True or False

Gwen Stacy felt like she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare. First, she discovered her boyfriend was Spider-Man, New York City's well-known superhero. That should have been cool, until her boyfriend's dangerous double life dragged her into this endless dreamscape.

The dream's content was like scattered fragments, the images blurry and the logic unclear, making it difficult to piece them together. But the visceral fear and despair were unforgettable. She could recall the Green Goblin's grotesque face with absolute clarity, his terrifying, hysterical whispers echoing in her ears again and again.

She remembered being thrown from the top of a bridge, the feeling of weightlessness, like an endless fall, as if an irresistible, powerful force was dragging her into an abyss of unknown depth. Despairing darkness swallowed her, even her voice was consumed, and she couldn't even scream.

It was all like a horror movie that couldn't be turned off, and she was its star. She replayed this nightmare in her mind over and over again, until it felt like a century had passed, and the cycle abruptly ended.

Gwen slowly opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by the light. She instinctively squinted, and after her eyes adjusted, she saw a girl slightly older than her, with long, dark red hair, a fair forehead, and a pair of clear, transparent eyes.

"You're awake," the girl said to her kindly. "How are you feeling? My name is Wanda, and this is..."

Caught off guard, the golden-haired clone girl's right hand shot out from under the covers like lightning, grabbing Wanda by the throat. Her super strength squeezed Wanda so hard she couldn't breathe. Wanda opened her mouth but couldn't make a sound, unable to even focus her Chaos Magic to retaliate.

"Wanda?" Pietro's voice came from outside. He knocked twice on the door and pushed it open, just in time to see the clone girl choking his sister.

Without a second thought, Pietro vanished from his spot. A hurricane swept through the room in the blink of an eye, and the clone Gwen was hit as if by an invisible heavy punch, her grip involuntarily loosening as she was flung backward.

But Gwen was agile. She flipped, pressing a palm against the floor, her slender arms exerting sudden force, launching her entire body towards the ceiling. Her rounded feet stuck to the ceiling, and she stared down at the twins below, bewildered and alert.

Wanda coughed uncontrollably, clutching her throat, while Pietro raised a hand to shield his sister. Gwen, suspended upside down, leaned forward slightly. Pietro crouched, and the two were at a tense standoff, like a drawn bowstring ready to strike.

Gwen pushed off the ceiling with her feet, shooting forward in a full-power lunge. But as soon as her feet left the ceiling, she stopped dead, frozen in mid-air as if a pause button had been pressed. A strange, dark green aura pulsed around her, holding her in place. Her limbs were bound, unable to move.

The others turned their heads and realized Michael had appeared at the doorway at some point, clad in a black trench coat, holding a transparent magic circle in his hand.

"You've caused this much trouble in the three minutes I've been gone," Michael said, walking forward with the magic circle in his hand. "Remember what I said about getting along?"

"She just tried to kill Wanda!" Pietro exclaimed.

Gwen gritted her teeth, her muscles tensing as she tried with all her might to break free from the magical restraint. Her body trembled with the effort. Michael changed his hand gesture to a "release" motion, and Gwen was sent flying backward as if struck by a heavy hammer, crashing hard against a wall before falling back to the floor.

She slowly got to her feet, her beautiful blonde hair messy, but she didn't attack again. She just looked at the three of them with a dazed, confused expression. Pietro took a step forward, about to attack again, but Michael stopped him by raising his arm.

"She's just disoriented, she wasn't fully awake yet," Michael said, looking at Gwen. "But you're much more awake now, aren't you?"

Gwen didn't answer. She cautiously stayed in the corner, sizing them up like a startled rabbit.

"She's scared and confused," Wanda said, recovering and stepping forward softly. "I can feel it. She needs help."

A rumbling sound came from the girl's stomach at just the right moment.

"...And she needs food," Michael said, putting his hands back in his pockets and turning to Pietro. "Do you guys have anything to eat?"

"Uh, I think there are still some sandwiches in the fridge."

"Excellent. I hope you don't mind sharing them with this young lady," Michael said. "We can talk while we eat."

***

"Who are you?! What are you doing in my room?" Peter yelled as he jumped in through the window.

It was no wonder he was so agitated. If you came home one day and found someone who looked exactly like you in your bedroom, you wouldn't be feeling very relaxed either. Yes, the person in the room looked exactly like Peter, wearing his usual blue t-shirt and his favorite light gray pants.

Interestingly, the shock on the other guy's face was no less than his own.

"You barge into my room and ask who I am?" the Peter in the t-shirt retorted. "That's my question."

"Alright, whoever you are... let's see if this helps you talk!"

Peter threw a punch, the blur heading straight for the other guy's face. But the Peter in the blue t-shirt tilted his head and dodged it, then ducked and swept Peter's legs out from under him. Peter took a small step back to evade, then pressed forward, his fist whistling as he aimed for the other's temple. The blue-t-shirt Peter blocked it with a palm, then grabbed Peter's neck with his other hand. But Peter, not a step behind, grabbed his wrist.

The exchange of three moves was swift and sudden, their reactions and speed evenly matched. Peter held the other's wrist, and the other held Peter's outstretched fist. They froze, locked in combat after just one exchange, as if fighting a mirror image of himself.

In fact, when their eyes met at such close range, looking at each other felt like staring into a mirror, seeing another self from head to toe.

After about ten seconds of stalemate, footsteps could be heard on the stairs outside the door.

"Peter?" It was Aunt May's voice. "Are you home?"

Oh no!

Peter started to panic. He could practically imagine Aunt May's reaction to seeing two Peter Parkers, looking like twins, fighting in the bedroom. She might faint, or perhaps even trigger some serious heart condition.

But surprisingly, as he looked into the eyes of the other "Peter," he saw the same panic and worry in his eyes.

"Peter?"

Aunt May walked up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. However, she was quite sure she had heard some movement on the second floor. She thought for a moment and pushed the door open.

She saw her nephew standing in the middle of the bedroom, looking disheveled, with bruises on his face, covered in dirt, and a large hole worn in the knee of his jeans.

"Oh my goodness, Peter!" she exclaimed, stepping forward and touching her nephew's face. "What happened to you?"

"I, uh... I fell."

The old lady eyed him suspiciously from head to toe.

"...A very hard fall," Peter added, touching his head. "I rolled down the slope behind Mrs. Christina's house."

"Oh my. I'll go get the first-aid kit."

"No need, Aunt May, really. I'm fine. I mean, I'll be fine after a rest. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Alright then," Aunt May sighed, affectionately stroking his head. "Be more careful next time you walk."

"Yes, I will."

"Then you do your homework first," Aunt May said, backing out of the room. "I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"Okay. Love you, Aunt May."

The door was closed from the outside, and Aunt May's footsteps gradually faded down the stairs. Peter let out a long sigh. He turned around, and the other Peter had already climbed back into the room through the window – he had been clinging to the outside wall while they were talking.

"Alright, now," the two Peters looked at each other. "Where were we?"