32: Chapter 32 Nemesis 3

One hour later, a group of men in black suits knocked on the building's door.

The men were S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents.

Peter didn't recognize any of them, so he didn't mention that he was working for S.H.I.E.L.D.

The Agents helped clear the scene, loading the wreckage of the doom bots onto their vehicles.

The Fantastic Four didn't stop them, though Sue watched them the whole time to ensure they didn't steal or mess with anything belonging to the Fantastic Four.

The Agents left quickly, and everyone decided that was enough for tonight.

"I'm fine, Aunt May, I'm really fine. I wasn't even on the top floor at the time." Peter muttered helplessly while holding his phone.

On the other end of the line, Aunt May went on a long string of worried instructions.

"Don't worry, Aunt May, I'm doing great. But I might be home a little late today; I have to stay and help clean up the lab. Is that okay? Okay."

She finally agreed.

Before hanging up, Peter wished her and Uncle Ben a Happy New Year.

Back in his lab, Peter finally took off his helmet.

He walked to the workbench and looked at the nearly intact doom bot on it, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

He had secretly hidden it away.

Doctor Doom was a madman, but he was indeed a genius.

A thoroughly insane genius...

Well, maybe the madman part outweighed the genius part.

But he couldn't keep messing with it tonight.

It was very late. It was New Year's Eve, and he had a date.

Peter walked up to the doom bot, carefully felt around, found its energy core, and quickly cut the power.

Doctor Doom might very well send a signal from the other side of a dimensional portal to remotely activate this robot to rescue himself.

...Why not?

After all, this was a comic book World.

Peter put his mask back on, pushed open the lab window, and leaped into the night.

There were only thirty minutes left until midnight.

Perfect.

He swung to a bakery that was still open and bought a cake.

Standing at the counter in his suit, queuing up like an ordinary person, felt indescribably strange.

Customers in the shop took out their phones, took pictures with him, and posted them on social media.

Peter paid quickly, grabbed the cake, and rushed into the night, heading straight for Felicia's apartment.

Peter landed outside her window and knocked lightly.

Felicia looked up from her bed and smiled when she saw him.

She walked over and pushed the window open, smiling sweetly.

"A rare visitor."

"Hello, miss. I received a tip that there is an extremely sexy lady tonight who is in urgent need of someone to hold while ringing in the New Year. May I come in?"

Felicia took a step back to let him in, then rolled her eyes.

"Dork."

"Your dork."

Peter took off his mask, wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned in to kiss her.

Felicia hummed softly and slowly pulled away.

She looked at the box in Peter's hand, her eyes curving into crescents with a smile.

"Is this for me?"

"That's right! And you'll never guess what it is!" Peter teased her on purpose.

"You bought me a triple chocolate frosted cake." Felicia's smile held a hint of slyness.

Peter froze.

"How did you know?!"

"Twitter is blowing up." She laughed and tossed her phone to Peter.

Peter looked down. The photo taken with passersby at the bakery earlier had spread across the internet.

Below it were comments:

'Who is that lucky girl?'

'Damn, someone gets to enjoy that hot body on New Year's Eve, and I have nothing?!'

'So, is he single?'

'Keep eating cake, and your pants won't fit anymore, Spidey.'

Peter gave a wry smile.

"Damn, should have seen that coming."

"So... what about the cake?" Felicia tilted her head.

"You like cake, right?" Peter smiled and placed the cake on her desk.

"I like cake, but I think I like you more."

Felicia wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him again, and pulled him toward the bed.

She quickly climbed on top, her fingers tracing the patterns on Peter's suit as she moved downward, then she stopped kissing and frowned, muttering:

"I fucking hate this bodysuit of yours; it always hides the good stuff inside."

Peter laughed out loud.

"I feel the same way whenever you wear any clothes."

He pressed the release switch and quickly broke free from the suit.

"Tell me, what's your New Year's wish?"

"Hmm, I do have one." Felicia muttered: "My New Year's wish is to make sure my idiot superhero boyfriend doesn't get himself killed."

"Relax, how bad could it get?" Peter said with a smile.

