Perfect Clone

The pitch-black armor advanced slowly down the laboratory corridor as if it had entered an invincible mode. Bullets struck its indestructible shell almost non-stop, and deformed casings rained down like golden beans.

Michael blasted wave after wave of CIA agents with non-lethal weapons, blew open reinforced door after reinforced door, and reached the control room without the slightest hesitation.

Infrared imaging showed only one person in the control room, and Sherry had marked him as "unarmed." Michael raised his hand and fired a pulse cannon, blasting the door open. He immediately saw the man in the suit holding his hands up and shouting, "Don't kill me! I'll tell you everything!"

Michael didn't say a word and blasted him away with a single shot, sticking him to the windowpane like a frisbee.

"I believe he just said he's willing to talk," Sherry reminded him. "Maybe he can tell us the Master Controller's name?"

"No, he doesn't know. He's too cowardly and too stupid to know any classified information."

Michael didn't even glance at the man in the black suit stuck to the window and kicked open the experimental pod's door. An ethereal blue light rippled across the walls and ceiling inside the pod. Complex and precise instruments surrounded the area, all connected through intricate wiring to the glowing glass container in the center of the room.

Michael walked up to the container and, through the transparent glass, saw the "work" imprisoned within. He couldn't help but be slightly stunned.

It was a girl.

He had expected to find the most unusual clone of Peter Parker here. He had imagined this clone might have four legs, a spider's head, or perhaps be parasitized by some evil black symbiote, making it extremely violent. But he never expected that the one locked up here would be a little girl, like a sleeping beauty.

She was quite a beautiful girl. Her skin was as white as snow, her face as bright as a piece of jade, and her long golden hair was unbound, floating freely in the buoyancy of the fluorescent blue liquid.

She looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, with a youthful yet immature and hazy beauty, like an exquisitely carved work of art.

Michael circled the container halfway and found the control console. "Sherry, can you access this equipment's system to see the detailed data?"

"Working on it."

A hacker process window popped up in the corner of the display. Michael watched lines of code scroll by rapidly. After half a minute, the words "Access Granted" flashed on the console screen.

A large amount of information was divided into several windows and popped into Michael's helmet. Sherry simultaneously provided a concise summary: "The information shows that the raw material for this female clone is named Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker's girlfriend. She died a month ago when Harry Osborn, a supervillain calling himself 'Green Goblin II,' threw her off the Washington Bridge. The 'Spider-Warrior' project successfully cloned Gwen Stacy and mixed the cracked Oz serum into her genes.

It states here that she is the Master Controller's most prized creation. Precise genetic adjustments ensured her overall qualities are the most perfect among all cloned warriors. Based on ability data alone, she even surpasses the real Spider-Man."

"Interesting," Michael scanned the file content at lightning speed. "But for what purpose? If they just wanted to clone Spider-Soldiers, why use this girl as the raw material?"

"The Master Controller seems to plan to tamper with Miss Stacy's clone's memories, fabricating false memories to make her resent Peter Parker. The Master Controller believes this clone can be used to exploit Peter Parker's guilt over Gwen Stacy, destroying Spider-Man both physically and mentally."

"Whoa, that's a ruthless move. This Master Controller must really hate Spider-Man." Michael paused, then continued, "But I can imagine that once we steal his precious clone and ruin his revenge plan, he'll probably hate us just as much. Can you shut down the system and release her?"

"Of course, if you wish, sir."

Sherry took complete control of the control panel, and the words "System Shutdown" quickly appeared on the console screen. The ethereal blue light abruptly extinguished, and the glass cover of the container slowly opened upwards. Air rushed into the pod as if trying to escape, squeezing out the large amount of culture medium like a flood.

The girl's body went limp, and she gently fell out. Michael reached out and caught her.

"Contact Wanda and tell her we need to borrow an empty guest room. We have a new guest checking in."

"Understood, sir. But are you sure you don't plan to take her to the Sky Sword facility?"

"Take her back to Sky Sword and lock her in an isolation chamber, letting a bunch of white coats point at her through bulletproof glass?" Michael said. "When she wakes up, she'll think she's Gwen Stacy, and she'll clearly remember how she died. So a more comfortable environment might be more helpful than an isolation chamber."

"Understood, sir. After all," Sherry replied playfully, "you're the boss."

***

Peter Parker took two deep breaths, adjusted his collar, and tried to look as natural as possible before entering his house. But he soon realized that his muddy clothes, bruised face, and ripped jeans weren't something a natural expression could hide. This was why he had decided to concoct a "well-intentioned lie" to tell Aunt May before going in.

Peter slowed his pace as he approached his doorstep.

"'Hi, Aunt May, I'm back. What's for dinner? Oh, what? You're asking what happened to me? Nothing, I just fell on my way back. Yeah, I fell again.'"

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"Okay, that sounds like an idiot," he muttered to himself.

Peter reached the door and was about to reach for the doorknob when a sharp, stinging sensation stopped him. A tidal wave of spider-sense surged, stimulating his nervous system, just like when he encountered the strange man in the black bodysuit on the road earlier.

This time, he even sensed the direction of the danger warning—it was coming from his room.

Someone had broken into his house—the thought terrified him and made him anxious. He had to consider the possibility that the intruder might have harmed Aunt May. Without thinking, he leaped up and climbed the second floor along the white exterior wall.

The spider-sense grew even stronger, as if he could clearly sense the intruder's location in his room. He slipped through the window, his feet landing on the windowsill, like an athlete on a starting line, ready to pounce on the uninvited guest in his room.

Then he froze, stunned as if he had been electrocuted.

He saw himself in the room.