Peter and Cindy didn't linger at the Avengers Tower. Upon hearing the news that the Avengers were about to return, they decided to leave as soon as possible. After debugging his new web-shooters, Spider-Man began his afternoon patrol with his new gear.
"It's still inconvenient to always borrow the Avengers' equipment," Peter said, standing on the edge of a Manhattan skyscraper, examining the brand-new web-shooter on his wrist. "It'd be best to have my own lab... and it needs to be high-end."
It's hard to go from luxury to frugality. Peter chuckled self-deprecatingly. This web-shooter was much lighter than the old version, only the size of a watch, adhering to the inside of his wrist with a cold metallic gleam. Besides basic webbing, it also featured three special web modes—electric, strong, and elastic—which, combined with his new Spider-Man suit, marked his first comprehensive upgrade since his debut.
Today, Manhattan was unusually calm—no robberies, no explosions, and even petty theft was rare. Of course, there was no sign of Mysterio either, which only made Peter's nerves tighter.
Mysterio was already acting in the shadows, helping Chameleon mimic his fighting style and creating illusions of Spider-Man battles. Peter was convinced that this enemy, skilled at manipulating visuals, would be his main threat. And considering that thermal imaging essentially detects infrared light, Mysterio had likely made targeted improvements to avoid being exposed, and might even have mastered more advanced illusion techniques.
"Assume the worst. I need to imagine Mysterio as his full potential—not just visual interference, but possibly affecting hearing, touch, and making different people see completely different illusions."
Thinking of this, he suddenly had an idea. If he could develop a sonar device, close his goggles during combat, and rely solely on sonar imaging, he might be able to crack Mysterio's illusions. The only drawback was the limited speed of sound, which might cause some delay in imaging, but with his spider-sense, this wouldn't be a difficult problem.
He wondered if Cindy could help him out; as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, it would probably be quite troublesome for her.
Lost in thought, Peter had already completed his routine patrol for the night. He landed lightly, adjusted his breathing, found a hidden corner to change his clothes, making himself look like a normal high school student returning home late. Uncle Ben and Aunt May hadn't returned yet; it seemed they would be out for two more days, leaving Peter free to go home as he pleased.
Then he saw Gwen sitting on the steps of his house.
"Hey, Gwen, no rehearsal?" he greeted casually, while trying to fix his messy hair.
"It's already half past six, Peter, rehearsal finished ages ago," Gwen said, getting up to make way for him and patting the dust off her pants. "Aunt May's not home these past two days, what have you been eating?"
"Just cooking a bit myself," Peter knew what Gwen was about to say. "Don't expect any gourmet meals from me."
"I'm not picky anyway," Gwen shrugged, following him into the house, her gaze fixed on his backpack. "Is your gear in there? Your suit and stuff?"
Peter tossed his backpack onto the sofa.
"It used to be, but I made a new suit at the Avengers Tower, so it's much more convenient now."
"You joined the Avengers?"
"No," Peter shook his head. Although Tony and Captain America seemed to have that intention, considering his age, they hadn't formally invited him yet. "They just asked me to help look after the Tower when the Avengers are on missions."
"So... you can really stick to the ceiling and drink coffee at the same time?" Gwen returned to their unfinished conversation from earlier that day, and suddenly remembering something, she immediately stood up. "Wait, I'll get you some water."
Peter heard the gurgling of the faucet in the kitchen. In a moment, Gwen returned with a glass of tap water. He couldn't help but sigh. "Tap water?"
Gwen smiled a little sheepishly. "I couldn't find your kettle, sorry."
Peter took the glass helplessly, took off his shoes, and then suddenly leaped—his feet firmly adhered to the ceiling, and he stood there upside down, not spilling a single drop of water from his hand. To Gwen's astonished gaze, he slowly drank the water, then flipped himself over gracefully and landed steadily.
Gwen clapped her hands happily. "That's really cool."
"Yeah, just like someone telling you there's a cat at home that can do backflips," he said while putting on his shoes. "I just hope I don't get a stomachache."
"If Spider-Man gets a stomachache from a glass of tap water, then all the gangs in New York should be sending thank-you notes to the waterworks."
Taking the water glass from Peter's hand, Gwen stepped closer, happily asking her next question. "Seriously, Peter? Are you really not going to take me for a swing around Manhattan? Even just in Queens?"
"Gwen..."
"Oh, sorry, I forgot you need to hide your identity," Gwen quickly found a "smart" solution. "How about I design a suit for myself? That way, no one will connect me to you."
Peter sighed; this was why he didn't want to tell Gwen his identity.
"I'm going to make dinner. Is there anything you'd like to eat?"
"Anything, clever boy. I hope you don't set off the smoke alarm."
Peter took the white rice he had prepared that morning from the refrigerator. After giving Gwen, who was in the living room, an exasperated look, he started cooking—he wasn't very good at it, so he just made egg fried rice with hot dogs.
Then he was bombarded with a ton of questions during dinner.
Finally, after sending off his bothersome neighbor, Peter let out a long sigh. First, he finished his washing up, then he charged his phone and, while monitoring New York's crime communications, took out a stack of paper and began designing blueprints for a sonar device. While he could simply buy a basic handheld or portable sonar device, first, he didn't have the money, and second, his own design would be easier to modify and connect to his goggles.
He wasn't sure when he got tired and went to bed. In his hazy dreams, something appeared before his eyes, and something terrible seemed to be happening. Spider-Man fought a group of people he didn't know, then was defeated and fell.
A burly man in a white suit raised his fist, looking at the dying Peter Parker on the ground.
A spider scuttled through his dream, a black spider the size of half a palm. It landed in front of Parker, plucking the web of destiny, transmitting messages from the multiverse. On its back was a prominent number:
42.