Unexpected—yet somehow, it made perfect sense.
The person standing at the entrance of the newspaper office was none other than Peter Parker, Aunt May's nephew—the high school kid who still thought of Herman as his "uncle-in-law."
"Hm?"
As the elevator doors opened, Herman saw Peter pacing nervously at the entrance, holding a stack of photos and hesitating to step inside.
He honestly hadn't expected to run into Peter here again. After all, to keep Spider-Man's identity a secret, Peter usually sent his photos to Herman by email, who then passed them along to the newspaper.
So what gave Peter the courage to show up in person today, manuscript in hand?
"Why aren't you going in?"
At the sound of Herman's voice, Peter turned and finally noticed him standing there. His nerves were so on edge that even his Spider-Sense felt dulled.
"Ah! Sir, you're here! I was actually looking for you. Your phone wasn't going through, so I just decided to wait here."
Peter's tone carried a touch of awkward respect. It wasn't only because, in his mind, Herman might have had a "special" relationship with his Aunt May—though that was part of it.
More than that, Peter was a born-and-raised American, deeply shaped by the country's unspoken class system. He understood perfectly well the gap between someone like him and someone like Herman.
That was just how capitalism worked—whether they realized it or not, people accepted that some lives were worth more than others.
If Herman had only been a billionaire, maybe Peter, as Spider-Man, could have mustered a little less awe.
But the problem was, Peter knew Herman wasn't just a billionaire—he was a superhero powerful enough to hang him upside down and beat him into the pavement.
Yes.
In Peter Parker's eyes, Herman—the so-called "Homelander"—was very much a superhero. He believed that if Herman wasn't out there publicly saving people, it was only because he was quietly doing greater good elsewhere, like the time he'd rescued Tony Stark, the genius inventor.
The thought that Herman was both socially and heroically on a higher level than himself made Peter instinctively feel nervous and deferential around him.
Before getting his powers, Peter had just been a slightly insecure high schooler.
"You're looking for me? Something urgent?"
Herman raised an eyebrow, curious.
He'd been trying to break his habit of casually reading people's minds, so he didn't immediately peek into Peter's thoughts.
"Come with me."
Herman led Peter into the office.
"Boss! We've just been named the most influential newspaper of the year!"
"Yeah! Did you see today's media rankings, boss? Even The Wall Street Journal's below us!"
"Hahaha! Boss, you're buying drinks tonight, right?"
...
As soon as Herman stepped into the newsroom, he was met with a wave of cheers. The place was alive with excitement, the staff gathered around him, faces full of energy and celebration.
"Of course we're celebrating! Tonight, everyone's eating at the Western restaurant downstairs. Bring your families too—just tell the owner to put everything on my tab."
Herman smiled warmly. "I've also prepared bonuses for everyone. I guarantee you'll all be satisfied."
His words set off another round of cheers throughout the office.
Peter Parker watched the employees shouting things like "Boss, we love you!" and "Long live the boss!" and couldn't help but be impressed by how much they adored Herman.
How to put it...
Clearly, Peter still didn't understand the simple truth that anyone with money would be loved. He simply chalked it up to Herman's personal charm.
"He's supposed to be that reckless 'Homelander' guy, but everyone close to him—including my aunt—can't stop praising him."
"All those online attacks must be baseless rumors. He's actually a really kind and down-to-earth person." Peter silently handed Herman a mental "good guy" card, becoming even more convinced that Herman was truly a superhero.
"The bonuses will be distributed before the end of the day. I've still got something to discuss with a client, so everyone, back to work," Herman said, waving off the crowd before leading Peter into the editor-in-chief's office.
"Alright, what's the urgent matter? If it's about submissions, don't you usually just send them to my inbox?"
Herman sat down in his chair.
Peter's methods for hiding his identity were, honestly, pretty naive. The high schooler genuinely thought emailing his photos was secure, when in reality, all of Peter's submissions had long been under S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance.
Don't ask how Herman knew. Let's just say Skye's tech skills made breaking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database about as easy as walking into her own home.
