Alright, people, let's do this one last time. My name is (Y/n) (L/n). I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last twenty-one years, I thought I was the one and only Spider-woman. I'm pretty sure you know the rest. I saved the city, fell in love, saved the city some more, maybe too much. Then like sixteen years passed, blah, blah, blah, super boring, I broke my back, pretty sure I cracked my head open two times, a drone flew into my face, I buried Aunt May. My best friend Peter Parker got killed, buried him too. But I handled it like a champion. 'Cause you know what? No matter how many times I get hit, I always find a way to get back up. Flash forward a couple years, I'm in my apartment doing push-ups, doing ab crunches, getting strong, and definitely not attempting suicide for the 1000th time this week when this weird thing happened. And I gotta say, weird things happen to me a lot. But this was real weird. You see, I was in New York, but not my New York. And then, I woke up here.
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