"According to the NYPD reports, New York's crime rate has seen a significant decline in the first half of this year. And I can tell all of you with absolute certainty that this has! Nothing! To do! With Spider-Man!"
Jonah Jameson was expressing his dissatisfaction with Spider-Man on the Daily Bugle's program as usual. "That Spider-Man spends all day jumping up and down across New York, but he isn't the one truly saving us. The reason the crime rate keeps dropping is the continuous effort of the NYPD! Especially since June, after the NYPD underwent a streamlining process and purged a large number of corrupt officers..."
A young Black man driving a car listened to the man's rambling with irritation. He slammed the car door shut and switched to some hip-hop instead. He was in a hurry to buy some potent "enhancers" and wasn't in the mood for the man's noise.
Arriving beneath a pedestrian overpass for the deal, the man opened his door and scanned the desolate surroundings, looking at the buyer with clear dissatisfaction. "Why'd we pick a godforsaken place like this?"
"Our usual spots are being watched by those damn Defenders. Those so-called superheroes might not have much real power, but they're more than capable of making our lives miserable."
The Black dealer was also grumbling as the two parties exchanged food stamps for goods. These food stamps were distributed by the government to people in need of aid. The reason the government issued stamps instead of direct cash subsidies was precisely to prevent certain individuals from spending the money on drugs or other vices.
However, as the saying goes, people are flexible even if food stamps aren't. While they weren't cash, they could be traded for food; naturally, gangs would use drugs or other commodities to buy up and hoard these stamps on a large scale. In a sense, possessing these stamps was as good as having a grain reserve.
Even if those so-called superheroes came to investigate, the gangs weren't afraid. Those heroes certainly wouldn't burn the stamps; they were too busy waiting to show off their "charity." Once the stamps were redistributed, the gangs could just use the same methods to gather them back. By then, they could claim they had both the food and the guns.
But what did it matter? This was America. Sometimes enhancers were sold cheaper than food here. As long as one lived frugally on the basics, there was plenty of money left for a good time. As for the enhancers themselves, there was certainly no shortage.
"The Defenders are manageable. They're a bunch of freaks, but that's about it—at least we can outrun them. Besides, they prefer targeting the big shots. Before it was Kingpin, Hammerhead, Tombstone, and Silvermane. Now it's something called the Hand. As long as we keep things a bit low-key, they leave us alone."
Another gang member couldn't help but complain, "But the others aren't so easy, especially that damn Spider-Man! Why does an Avenger always have to give us ordinary folks at the bottom a hard time? All we're doing is selling a little medicine, right?"
The other gang members voiced their agreement, unanimously concluding that Spider-Man was just someone with too much time on his hands. They felt the same about Agent Venom, the guy who liked to imitate Spider-Man but always left things in a mess.
Additionally, rumors of a white "Ghost-Spider" had been circulating all over New York lately. By the end of the conversation, they were arguing over exactly how many Spider-Women there were. Most agreed there was one; a minority insisted there were two. The most exaggerated claim suggested there were three.
"In any case, we'll be dealing here from now on—until we get busted, at least," the gang leader said with a helpless sigh. He continued to hang around; this group of gang members—wearing nice sneakers, joggers, and hooded sweatshirts—could loiter in a place like this all day, looking exactly like the unemployed.
Groups like this were everywhere in New York. No one could truly tell who was selling drugs and who was just gathered there to use them.
"Unless they had advanced nanobots—and chose to use them for something like this."
Peter was clinging to the ceiling directly above them, faithfully recording everyone involved in the transaction and beginning a full log of their so-called suppliers, bosses, and associates. At the very least, the NYPD still considered these criminal acts, enough to get them all locked up.
After all, just as these guys said, he had plenty of time.
"It's a pity this 'leisurely' life is about to end. Tomorrow is the first day of the new semester. Honestly, I feel like I've been busier during summer break than I am during the school year. Sigh, I guess this is just the fate that comes with the name Peter Parker. But the enhancer problem..."
This issue, like many others, was something Peter couldn't solve for the time being. The police, and even the government, lacked the ability to fix it—at least not in New York.
Unless a mayor took office who was swift, decisive, and strong enough to suppress all the gangs—while also avoiding interference from the White House—they might be able to treat the symptoms, even if they couldn't cure the underlying cause.
For some reason, the silhouette of a certain muscular, large-framed man flickered through Peter's mind.
"I must be going crazy, actually thinking Kingpin would be a good candidate. No, perhaps he truly does have the capability, but the problem is he has no desire or intention to do it. Alright, time for Spider-Man to go back to meddling in other people's business."
Ever since Malekith had been given a thrashing, he and Loki's group had gone quiet. Currently, the Avengers were in discussions with various nations and the Security Council—which was so riddled with HYDRA infiltrators it was practically a sieve—on how to handle the invasion of the Wild Hunt. Peter, by contrast, found himself with nothing much to do.
So, he decided to find something for himself.
Watching the punks leave the overpass they had occupied all day, Peter followed them swiftly, eavesdropping on their phone calls to find out who their supplier was. At the same time, the gang members' conversation had piqued his interest.
It sounded as if the Hand had moved into New York and quickly occupied the niche previously left vacant by Kingpin and the others.
But speaking of the Hand... Peter's memory of the organization was a bit hazy. Aside from knowing they had a demon-god called "The Beast" that looked impressive but was actually underwhelming, and that they had once controlled Daredevil to create Shadowland, there wasn't much worth mentioning. He couldn't recall the Hand ever pulling off any major schemes.
"I'd better contact the Defenders, especially Matt. I'll give them a heads-up and maybe join them for a raid on the Hand."
"Oh, right. If I remember correctly, there are several versions where the Hand has a close connection to Logan. Logan seemed to get his memories back after the Kang Dynasty, didn't he? Maybe I should go ask him about the Hand."
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