Escape

In reality, an entire skyscraper becoming a dangerous building was far more serious than Peter had imagined. He hadn't been gone a few minutes before the Avengers had already taken over the surrounding streets.

The Avengers of this universe weren't exactly the same as the MCU's lineup. The five founding members who participated in the Battle of New York were Iron Man Tony Stark, Captain America Steve Rogers, Thor, Hulk Bruce Banner, and Ant-Man Hank Pym. In addition, there was an auxiliary member serving as the Avengers' team manager—Wasp Janet van Dyne. Captain America didn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D. but was permanently stationed at Avengers Tower, the former Stark Tower.

"I still suggest shrinking the entire building with Pym Particles. These webs are slowly degrading naturally; they'll lose effectiveness in less than two hours." Ant-Man, who had just shrunk himself to observe the web structure, returned to normal size. His suit automatically retracted the helmet, revealing short light-brown hair and a youthful face that looked only in his thirties: "The structure of these webs looks familiar... I feel like I've seen it somewhere before."

"I've already stabilized the building's structure with Stark Industries engineering equipment, so I probably don't need your help, Hank." Iron Man flew overhead, admiring the message left for the police on the web between the two buildings: "The cursive isn't bad, is it, Captain?"

Only three Avengers had shown up. Bruce Banner wasn't there, and Thor wasn't even on Earth. Captain Rogers sat on his motorcycle, watching a video on his tablet—footage J.A.R.V.I.S. had reconstructed from the bank's security cameras, showing the complete recording of Spider-Man's fight.

"Less than seven minutes. In less than seven minutes, he took down these criminals. Everything was over before we even got here."

"I could do it in one minute." Iron Man landed beside the Captain and lifted his faceplate.

"What I mean is, he's received training, and it's from the military. Not only that, but he's specifically trained his strength control." Steve Rogers froze the footage on the moment Spider-Man punched Herman in the face: "With his strength, if he hadn't pulled that punch properly, he would have killed the guy in one hit. But that person wasn't even knocked out."

"So, we've found a guy who knows what he's doing. Good. I was worried about how to wash his webbing out of the gaps in my armor."

"It's Professor Richard Parker." Hank's sudden remark cut off their chatter. Tony closed his armor's faceplate and looked at the information J.A.R.V.I.S. pulled up: "An entomologist? A colleague of yours, Hank?"

"No, he's an expert in genetic modification and programming. Several leading experts in related fields right now, including Curtis Connors, Miles Warren, and Jonathan Drew, were all his students."

"Wow." Tony let out an exclamation. "I haven't heard of a single one."

"He was once the lead researcher on the U.S. military's Super Soldier Serum project, mainly focused on using animal genes to enhance humans. He published quite a few related papers, most of which were sealed by S.H.I.E.L.D. I read some of them a few years ago when I was working for S.H.I.E.L.D., including a paper on artificially synthesizing a certain spider silk protein. The web structure in it is identical to what's here."

Tony glanced at the Captain, but the Captain remained silent, revealing no extra emotion.

"At the time, the Super Soldier Serum project was handled by Osborn Industries—and probably still is. But he withdrew from the project a few years ago, then joined S.H.I.E.L.D., and died in a plane crash three years ago."

"And I'm not surprised at all. So, this Spider-Man is a super-soldier Osborn cooked up? Great. J.A.R.V.I.S., schedule a meeting with Norman Osborn for me."

"He's not a manufactured super-soldier, nor some kind of weapon." The Captain made a conclusion. "More like a vigilante acting on his own."

"We'll find out when we ask Osborn." Tony didn't seem too bothered. The Captain thought for a moment and made a decision: "Or Nick Fury. I'll ask him, and the police department too. They should have done some investigation on Spider-Man."

"I'll take this thing back to study." Hank picked up a "Scarecrow" blaster. "Might be useful."

Hearing police sirens, the three Avengers looked toward the patrol car appearing at the street corner. Tony raised an eyebrow: "NYPD sure arrived right on time."

George Stacy, having escorted the prisoners back to NYPD headquarters, was in a foul mood. Today was supposed to be his daughter's high school opening ceremony; he should have taken her to school and stayed until it ended. But not only had he woken up late, the moment he got up and was about to leave, he had to transport prisoners.

And on top of that, the street they'd trashed was the one Gwen took to school. If he hadn't asked Ben and known Gwen was fine, George wouldn't have minded turning off his body camera and giving them a beating.

Now all the prisoners were in the station, waiting to wake up before being interrogated. He'd just taken a sip of coffee when one of his officers came to report the "good news."

