Phew! I'm done with all this goodness. And while making the bugs were easy, making the beacons was a piece of cake! Ah, right. Ta-da! Here's the first version of the spider bugs. So far, I've only made six, but they still need testing. Meanwhile, the technical resources left by my father have become even more limited. But it was worth it. The simplest part of my project was making the signal locator. It's just a small device that receives signals from just these six objects.
True, the range is several kilometers, so having one attached to your target, you'd better not miss it, otherwise it'll be like chasing the wind in a field. The bugs themselves are a different story. The idea is simple: a small, low-charge battery, a couple of cables, and a magnetized aluminum casing. Although it doesn't sound so simple, right? But the point is to make all this together within a few centimeters!
A task worthy of my genius, and after many hours of failure, I succeeded! Actually, whether it worked or not... It doesn't matter, in any case, it's a good start. Now, the remaining resources will go toward the riskiest and most expensive project: the Spider-bot! Damn, I just want this small drone with various functions.
True, in my current situation, it will take me a year to build it... But it's worth it! I lean back in my chair with the expression of a worker honestly fed up with work. This, of course, is more mental than physical. I look at the clock; it's already seven o'clock!
Okay, time for the photo shoot. I take all my unfinished technical endeavors, any that even slightly suggest Spider-Man and Peter Parker are the same person, and stuff them all into a huge chest, locking it with a padlock.
Next, I grab my upgraded "miracle belt," a couple of cartridges in the pockets, a flashlight in the center, and a locator and bugs in the back right and left pockets, respectively.
After locking the lab, I carefully crawl into my room. I strap web shooters to my hands and put on my suit. Now, the camera. I take the old camera out of the closet. Yeah, I'll have to figure out something with the lack of pockets. Nothing else to do. I create a webbing strip around the camera and sling it over my shoulder. Well, that's it. Oh, I almost forgot.
I run to the table and grab a piece of paper and a pen. "Uncle, Auntie, I'm gone for a walk, don't wait for me. Afterwards, I'll probably head straight to the lab (not the basement, Aunt May!) So don't worry. Peter." Great. I slap the note on my door and fly out the window.
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I love web-slinging! I've said it before, right? Well, I'll say it again. Flying over the skyscrapers of New York, I almost crashed into a flock of pigeons. I landed on a building I noticed right away while circling this block. There were gargoyles! I've always loved the Gothic style of the 17th and 18th centuries.
So, I catch my breath and look for a suitable place to secure the camera. I've already wasted quite a bit of film trying to adjust the camera's automatic shooting mode and my own movements so that the images don't turn out blurry. I think I've found it. I cling to the nearest building and dive onto the roof of a New York twelve-story building.
Thanks to the columns adorning the top, the camera offers a fantastic angle, and the angle just right captures several other rooftops and lampposts. I set the timer and begin performing miracles of gymnastic acrobatics! I fly on the web – click.
A somersault off the building – click. A somersault followed by a landing on the wall – click.
And so on a couple more times until the film runs out. Well, I have the basics for a photo of myself. I feel a little uneasy, of course, because I remember how in the comics, in the "Civil War" storyline, Parker, after revealing his identity, was sued by JJ. But I'm not a moron. And at Stark's behest, aka "Goatee," I won't reveal my identity under any circumstances.
In fact, I plan to keep my identity completely secret. It's clear that if I cross paths with bloodhounds like Daredevil or Wolverine, you'll have to keep it a secret, whether you like it or not. One can figure it out by the sound of your heartbeat, the other by the smell of deodorant. But that's okay. Matt and Logan are even-keeled guys.
Although I should think twice about that statement. Who knows what reality I've ended up in? At least the news coming out of Hell's Kitchen says Daredevil has been fighting crime for six months now. So, if they suddenly invite me to teams like the Avengers, it'll depend on the conditions.
If they make me shine, I'll wave goodbye with flying colors. And I won't even be bored. Okay, what's the time? It's nine o'clock sharp. Time to visit a certain club.
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[Manhattan. "Ice Eight." Half an hour later.]
I land on the opposite rooftop from my target. What can I say? Expensive and opulent. A very respectable establishment. I watch the entrance for ten minutes, imagining how much admission might cost, and then a luxury limousine parks opposite. A typical Italian gangster from the forties gets out of the driver's seat. No joke, he's even wearing a hat. Opening the door, he lets my target out. A luxurious blue pinstriped suit, a fake rose on the outside pocket, and a head gleaming with reinforced steel. Hammerhead.
Many would say that this five-foot-tall blockhead is a rather mediocre villain, but believe me, this creature is quite dangerous. Straightening his tie, he calmly enters the club. I don't know how long he'll stay there, but I need to keep an eye on him.
I carefully fly past the car and, stopping, quickly attach a bug to the underbody. Naturally, my performance was appreciated by the entire club crowd and passersby, so like a clown, I jumped onto a lamppost and announced from it: "Ladies and gentlemen, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wishes you a good evening!" I twist and turn on the lamppost a couple of times, like a seasoned stripper, to the amusement of the crowd, and then fly away.
I hope this distracted them. I return to the roof and lie in wait again. Two hours later, this bastard finally deigns to come out, accompanied by his girlfriend. Seriously, if this gets me into trouble with my family… I hope they're already asleep. The bastard gets into the car and they drive away. Like a shadow, Spider-Man follows his prey. Half an hour later, the car stops near a high-rise complex. So, if you believe the movies about gangsters, they always occupy the penthouse. Climbing onto the roof, I take up an observation position.
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