"Hey, Peter."
The morning sun filtered through the curtains into the kitchen. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were, unusually, already seated at the dining table, with scrambled eggs, bacon, and golden-brown toast laid out. Peter rubbed his sleepy eyes, instinctively sensing a subtle tension—Uncle Ben was looking at him with a hesitant expression.
Uncle Ben cleared his throat, his voice serious: "Peter, listen, we have something to tell you..."
"What? Is something wrong?" Peter's sleepiness vanished instantly, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the table.
"Don't listen to your uncle making a fuss," Aunt May interjected, laughing as she patted Peter's hand. "An old friend of ours invited us to stay with him for a few days. Considering your studies, we decided not to take you with us... You'll have to stay home alone for a few days."
"I just wanted to tease the kid!" Uncle Ben burst out laughing, ruffling Peter's hair vigorously. "A fifteen-year-old boy, it's about time you learned to change a lightbulb, right?"
"Of course, I can take care of myself." Peter grinned, his gaze sweeping over the bountiful breakfast. "So... can we eat now?"
Laughter immediately filled the dining table.
After breakfast, Aunt May hugged Peter tightly. Uncle Ben, feigning seriousness, lowered his voice: "Sorry I can't take you to school for homecoming... Wonder which girl you'll ask to dance?"
"You'll find out next year," Peter winked.
"Be careful," Uncle Ben's thumb pressed on his shoulder—a warning holding a secret code only they understood.
Watching the car drive off down the street, Peter immediately rushed back to his room, pulled out the spider disc from under his bed, activated it, put on his new suit, then slipped out of the second-story window, climbed onto the rooftop, and, with his backpack on, swung his way towards school.
"Strange day, maybe several days. No Avengers, no Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It's like all of New York is just Spider-Man and Peter Parker—of course, no one cares about Peter Parker."
"Hot dogs Spider-Man loves to eat, these are hot dogs Spider-Man loves to eat! New York's only officially designated Spider-Man hot dogs!"
Peter landed once again in front of the Spider-Man-approved hot dog stand. This time, in his new suit, he planned to show off to his old friends, but unexpectedly found that there were far fewer customers than before.
"Hey, Miller, business isn't so good today?"
"Your hot dog's in the usual spot, little spider," Miller said without looking up, pointing with his spoon at the umbrella canopy: "You don't go online much, do you? There's a video circulating now of you robbing thugs after beating them up, and a lot of people think it's real."
Spider-Man's new suit's eye lenses vividly changed, one becoming large and the other small, expressing his current confusion.
"Yesterday afternoon? I spent the entire afternoon busy making my new suit."
"I saw. So your eyes move now?"
Peter realized he couldn't talk about his suit upgrade, so he just webbed down his hot dog: "Sounds like someone's impersonating me and doing bad things. How strange. Where was the video filmed?"
"Hell's Kitchen."
"That's odd, a place I barely ever go. I should check it out; maybe I can catch this guy."
"Hey, Spider-Man? Is that really Spider-Man!"
A voice interrupted his conversation with the owner. Spider-Man turned and saw a young student much taller than him, though not as exaggeratedly tall as Karl King's 6'3", but definitely around 6'1". Under his jacket, he was wearing a Spider-Man cosplay suit.
"Oh my gosh, it's really you, I actually met you!" The guy was incredibly excited, completely incoherent: "You—you changed your suit, oh my gosh, your suit's colors are brighter, it looks more textured, the webbing is enlarged, and your spider emblem, both front and back, are different..."
"Uh..." Seeing this fan he'd never met before be more observant than many of his old friends, Spider-Man felt for the first time that talking too much wasn't a good thing. He decisively cut the other person off: "Dude, calm down?"
"What, oh, okay."
The big guy took a deep breath, seemingly calming down.
But the moment he spoke, Spider-Man knew he was wrong.
"My name is Eugene Thompson I'm a Midtown High student I'm your super fan look under this clothes it's your cosplay suit today is the school's theme day our school wants us to dress up as superheroes so I immediately ordered this suit..."
