First Night

Aunt May's worries were not unfounded. She really should have worried that Peter would fail to make friends. At what should have been a warm, cheerful dinner, Peter was like a silent quail, doing nothing but burying his head in the pancakes on his plate, unable to join the two girls' conversation at all—though, in his view, being left out of girls' conversations was perfectly normal.

That was, until the topic turned to campus jobs.

"I found out that Midtown High has a partnership program with the Daily Bugle," Mary Jane said excitedly as she described the internship she had seen. "Every year, they recruit student reporters from our school. It's super cool. Maybe I'll even become a famous reporter someday."

"This girl is always enthusiastic for three minutes at a time," Aunt Anna said with a smile, exposing her. "She wanted to be a star before, even went to audition for a TV show and played a few minor roles. Now she wants to be a reporter."

"The Daily Bugle is indeed a good media outlet," Sheriff George agreed as he cut into his pancake. "Jameson is a rare independent journalist. He doesn't favor either the Donkey Party or the Elephant Party. He reports the news according to his own moral standards." He hesitated. "It's just that his attitude toward masked vigilantes is too extreme. Spider-Man has clearly helped the police quite a bit, but Jameson never seems to hear our gratitude toward those vigilantes."

Especially Spider-Man, Peter thought as he ate his pancake. J. Jonah Jameson from different universes had different reasons for hating Spider-Man, and Peter had yet to meet this universe's J. Jonah Jameson. He was not sure why the man hated Spider-Man. But if it was not simply out of malice, maybe he could even become friends with Jonah or something.

A Spider-Man who was friends with J. Jonah Jameson? Haha, that would definitely be interesting.

"But isn't the surge in superpowered crime caused by these vigilantes?" Mary Jane brought up a popular opinion. "Two years ago, before Iron Man and Ant-Man appeared, the world was so peaceful."

Mary Jane had voiced the view held by many people who opposed 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 people like the X-Men and the Fantastic Four in the world, but the X-Men mainly dealt with extremist mutants taking revenge on humanity, while the Fantastic Four were essentially explorers and researchers. Aside from the Human Torch, Johnny, none of them actively tried to take over police work.

As for the others, Thor had still been a mythical figure, Captain America was still frozen in the Arctic Circle, and Hulk was simply an urban legend and an internationally wanted criminal. Back then, superpowered people were synonymous with dangerous individuals, rather than being adored by millions as they were now.

"And ever since Iron Man burst onto the scene, things have only gotten more chaotic. New York was even invaded by aliens before."

"But there aren't many real superpowered people among the Avengers," Peter could not help arguing. "Iron Man and Ant-Man rely on technology, Captain America is a Super Soldier, Hulk's powers came from gamma radiation, and Thor—Thor's race is made up of gods—"

"Peter." Aunt May interrupted him. "Remember, the only god is the merciful Lord."

"...I'm sorry, May."

As a materialist, Peter did not want to clash with Aunt May, so he apologized and let the matter pass for the moment. Mary Jane, meanwhile, answered the question. "But aren't the people they provoke all superpowered criminals? Didn't many superpowered criminals gain their powers specifically to deal with them?"

"Not all of them," Peter explained seriously. "Spider-Man and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, for example, mainly deal with ordinary criminals..."

"The Devil? Oh my goodness, what kind of good person would name himself the Devil?" Aunt May made the sign of the cross over her chest and began to pray, then looked at Sheriff George. "Don't you agree, George?"

"That isn't my jurisdiction." Sheriff George answered vaguely. But everyone in the NYPD knew that Hell's Kitchen had not only the "Devil," but also a serial killer in a skull T-shirt who specialized in cleaning up criminals.

"How do you know about what happens in Hell's Kitchen, Peter?"

"I-I heard about it at school! You know, May, Hell's Kitchen is in New York." Peter quickly tried to skip over the subject, but Aunt May would not let him off. She pointed her fork at Peter and stressed, "Listen, you are absolutely not allowed to go to a place like that!"

"I'm already fifteen..."

"Peter Benjamin Parker!"

"I know, I know..." Peter hurriedly changed the subject. "I also saw that the Daily Bugle is hiring website maintenance staff on the school internship board. I'm pretty good at that. I can work remotely from home."

"Wow!" Mary Jane's eyes lit up. "Maybe we can work together?"

"Uh, I'm not really sure. Usually, that kind of work can be done from home."