"Sir, the gang leader is awake."

George nodded, not planning to interrogate him personally. He stood with a few other officers behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room, watching a white fat cop and a black burly cop question the man.

The bank robbery leader was a stereotypical ghetto gangster—dreadlocks, a lip piercing, the whole look of a jobless thug.

"Name?"

"Herman Schultz."

"Age?"

"26."

"Occupation?"

"None."

"Before that?"

"Auto mechanic."

The guy looked cooperative enough, just a little distracted. From the interrogation, they roughly pieced together his background: a middle school dropout, not much education, used to be a mechanic, then got rich after the Battle of New York by scavenging junk, and now planned to go back to easy money.

So the fat cop asked the next question.

"Where did you buy these weapons? How much did they cost?"

"I made them myself from the alien materials I scavenged."

The two interrogating cops and the idle officers watching outside all froze for a moment, then burst into synchronized laughter.

"Buddy, do you know what you're saying?" The black cop couldn't help shaking his head with a grin. "Those... those weapons that nearly sliced a whole building in half—you made them?"

"I made them!" Herman roared in anger. "I made them!"

"That's the most ridiculous confession I've ever heard, buddy." The white cop shook his head helplessly, not bothering to write it down. "I know you don't want to rat out those guys, but you could at least come up with a better excuse. You built these yourself? Too far-fetched."

"What's the problem?! I made those things!!!"

"Come on, man, do you even know how powerful those weapons are? Our evidence room experts can't even figure out how they work." The black cop spread his hands. "You're saying you made them? Buddy, you're just a mechanic, a middle school dropout. You could build that?"

"What? Only you highly educated white pigs can invent this stuff? A black mechanic can't be the best engineer?!"

"Calm down, buddy. We never said anything about skin color. You're just too sensitive."

The white cop finished, exchanged a glance with the black cop, and figured they wouldn't get anything useful out of him. They had Herman taken out and escorted to the holding cell.

They planned to question someone else. Surely not everyone would claim this middle school dropout built those high-tech weapons, right?

As Schultz was led to the holding cell by the police, he kept replaying the cops' mockery and Spider-Man's agile movements during the fight in his mind. At the holding cell door, he stood still until a cop shoved him inside.

A few of his underlings had already woken up.

"Hey, Herman, what's up?"

Herman said nothing, then suddenly, as if something clicked, he pulled a bobby pin from one of his underlings, walked over to the barred door of the holding cell, and used it to pick both his handcuffs and the lock on the cell door.

Herman Schultz was New York's finest lockpick.

His underlings watched in stunned silence as he yanked open the cell door, grabbed a passing cop before he could react, and choked him unconscious. Then he stripped off the cop's uniform, put it on himself, and tossed the keys to the still-locked-up men.

"You decide if you stay or go. If they ask where I might be, just tell them the truth."

Sensing something was off, the underlings exchanged glances until one finally couldn't help but ask, "Where are you going, Herman?"

"To do what I've always done—show New York I'm the best engineer there is."

With that, Herman Schultz pulled down the police cap and walked out of the holding cell. Since it was still early, before nine in the morning, not many officers were on duty at the station. Herman slipped out of the supposedly "tightly guarded" NYPD with ease. Half an hour later, he found an old residential area where he had a long-abandoned construction site as a secret hideout. This was where he stashed the alien tech, a place not even his underlings knew about.

He pulled out the alien tech parts, but after thinking for two seconds, kicked them aside. He could sell them for cash later, but right now, he didn't need all that flashy nonsense.

"You're the best engineer, Herman. You don't need any alien tech."

The entire fight with Spider-Man replayed in his head. The contrast was stark—his opponent's powerful, agile form versus his own clumsy bulk wielding a big gun. He had to build a suit as flexible and strong as Spider-Man's.

"A flexible suit that can absorb excessive shockwaves so I don't hurt myself. The device needs to be portable—a wristband is too small, so I'll make it into a forearm guard. I'll need to recalculate the firing frequency... like this..."

A broken desk lamp, a box of colored pencils, stacks of draft paper.

One morning, one miracle.

A pair of wrist-mounted devices with the same principle as the "Scarecrow" emitter, but far more controllable, and a kinetic-absorbing battle suit with a yellow base and red metal plating in key areas.

When the design was finished, Herman Schultz stared with bloodshot eyes, hardly believing what he had drawn.

But then he smiled.

"I did it! I did it!"

"I didn't just invent the Scarecrow—on the contrary, I will become—the Shocker!"