Chapter 21: The Dilemma of Little Spider

Chapter 21: The Dilemma of Little Spider

As Peter sprinted through the city, his Spider-Sense suddenly tingled. However, amidst his jumbled thoughts, he couldn't react in time. A sleek red and gold Mech armor swiftly closed in on him, clasping his waist, and accelerated forward, carrying him a distance before unceremoniously tossing him to the ground.

Peter hit the ground in an undignified sprawl. The red and gold Mech armor hovered in mid-air while Spider-Man struggled to regain his composure. He removed his mask, and from the mechanical contraption across from him came a voice, "Well, that guy was right. You really are just a high school kid..."

Furious, Peter pounded the ground and retorted, "I'm not just a kid; I'm Spider-Man!"

Stark on the other side emitted a disdainful snort. "Spider-Man? Yes, your reputation among the gamblers in Hell's Kitchen is quite impressive. Your only claim to fame is helping those folks win a lot of money."

Peter's rage threatened to consume him. This stranger in a mechanized suit had attacked him right away, taunting him. Peter lunged, but Iron Man's Mech armor gracefully evaded his attack.

Little Spider had no combat skills at this point, no experience fighting against machines, and no understanding of tactical calculations. He was helpless against the Mark 5 suit equipped with JARVIS.

Spider-Man roared, "You damned machine! I'll make you see what I'm capable of!"

Iron Man's Mech armor landed, and he remarked, "Oh, really? Show me how you defeated those low-tier fighters in the underground fighting scene."

Stark's mouth remained acerbic, and Peter's face alternated between red and blue with each taunt. Eventually, Stark seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation with this young troublemaker and said coldly, "You're still wet behind the ears. Hurry back home. New York isn't your playground. Just because you have a few quirks doesn't mean you can roam the skies in this city. Someone has their eyes on you."

Stark had no fondness for the current Spider-Man, especially upon learning about his extraordinary abilities being wasted in underground fighting. To him, it seemed like an utterly foolish endeavor.

Stark had his own pride, and although he was arrogant and stubborn, surviving a kidnapping crisis had awakened the true Iron Man within him. Therefore, he looked down on Peter, who seemed content with causing trouble.

Peter stood up and angrily tossed his mask to the ground. He retorted, "You say I'm running amok in New York, but aren't you doing the same?!"

His rationality returned somewhat, and he continued, "Yes, I see you in this Mech armor. It's clear it's not some cheap piece. You have the money to play around like this."

"But what about me? My uncle and aunt are in poor health; they can't even afford medical check-ups. I need money. So why can't I go to the ring to earn it? I'm not using my abilities to hurt anyone!"

Stark crossed his arms and said, "Have you ever considered that by having these abilities and not using them to help others, you're actually causing harm to others?"

Peter gave a bewildered expression, shaking his head in disbelief at Stark's absurd words. He argued, "I gained these abilities for myself. I should be able to use them for my benefit. Why should I be obligated to help others?"

The bald man wore an evil grin as he said, "We need to take him out before that woman does. That way, Kingpin will know who his most loyal henchman is..."

Peter listened to their conversation with half an ear, feeling a strong urge to rebel. What did this have to do with him anyway? It was just a struggle between gangs, one gang member wanting to kill another gang member. Why should he get involved?

After all, this damned Hell's Kitchen had no good people.

With these thoughts in mind, Peter slowly retreated. It was already late at night, and he had told his uncle that he wouldn't be coming home tonight. So, he returned to Daredevil's small hideout, where Daredevil was still fast asleep.

Peter thought, maybe he had been wrong earlier. Hell's Kitchen did have one good person, the friend in front of him, and perhaps he had taken it a bit too far.

Peter looked at the wound on his friend's shin, still oozing blood. His own bruises from the encounter with Iron Man had already healed completely. Peter suddenly felt a bit absurd. Daredevil was just an ordinary person, lacking his self-healing abilities.

So, he interfered too much, making a mess of his own life. He wanted to learn Daredevil's martial arts, but he didn't want to learn his way of handling things.

When he heard the gang's conversation earlier, if he had rushed down in anger to uphold justice and told them not to commit murder, he wouldn't have had a peaceful night. There were at least a dozen bodyguards in the nightclub, and he would have had to take them all down one by one. The bald man might have been particularly tough, and with so many people, he might have accidentally taken a hit, which would have hurt for a while.

And the result would probably just be preventing a gang shootout. But what good would that do? There were no innocent people in Hell's Kitchen. Those caught in the shootout would only be members of other gangs. Why should he spend the whole night getting involved in such business, risking injury?

With these thoughts in mind, Peter slowly sank into his dreams. In the dream, he used his abilities to make a fortune, buying a house on the most prosperous street in Queens. His uncle and aunt moved into the new big house, and they even hired a private doctor. His uncle's illness was cured, and his aunt seemed to have become ten years younger. They lived a very wealthy and happy life as a family.

The first half of this dream was indeed very beautiful, but perhaps it was because Peter had heard Daredevil's painful moans at night that the second half of the dream took a sharp turn.

When Peter left, a group of thugs broke into his beautiful big house, killed his uncle and aunt, and looted everything. The neighbors saw the thugs but didn't report them. When the police arrived, they couldn't immediately capture the culprits. Peter became a wandering soul, roaming the city every day, trying to find the culprits who had shattered his idyllic life, but there were no clues.

In the end, in his dream, Daredevil appeared, and Peter confronted him, asking why he had let those few thugs slip through when he had fought so many criminals. Daredevil coldly replied, "The only one who can bear full responsibility for this is probably you."

Peter woke up drenched in cold sweat. The New York sky had just brightened, and the cold air seeped through the cracks in the window, chilling his lungs and making him feel like crying.

Daredevil also woke up, and Peter poured him some water. Daredevil said, "Thanks, but I might have to trouble you later to go to the clinic at the end of Mary Street and get some medicine for me."