"Peter," Aunt May sighed helplessly again, "you need to get out more. If you get a job, you should be working at the company too."

"Okay, Aunt May." Peter sighed and went back to devouring his pancakes, silently praying for this ordeal to end soon. Gwen looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering whether she should also find a part-time job at the Daily Bugle.

Herman lay on a moldy mattress. This pigeonhole had housed his father, then his two older brothers, and perhaps in a few years, if he no longer lived here, his younger brother would move in too.

The mildew stench of the old mattress mixed with the smell of sweat and seeped into his nostrils. Scenes from the day flashed through his mind: the carefully planned robbery, the sudden failure, witnessing Spider-Man's invincible figure, and the Scarecrow launcher that had accidentally sliced through an entire building.

Even more glaring was the red-and-blue figure on the Daily Bugle's front page—everyone in New York was talking about him, whether in praise or condemnation.

"Just a freak," Herman muttered as he gradually fell asleep.

In his dream, he wore a white coat, and patients who had come by reputation filled his clinic. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and walked through the streets of Manhattan as an elite lawyer. He wore Stark Industries coveralls and personally helped Iron Man calibrate his armor...

He dreamed of the day he moved out of Harlem, when a television station came to interview him. He had said goodbye to everything brought by his skin color and become someone above others.

Until thunder crashed.

"That damned Spider-Man!"

A roar shattered the beautiful dream. The photographers suddenly turned their cameras away, while the host abandoned him and rushed toward the giant screen in Times Square—where close-ups of Spider-Man filled the display, along with Jameson's furious tirades condemning Spider-Man.

Beneath the giant screen, countless people wore Spider-Man masks and shouted slogans in support of Spider-Man.

"Come back! I'm right here!" Herman shouted futilely.

"Of course you're here!"

Herman returned to the day after he graduated middle school. The gang boss shoved a machete into his hand. "Stay close, newbie. Tonight, we're gonna teach those Calufa bastards a lesson."

"I shouldn't be here..." Herman stared dazedly at the boss. "I should be in school..."

"And rack up tens of thousands more in student loans than white people, loans you might never pay off in your whole life, get rejected by colleges, and end up wasting away at community college?" the boss sneered. "Wake up, kid. Look at your skin. Look where we live. We were born to belong here! You want to be some black-skinned white man's lapdog, standing with them? Just like your father and your brothers, you can only stay here!"

"I won't stand with them. I can give up engineering and study law instead! My grades are good. I can become the gang's lawyer!" Herman suddenly dropped to his knees. "When I finish studying, I can help the brothers win every case! Please, boss, let me keep going to school. I'll do anything."

He seemed to have persuaded the boss. The boss planned to sponsor him through high school and have him manage the gang's accounts first. Herman shouted excitedly as he watched the boss walk out of the alley and onto the street.

He saw a bullet flying toward him. He saw the boss's head explode. He saw the "agents of justice" who arrived afterward—perhaps the police, perhaps the Avengers, perhaps even that red-and-blue figure. They eliminated evil, arrested the criminals, and left Herman alone in the alley.

"No! No, no, no!!!"

Roaring, Herman returned to that morning. Holding the Scarecrow launcher, he pulled the trigger frantically, and shockwaves tore through the night sky. But that agile figure always evaded them with ease. He was so fast that the vibration waves could not catch him, and so strong that he could tear down a utility pole and use it to send Herman flying.

"You think fighting me will make you famous, Herman?"

Spider-Man walked over so casually. Webbing bound Herman together with his proudest weapon, leaving him unable to break free.

Spider-Man grew larger and larger. The red and blue on his body began to melt, bleed, spread, and cover everything around them. His voice echoed from every corner, layering over itself again and again.

"Even if you fight me, you're still just a nobody. No one will remember some nobody Spider-Man casually beat!"

Herman began to melt too. His hands fused with his weapon. Spider-Man seemed to have become a pure mass of paint, looming around Herman and wrapping him up.

"Shut up!"

Herman swung his fist. The melted Scarecrow launcher unleashed devastating energy, blasting apart the dazzling colors. Sunlight stabbed through the curtainless window and jolted Herman awake. He stared at his trembling hands, then slowly clenched them into fists.

"Just wait, New York." He swore at the morning light. "I'll make everyone remember my name."

The contract was signed. Hooray!