"Huh?"
Peter was still savoring the feeling of being called a "client."
Hearing Herman's question snapped him out of it. He looked down at the photos in his hand, hesitating. "No... these photos really are pictures of Spider-Man that I took."
He handed them over, his expression complicated.
"See? These are the ones."
Peter's face looked oddly conflicted.
"Hm?"
Herman flipped through the photos. They were the usual kind—Spider-Man swinging through the city, scaling walls. Nothing unusual compared to Peter's regular submissions.
"Not bad. Everyone's favorite little Spidey, still as quick and flashy as ever," Herman teased lightly.
To be fair, Peter's photography had improved a lot. At least now it wasn't immediately obvious that the photographer and the subject were the same person.
Herman still remembered those early submissions that practically screamed, "ME! SPIDER-MAN! SELFIE! PAY ME!"
Fortunately, Peter was a bright kid. After Herman sent him a few photography tutorials, his photos had started to look much more natural.
"Hmm, these are better than before—you can't even tell they're selfies anymore," Herman complimented again.
But instead of looking pleased, Peter gave a faint, bitter smile.
"Sir... these aren't my selfies."
Standing in front of Herman, Peter didn't bother hiding his identity as Spider-Man. His expression grew even stranger.
"What do you mean?"
Herman looked surprised.
"This afternoon, after school, I stopped by a convenience store. On my way past a bank, I saw a group of robbers."
Peter began explaining, his words coming in his usual long-winded way. Getting him to cut to the point was never easy.
Herman wasn't in a hurry, so he just let him talk.
"Bank robberies aren't unusual. I was about to find a place to change into my suit, but before I could do anything, the robbers were already taken down."
Peter's face twisted slightly as he recalled the scene, still looking utterly bewildered.
"Sir, you won't believe what I saw." He looked straight at Herman, who played along and asked,
"What did you see?"
At that point, Herman was nearly tempted to peek into Peter's mind.
This chatterbox... really was something else.
"I saw Spider-Man! Yes! A fake Spider-Man! The photos I took today weren't of me—they were of that knockoff imposter!"
Peter's voice was filled with righteous indignation, which was fair enough. After all, the original always hates the bootleg.
"Could it be one of your fans?"
Herman asked instinctively, picking up the photos from the desk. A closer look quickly revealed several differences from the usual shots.
It wasn't just the angle or photography style.
Even the way the figure moved—clinging to walls, leaping between buildings—was slightly off. Most telling of all, the body looked smaller, slimmer.
He'd only given them a brief glance before, but now that he looked carefully, Herman spotted numerous inconsistencies. His brow furrowed slightly.
"Maybe," Peter said, frowning. "But I think she has powers like mine. No ordinary person could hang upside down from a ceiling like that."
"She?"
Herman caught the pronoun immediately. In English, "he," "she," and "it" were all distinct—there was no mistaking it.
"A female Spider-Man?" The realization hit him almost instantly. He lowered his head again and examined the photos more closely.
Sure enough.
Among the stack, he found a few shots taken from the side—and there it was. Beneath the sleek, form-fitting Spider-Man suit, the figure had an unmistakable feature: noticeably "well-developed" curves on the chest.
They were... protruding.
It was clear that something underneath the suit was being tightly bound to conceal it, but even so, the contours were impossible to miss if one looked closely.
"The first time you've seen another Spider-Man in the city?" Herman asked, looking up at him.
"Yes. This has never happened before. There's only ever been one Spider-Man—me." Peter answered honestly, though he didn't understand why Herman was asking.
"Still," he went on, "getting bitten by a spider isn't that rare. Maybe someone else got powers the same way I did?"
Peter's imagination began to run wild. "Come to think of it, if other people got bitten by different animals, we could have all kinds of superheroes—like Elephant-Man! Tiger-Man! Oh! And Ant-Man! He'd definitely be the strongest one!"
Peter Parker—one of Marvel's two great chatterboxes alongside Deadpool—was living up to his reputation. His ability to ramble was truly second to none.
