I'm not Spider-Man, even though I'm parasitized by an alien!

She climbed onto Peter's back, who was sitting next to her. "Why don't we talk about the fake Peter we saw a few days ago? Maybe he was a mutant too, a mutant who could disguise himself or change his appearance."

Peter had a pretty good idea of ​​who was impersonating him.

He told Gwen, "That's quite possible."

"If I meet her again, I'll definitely recognize her immediately."

Gwen said that she would immediately recognize the imposter next time she saw him impersonating Peter.

She bared her teeth and bit down on the rim of the glass.

Like a dog guarding its food, it stares intently at the coffee in the cup, protecting its bones.

“But mutants,” Gwen said, “have such an enviable ability. If I had extra superpowers, I would want to have an infinite lifespan, Peter, and you too, so we could travel through parallel worlds together with infinite time.”

Peter asked Gwen curiously, "What would you do if you only had a few days to live, Gwen?"

Gwen's eyebrows twitched. "If I only have a few days left to live, I don't want to spend them unhappily."

"Well, so how do you plan to spend these days?"

Gwen smiled, a genuine smile, perhaps tinged with sadness, but the smile arrived as expected. "I don't know yet!"

"I need to think carefully about the answer to this question."

Gwen quickly finished her coffee, slid the empty glass to the edge of the table, and said, "Treat me to breakfast today, I don't think I have any money left."

Peter nodded and said, "Okay, if you want, I can buy you something to eat."

Gwen's stomach made a "gurgling" sound.

A little embarrassed, she said, "Cough cough, my esophagus is like a shallow pool filled with acidic liquid. Anything that comes in will be quickly consumed."

After putting down her cup, she leaned affectionately against Peter. "I have the answer now, about how to live my life meaningfully, I mean if I only have a few days left."

"Oh? What?"

"Leave, escape, go to any island, get a massage, and enjoy a fairytale ending with a boy named Peter Parker."

Peter felt Gwen's weight. "Your boy might not be so willing to accept his fate."

"So what do you want, Peter?"

Gwen whispered in his ear, "I also need you to lean against my bed and read poetry to me!"

Peter pretended to be deep in thought. "Reading poetry? I remember the last time I stood at the table, the one who read poetry to me was my English teacher."

Gwen laughed heartily at his words. "Don't tell me she read you poems by Edgar Allan Poe, Plath, and Dickinson."

Peter nodded, echoing her words, "Hmm, that's true. Besides these, there's also Keats, Dunn, and Yeats."

Gwen's eyes suddenly softened. "I know these writers are the kind of bastards who would drink French mint liqueur together in the woods and talk about beautiful and bittersweet love."

She suddenly became sentimental, thinking of her own helplessness and fear as Peter wove the world.

She gently pressed against Peter's back and whispered, "No matter how long life is, Peter, I'll be happy to have you by my side."

into the night.

Werewolf Russell stood in the alley, smoking a cigarette.

In the distance is a brightly lit, glittering clothes-removing club.

The club, like a melancholic motel, flashed glaring neon lights, alternating between pink and blue.

A middle-aged man, reeking of alcohol, walked out of the bar and vomited along the corner of the wall.

Jack Russell was even worried that he might have alcohol poisoning, causing the other man to collapse and pass out.

He had seen such a dead man before.

Because he vomited and passed out from drinking, he swallowed the vomit that had been left behind.

His rapid breathing caused his vomit to rush back into his lungs.

His last meal, which he "inhaled," was basically a large gulp of vodka and a mixture of peanuts from a bar.

The other person ultimately died from suffocation caused by vomit blocking their airway.

I wish you good luck.

After thinking to himself, Russell shifted his gaze away from the other person and continued to focus on the other people coming out of the bar.

"Squeak!"

The door was pushed open, and a young white man walked out.

The other person was wearing dark Ray-Ban sunglasses, a V-neck T-shirt, and khaki pants, looking very trendy.

Upon seeing his target appear, Russell walked straight up to him, grabbed his clothes, and slammed him against the wall with a loud thud.

"Russell?!"

The young man was startled to see Russell appear before him.

"Tell me, has that bastard Kirk come to America?"

The Kirk he's referring to is the dead man Gwen and Rogue encountered, the mutant who stole the Bloodstone.

"Calm down, Russell."

The white youth grabbed his hand. "Tonight isn't a full moon night, you can't transform."

The young man is also a figure in the underworld, a magician who knows a bit of black magic.

"you are wrong."

Russell stared at him fiercely. "I've been fighting against the beast within me. Once I break free of my shackles, the beast within me will be unleashed. You can try to see if I can tear you to pieces tonight!"

Looking into Russell's eyes, the young white man felt a little scared.

He had no desire to experience being torn apart by this savage werewolf.

Even though the other party might be lying to him, he dared not gamble.

What do you want to know?

He frowned and asked the other person.

Where is Kirk Tatchell?

The young white man replied, "He's in New York, but—he's dead."

"died?"

Russell was taken aback. He grabbed the other man's clothes and pushed him against the wall. "Who did this?"

He knew this guy was well-informed, so he must know things he didn't.

That's why he found the other person.

"I don't know. I'm just selling information, not a futurist. But I heard it was done by mutants, a group of mutants who seem to be plotting some evil plan. They've been quite active in New York lately."

After listening to what the other person had to say, Russell put the other person down.

His brows furrowed.

If Kirk Tatchell was killed by other mutants, it means that the Bloodstone has also fallen into their hands.

The white youth suddenly asked him a question.

Russell paused for a moment.

Does this guy actually know about the Bloodstone?

The young man said smugly, "Although I don't know what that mutant has, it must be very valuable. Many ambitious guys have their eyes on him."

Don't be presumptuous.

Russell said to him, "Guys like you often end up in the worst situation. Let's go."

After dismissing the other person, he turned around.

A woman wearing a black trench coat, a tight leather jacket, tall boots, and with her hair tied up in burgundy stood in front of him.

"Elsa?"

Russell stared at the woman standing in front of him in surprise.

Elsa Bloodstone, daughter of Monster Hunter Olympus Bloodstone.

Born in Boston, Massachusetts, but actually raised in England and considers Europe home.

"You shouldn't let him go; the safest course of action is to kill him."

Elsa's sharp eyes swept over him.

Russell gave a wry smile.

She knew the other party was absolutely capable of doing it.

Although I had only seen this daughter of Ulysses once during the last hunting ceremony.

But he had heard that the other party was a ruthless person.

It is said that Ulysses was a strict parent, and Bloodstone once made his daughter fight the Plague Beast when she was still an infant.

Furthermore, in order to eliminate her childhood weakness, Bloodstone threw her into a large group of great white sharks off the coast of South Africa.

"He's just an innocent guy."

Russell said, "I don't have the habit of tearing people apart."

Elsa walked over. "That's the most ridiculous hellish joke you've ever heard of. You've torn apart countless humans. I need your help, Jack."

"Hmm, I guess you want me to help you find the Bloodstone, right?"

“This is what you owe me. I saved your life at the hunting ceremony in England last time.”

Elsa mentioned that her father's last funeral was also a hunting ceremony.

During the fight between several witchers over the Bloodstone, Elsa helped Russell out.

“That belongs to my family. It cannot fall into the hands of others, especially those with ulterior motives.”

Elsa made no attempt to hide her thoughts, telling Russell, "I am determined to get the Bloodstone."

“I bet your father was biased. If he had given the Bloodstone directly to you, none of this would have happened.”