The towering mansions and buildings, some still under construction, were surrounded by metal fences. Raindrops fell onto the structures, glistening in the dim light from the distant city.
"You're not dead yet, are you? Little Spider."
The Black Cat eyed Peter, who was leaning against a fence, and asked him.
They were standing on the 25th floor. The temperature dropped quickly on that rainy night, sending a chill through the Black Cat.
"You won't die just yet," Peter replied, his voice calm despite his condition.
At that moment, Peter's body felt weaker than before. The pain had subsided, but now he was drained of energy, unable to move. It was as though the alien embryo inside him had reproduced, causing his current state of weakness.
Peter slumped to the ground, leaning against the railing. He looked up at the Black Cat and asked, "Why did you show up?"
"I've been investigating Kingpin. He has connections with people from the Hand, and their elusive ninjas and assassins have appeared in this area before, so..."
She removed her blindfold, stretched, and added, "I often monitor this area and saw the fight between you and that woman."
"She said your name was Parker."
The Black Cat turned and glanced at Peter's exoskeleton-wrapped face.
"So you're really Mr. Parker?"
Peter remained silent, taking a deep breath. His exhaustion weighed on him, and he didn't want to say much, only waiting for his body to regain its strength.
Noticing his silence, the Black Cat took the initiative and asked, "Alright, let's change the subject. Who's that woman? She seemed tough, and you seemed familiar with her."
"No comment," Peter responded flatly.
"We're supposed to be temporary partners, Little Spider," the Black Cat said, closing the distance between them. Her green eyes were inches from Peter's mask. "At least I helped you out just now."
"If it weren't for your mask, I would have liked to see your face," she continued, her voice tinged with mischief.
"That doesn't count," Peter replied, shaking his head. "That woman wanted to be my partner too, but you saw the result."
Hearing this, the Black Cat reached out and gently stroked Peter's face.
With a sharp motion, Peter grabbed her wrist.
"See, Little Spider," she purred, "this is the difference between her and me. You might trust me more. You're not afraid of my fingers piercing your skin."
Her eyes grew seductive as she said in French, "Or maybe you don't mind me stealing something."
Peter tightened his grip on her wrist. "I'm sorry, I don't understand French. Do you think this is your stage?"
He knew that her name was Felicia Hardy. She was also a famous figure in New York.
"My stage is pretty large," she said. "It covers the whole city, not just here."
The Black Cat turned back to the city in the distance, her gaze falling on a small crow perched on the metal railing. The crow had a small bunch of red feathers on its wings, resembling a drop of blood. The crow and the pole formed a cross.
If you couldn't see clearly in the night, you might have mistaken it for a religious symbol, the cross of Jesus.
She then shifted her gaze to Peter, who was leaning near the "cross," his right hand on his knee. An unexpected feeling struck her—something akin to awe. The sight reminded her of the famous painting Genesis.
She shook off the thought and refocused on Peter.
"Now that you know who I really am, don't you wonder why I play a street hero?"
Peter sighed and responded flatly, "Not interested."
He wasn't bothered by the reasons behind her actions—whether it was revenge or some sense of responsibility. It didn't concern him, and he wouldn't be surprised if she were a believer.
"You're really cold, Little Spider," the Black Cat mused, her voice lazy and seductive. She pointed toward the "cross" of the crow and the metal pole and continued, "I'm not a believer, but my father believes in something—he believes in the cross. He sees the horizontal line as representing humanity, this world of matter, flesh, dirt, blood, stones, and bones."
She paused, allowing the metaphor to hang in the air.
"The vertical line, on the other hand, represents the sacred. It's above the human world and acts as the axis between the afterlife and the unknown."
Peter frowned. "Are all your family members magicians or philosophers?"
The Black Cat shook her head. "Of course not."
Peter shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I don't really get your deep metaphor. All I know is that pastors often say nonsense to their followers, like 'the cross is a crossroads.'"
The Black Cat traced her fingers along the railing, her gaze distant. "Hmm, maybe the priests are right after all."
Suddenly, she remembered why she had become the Black Cat in the first place—choosing not to be a puppet of fate at the crossroads, defying the rules of life, and carving her own path. That was why she was standing here now.
"Alright, Mr. Parker," the Black Cat said, snapping herself out of her thoughts. She put her eyepatch back on to cover her face. "It was fun chatting with you. Hopefully, we'll meet again. I helped you out today, so we're even for that little incident with Night Demon Law Firm."
With a playful wink, she blew him a kiss, flipped over the railing with a gymnastic move, and shot her grappling gun into the night.
Peter leaned against the metal railing and watched her disappear into the distance. His exoskeleton mask faded, and he felt some of his strength return.
The rain had stopped, but the fog still spread over the city. The atmosphere was thick with the lingering mist.
The next morning, Peter descended the stairs slowly. He had recovered much of his strength after a good night's rest, and the fatigue that had once consumed him had nearly disappeared.
Despite still being puzzled by the alien embryo's changes and worried about Helen's next move, Peter acted indifferent in front of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He was about to ask Uncle Ben for permission to take the day off to stay home and protect them.
Suddenly, Peter overheard a conversation between Aunt May and Uncle Ben.
Aunt May was holding up a church flyer, reading aloud, "This kind of propaganda is a bit outdated. Look at these words—'Jesus stood at the crossroads, and he chose not the horizontal line representing the human world, but the vertical line representing God.' I've heard the pastor at church say this many times."
Peter froze for a moment, recognizing the similarity to what Black Cat had said the previous night.
It seemed that Black Cat's father and Aunt May had attended the same church.
As Peter walked downstairs, Uncle Ben and Aunt May's expressions became serious.
"Peter, come here," Uncle Ben called. "We need to have a serious talk about you and Gwen. There are things you must understand in order to protect yourself."
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