A silent night passed, and the next morning, they were awoken by the familiar sound of Christmas carols. The shop windows across the street had officially switched to Christmas decorations, playing Christmas songs intermittently, and it had started to snow.
Spider-Man, groggy with sleep, propped himself up. He threw the blanket covering him entirely onto Jason's side, sat on the floor to clear his head, and rubbed his shoulders, which ached from lying in an awkward position.
He got up and walked to the window. The moment he drew the curtains, the room was engulfed by a pale cold light. Outside was a blinding white expanse, and Spider-Man's pupils sparkled like bright diamonds.
The aroma of fried eggs wafted from outside the door. Spider-Man would bet there was bacon too, but it was already 7:10, and he needed to get to school early to catch up on his homework.
Spider-Man attended a private high school, but not because he paid for it. Many of the better private schools would recruit students with excellent grades, and it didn't matter if they were uneven in their subjects. As long as one performed well in their competitions or summer camps, admission was granted. Spider-Man had nearly topped the sciences, while Thompson got in thanks to his football skills.
Bursting out the door, he stuffed a fried egg into his mouth, grabbed the sandwich his Aunt handed him, and downed two big gulps of milk. Spider-Man slung his backpack and dashed out the door, leaving his Aunt stamping her foot at the doorway.
The school was a bit of a distance from Parker House, but Spider-Man didn't mind; he could run all the way. The snowy weather today made the journey harder, and it took him nearly half an hour to reach the school's entrance.
On his way to the school gates, Spider-Man saw Thompson and his cronies swaggering over. His steps faltered, and he quickly hid behind a utility pole.
He hadn't forgotten Jason had beaten up Thompson before. If Thompson now came up demanding medical expenses, he wouldn't be able to afford it, so Spider-Man decided to hide for the time being.
As he watched Thompson and his group enter the school, Spider-Man breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to head inside when he saw a trash can overturned at the street corner.
Spider-Man sighed in frustration; these guys knew full well that the school janitor was a woman over 60, and with the snow falling today, cleaning up a whole bin's worth of trash wouldn't be easy. Was it possible she had cleaned it up early in the morning, only for it to be kicked over?
But there was no helping it. Spider-Man couldn't just ignore it, so he stepped through the school gates and quickly made his way to the trash can with the intention of righting it and putting the trash back.
Just as Spider-Man was about to push the trash bin, he felt something was off. This bin didn't look like it had been kicked over. He had seen Thompson and his gang kick over the smaller cylindrical bins on the street before, which would toss over with a single kick, scattering trash everywhere.
Now, however, it was one of the large square bins that was tipped over, with garbage bags mostly spilling out, yet it was still so heavy to push back up.
Spider-Man grew curious and glanced inside the trash bin; he then jumped back in shock. There was a person inside of it!
Spider-Man leaned in again, discovering it was a burly man, pale as death, with lips devoid of all color, resembling a corpse.
However, upon a closer look, Spider-Man noticed he was still breathing.
Oh my God, had they stuffed some drunk from the streets in here? Spider-Man hurriedly reached in to pull the man out, now understanding why Thompson and his gang had had smiles on their faces that morning when they usually looked so sulky on their way to school.
When Spider-Man tried, he found the man was much heavier than an average person, but that was no issue for someone with his spider-augmented strength. With a forceful tug, he pulled the man from the trash bin.
But after pulling him out, Spider-Man found himself in a dilemma. As he looked down at the man again, he saw he was astonishingly handsome, almost like a sculpture.
Spider-Man swallowed hard, struggling to look away. He glanced around and realized there was nowhere nearby to rest the man. After a moment's thought, he decided to take him to the closest shelter.
Spider-Man knew where the shelter was, but it was a 10-minute walk from there. Going back and forth would definitely make him late for school.
As expected, by the time Spider-Man dropped the man off at the shelter and returned to school, he was severely reprimanded by the teacher. Coupled with his unfinished homework, he was made to stand at the front of the class as punishment.
However, Thompson was unusually quiet today, not taunting Spider-Man, which he found very unsettling. Thompson wouldn't change his ways just like that, there must be something nasty brewing.
Sure enough, as soon as the class ended, Thompson, leading a group of his lackeys, cornered Spider-Man in the hallway. Stretching his arms, Thompson said, "Where's that big guy from the other day? I thought you'd bring him to school to act as your bodyguard."
Spider-Man pursed his lips and said nothing. Thompson snorted and continued, "I was caught off-guard that day, but do you think I'm scared of him? I'll tell you, no matter how strong he looks, it's useless. I'll make him sorry. Today after school, bring him to the alley behind the school gate, and we'll have it out face to face."
