"So now you're concerned about other people's mental health again, huh, friendly neighborhood?" Frank, who had confirmed it was only a little past four in the morning, picked up the unfinished bottle of whiskey, poured himself another glass, sat at the bar, and drained it in one gulp.
"Normally, I'd tell someone to go fuck themselves. But I met a guy in Hell's Kitchen." He held out a hand and looked Peter over. "Just like you, dressed all in red. He taught me... how to deal with people like you."
Spider-Man nodded as he drank his coffee. "Daredevil. I've heard of him. People say he's a good guy."
"Yeah. I fought him twice because he didn't want me killing some asshole."
The Punisher scratched his hair and abruptly brought the subject back around. "When you first showed up in front of me, I thought you'd be like him, spouting that bullshit about how once you kill someone, there's no turning back, how doing this makes you just like them. You didn't, so I figured you weren't too bad."
"I was only trying to find out whether the law could punish Chameleon, and whether Chameleon himself was beyond saving."
"He's a hopeless bastard the law can't touch." After hearing Spider-Man's explanation, the Punisher didn't argue. He simply poured himself another drink and said, "Didn't you want to know whether I had a personal grudge against him? I do."
"He kidnapped a man, a father, dressed up as him, and killed other people. Then he let him go. I didn't know that bastard Chameleon back then, but he'd already noticed me. He did it on purpose."
Frank Castle didn't say what happened next, but Peter already knew what the Punisher had done.
"That woman, and their kids... they watched their father—a poor man who'd been locked in that bastard's basement for over half a month and had just been released—get shot dead by another bastard right in front of them... They'd been having a picnic in Central Park that day. His wife and children watched their father get gunned down!"
He tipped his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing. The glass slammed heavily onto the bar with a dull thud, followed only by the helpless curses of a middle-aged man.
"Fuck!"
"Are you okay...?"
The Punisher held his head with one hand and slapped away Spider-Man's reaching hand with the other. Then he pulled several bottles of pills from his pocket and swallowed them—painkillers, blockers, and psychiatric medication meant to calm him down.
"That's what a personal grudge is, kid. Sometimes Little Red was right. Killing those bastards doesn't bring you peace. You'll always feel empty inside. But some people are still better off dead. Don't you think?"
After taking the medication, he lit himself a cigarette and asked back, "Like that... friend of yours?"
"...I really can't find a way to persuade Carl King to turn back, or make him accept legal punishment. He... he ate his mother."
Peter simply couldn't imagine what kind of person could do something like that. He set down his coffee, walked over to the railing, and looked out over New York City, still shrouded in night. "I can't place my hopes on him still having a conscience, or on him not going after my family or friends... I can't find another way, other than killing him or locking him up forever."
"If you can't do it, leave it to me."
Frank Castle drained the rest of his drink. "It's almost five. Let's get moving."
By seven in the morning, Gwen Stacy had emerged from the subway station near Midtown High School, carrying her backpack as she walked anxiously toward the school. She felt she had gathered enough evidence to prove that her childhood friend Peter Parker was Spider-Man, but when she had texted Peter yesterday, he said he had something to do and would be home late.
But Peter Parker hadn't gone home at all last night. Not once. Gwen had watched the Parker family home from her window all night. No lights had come on, no spider-themed figure had climbed in through the darkness, and no one had left the Parker family home that morning.
What worried Gwen even more was that when she texted Peter again in the morning, he still didn't reply.
"Welcome to the Daily Bugle morning news. We have received reports that an office building under construction belonging to Roxxon Energy Corporation exploded yesterday. Although there is no direct video evidence, according to eyewitness testimony from a man calling himself Detective Mike, he saw Spider-Man fighting someone amid the ruins after the explosion!"
JJJ remained true to form as he launched into an attack on Spider-Man. "So there is no doubt that Spider-Man's fight caused that explosion. Some may say this was superhero activity, but if every operation by these masked vigilantes results in a building being blown apart or Times Square being destroyed, then what is more dangerous? Ordinary criminal activity? Or these damned masked vigilantes?"
Gwen had no interest in this messy reporting. If Peter were here, he would probably have made a sarcastic comment or two, but she wasn't in the mood for it now.
As Gwen reached the subway exit, she felt someone watching her. But before she could turn around to see who it was, an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, but couldn't make a sound. When her feet touched solid ground again, she was already on the rooftop of a building at Midtown High School.
"Haa—"
Still shaken, she let out a long breath and saw Spider-Man release her. He began seriously, "Miss, you may not know this, but—"
"Peter? What happened?"
"You're currently—"
Spider-Man was forcibly cut off. He looked at her in bewilderment, then asked an incredibly stupid question.
"Who... who is Peter?"
"Listen, no matter what, you should at least..." Gwen ignored the wind-tossed hair around her face. She quickly realized something and stared at Spider-Man. "I'm in danger, aren't I?"
"Uh, yes! Some people have their eyes on you, miss." As he spoke, Spider-Man ran toward the edge of the roof. While running, he looked back at her. "Don't go anywhere until it's safe!"
"Fine, we'll talk later." Gwen texted Mary Jane, asking her to help get her and Peter excused from school. Then she recalled that brief swinging ride just now. It hadn't been very scary. On the contrary, it had given her an unprecedented sense of freedom, even if someone else had been carrying her through the air.
If only I could swing freely through New York like that too.
Spider-Man leaped from the rooftop. As he fell freely, he pulled out a small bottle and sprayed himself with pheromones. The smell, like rotting tropical plants, was enough to make anyone keep their distance, but it was the most effective lure for Carl King's spider swarm.
"All right, Carl, you don't have time to pick a second target!" Spider-Man swung to the subway exit, activated thermal imaging, and threw a heavy punch at a passerby dressed like a hippie. The crowd, which had only just recovered, now saw Spider-Man beating up an ordinary civilian again—Chameleon didn't even need to spread rumors this time. That was, until the beaten man's entire face peeled off and countless spiders spilled out from underneath.
"So, Carl, I bought new cologne. How does it smell?"
Spider-Man sealed Carl King's mouth with webbing, dragged the spider swarm out of the subway station, and slammed it onto the road nearby. "Come on, just the two of us!"
Eugene Thompson, who had just emerged from the subway station, witnessed the shocking scene. He watched Spider-Man swing away, then saw a huge mass of disgusting spiders crawl out from the sewers, gather with that humanoid monster made of countless spiders, and shoot out webbing to chase after Spider-Man. His eyes widened before he glanced at the school beside him.
"I'm taking the day off!"
The title was a Haihu meme. The original line was, "The second son can no longer be allowed to exist in a world that still has hope."
Explaining the meme just feels kind of lame.
Before you continue