Time to Pass the Buck

It was only after Peter left the police station that he learned the guy he had caught was Dimitri Sneshkov, the "Chameleon," a former top agent of Russia's Foreign Intelligence Agency who had defected to the United States. He was now wanted by federal authorities for multiple contract killings and theft of trade secrets.

Chameleon was also one of Spider-Man's classic villains, though his abilities were really... remarkably unimpressive. He was basically a bargain-bin version of Mystique. In the comics and cartoons, he even needed his belt to take photos in order to transform.

Though that apparently was no longer necessary in this world. According to the police chief, the guy had used some kind of former Soviet Union black-tech mask to replace his facial skin and no longer had a real face of his own—but strangely enough, a master of disguise like him used his real name.

"Anyway, that little impersonation incident is taken care of. What a pity Mysterio seemed a little too alert. He cut the connection the moment I tried to hack into his equipment—but since his photonic projector can't fool thermal imaging, dealing with him might not be too difficult."

After leaving the NYPD, Peter checked the time and hurried toward school. As long as nothing happened on the way, he would not be late.

Meanwhile, inside the NYPD, two officers watched Chameleon idly alter his own appearance in the holding cell—one second becoming a curly-haired policewoman, the next a balding inspector, his skin rippling like liquid metal—and were utterly fascinated.

"So why don't we just take off his mask?"

"Didn't you hear what the chief said? This guy replaced his facial skin with high-tech stuff. There's no way to take it off."

The two officers assigned to watch him were still talking when two unfamiliar colleagues approached. One of them flashed his badge and said, "The chief wants you. Time for a shift change."

Once the two officers had left their sight, the newcomers took out keys and opened the holding cell door.

"Dimitri, Mr. Visk is very dissatisfied with your failure." The crooked cop who opened the door glanced at him. "The footage in the holding cell has been replaced with a prerecorded video. You can leave now. Mr. Visk is waiting for your response."

Chameleon lazily rose to his feet. His skin rippled, perfectly replicating the appearance of one of the guards. Tugging at his uniform collar, he said, "If Fisk knew Spider-Man's new suit could see through holographic projections, he wouldn't use the word 'failure.'"

The crooked cop who had been copied obediently walked into the holding cell and sat down. Chameleon left with the other crooked cop, asking as they walked, "Where are the others? That damned Quentin Beck and MacDonald Gargan, for example?!"

"They've already reached the safe house. They're waiting for you."

As the two spoke and headed outside, Dimitri suddenly noticed a small spot of light flicker across the crooked cop's face. Without changing his expression, he warned him, "Someone outside is aiming at us. I saw the reflection on your face."

"What?"

The crooked cop instinctively tried to dodge, but it was too late. The instant he moved, a bullet that had pierced through the wall struck him squarely through the head. Chameleon, who had reacted a step earlier and taken cover, moved along the wall as he muttered, "Even when you're running for your life, don't panic. Especially not in front of him."

The sudden shooting sent the entire precinct into alarm. Large numbers of officers rushed to the scene and secured the perimeter. Outside the NYPD building, the shooter grimly examined the information fed back by the device in his hand. That special bullet had not destroyed any voltage-bearing equipment. In other words, Chameleon had not been killed.

By then, police drones had taken to the air and captured the shooter's appearance—he wore a black leather trench coat over a black short-sleeved shirt emblazoned with a huge white skull. He held a terrifying anti-materiel sniper rifle, yet merely glanced calmly at the drone's camera before swiftly departing. As the footage came in, the entire precinct nearly descended into madness.

"It's Frank Castle! Maximum alert, everyone! Maximum alert!"

Chameleon, now mixed in among the officers, took the chance to escape. He was certain that the infamous Punisher had targeted him once again, and if he wanted to survive now, he had to find Kingpin. As for the Punisher, there was no need to worry about him in the short term. The man was a lunatic, but not one who would fire indiscriminately without knowing who was who.

Chameleon found a police car and drove away with practiced ease. He entered a shopping mall, and a few minutes later, someone entirely unrelated emerged. He discreetly surveyed his surroundings before heading toward one of Kingpin's properties in Hell's Kitchen.

Several hours later, Chameleon finally returned to the hideout and completely dropped his disguise, revealing a white mask attached to his facial skin. It had only vague features and exposed its surface.

The moment he returned, he fiercely accused the incompetent black detective.

"What the hell did you investigate? None of that information was right!"

"I told you yesterday that Spider-Man had changed suits. You people were the ones who wouldn't listen!"

Naturally, Gargan refused to take the blame and immediately shoved it onto Quentin. The special-effects artist, who had always been timid and afraid of trouble, instantly shook his head like a rattle drum.

"It has nothing to do with me! I didn't have photos, and I'd never seen Spider-Man's new suit. There was no way to build a new model and project it into every scene in such a short time."

"So you're saying I'm the problem?"

Gargan grabbed Quentin by the collar and began interrogating him. Quentin was so frightened that he hurriedly waved his hands and apologized, but Dimitri had caught the point clearly. "It is your problem, you damned useless detective. Do you know how Spider-Man beat the hell out of me? With thermal imaging! You said Spider-Man was some damned poor kid who couldn't afford high-tech equipment. And what happened? I got beaten senseless!"

"How was I supposed to know where he got high-tech equipment from? Huh? When he fought that Scarecrow guy the day before, he was wearing nothing but some lousy nylon!"

"Enough. I didn't call you here to argue."

Kingpin's slow yet imposing roar completely silenced the three men. The emperor of Hell's Kitchen, who had arrived at some point, looked at the three people he had paid no small price to hire and did not know whether he should be angry or disappointed.

"I hired you to eliminate Spider-Man! To eliminate the man who has caused a great deal of trouble for my... business. Not to have you stand here passing the blame around."

Kingpin spoke with some disappointment, then sighed helplessly. "If your framing plan cannot succeed, Mr. Dimitri, then we will change the plan. If Spider-Man sees you impersonating him again, he will definitely come after you. We can arrange it—an empty construction site, a bridge. We can use bombs, lots and lots of bombs, lure Spider-Man into a trap, and blow him up."

"It's not that simple. Frank Castle and I have some history. He's got his eye on me now."

Hearing that name, even Kingpin fell silent for several seconds before letting out another sigh.

"Then put on a real show of how Spider-Man does his superhero work. Fight crime properly and let him know you've escaped. Let him come looking for us over everything else."