A normal dismissal, a normal departure from school. Since the Detective Club had no extra activities today, Harry and Amadeus were both heading home, and Peter left even more decisively.
"Hello, boys."
Just as they were about to leave together, Gwen called out to them. The two looked at Gwen with a bewildered expression, like students suddenly called upon by a teacher.
"Gwen, right? Hello?"
Harry greeted her somewhat uncertainly, curious as to why she was there, and quickly asked: "Do you need something?"
Gwen crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping behind them, as if confirming an absent figure: "Peter's not leaving with you guys?"
"He basically never leaves with us; he always seems really busy."
Amadeus shrugged, his backpack strap leaving a mark on his thin shoulders. Are they friends? Probably. But do they really know each other well? They've only known each other for less than half a month. So even if Peter Parker went home alone every night, it wasn't that strange.
Gwen's eyebrows subtly quirked, not like a question, but more like a confirmation.
"So... you don't know what he's doing after school either."
Harry, who should have replied "Should we know?", suddenly caught the key point: "Wait, you mean Peter doesn't know where he's going after school?"
"No, it's just that he comes home a bit late."
Gwen finished, then heard Mary Jane and others calling her for band practice, so she simply said goodbye and left. Amadeus adjusted his backpack straps and pushed up his glasses.
"What do you think Peter does after school?"
"I don't know," Harry said carelessly: "Maybe Peter is the most honest one among us."
Peter was currently swinging through the sky above Manhattan. It was really strange; New York had become much more peaceful lately. Even occasional criminal activities could be resolved without Spider-Man.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., have the Avengers' satellites located my imposter and the Punisher?"
These days, the Chameleon's activity range had expanded beyond Hell's Kitchen, most likely to avoid being discovered by the Punisher by staying in the same place. But Peter also knew that with Mysterio's help, the appearing Chameleon might not even be the real one, perhaps just a projected image.
In that case, if the Punisher actually took action, it might just scare them off.
The latest results from the satellite scan quickly appeared in his HUD. The Punisher wasn't found, but the location of the fake Spider-Man was immediately clear. Peter swung over, landing on a rooftop a short distance away, and began observing his surroundings. He was sure there was a spot nearby, undetectable by satellites and surveillance, where the Punisher was hiding. Plus, if he needed to spot and shoot the Chameleon, he'd need to control the distance precisely.
"Found you!"
Frank Castle was hiding on the rooftop of a shielded building, observing the distant Spider-Man dealing with his opponents through binoculars. This wasn't difficult, after all, he knew exactly where and when thugs might cause trouble in this area.
He suddenly felt something was off, put down his binoculars, and drew his gun, but the pistol in his hand was almost instantly yanked away. Then, a target he should have been watching hung upside down, waving his hands repeatedly: "Hey, hey, calm down, buddy, calm down."
Realizing what was happening, the Punisher immediately raised the sniper rifle he had placed aside, but it too was snagged by Spider-Man. This annoying guy not only took his guns but also webbed his hands together as he landed: "I know what you're trying to do, but first, we need to talk."
"What's there to talk about? Since you're here, that beast Chameleon must be standing in that dilapidated place. Once he's dead, everything will be over."
"That's the problem." Spider-Man said, looking out the window. From the thermal imaging results, neither Spider-Man nor the beaten thugs existed: "There's no one there; it's just a projection."
The Punisher frowned.
"Do you have thermal imaging gear? If you do, just take a look. Someone got their hands on Horizon Labs' advanced projection equipment and modified it. This person is collaborating with Chameleon, projecting incredibly realistic images in various places. In reality, there's nothing there."
Spider-Man said this while tearing the web fluid off the Punisher's hand. The latter picked up another pair of binoculars and looked at the Chameleon, then cursed, "Son of a beach."
"So I've been watching all day, visited seven or eight places, and they were all fake?"
"There must be one place that's real. Their target is me; they're making all these fakes just to lure me out." Spider-Man returned the pistol to the Punisher, stating a conclusion the Punisher had also deduced. The latter thought for a moment, then understood Spider-Man's idea.
"You mean, you'll act as bait to check the situation, and I'll take care of that damned Chameleon from behind?"
"I... first, I need to confirm why you've tried to kill Chameleon multiple times. Is he truly beyond redemption?"
Hearing this, the Punisher, thinking of something, couldn't help but laugh as he pulled the web off his gun.
"Beyond redemption? If you're asking if he's done anything beyond human acceptance, like torture, no. But he's a son of a bitch who'll do anything for money. He's killed over 20 people for money."
"And... the law can't prosecute him?"
"I know a lawyer; even he can't put someone in jail who doesn't use their own face. How are you going to make him admit he did all those things, hero?" The Punisher put his pistol away, attached his sniper scope, and prepared to leave: "Not to mention, in this country, how many people from top to bottom want this guy to do their dirty work? How long do you think it'll be after he's jailed before some CIA or FBI agent comes looking for him? Nobody wants him dead, except me."
"Oh, uh. I understand."
Spider-Man nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket: "Want to exchange contact info? I need to go prepare. Around 4 PM tomorrow, I'll go see what Chameleon is up to, and I'll let you know then."
The Punisher hesitated for a rare moment, then exchanged phone numbers with Spider-Man—of course, Spider-Man wasn't using Peter Parker's phone, but an old-fashioned button phone found at a flea market, repurposed as a communication device after being re-engineered at Avengers Tower.
After his conversation with the Punisher, Spider-Man swung out the window and left the scene. He'd let the Chameleon work for him for another half-day; he had some surprises to prepare for him and Mysterio.
By the way, Karl King is sick? Was it because I scared him?
Of course not. At this moment, Karl King was curled up in bed, burning with fever, his skin covered in strange red rashes. That mutated spider didn't grant him superpowers; instead, it brought hellish torment.
Am I going to die? Am I going to die?
In the midst of this pain, Mrs. King came up, carefully opened the door, and brought him food. Seeing her son, Mrs. King stood in the doorway, tears welling in her eyes, but not daring to approach: "Are you alright, Karl?"
"Give me the medicine! Quick, give me painkillers!"
"You've already taken a lot, Karl, you'll become addicted if you keep this up..."
"You bitch!" Karl, enduring the pain, grabbed the alarm clock from his bedside table and threw it at his mother: "You just want me to die! Just like you wanted my dad in prison! Don't you?!"
"Karl..."
"Bring me the medicine!"
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