I am not Spider-Man because I am parasitized by an alien!

"Although I am surprised by your comments, I think I am not a person who likes death."

Peter shook his head, walked behind Mrs. Weber, and pushed the wheelchair for her.

Taking a few deep breaths, Mrs. Weber forced herself to calm down.

"I know you saw it, Mr. Peter."

"What did I see?"

"You see yourself destroying the city you are in, no one can stop you, the boundless black ocean, you plunge the whole world into death."

Peter slowly pushed Mrs. Weber's wheelchair forward and said calmly: "So what? That doesn't mean it will happen in the future."

"That's part of the future."

Peter lowered his eyes and glanced at Mrs. Weber. He was silent for a moment and said, "I'm not a villain in a comic book. Why do I want to destroy the world?"

"Besides."

Peter paused and said, "Human beings' cruelty will eventually lead to their own destruction. This should have nothing to do with me."

Although he thinks he is not a good person, he has no intention of becoming a great superhero in the future.

But he's not crazy enough to destroy the world.

There are many extraordinary powers in this universe.

Will he cut off all superheroes, magicians and other extraordinary beings? Be an enemy of the world?

I'm afraid I don't have such power.

Maybe the fantasy scene he just saw was just Peter Parker in a parallel world?

Or is it simply a picture born in the sea of ​​​​one's own consciousness?

He wasn't impressed.

Mrs. Weber took a deep look at Peter and said, "Nothing remains unchanged. Our current thoughts will not be carried into the future. We may become another group of people in the future."

"I will remember your advice, Mrs. Webb."

Peter didn't want to talk about this topic anymore and said: "If this is the life guidance Mrs. Webber gave me, I should be able to use it."

Mrs. Weber shook her head, "More than that, I saw death around you. This is not just a metaphor, but your relatives may be approached by the shadow of death."

"Relatives?"

Hearing what the other party said, Peter slowed down.

"Yes, the one who loves you or the one you love is approaching the shadow of death."

Mrs. Weber said quietly: "If you could see it, it might change your fate, but maybe nothing can be changed. The fate I know has always been cruel."

Listening to the other party's prophecy about death, Peter frowned.

Is it Uncle Ben?

But Uncle Ben will not be sacrificed until he becomes Spider-Man.

According to the information I learned in my previous life, Aunt Mei will live with me safely.

Besides Uncle Ben and Aunt May, who else?

"I have arrived."

Mrs. Weber's words interrupted his thinking. Looking up, Peter found that he had arrived in front of Ward 965.

Christine was in the ward anxiously, and when she saw Peter pushing Mrs. Weber in, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

She was even more surprised when she saw that the person pushing the wheelchair was Peter.

Isn't this Dr. Lane, that extremely mysterious patient?

"Ms. Weber, you shouldn't have gone out."

Turning her attention away from Peter, Christine said to her patient with a straight face.

"Just going out for some exercise, the air here makes me feel a little stuffy."

Ms. Weber smiled and turned her gaze to Peter, "Thanks to this child, he sent me back. We talked a lot on the way and I got a lot of inspiration."

After hearing this, Christine walked up to Peter and thanked him.

"Thank you. I am Christine Palmer, Ms. Weber's attending doctor. Thank you for sending her back."

"Peter Parker, you're welcome."

Peter reached out and shook her briefly.

"Can we go out and talk?"

Because of Dr. Lane's relationship with Strange, she became curious about Peter and suggested to Peter that they go out and talk for a few words.

After glancing at the beautiful female doctor, Peter, who didn't know what she was thinking, didn't take it seriously and nodded slightly.

"Can."

In the corridor, Christine thanked Peter again, "Ms. Weber has myasthenia gravis. She needs surgery recently, so we recommend that she stay in the ward to rest."

"Um."

After Peter responded, he asked Christine: "What is Ms. Weber's occupation? A fortune teller?"

Christine explained to Peter: "Ms. Weber has retired, maybe she had a similar career before, she seems very keen, always more aware of our emotions, a psychologist or a fortune teller, I think Ms. Weber Probably all involved.”

"Dr. Christine, Ms. Weber has a nosebleed!"

She wanted to say a few more words to Peter, but the nurse hurried out and told her that Ms. Weber was not doing well.

After Kristine gave Peter an apologetic look, she walked quickly to the ward.

Pushing open the ward door, she quickly began to examine Ms. Weber.

After confirming that there was nothing serious, she put down the stethoscope, exhaled, and couldn't help but look up outside the ward.

Peter was no longer around outside.

Oddly enough, even though Peter was young, she didn't treat him like a teenager.

Instead, I felt like I was communicating with a man of the same age, or even more mature than myself.

Moreover, the other party exuded an aura that made her feel a little strange.

It's not the sick air of a sick person, but rather a frightening and strange temperament.

Shaking her head, she put this strange feeling out of her mind and focused on her work.

other side.

Gwen was drinking coffee alone in a coffee shop.

She said she was drinking coffee, but she didn't really understand.

Her favorite is the milkshake.

The reason why she went to the coffee shop was because a friend gave her a coupon that allowed her to taste coffee for free.

The reason why she chose to come alone instead of with friends was because she was very irritable and wanted to be alone.

She had another nightmare last night.

She dreamed that the terrifying face of the dead Josh appeared in front of her, his empty eyes in her ears, and he kept repeating one sentence: "Peter is the murderer!"

No matter how she explained, she couldn't get rid of this face.

"Well, I have to catch the real murderer quickly, otherwise Peter's situation will get worse and worse, and I will get more and more nervous."

After stirring the coffee for a long time, she put the spoon on the table dejectedly and let it turn.

But what should I do?

I am not a fan of detective novels. I only learned some fighting skills from my father, a policeman, to deal with petty thieves.

Just when she was troubled, she suddenly saw a familiar figure coming out of the hospital opposite.

"Then that seems to be Peter?!"

Gwen blinked, a little unsure.