"That is exactly what you shouldn't say, Tiger." Felicia's tone immediately became annoyed.

"You know that as soon as you say that, something happens, right?"

"Oh, come on, don't be like that, Kitten. How could—"

"Felicia, I'm home!"

Peter looked into Felicia's eyes, and Felicia was glaring at him.

"My mom." She whispered.

Peter swallowed hard.

"I really didn't expect that."

"Get out, now!" Felicia hissed, pushing the window open.

Peter grabbed his suit to put it on, but it was too late.

The sound of the doorknob turning was clearly audible.

He flipped out the window, quickly climbed up the side of the wall, and crouched in the cold, snowy night.

"Felicia, baby, Happy New Year!" Her mother's voice was full of joy.

"Hi, hi, Mom. Didn't expect you to be back." Felicia's voice sounded clearly guilty.

Peter sighed and quickly put on his suit.

Damn World.

"I came back early, thinking we could ring in the New Year together! Let's go, I booked that Italian restaurant you like, remember to dress nicely."

Not until the door closed again did Felicia poke her head out the window to look at Peter.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't expect her to come back today."

"It's okay, it's my fault. It's all my big mouth's fault." Peter sighed and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the forehead.

"Go, have fun, we'll meet up later."

"I'm sorry, Tiger." She apologized again.

Peter waved his hand to show he was fine, then jumped off the building and swung into the night.

Fine then.

Since the suit was on anyway, might as well do some good.

So, for the rest of the night, Peter went into night patrol mode.

He first stopped a robbery, then intercepted a group of thieves trying to make off with an ATM in Hell's Kitchen.

But as he swung over the street, he noticed a group of homeless people wrapped in tattered clothes, huddling together around a burning oil drum.

There were men, women, and children.

If they stayed out like this tonight, the chances of frostbite and hypothermia were extremely high.

Peter called the Police and stayed on the rooftop until they arrived.

The Police soon sent the homeless people to the nearest shelter.

But as soon as the Police car left, Peter saw the group being driven out again.

Not right.

Peter descended from the sky, landing at the entrance of the shelter, just in time to catch the scene of the crowd being driven out.

Everyone went quiet the moment they saw him.

The fat man in his thirties in charge of the shelter was already full of fear.

"What's going on here?" Peter asked in a low voice.

"Why are you kicking them out?"

"W-we have no funding left. The money from City Hall isn't enough to feed so many people." The fat man swallowed.

"Who is in charge of your funding?"

"C-City Councilman Nick Davis..." The fat man's fingers were trembling.

"Fine. How much does it cost for them to stay the night?" Peter's question stunned everyone present.

"Five... five thousand dollars?"

"Take them back in. I'll figure out the money." Peter growled and shot out Webbing to swing into the night.

He found an ATM and withdrew cash.

Peter had long since opened a bank account so Sue could transfer money to him directly, without needing cash or checks every time.

He had enough money on hand to house these people.

Afterward, Peter searched the city, persuading more people sleeping on the streets in the cold night to go to that shelter.

By the time he returned, the number of people he brought back was nearly double what it was before.

The fat manager's face turned pale.

Peter walked up to him and slapped ten thousand dollars in cash on the table.

This was his entire salary for the month.

"If I find out that even one dollar of this money wasn't spent on food and shelter for these people, I will hang you upside down and use your belly as a punching bag. Understand?"

"U-understand, sir." The fat man nodded frantically.

Peter got everyone settled in, and only after confirming everything was safe did he swing back into the night.

Whenever he encountered people sleeping on the streets, he would bring them to the shelter he was paying to maintain.

That night was exceptionally long.

By the time Peter got home, it was past three in the morning.

He took off his suit, collapsed onto the bed, and then took out his phone to download the Twitter app.

Peter was curious about how the internet was evaluating him now.

When he opened it, he was stunned.

He was trending again.

This time, someone had dug up his trip to the shelter.

There were photos of him grabbing the fat manager's collar and roaring, as well as various memes.

Someone had photoshopped him into a Santa Claus suit, and others had made images of him standing in the sky raining money.

Some even started discussing his new suit.

