Aunt May's worries were not unfounded; she really should have been concerned about Peter not making friends. At what should have been a warm and lively dinner, Peter was like a silent quail, focused only on the muffins on his plate, completely unable to join the two girls' conversation—though, to him, being excluded from girls' chats was perfectly normal.
Not until the conversation turned to part-time school jobs.
"I found out Midtown High has a partnership with the Daily Bugle," Mary Jane excitedly described the internship she saw. "They recruit intern reporters from our school every year. It's super cool; maybe I can even become a famous reporter someday."
"This child always has a three-minute attention span," Aunt Anna said with a laugh, pulling back the curtain on Mary Jane's aspirations. "Before, she wanted to be a star and even went to audition for TV shows, playing a few minor roles. Now she wants to be a reporter."
"The Daily Bugle is indeed a good media outlet," Chief George said, cutting his muffin in agreement. "Jameson is a rare independent journalist; he doesn't favor any Democrats or Republicans. Instead, he reports news based on his own moral standards." He hesitated for a moment. "It's just that his attitude towards masked vigilantes is too extreme. Like, Spider-Man has helped us police a lot, but Jameson never hears our thanks for these vigilantes."
Especially Spider-Man, Peter thought as he ate his muffin. The reasons why J. Jonah Jameson hated Spider-Man differed across universes, and he hadn't yet interacted with this universe's J. Jonah Jameson, so he wasn't sure why he disliked Spider-Man. But if it wasn't out of pure malice, maybe he could even befriend Jonah or something.
A Spider-Man who's friends with J. Jonah Jameson? Haha, that would certainly be interesting.
"But aren't the surge in super-powered crimes brought on by these vigilantes?" Mary Jane threw out the popular current viewpoint. "Two years ago, before Iron Man and Ant-Man appeared, the world was so peaceful."
Mary Jane voiced a common opinion held by many anti-superhero vigilante advocates. Two years prior, before Tony Stark and Hank Pym, two top geniuses, became superheroes, everyone lived ordinary lives. Of course, there were super-powered individuals like the X-Men and the Fantastic Four, but the X-Men were primarily responsible for counteracting mutant extremists seeking revenge on humans, while the Fantastic Four were essentially explorers and scientists. Except for Johnny Storm, no one actively tried to take over the police's job.
As for others, Thor was still a mythological figure then, Captain America was frozen in the Arctic Circle, and the Hulk was simply an urban legend and an internationally wanted criminal. Super-powered individuals at that time were synonymous with danger, unlike now, when they were universally admired.
"And ever since Iron Man burst onto the scene, things have gotten messier and messier. New York was even invaded by aliens recently."
"But not many of the Avengers are truly super-powered," Peter couldn't help but retort. "Iron Man and Ant-Man rely on technology, Captain America is a super-soldier, the Hulk's powers come from gamma radiation, and Thor, his race is divine—"
"Peter," Aunt May interrupted him. "Remember, the only divine being is our merciful Lord."
"...I'm so sorry, May."
As a materialist, Peter didn't want to argue with Aunt May, so he apologized and quickly moved past that point. Mary Jane, however, offered an answer to the question: "But don't they only attract super-powered criminals? Many super-powered criminals only get their powers to fight them, don't they?"
"Not entirely," Peter earnestly explained. "Like Spider-Man and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, they mostly deal with ordinary criminals..."
"The Devil? Good heavens, what good person would call themselves the Devil?" Aunt May made the sign of the cross and prayed, then looked at Chief George: "Don't you agree, George?"
"That's not my jurisdiction," Chief George said vaguely. But in the NYPD, everyone knew that in Hell's Kitchen, besides "the Devil," there was also a serial killer in a skull T-shirt, specifically dedicated to eliminating criminals.
"How do you know about Hell's Kitchen, Peter?"
"Sch-school, I heard about it at school! You know, May, Hell's Kitchen is in New York," Peter quickly tried to move past the topic, but Aunt May wouldn't let him go. She pointed her fork at Peter, emphasizing, "Listen, you are absolutely not allowed to go to places like that!"
"I'm fifteen..."
"Peter Benjamin Parker!"
"Alright, alright..." Peter quickly changed the subject. "I also saw on the school's internship announcement that the Daily Bugle is hiring a website maintainer. I'm pretty good at that; it can be done remotely from home."
