Checking the empty cardboard box, Peter decided that he needed more eggs, the fresh air would help him clear his head, he needed to think, and settle his future once and for all.

His phone rang, when it was Gwen, and now he was in a bad mood

I'm sorry, Auntie will be here soon, and I'll talk to you later."

He quickly hung up the phone.

At home, in their lavish brown stone house, looking at her phone, Gwen shrugged

"Oh well," "?

She stood in front of a mirror, her phone camera ready.

But with the arrival of her aunt, she thought better.

She put her hands on her body and stared at the silky black panties she had bought for Peter's 18th birthday, but she flinched.

He would be scared when they were on a date and he opened her bag.

George Stacy was in his office downstairs, staring at the report again.

Three, three weird guys in costumes are terrorizing his city, and there is nothing he can do about it.

The first report was about a local, Flint Marko, who was beaten so badly that his ribs sticking out of his chest.

Local first responders reported that he would die within an hour, and if he hadn't disappeared, it would have been murder, not just robbery.

The report included an eyewitness who described a large man in latex clothing.

His chest was completely black with a white spider pattern on it, and he made a crappy joke after knocking Marko against the wall.

Then, some nightmares who tie up local drug dealer Dillon Murphy with whipping and razor claws, all they get is big cases.

George wiped his forehead, and finally another spider monster.

Blue and red costumes, nets everywhere.

But this guy, he knew the police's procedures, blocked all camera shooting.

He hates vigilantes for these three reasons, one is a cruelty, one is an adrenaline addict, and the last is someone who really does good deeds, and he himself will be killed.

He had a headache, and Gwen and Parker's kids dating didn't get him better.

The same report was obtained through a series of bribes and contacts with the police's office.

He glared at a nervous young man with another file bag in his hand.

So, do you have a photo?

The gray-haired man asked with his coarse cigar.

Yes.

The man standing in front of Jamieson had at least made an effort, his short light brown hair neatly trimmed, his square, handsome face, a pair of sharp blue eyes, at least clean-shaven.

Spider-Man?

Jamieson tapped in the photo, and everyone clearly captured the vigilantes.

That's his threat, he takes jobs away from our honest cops.

Uh, Mr. Jamieson,

The photographer took the documents he got from a source

"Spider-Man is the third vigilante to appear this week, and he's the best.

What the? He's a threat, what's your name?

It's Mr. Brooke, Mr. Eddie Brooke, and yes, he's tied up that Mr. Robber. "

Eddie Brooke showed J. Jonah Jamieson three police reports.

He photographed everything to show that he wasn't that bad, but these two people.

The robber was found with a collapsed chest, and when he photographed another report, he found that the drug dealer had a month's worth of LSD stuffed in his mouth.

Wow, three threats.

Brooke, give me all the pictures, Spider Man, the stalker woman this night, and, I'll figure it out for that black man later.

Jamieson waved him away

Look at the salary that HR gives you, these are good, these are really good, Brooke is it?

Give me this again and I'll give you a full-time position.

Eddie placed the envelope on the table and glanced back, and he saw that Jamieson was reading his work.

When he left the office, he sighed secretly because he already had a full-time position, just below.

He hopes his big breakthrough will come from that editorial he published yesterday in the magazine about the trio.

He's already named them, and Spider-Man is special.

The black cat cut the merchant's hand with his paw and wore a black tights.

But finally, the spider's costume is a gift, is he a victim of some spider work, or something else entirely?

Whatever his story is, Eddie is sure they'll meet soon.

Spider-Man and Tarantula are destined not to be allowed by law.

....

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