From the current reaction, the suit was very popular, hailed as "the coolest gear after Iron Man's armor."

There was also a video of his conversation with the fat manager online.

The person who filmed it had used some technology to amplify the sound exceptionally clearly, so you could even hear every word he said to threaten the other person.

The comments below stretched between two extremes:

'This guy is basically Mother Teresa with a web!'

'A freak in a costume, publicly threatening working people? Has this society fallen to such a point?'

There were all kinds of opinions in between.

Peter realized one thing.

From this moment on, he would live forever on the internet.

And this gave him an idea.

On New Year's Day, Peter helped Aunt May and Uncle Ben clean up the house.

In the evening, he went to Felicia's apartment and finally ate the cake that had been saved and untouched.

But before he could stay for a few hours, the obligations of a superhero came knocking again.

Peter had to leave to stop a bank robbery two blocks away.

The next day, life returned to normal.

In the morning, Peter arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. underground Base to continue training with Natasha.

Natasha seemed to be checking if he had been slacking off during the winter break.

Come to think of it, Peter hadn't known before that S.H.I.E.L.D. had a "winter break."

But on second thought, this was probably just because he was still a student.

"Anything fun during the holidays?" Peter asked, dodging a kick aimed straight at his abdomen.

"Nothing worth mentioning." Natasha's answer was calm.

"Oh, come on, Red, don't be so cold." Peter grabbed her arm, executed a shoulder throw, and tossed her out.

Natasha landed steadily a few feet away, then instantly sprang up, sweeping a head-kicking blow.

"Focus." She commanded coldly.

Peter rubbed his sore chin and dodged.

"Alright, alright."

He muttered as he got into a judo stance, then rushed forward, grabbed Natasha's collar, and threw her over his shoulder.

But as soon as Natasha's feet touched the ground, she launched a counterattack, grabbing Peter's belt and trying to flip him.

Peter landed on his back, kicked out hard, and sent Natasha flying.

Before she could get up, he quickly pressed on top of her, his arm locking around her neck.

"I win."

"It's a draw." Natasha said softly.

A hidden dagger was pressed against the vital point between Peter's legs.

Peter hated this woman from the bottom of his heart.

But looking down from this angle, gazing at the proud scenery deep in her neckline, he felt he could forgive her.

"Damn it, we said no weapons." Peter growled.

"I lied." Natasha's expression was cold.

Peter let her go and pulled her up.

"You learned judo quickly, beyond my expectations. Next, we start learning Krav Maga. Did you finish the assignment I gave you?"

Peter rolled his eyes.

"You mean memorizing *The Art of War*? Already done."

"Good. Then write a twenty-page book report, hand it to me within a week, no negotiation." Natasha said as she walked toward the door.

"This doesn't feel like training; it feels more like school." Peter followed her out of the training room.

"Maybe it's supposed to feel like school." Natasha replied.

"Hmm... Hey, Natasha, do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. can provide me with a channel to use social media safely?"

Black Widow stopped and turned to look at him.

"What did you say?"

"Isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. always tracking my online activity? Eyewitness records, discussions about me online, and so on?"

"That's right. So?"

"A lot of the time, I don't have the opportunity to speak for myself, nor can I explain my actions. If I had an official account on the internet, I could do that."

They had reached the shower area.

"I understand... I'll talk to Fury."

As Natasha said this, she grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it up, revealing her proud figure wrapped in a tight sports bra.

Peter's eyes widened for a moment.

Looking at that hot body that seemed to be steaming, he swallowed hard.

Natasha turned her head and gave him a look that was half-smile.

"Want to shower with me?"

Peter's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Uh... I don't think Felicia would be happy. See you, Red."

He turned and walked away, but before leaving, he couldn't help but steal one more glance at her chest.

Wait.

He seemed to see the corners of Natasha's mouth curl up slightly at the same time.

The next morning, there was an extra package at Peter's door.

There were no markings on the package, only a note inside that read:

Untraceable.

Don't post nudes or other stupid content, and don't do anything that might endanger yourself or S.H.I.E.L.D.

All content you post must be submitted to our public relations department for review before it can be officially published.

— Fury