The Punisher

An ordinary dismissal, an ordinary end to the school day. Since the Detective Agency had no extra activities today, Harry and Amadeus were both ready to head home, while Peter had left even more decisively.

"Hello, boys."

Just as they were about to leave together, Gwen called out to them. The two looked at her in confusion, their expressions as blank as if a teacher had suddenly called on them.

"Gwen, right? Hi?"

Harry greeted her uncertainly, while also wondering why she was here. He quickly asked, "Is something wrong?"

Gwen folded her arms and swept her gaze behind them, seemingly checking for someone who was absent. "Peter didn't leave with you?"

"He basically never leaves with us. He always seems to be busy."

Amadeus shrugged, the strap of his backpack cutting into his thin shoulder. Were they friends? Probably. But did they really know each other that well? They had known each other for less than half a month. So even if Peter Parker went home alone every night, there was nothing strange about it.

Gwen's brow rose slightly. It did not sound like a question so much as confirmation.

"So... you don't know what he does after school either."

Harry, who should have answered, "Should we know?" suddenly caught the important part. "Wait, are you saying Peter goes somewhere after school without anyone knowing?"

"No, he just gets home late."

After Gwen said that, Mary Jane and the others called for her from behind, telling her to come to band practice. After briefly saying goodbye, she left. Amadeus adjusted his backpack strap and pushed up his glasses.

"What do you think Peter does after school?"

"I don't know." Harry spoke carelessly. "Maybe Peter is already the most honest one among us."

At that moment, Peter was swinging through the air above Manhattan. Honestly, it was strange. New York had become much more peaceful lately. The occasional criminal activity did not even require Spider-Man to handle it.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., has the Avengers' satellite found where my impostor and the Punisher are?"

In recent days, Chameleon's range of activity had extended beyond Hell's Kitchen. Most likely, he was avoiding operating in the same place and being discovered by the Punisher. But Peter also knew that with Mysterio's help, the Chameleon who had appeared might not be the real Chameleon at all. It could merely be recorded footage.

In that case, if the Punisher really made a move, he might instead alert the enemy.

The latest satellite scan results soon appeared in his lenses. The Punisher had not been found, but the fake Spider-Man's location was crystal clear. Peter swung over, landing on a rooftop while still some distance away and beginning to observe the area. He was certain the Punisher was hiding somewhere nearby, somewhere the satellites and surveillance cameras could not see. And since he needed to kill Chameleon the moment he spotted him, he also had to keep the distance under control.

"Found you!"

Frank Castle was hiding on the sheltered rooftop of a building, using binoculars to watch Spider-Man deal with opponents in the distance. This was not difficult. He knew perfectly well where and when little gangs might show up in this area and cause trouble.

He suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He lowered his binoculars and drew his gun, but the pistol in his hand was snatched away almost instantly. Then the target he should have been watching hung upside down in front of him and waved repeatedly. "Hey, hey, easy, man, easy."

Realizing something, the Punisher immediately reached for the sniper rifle beside him, but Spider-Man yanked that away too. Not only had this annoying guy taken his guns, he also webbed his hands together as he landed. "I know what you want to do, but first, we need to talk."

"What is there to talk about? Since you're here, that bastard standing in that dump must be Chameleon. Once he's dead, everything ends."

"That's the problem." Spider-Man looked out the window as he spoke. According to the thermal imaging results, neither Spider-Man nor the thugs getting beaten up actually existed. "There's no one there. It's just a projection."

The Punisher frowned.

"Do you have thermal imaging equipment? If you do, one look will tell you. Someone got hold of advanced projection equipment from Horizon Labs and modified it. This person is working with Chameleon, projecting realistic fake images in all kinds of places, but there's actually nothing there."

As Spider-Man spoke, he tore the webbing off the Punisher's hands. The latter picked up another pair of binoculars and looked at Chameleon, then cursed, "Son of a bitch."

"So I spent the whole day watching, ran to seven or eight places, and they were all fake?"

"One of them must be real. Their target is me. They created so many impostors just to lure me in." Spider-Man handed the pistol back to the Punisher and voiced a conclusion the Punisher had also reached. After thinking it over, the latter understood Spider-Man's plan.

"You mean you'll check out the situation as bait, and I'll take out that damned Chameleon from behind?"

"I... First, I need to confirm something. Why have you repeatedly hunted Chameleon down? Is he truly beyond redemption?"

Hearing that, the Punisher seemed to remember something. While tearing the webbing off his pistol, he could not help laughing.

"Beyond redemption? If you mean he's done things beyond what people can accept, like torture killings, then no. But he's a son of a bitch who'll do anything for money. For money, he'll dare to do anything. More than twenty people have already died by his hand."

"And... the law can't judge him?"

"I know a lawyer. Even he can't send someone who never uses his own face to prison. How are you going to make him admit he did those things, hero?" The Punisher put away his pistol, fitted his scope, and prepared to leave. "Not to mention how many people in this country, from top to bottom, want this guy to do their dirty work. Guess how long after he goes to prison it'll take for the CIA or FBI to come looking for him. Other than me, no one wants him dead."

"Oh, uh. I understand."

Spider-Man nodded and pulled out his phone. "Want to exchange contact info? I need to go back and prepare. Around four tomorrow afternoon, I'll go see what Chameleon is planning. I'll notify you then."

The Punisher hesitated unusually before exchanging phone numbers with Spider-Man. Of course, Spider-Man was not using Peter Parker's phone. He was using an old-fashioned button phone he had picked up at a flea market, then redesigned and activated at Avengers Tower as a communication device.

After speaking with the Punisher, Spider-Man climbed out through the window and left the scene. Let Chameleon work for him for another half day. He needed to prepare a little surprise for him and Mysterio.

Come to think of it, Carl King was sick? He wasn't scared sick by me, was he?

Of course not. At that moment, Carl King was curled up in bed, burning with fever, his skin covered in strange red rashes. That mutated spider had not given him superpowers. Instead, it had brought him hellish torment.

Am I going to die? Am I going to die?

Amid this pain, Mrs. King came upstairs and carefully opened the bedroom door. She brought food with her. Looking at her son, she stood at the doorway, tears welling in her eyes, yet she did not dare approach. "Are you okay, Carl?"

"Give me medicine! Give me painkillers, now!"

"You've already taken a lot, Carl. If this keeps up, you'll become drug depen—"

"You bitch!" Carl endured the pain and grabbed the alarm clock from the nightstand, throwing it at his mother. "You want me dead! Just like you wanted my dad to go to prison! Don't you?!"

"Carl..."

"Bring me the medicine!"