"Wait a second, sir—you weren't bitten by some animal too, right? Let me think… you're so strong, maybe a pangolin?"
"No, no, pangolins don't shoot lasers from their eyes. Maybe something aquatic—like a shark? Or—"
"..."
Herman lifted a hand, and in the next instant, a roll of duct tape appeared out of thin air, wrapping around Peter's mouth hundreds of times at supersonic speed.
"Ssszzzt—"
White smoke puffed from Peter's mouth as the heat built up. He squirmed, instinctively trying to tear the tape off.
But Herman had no intention of letting the chatterbox win. Another steel cable appeared and coiled tightly around Peter, strapping him firmly to the chair.
"I ask, you answer. Nod or shake your head."
Herman's tone was calm—almost gentle—but Peter still stared at him wide-eyed, his gaze full of exaggerated innocence.
"Do you have a girl you like in your class?"
Peter's eyes widened even more. He froze for a second, then shook his head furiously.
"So that's a yes."
Herman nodded knowingly.
"Gwen?"
He asked the name directly.
"..."
Peter's earlier panic vanished. His eyes went blank, as if he'd never heard that name in his life.
"Not that name? Looks like I got the wrong information."
Herman's eyes flickered slightly—he'd noticed something off about Peter.
Peter Parker didn't recognize Gwen Stacy. That was strange. In most origin stories, Gwen Stacy was Peter Parker's first love.
In fact, in several parallel universes, Peter's poor grasp of physics had even caused Gwen's death—her falling to the ground as he tried and failed to save her. That tragic scene had left countless Marvel fans heartbroken.
For Peter Parker not to know Gwen Stacy... that was as absurd as Iron Man not wearing his armor.
Considering the Spider-Man photos Peter had taken earlier, along with the fact that the female Spider-Man had just made her first appearance, Herman was already forming a bold hypothesis in his mind.
"Spider-Gwen."
The name surfaced in his thoughts—one he knew all too well.
Two spiders in the same frame. It wasn't quite "three Spiders together," but it was strange enough. Herman couldn't tell whether this was a change caused by his presence or simply how this version of the Marvel universe worked.
He recalled what he knew about Spider-Gwen: she, too, had been bitten by a radioactive spider. But in her story, there shouldn't have been a Spider-Man Peter Parker at all—because in that parallel world, Peter Parker had turned into the Lizard.
"I'll look into who this Spider-Man really is. Leave the photos here—consider them your submission."
Herman spoke casually.
Peter looked as though he wanted to argue.
"If there really is a Spider-Woman, it'll make front-page news. I'll pay you double your usual submission fee."
The moment Herman said that, Peter stopped struggling and started nodding rapidly, like a chicken pecking at rice.
"Alright, Peter. Time to go home and do your homework."
Before Peter could react, Herman raised his hand. A flock of black ravens appeared at Peter's feet, swirling around him in a circle before vanishing—taking him straight to Aunt May's house.
"He even knows where I live! He must've been coming home with Aunt May while I was at school... who knows what they were doing!"
When Peter reappeared in his room, the bindings on his body had already vanished. That only made him more certain of his earlier suspicions.
"Boss, Carrie said to have me bring these bonuses up."
Almost as soon as Peter disappeared from the office, there was a knock at the door. Aunt May pushed it open slightly, poking her head inside.
She was carrying a large safe. Clearly, Carrie had asked her to help deliver it, taking the chance to slack off a little. Inside were the staff bonuses Herman had told Carrie to prepare.
"Just leave it on the floor," Herman said. He had sensed Aunt May's presence outside the door, which was why he'd hurriedly sent Peter away in advance.
Who could have predicted Aunt May would suddenly come upstairs?
Herman honestly had no idea how he'd have explained why her nephew was tied up in his office—"underage bondage games" was not a headline he wanted associated with his name.
And on top of that...
Peter was a boy.
Knowing how the media worked, Herman definitely didn't want to see tomorrow's headlines screaming: "Homelander's Secret: Prefers Young Men!"