"Okay, Eugene, stop. Can I call you that?"
Peter quickly jogged a few steps, ready to swing away from this troublesome spot: "Thank you very much, but I have something to do. I'm going to Hell's Kitchen to catch that guy impersonating me. Goodbye."
Watching Spider-Man swing away, Thompson even shouted loudly: "I believe those things definitely weren't done by you, little spider! Go beat the crap out of those imposters!"
Finally rid of Thompson, Spider-Man couldn't help but sigh at "Flash's" fanaticism, but quickly refocused and headed towards Hell's Kitchen. That area was one of New York's highest crime rates, but also one of its lowest reporting rates, and almost no cameras. His new system, designed yesterday, was ironically least useful here.
But sometimes, you don't need a sophisticated method to find the guy you're looking for, after all, someone swinging high above Manhattan is obvious from the same altitude.
"Another spider, or Mysterio?"
Spider-Man landed on a wall, watching the impersonator wearing his old suit descend into the street and start beating people up. He activated the infrared function on his tactical visor and found only one heat signature at the scene. The people being beaten were all illusions. So, he expertly backflipped into the fray, but his form was erased by the light particles.
"Light particle manipulation technology. The light reflected off me is completely replaced by the pre-rendered scene, meaning I'm invisible to him?"
The Chameleon, who was currently performing, heard a sound but saw nothing. He could only ask his backup: "What's happening?"
"What's happening is, you didn't pay me royalties!"
From a place where the Chameleon couldn't see him, he was punched in the chest and sent flying. Because he left the preset "scene," he himself was obscured by the light particles.
But this didn't stop Spider-Man from seeing him through his visor.
"What's going on?!"
"I don't know... It seems Spider-Man is here; he entered the reflection field?"
Chameleon was almost going mad, looking at the completely empty illusionary area: "How can he see me?!"
"I don't know!"
"Before you impersonate someone, shouldn't you properly research their image? As an imitator, this unprofessionalism is truly disappointing."
Stuck by web fluid from an unknown source, Chameleon was yanked over, then punched again, slamming into the wall before falling to the ground, then wrapped up like a mummy in webs.
"Quentin Beck? Right, can you tell me who hired you?"
"He knows me?!" Quentin's terrified voice came through the earpiece, and Chameleon swore under his breath, roaring: "Turn off the projection!"
"But he knows..."
"Shut it off, now!"
Watching the street return to normal after the projection was off, and seeing Spider-Man with his hands on his hips, Chameleon instantly noticed his new suit and his own old suit. He cursed, while the Spider-Man opposite him finally realized he wasn't fighting Mysterio, but a real guy who was just wearing his old suit and was only different in height.
"So you're not Quentin? He's just providing you with technical support?"
Spider-Man noticed the small ball on the ground, webbed it over, and put it in his pocket. The imposter opposite him pulled out a small knife from somewhere: "Don't mention Quentin Beck!"
"So, you'd prefer to introduce yourself as? Master of Disguise? Taskmaster? A third-rate Hollywood actor?"
"Shut up, you damn bug!" The Chameleon, holding a tactical dagger, charged forward, thrusting directly. After Spider-Man dodged, he immediately released his grip, switched hands on the knife, and delivered an elbow strike.
"I received KGB training! I'm an ace agent of the Foreign Intelligence Service! I've killed countless people, I..."
Chameleon, kicked in the abdomen by Spider-Man, flew backward, slamming into the wall then falling to the ground, then wrapped up like a mummy in webs.
"And you're facing someone who can hold up a freeway for two minutes. Sorry, buddy, this kick had a bit of personal grudge, but you'll be fine."
Carrying the web-wrapped Chameleon, Peter intended to take him directly to a NYPD precinct, as police in Hell's Kitchen might not be reliable.
"Alright, Mr. Imposter, if you're willing, we can chat about your boss on the way, how about that?