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

A bad feeling rose in Peter's heart, and he pressed the call button.

The moment the call connected, Gwen's tearful voice came through, "Peter, something happened to my dad!"

My bad premonition came true.

Peter stands outside the operating room at New York-Presbyterian Hospital.

Gwen sobbed softly.

Overwhelmed with grief, her body trembled uncontrollably.

Peter waited until Gwen had calmed down a bit before asking her.

"The doctor said that Dad suffered from some kind of anaphylactic shock and is still not out of danger."

Gwen's face was streaked with tears. "When I pushed open the office door, Dad was already lying on the floor, unconscious. I don't know what happened."

As she spoke, two streams of tears welled up in her eyes.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Peter was silent for a moment, glanced up at the operating room, and then pulled out a stack of things wrapped in oil paper from his pocket.

"Here is $50,000. Please pay the fee first."

Gwen took the money Peter handed her, stunned.

"No!"

After realizing what she meant, she instinctively refused, saying, "This is for your medical treatment."

Even though she was short of money, she didn't want to spend Peter's money.

"My illness is almost cured. If you don't believe me, I can ask a doctor to prove it."

Peter reached out and gently patted Gwen's blonde hair. "You lent me money before, you're not going to refuse my money now, are you?"

Gwen suddenly felt an urge to hug Peter and cry her heart out.

Suppressing the urge, Gwen wiped away her tears and nodded heavily.

"Thank you, I'll get it to you as soon as possible."

"I'll go ask the doctor. You wait here for me."

After saying something to Gwen, Peter turned and walked toward the doctor's office.

Even as Spider-Man, Gwen is still a vulnerable girl.

Does the growth of a superhero really involve sacrifice and death?

He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind.

Would I really believe in such fatalism?!

A few minutes later.

In Dr. Strange's office, Peter inquired about George Stacy's condition.

"In fact, we have seen a similar condition in another person before, which is similar to that of Sheriff Stacy."

Strange hesitated before saying, "But I'm not sure."

Peter nodded slowly and asked, "It was the person who attacked you, right?"

"Yes, Dan Steyer, he also suffered from this strange shock symptom."

Although Strange was puzzled as to how Peter knew, he did not dwell on the matter.

He told Peter, “Dan fell into a coma and died in less than a day. I’m worried that Sheriff Stacy might end up in the same situation.”

"Aren't you the 'Hand of God'?"

Peter frowned at him. "Dr. Strange, don't say you can't do anything."

"The time is too short. Even if I wanted to study this disease, it would be impossible to solve it in just one day."

Strange put down his pen. "I'm a doctor, not a magician."

"Aren't your hands known for creating miracles? In any case, Dr. Strange, don't give up easily."

Peter glanced toward the door as he spoke.

After leaving Strange's office, Peter returned to the outside of the operating room but found no trace of Gwen.

Finally, he found Gwen sitting on a chair not far away, hugging her knees and burying her head in them.

“I overheard your conversation with the doctor, Peter.”

Her voice was muffled. "My mother, Helen, was very good to me, and my father loved her very much. I always thought I was very lucky in my life."

“Until I attended my first funeral—my mother’s funeral—some kids think that death always comes to other people, but not me. If there is any constant law, it is that death always favors Gwen Stacy.”

She lifted her tear-streaked face, "Why is fate treating me like this?"

Chapter 55 Can a Broken Team Still Win?

Gwen looked at Peter with a helpless gaze. "I said some really hurtful things to my father before. If he doesn't wake up this time, I... I don't know how I'll face him."

Gwen was consumed by deep self-blame, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

Peter sighed softly and sat down next to Gwen.

“This has nothing to do with you, Gwen. You don’t need to connect these things together and then blame yourself.”

Although he had anticipated that something might happen to George Stacy, he did not expect it to happen so quickly, catching everyone off guard.

Seeing Gwen's sad expression, he remained silent for a moment before comforting her, "Things haven't gotten to the worst yet."

Gwen nodded upon hearing this and looked at Peter. "Thank you, Peter, thank you for being with me."

She wiped away her tears and said with her head down, "I always made my life fall apart. I thought I was special enough, but now I realize that being special is not necessarily a good thing. The price is too heavy."

Gwen thought about being bitten by a radioactive spider.

At first, she felt apprehensive and fearful, afraid that she would become a monster like Frank.

When I later found that my body hadn't changed, I was more surprised and excited.

I aspire to become a superhero like Spider-Man, helping more people in need.

But she suddenly realized that perhaps her uniqueness would make her life more burdensome.

Gwen looked up at Peter with slightly red eyes. "I don't know what to do, Peter. I'm a little lost. I'm even thinking that maybe Dad is right sometimes. I'm just an ordinary person. Maybe I won't be so lucky. It's impossible for me to win every time."

Gwen suddenly began to waver in her convictions.

Is it right to try to help others, only to have people die all the time?

Peter, sitting next to him, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the easing rain outside.

Do all Spider-Man characters have a pessimistic fate?

What does every Spider-Man lose?

He suddenly remembered what Mrs. Webber had told him: that the person he loved, or the person who loved him, was approaching the shadow of death.

Could the other person be referring to Gwen?

He shook his head, banishing this fatalistic notion from his mind.

The fact that an alien was parasitizing his chest meant he should have been dead long ago.

As long as I am alive, I am in the process of fighting against fate, so how could I possibly accept so-called destiny?

"Gwen."

Peter suddenly turned his gaze to Gwen and asked her, "I remember you once said you wanted to be a superhero, right?"

Gwen paused for a moment when Peter asked her that, then nodded. "Yes, yes."

Peter looked directly into Gwen's eyes and said, "Your father is right. Ordinary people can't win everything, but heroes can. Even if he's battered and bruised, broken and broken, he'll always win in the end, right? Because he's a hero."

Although he considered himself a selfish person, he was not an emotionless being.

He can no longer ignore Gwen's pain.

He had previously told Gwen that he was someone who couldn't empathize, but now he's proven wrong.

Should we add the label "hypocritical" to our negative labels?

Countless thoughts raced through his mind as he said to Gwen, "I believe that if you want to be a hero, you won't be easily defeated."

Gwen stared blankly at Peter, tears welling in her eyes.

She now longs to tell Peter all her innermost thoughts.

Or you could just run into Peter's arms, have a good cry, and then pull yourself together to face everything.

"I"

Gwen was lost in thought, but she said aloud, "Can I really do it? I can't even save Dad right now."

"The first person a superhero saves is usually himself."

Peter shifted his gaze to the crowd in the hospital corridor and said, “Start with yourself, Gwen, pull yourself together.”

"Ah."

Gwen nodded, her confusion and self-doubt gradually dissipating.

My previously restless and anxious heart began to calm down.

Peter is right. This may be the hardship that comes with becoming a hero, the responsibility that comes with ability.

Gwen let out a breath and composed herself.

She was about to speak to Peter when she suddenly heard footsteps in the corridor.

"Peter, Gwen!"

Harry walked quickly toward the two of them and waved to them from a distance.

"Harry?"

Gwen looked at Harry in surprise, wondering why he was there.