anovelconsole Chapter 11, Night 1
Chapter 11, Night 1
Chapter 11 The First Night
Aunt May's concerns were not unfounded; she did have reason to worry that Peter wouldn't make any friends. At what should have been a joyous dinner party, Peter was like a silent quail, preoccupied with his pancakes and completely unable to join in the conversation between the two girls—though, in his view, being excluded from the girls' chatter was perfectly normal.
The conversation continued until the topic shifted to part-time jobs on campus.
"I discovered that Midtown High School has a collaboration program with The Bugle," Mary Jane excitedly described the internship she found. "They recruit intern reporters from our school every year, which is really cool. Maybe I can become a famous reporter someday."
"This child always loses interest quickly," Aunt Anna laughed, teasingly adding, "She wanted to be a star before, and even auditioned for a TV series, getting a few minor roles. Now she wants to be a reporter."
"The Daily Bugle is indeed a good media outlet," Sheriff George agreed, cutting a pancake. "Jameson is a rare independent journalist, not biased towards either the Democrats or the Republicans. He reports according to his own moral standards." He hesitated for a moment, "It's just that his attitude towards the masked vigilantes is too extreme. It's like Spider-Man has clearly helped our police force a lot, but Jameson never hears us express our gratitude to these vigilantes."
Especially Spider-Man, Peter thought to himself as he ate his pancakes. The reasons Jonah Jameson from different universes dislikes Spider-Man are different, and he hadn't yet met the Jonah Jameson from this universe, so he wasn't sure why the other disliked Spider-Man. But if it wasn't purely malicious, maybe he could even become friends with Jonah.
A Spider-Man who's friends with Jonah Jameson? Haha, that would be really interesting.
"But isn't the surge in superpowered crime precisely caused by these vigilantes?" Mary Jane throws out a popular argument. "Two years ago, before Iron Man and Ant-Man appeared, the world was so peaceful."
Mary Jane voiced a viewpoint shared by many anti-superpowered vigilantes: two years ago, before Tony Stark and Hank Pym, two top geniuses, became superheroes, everyone lived ordinary lives. Of course, there were superpowered individuals like the X-Men and the Fantastic Four, but the X-Men primarily dealt with countering mutant extremists' retaliation against humanity, while the Fantastic Four were essentially explorers and researchers. Aside from Johnny the Human Torch, no one would actively try to steal the police's job.
As for the others, Thor was still a mythical figure, Captain America was frozen in the Arctic Circle, and the Hulk was simply an urban legend and an international fugitive. Superpowered individuals were synonymous with dangerous people back then, unlike today where they are universally admired.
"Things have gotten increasingly chaotic ever since Iron Man came into being, and New York was even invaded by aliens before."
"But there aren't many true superhumans in the Avengers," Peter couldn't help but retort. "Iron Man and Ant-Man rely on technology, Captain America is a super soldier, Hulk's superpowers are caused by gamma radiation, and then there's Thor, Thor's race is gods—"
"Peter," Aunt May interrupted him, "remember that there is only one God, the merciful one."
"...I'm so sorry, Mei."
As a materialist, Peter didn't want to clash with Aunt May, so he apologetically skipped the point. Mary Jane, however, offered an answer: "But don't they all attract superpowered criminals? And didn't many superpowered criminals acquire their superpowers specifically to fight them?"
"Not entirely," Peter explained earnestly, "Those like Spider-Man and the demons of Hell's Kitchen mainly deal with ordinary criminals..."
"The Devil? Good heavens, what good person would name themselves the Devil?" Aunt May made the sign of the cross in prayer, then looked at Sheriff George: "Don't you think so, George?"
"That's not my jurisdiction," Sheriff George said vaguely. But within the NYPD, everyone knew that besides "The Devil," Hell's Kitchen also had a serial killer in a skull T-shirt who was responsible for eliminating criminals.
"How do you know about Hell's Kitchen, Peter?"
"I heard it at school! You know, May, Hell's Kitchen is in New York." Peter quickly tried to change the subject, but Aunt May wouldn't let him off the hook. Pointing at Peter with her fork, she emphasized, "Listen, absolutely no going to a place like that!"
"I'm already fifteen years old..."
"Peter Benjamin Parker!"
"Okay, okay..." Peter quickly changed the subject. "I also saw in the school's internship announcement that the Daily Bugle is hiring a website administrator. I'm pretty good at that; I can do it remotely from home."
