Kraft did not know whether this was the Black police officer acting on his own or someone behind the earpiece pulling the strings, but he definitely could not sell it.
"I'm afraid that won't work." Kraft spread his hands and continued spinning his tale. "This bug has a fatal weakness: its signal isn't very strong. You need to set up a fairly large receiving station, and I can only receive the information it sends in my own laboratory. Not only is the receiving station expensive, but each one can only correspond to a single bug, so this thing is actually a failed product."
Kraft was not lying. The ones he made himself naturally had none of those flaws—they were compact, portable, and had a solid signal. But the bugs others made by following Kraft's instructions had abysmal signal strength, making a large receiving station necessary. Of course, if the distance was short, it did not matter, but then there would not be much difference between them and the bugs already on the market.
After a pause, Kraft continued, "But if your police department is willing to spend the money, I can make one for you. I just don't think it's cost-effective."
"Ah, all right then." The Black police officer shrugged. "I'll report it to my boss afterward. As for whether he's willing to pay for it, that's not something a lowly officer like me can decide."
Turning to a fresh page in his already-filled notebook, the Black police officer continued, "What about the skateboard you used when you rushed over? Solar-powered skateboards on the market aren't nearly that fast."
"Because of safety concerns..." Kraft looked at the officer as if he were an idiot. "Most users of solar-powered skateboards, wheelchairs, and the like are minors or disabled people. What happens if they get into an accident after the speed limiter is removed? Lawsuits alone could bankrupt Dream Company, believe it or not."
"Uh... all right. That does make sense..."
The Black police officer scratched his smooth, bald head, apparently accepting Kraft's explanation.
"And that pacemaker you used to save Mr. Parker—was that your invention too?"
"Yep. A portable pacemaker. Too bad it has a major flaw, so it can't be sold."
"A major flaw? Didn't you just use it to save Mr. Parker?"
The Black police officer asked curiously.
"Uh... all I can say is that Uncle Ben was indeed very lucky." Kraft rubbed his nose with an awkward laugh. "That thing isn't very stable yet. It might explode."
"It can explode?!"
The Black police officer had not reacted much, but Peter Parker beside him jumped to his feet.
"How could you use something so dangerous on Uncle Ben?!"
"Of course! Uncle Ben had stopped breathing at the time! What else was I supposed to do if I didn't gamble on this?!"
Kraft shouted back indignantly once more, and Peter Parker wilted again.
In the end, Uncle Ben had been saved by Kraft. Besides, Kraft had risked an explosion to save him. Peter, being in the wrong, had no standing to criticize Kraft at all.
Having figured that out, Peter Parker weakly apologized and thanked him again. "Sorry, Kraft. Thank you so much."
However, Kraft did not give him a pleasant look. Instead, he turned to the Black police officer and, following Angela's plan, began proactively pitching the Goblin Defibrillator XL.
"Actually, if your police department wants one, that's not a problem. It's a little dangerous, but in a critical moment, it still has a chance of saving someone."
Kraft held up his thumb and index finger a tiny distance apart.
"At worst, it'll blow off one or two fingers and cause some minor burns. Just wear protective gloves when using it, and the problem's easily solved."
"Ahahaha... we'll pass on that." The Black police officer dryly rejected Kraft's sales pitch. "New York police officers are tired, sure, but most of what we handle is trivial stuff. We don't often run into life-threatening situations, so we probably won't need your portable pacemaker."
"Is that so? Fine by me." Kraft shrugged indifferently. "If you ever need one, you can contact me again."
The police refusing was something Angela had calculated long ago. Even if they needed an emergency treatment method, they could not possibly use something that exploded. If the public found out, the NYPD commissioner and the people responsible would be in deep trouble. As for the military or secret agent organizations hidden in the background, they would not be short one emergency measure with a fatal flaw.
"Then that's that." The Black police officer closed his notebook, pulled a small booklet from his pocket, and handed it along with his pen to Kraft. "Please sign it, then write that it's for Hawk and Andy. If possible, it'd be best if you could add, 'You have a good father.'"
That easy familiarity and brazen pushiness—this officer's Black blood ran strong.
Kraft secretly curled his lip, but he still wrote everything the Black police officer had requested. Compared to most Black fathers, the man before him was already a good father indeed, considering he had become a police officer and still remembered his children's preferences.
Still, Kraft was a little surprised. The officer had not asked about the adrenaline. Maybe the hospital had not discovered anything unusual about the adrenaline he had injected? It seemed this hospital's medical standards—or rather, the technical standards of that intelligence department meddling behind the scenes—were only so-so.
After the Black police officer left, Kraft raised his chin and looked at the uneasy Peter Parker.
"You're something else now, huh? You actually dared to fight in illegal boxing matches? I'm definitely telling Aunt May and Uncle Ben. You're dead!"
"Don't, Kraft!"
Peter Parker put on a fawning smile.
"There's no need to tell them about something so minor, right? I just wanted to help ease their financial burden. Who knew something like this would happen..."
"Hmph! I heard it all. You clearly had the ability to take your own wages back directly, but you didn't dare do it yourself. Instead, you let a robber vent your anger for you. You're really impressive, Peter Parker!"
"But... wouldn't that make me just like that robber?"
Peter weakly tried to argue. To be honest, Kraft not pursuing the matter of him deliberately letting the robber escape surprised him a little and secretly made him breathe a sigh of relief. Compared to being scolded by Kraft for being worthless...
Heh, wasn't he already used to that sort of thing?
"Are you stupid?!" Kraft pointed at Peter's nose and cursed him out. "That's money you earned yourself! How could it be the same?! Even if you took that lawsuit to the ends of the earth, you'd still be in the right!"
Although Peter Parker felt that no court would accept a lawsuit involving underground illegal boxing, he wisely did not talk back. Instead, he hunched his neck and put on a wronged expression like a quail.
The sight made Kraft's anger flare.
"I don't care why you've become such a good fighter. But if you drag Uncle Ben or Aunt May into this kind of crap again, just wait and see how I deal with you! Don't think having a little ability means I can't do anything to you!"
Right in front of Peter Parker, Kraft switched on his wrist guard and slapped the table beside him, smashing it cleanly in two.
"Did you hear me?!"
"I-I heard you!"
Although that level of strength was nothing much in Peter Parker's eyes, Kraft's invention still gave him quite a fright. On top of that, he was truly in the wrong over this matter, and Kraft had far too much dirt on him. He could only honestly surrender.
Besides, this was not the first time something like this had happened. He would get used to it.
Before you continue