After leaving the unsettling Jessica behind, Little Bug leaped out of the park and swung between New York's skyscrapers on his Spider-Silk, turning his head this way and that as he searched the streets for any trace of a bald Black man.
He forced himself not to think about Gwen and the others, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Still, Miss Jones had been right about one thing: finding a black person dressed entirely in black at night was somewhat difficult.
Spider-Man hung upside down beneath the television station's Eiffel Tower, his eyes turning into surveillance cameras as they swept back and forth across the surrounding blocks.
These Life-Model Decoys had no direct means of communication, nor did they share intelligence with one another, so for now, they could be said to be delivering themselves one at a time.
But there was one thing Peter found troubling. Many of these robots believed themselves to be the real Director Fury, giving Little Bug the uneasy feeling that he was in some kind of Clone War.
Would these terrifying robots one day kill everyone, then replace every single person and continue living in their stead?
"Mr. Stark said artificial intelligence was an extremely safe field, but this isn't much better than biological weapons research." He scratched his neck. Jessica had scared him into a cold sweat earlier, and the high collar of his suit was starting to itch.
But that very motion—tilting his head and scratching his chin—made him narrow his eyes.
The moon hung at the edge of the clouds. Beneath the hazy moonlight, he spotted a bald black figure crawling out from a sewer outlet toward the television station, like a piece of black cloth.
"That bald black head looks a little greasy. It probably got splashed with sewage?