Between Subtle Changes

Sheriff George Stacy worked patrol at Manhattan's 12th Precinct. The position of sheriff was essentially a senior officer, still considered part of the "police officers" rather than "commanding officers" ranks, making his days quite busy. It wasn't until six in the evening, when his shift ended according to his schedule, that he returned to the precinct.

Not long after he sat down, a colleague approached him with some very surprising news. He immediately stood up and walked into the station's hallway, where he saw his daughter, who had brought him dinner from a Chinese restaurant.

"Welcome to the NYPD," Sheriff George said, hugging his daughter before releasing her under Gwen's slightly awkward gaze. "What brings you to visit your old man?"

"First, you're not even 50, so I don't think that counts as old. Second, I'm here to bring you dinner. I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet?"

"I was just about to. I'm on my break."

Gwen looked at her father with a suspicious gaze. "About to eat what?"

"...I don't know. If you hadn't come, I would have had to figure it out myself. Have you eaten, Gwen?"

"I tried it for you. That Chinese place is pretty good."

"You tried it for me?" George blinked, then frowned. "Eating out isn't ideal, not all the time. You're at an age where girls should be learning to cook. It's a shame Helen passed so early, or she could have taught you."

Gwen could only maintain a polite smile, looking around as she held the lunch. "So, are you planning to eat dinner in the hallway?"

"Of course not."

George led Gwen to his desk, which was sparsely decorated with a few everyday items scattered about. Gwen's sharp eyes spotted a sticky note on the desk. She picked it up and read: "'Web fluid will degrade automatically within two hours. Please prepare for receipt. - Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.' Huh, is this a note Spider-Man left for you?"

"Yeah, I was going to send it to evidence or file it, but then I didn't have anywhere else to put it, so I brought it back. I always thought this handwriting looked familiar, but I'm sure it's not Peter Parker's." Sheriff George was quite confident, a confidence born from being an old cop. "I would never mistake Peter's handwriting. I remember it very clearly."

Gwen looked at the note a few more times and simply nodded.

Yeah, Peter Parker's right hand didn't write like that.

Chameleon was also investigating Spider-Man's identity. All day today, he had been impersonating Spider-Man, fighting evil all over the city. Kingpin's bombing trap had been ready for a long time, from yesterday afternoon until this afternoon.

But Spider-Man hadn't shown up!

"Your so-called brilliant deduction is completely useless. You said Spider-Man was a high school student, and we needed to lure him out after school." Chameleon, cursing under his breath, unleashed a torrent of abuse on MacDonald Gargan. "Where is he? How long has it been since Spider-Man last showed up?"

"My deduction is definitely not wrong. You're just too much of a coward. What are you afraid of The Punisher for? You don't dare do anything bad." MacDonald refused to admit it was his fault, believing it was Chameleon's problem. Even with holographic projection, he didn't dare do anything bad, terrified of being shot by The Punisher. What was the point of the holographic projector if not for that?

Chameleon was also frustrated but unwilling to admit his own mistakes.

After all, every time he used the holographic projection to lure Spider-Man, he had to hide nearby and couldn't completely let go. This was what gave him the most headaches. If he didn't have to be present, he would have run off long ago.

"Hey, uh, guys?"

Quentin Beck arrived with a new projector. He handed it to Chameleon. "The latest technology. I finally managed to integrate the invisible light spectrum into the projector. Now, even with thermal imaging, you won't be able to detect anything."

The principle of thermal imaging was infrared radiation, and infrared radiation was naturally a form of light. However, Quentin had subconsciously overlooked this point before and hadn't programmed for it.

"Excellent."

Chameleon took the ball-shaped projector from his hand.

"By tomorrow, Spider-Man will finally leave this wonderful world. That is, if he actually shows up."

"Don't worry," MacDonald scoffed. "I'll accompany you to the ambush site. Then you'll know my deduction is absolutely correct."

Even by the next day, Carl King's condition hadn't improved; it had actually worsened. Mrs. King, worried about her son's health, quietly opened the door again and softly inquired.

"Carl, are you okay? Carl?"

Carl King couldn't utter a word. Mrs. King cautiously approached Carl and found that her son's body was covered in large patches of redness and swelling. Worried and heartbroken, she reached out to touch him.

Splat.

Carl King's skin burst like a blister, and then countless spiders erupted from beneath his skin, spraying onto Mrs. King. Mrs. King instinctively screamed, but the spiders didn't stop at her terrified cries. Instead, they completely covered her, sinking their fangs into her skin and biting down fiercely.

As flesh was torn apart, the eyes of the countless spiders seemed to see something.

They saw a mother who worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, caring for her son's body, hoping he wouldn't become a scumbag like his father.

They saw how the woman worked three part-time jobs to feed her son, who had a huge appetite for playing football.

They saw the woman unable to sleep at night, getting up four or five times to check if her son needed any help, even just to alleviate some of his pain.

The countless spiders converged, first forming Mrs. King's silhouette, then morphing into Carl King's appearance. They secreted mucus, creating a layer of mimicry skin to cover themselves.

"Self-righteous woman, Dad was right after all."

Carl King looked at the skeleton on the ground, completely gnawed clean by the spiders, and almost vomited. But then he looked in the mirror, saw his new self, and smiled.

It was a new day. He had been lying in bed for almost two days. Now, perhaps, school had just ended?

He walked out of the house indifferently and entered a comic book store he rarely visited. A moment later, accompanied by a brief scream from within the comic book store, a monster wearing Spider-Man's skin stuffed itself into the hide and leisurely walked out.

"So, Peter Parker is indeed Spider-Man, but where are you?"