"Wow!" Mary Jane's eyes lit up. "Maybe we could work together?"
"Uh, I'm not entirely sure. Generally, this kind of work can be done at home."
"Peter," Aunt May sighed again, "you need to get out more. You should stay in the office when you're at work."
"Okay, Aunt May," Peter sighed, continuing to devour his waffles, secretly praying that this ordeal would end soon. Gwen, on the other hand, looked at the two of them, wondering if she should also find a part-time job as a Daily Horn.
-
Herman lay on the moldy mattress. This pigeonhole had been home to his father, his two older brothers, and perhaps in a few years, if he himself moved out, his younger brother would move in.
The musty smell of the old mattress mixed with the stench of sweat filled my nostrils, and images from the daytime flashed through my mind: the meticulously planned robbery, the sudden failure, witnessing Spider-Man's invincible figure, and the terrifying launcher that accidentally sliced the entire building in half.
Even more glaring was the red and blue figure on the front page of the Daily Bugle—all of New York was talking about him, regardless of praise or criticism.
"Just a freak," Herman murmured to himself, gradually drifting into a dream.
In his dreams, he wears a white coat, his clinic lined with patients who have come seeking his expertise; he wears gold-rimmed glasses, walking the streets of Manhattan as an elite lawyer; he wears Stark Industries work clothes, personally helping Iron Man adjust his Iron Man suit…
He dreamt that on the day he moved away from Harlem, a television station came to interview him. He had said goodbye to everything that came with his skin color and become a superior person.
Until the thunder roared.
"That damn Spider-Man!"
A roar shattered the dream. The photographers abruptly turned their cameras around, while the presenter abandoned himself and rushed toward the giant screen in Times Square—a screen filled with close-ups of Spider-Man and Jameson's furious rant against him.
Below the giant screen, countless people wearing Spider-Man masks chanted slogans in support of Spider-Man.
"Come back! I'm here!" Herman cried out in vain.
"Of course you're here!"
Herman was transported back to the day after he graduated from junior high, when the gang leader shoved a machete at him: "Stick close, newbie. Tonight we're going to teach those bastards Karufa a lesson."
"I shouldn't be here..." Herman looked at his older brother in a daze, "I should be at school..."
"And then, burdened with tens of thousands more in student loans than white people, loans you might never be able to pay off in your lifetime, rejected by college and forced to waste your life at community college?" the leader sneered. "Wake up, kid. Look at your skin, look at where we live. We were born here! Do you want to be a black-skinned white dog, standing with them? You, like your father and your brothers, are meant to stay here!"
"I won't stand with them! I can give up engineering and go study law! I'm a top student, I can be the gang's lawyer!" Herman suddenly knelt down. "When I return, I'll help the brothers win every case! Please, boss, let me go back to school. I'll do anything."
He seemed to have convinced his boss, who was going to sponsor his high school education and put him in charge of managing the gang's accounts. He shouted excitedly as he watched his boss walk out of the alley and onto the street.
He saw a bullet flying towards him, saw the boss's head explode, and saw the "righteous messengers" who arrived later—they might be police, they might be avengers, or even that red and blue figure. They eradicated evil, arrested the criminals, and left Herman alone in the alley.
"No! No, no, no!!!"
Roaring, Herman returned to morning, frantically pulling the trigger with his horrifying launcher, shockwaves tearing through the night sky. But the agile figure always managed to dodge easily; his speed was too fast for the shockwaves to keep up, and his strength was enough to knock down a telephone pole and send it flying.
"You think you can make a name for yourself by fighting me, Herman?"
Spider-Man walked over so casually, the web binding him and his most prized weapon together, making it impossible for him to break free.
Spider-Man grew larger and larger, and the red and blue colors on his body began to melt, spread, and cover everything around him. His voice also echoed in every corner, layering up one after another.
"Even if you fought me, you'd still be a nobody. Nobody remembers a nobody Spider-Man casually took down!"
Herman himself began to melt, his hands and weapons merging into one. Spider-Man, on the other hand, seemed to have transformed into some kind of pure oil paint, enveloping Herman and surrounding him.
"Shut up!"
Herman swung his fist, the melted horror emitter unleashing a deafening burst of energy that shattered the vibrant colors. Sunlight streamed through the curtainless window, waking Herman. He stared at his trembling hands, slowly clenching them into fists.
"Just you wait, New York," he vowed to the morning light, "I'll make sure everyone remembers my name."
The contract has been signed! Hooray!
(End of this chapter)