"He's sick," Spider-Man said truthfully. He was still a bit scared, but defending Jason, he argued, "He thought you were going to kill me that day, that's why he rushed over. He didn't mean to hurt you; I apologize to you on his behalf."
To his surprise, Thompson and his crew burst out laughing. Thompson slapped Spider-Man's shoulder hard and said, "Hurt me? With him? Those little scrapes healed in less than an hour. I'll say it one more time, bring him here to me. Otherwise, what you'll get won't just be a little scrape!"
After Thompson left, Spider-Man looked worried. With Jason being so seriously ill, he obviously couldn't bring him along, but if he didn't, he was really going to suffer after school today.
Of all days, it had to snow today, Spider-Man complained to himself. He couldn't just swing away on his webs in front of Thompson, but with the roads blanketed in snow, running wasn't easy either. It would be bad news if he got caught.
Thinking about the snow, Spider-Man remembered the man he found in the trash can this morning. He glanced at the window in the corridor; the snow was getting heavier. Though he had taken him to a warm shelter, sometimes they'd kick people out when it was full, and a nearly unconscious drunkard could easily be thrown out.
He wondered how much the man had drunk to be out cold like that, not even waking up despite a night's worth of snow covering him.
At lunch, Spider-Man packed up an extra portion of food, deciding to check on the man during his lunch break. Fortunately, Thompson and the others were too busy chatting to pay attention to him, allowing Spider-Man to slip out of the school.
Upon arriving at the shelter, Spider-Man found the man awake, clutching a blanket and slumped against a wall in the shelter's chaotic hall, looking somewhat dazed.
"Hey, you okay?" Spider-Man walked over, squatted beside him, handed him the food, and said, "Remember me? I brought you here. You collapsed in a trash can."
The man slowly turned his head, opened his mouth but said nothing. Spider-Man leaned in to hear him squeeze out a single word from his throat, "Batman..."
Spider-Man was stunned. He took another look at the man and found him somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite remember where he had seen him before. Even if he didn't recognize the face, there was something familiar about his presence.
"What's your name?" Spider-Man asked.
"Clark Kent."
Spider-Man was shocked once again, raising his tone and asking, "Superman? You're Superman???"
But Clark frowned. Although Superman wore no mask, only donning glasses when acting as a reporter, his identity was indeed not public, and no ordinary person knew that Superman was Clark Kent.
"Uh, sorry, I saw your photo in 'Gotham Travel Notes.' It was a picture of you with Batman. Honestly, you don't look much like your picture, maybe because it's a different cosmos."
The statement was loaded with information. It took a while for Clark's mind to catch up, but soon he heard Spider-Man say, "Are you here looking for Batman? We just met him yesterday, but..."
Clark nearly leapt up from the floor, grabbing Spider-Man's shoulders and asking, "You met him? Where is he? Is he okay?"
"He's pretty good, but do you realize this is all a dream, not reality?"
"Even if it's a dream, he's still alive, right?"
"Of course, he's definitely alive. However, he might be a little different from the Batman you know. Here, he's a mental projection, to be precise, a facet of the psyche, not quite Batman."
Clark immediately breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed in relief. Noticing his state, Spider-Man asked, "What exactly happened to you? You look so weak, almost like a corpse."
"I... I was attacked," Clark muttered, his voice tinged with sadness. "I don't know what it was, but it was very dangerous. I need to find a way back quickly and bring Batman with me. We have a formidable enemy to confront..."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Spider-Man had been quite confused ever since he arrived in this universe, never understanding exactly what this universe was about. He was eager for someone to fill him in on what had happened before.
Clark sighed and began to whisper his story, mainly about his and Batman's adventures.
After their great adventure in Gotham ended, and he had taken a photo of Batman on a golden toilet, Batman insisted that under no circumstances could that photo be published.
Clark wasn't foolish; he knew the photo was good leverage over Batman, so he told him that if he didn't get the city back in order quickly, he'd definitely release the photo.
Batman seemed somewhat helpless, but ultimately he solved the problem. After becoming president, he methodically set about improving Gotham's condition, which also benefitted Metropolis. The entire East Coast became a focal point of his strategy, developing rapidly.
Superman was pleased. He had never thought Batman capable of this, or rather, he knew Batman was capable but also understood he would never persuade Batman to do so. Now that Batman had figured it out himself, it was indeed a cause for celebration.
So the journalist Clark Kent took even greater interest in these changes. He proposed setting up a column specifically to report on the new policies of the new president and the ensuing changes and developments. When his newspaper was unwilling to risk taking sides, he quit his job to focus on full-time reporting.
The public's eye is sharp, and many could feel the improvement in their lives. Gradually, Clark built up a fanbase, establishing his own personal website, and people began to call him the new president's number one fan. Clark embraced this title with pride.