eight next year, but they barely looked like second graders. The five-year-olds at the kindergarten next to his house were far stronger than them.
Speechless, Spider Man wasn't sure what to say.
He struggled to sit up, gently pushed away Lan's hand which was feeling his forehead, and said: "I don't have a fever. Can you tell me where I am and who you all are?"
"Oh my God, you didn't hit your head, did you?"
"I'm fine, but I just can't remember anything," Spider Man said while he racked his brain to concoct a believable lie. He feared he might scare the kids if he told the truth. He could sense their concern and hope from the way they looked at him. If Spider Man told them that Jean, whom they depended on, might already be dead, it would likely scare them to tears.
Immediately, the children started explaining in a torrent of overlapping voices. After listening to them, Spider Man summed it all up: this seemed to be a gang of little thieves.