"Wow!" Mary Jane's eyes lit up. "Maybe we can work together?"
"Uh, I'm not really sure; generally, that kind of job can be done from home."
"Peter," Aunt May sighed helplessly again. "You need to get out more. When you have a job, you should stay at the office."
"Okay, Aunt May," Peter sighed, burying his head in the muffins again, secretly praying for the ordeal to end soon. Gwen, meanwhile, looked between the two, wondering if she too should look for a part-time job at the Daily Bugle.
Herman lay on the mildewy mattress. This cramped pigeonhole had been home to his father, then his two brothers, and perhaps in a few years, if he no longer lived there, his younger brother would move in.
The scent of mildew mixed with sweat filled his nostrils. The day's events replayed in his mind: the meticulously planned robbery, the sudden failure, witnessing Spider-Man's unbeatable presence, and the Shocker's unexpected gauntlet that sliced through an entire building.
Even more glaring was the red and blue figure on the Daily Bugle's front page—all of New York was talking about him, for better or worse.
"Just a freak," Herman muttered, gradually drifting into sleep.
In his dream, he wore a white lab coat, his clinic filled with admiring patients; he wore gold-rimmed glasses, walking through Manhattan as an elite lawyer; he wore a Stark Industries uniform, personally helping Iron Man debug his armor...
He dreamed of the day he moved out of Harlem, with TV crews coming to interview him. He shed everything associated with his skin color, becoming a man of status.
Until thunder roared.
"That damn Spider-Man!"
A furious roar shattered his beautiful dream. Photographers suddenly turned their cameras, and the host abandoned him, rushing towards the giant screen in Times Square—it was all close-ups of Spider-Man, all of Jameson's furious curses against him.
At the bottom of the big screen, countless people wore Spider-Man masks, shouting slogans in support of him.
"Come back! I'm here!" Herman cried out in vain.
"You're here, of course!"
Herman was back to the day after he graduated middle school. The gang leader handed him a machete: "Keep up, rookie. Tonight, we're giving those Karufa bastards a piece of our mind."
"I shouldn't be here..." Herman looked at the boss in a daze. "I should be in school..."
"And then carry tens of thousands more in student debt than white people, maybe never pay it off, get rejected by universities, and just mess around in community college?" the boss sneered. "Wake up, kid, look at your skin, look where we live. We were born to belong here! Do you want to be a black white dog, standing with them? You, like your father, your brothers, can only stay here!"
"I won't stand with them. I can give up engineering; I'll study law! My grades are good; I can be the gang's lawyer!" Herman suddenly knelt. "When I come back, I can win all the lawsuits for the brothers! Please, boss, let me continue school. I'll do anything."
He seemed to have convinced his boss, who was now planning to sponsor his high school education, having him manage the gang's accounts first. He yelled excitedly, watching the boss walk from the alley onto the street.
He saw a bullet flying, saw the boss's head explode, and saw the "justice bringers" who arrived later—perhaps the police, or the Avengers, or even that red and blue figure. They eradicated evil, arrested criminals, and left Herman alone in the alley.
"No! No, no, no!!!"
A roaring Herman returned to the morning, holding the Shocker gauntlet, frantically pulling the trigger, shockwaves tearing through the night sky. But that agile figure always dodged easily; his speed was too fast for the vibrations to keep up, his strength so immense he ripped out a lamppost and flung it at him.
"You think fighting me will make you famous, Herman?"
Spider-Man walked over so casually, webbing him and his most prized weapon together, unable to break free.
Spider-Man grew larger and larger, his red and blue colors melting, blending, spreading, covering everything around him. His voice echoed in every corner, layering upon layer.
"Even if you fight me, you're just a nobody. No one will remember a nobody Spider-Man casually beat!"
Herman himself began to melt, his hands fusing with his weapon. And Spider-Man seemed to have transformed into some pure oil paint, enveloping Herman, wrapping around him.
"Shut up!"
Herman swung his fist, and the melted Shocker gauntlet emitted a shocking burst of energy, shattering the kaleidoscopic colors. Sunlight piercing through the curtainless window woke Herman. He stared at his trembling hands, slowly clenching them into fists.
"Just you wait, New York," he swore to the morning light. "I'll make everyone remember my name."