Queens.
The morning sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains like an uninvited guest.
Luke stood at the door of Aunt Mei’s house carrying a tray with fried eggs, bacon, toast, and a pot of freshly brewed coffee.
He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Three times.
Neither hurried nor slow, with a steady rhythm—the standard “Good Neighbor Knock”.
A rustling sound came from inside the door, followed by the sound of slippers shuffling on the floor.
The door opened.
Aunt Mei stood at the doorway, wearing a thin camisole nightgown, her hair damp and draped over her shoulders, wiping it with a towel in one hand.
Beads of water slid down her collarbone and disappeared into— Luke’s gaze shifted very naturally to the ceiling.
“Su?” Aunt Mei widened her eyes slightly, then revealed an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I was just taking a shower.
I didn’t expect you to come so early.” Luke took a deep breath.
And another.
“It’s fine.” He pushed the tray forward, his voice as steady as a news broadcast.
“I think I came at the right time.” What did he mean by “at the right time”?
Aunt Mei’s face turned red in a flash.
Her movements as she took the tray were slightly flustered, and the towel almost fell to the floor.
“I—I’ll go wake Peter up!” She turned around so fast it was like she was fleeing a crime scene.
Luke walked inside and began setting the breakfast on the dining table one by one.
Fried eggs, bacon, toast, butter, jam.
He paused when he placed the butter in the center of the table.
Last night.
Manhattan.
A kid in a red and blue bodysuit was bouncing around in the crossfire between Hulk and the Military.
Luke straightened the cutlery and sighed inwardly.
He really did see this Little Spider as a child now.
Even though he had told him not to go yesterday, the kid just had to— Fine.
The body needs time to repair itself.
The Spider physiology’s recovery ability was indeed strong, but with injuries of that degree yesterday, even with rapid healing, he would at least need to sleep until the sun was high.
As expected.
Aunt Mei shouted “Peter” three times upstairs, each time louder than the last.
“Peter!” “Peter!
Get up!” “Peter Parker!
Get up right now!” The classic triple threat.
After quite a while, a muffled “Coming, coming” finally drifted down from upstairs.
When Aunt Mei walked downstairs, her brows were slightly furrowed.
She had changed into a casual T-shirt, and her hair was half-dry, but she couldn’t hide the worry on her face.
“This kid doesn’t usually get up this late.” Luke poured two cups of coffee and handed one over.
“He probably stayed up late last night.
You know how boys his age are.” Aunt Mei took the coffee and nodded thoughtfully.
Luke thought to himself, *Don’t nod, that’s not what I meant!* Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Peter Parker appeared.
His hair was messy like a bird’s nest, faint dark circles hung under his eyes, and he wore a wrinkled T-shirt.
He looked like a rag that had been spun dry in a washing machine.
But as for his mental state— “Morning, Uncle Su.” Not bad.
He could talk, he could walk; it seemed he had recovered quite well.
Luke nodded at him.
Then Peter saw the food on the table.
His pupils dilated suddenly.
It was a look, how to put it, like someone who had been walking in the desert for three days suddenly seeing an oasis, like a college student seeing an internet cafe after finishing finals, like— “Can I eat all of this?!” Before Luke could answer, Peter had already sat down.
One fried egg.
Into his mouth.
Two slices of bacon.
Into his mouth.
Toast with butter—no, he didn’t butter it, he just shoved it straight into his mouth.
Aunt Mei’s hand holding the coffee cup froze in mid-air, her mouth slightly open, watching her nephew shove food into his mouth like a meat grinder.
“Peter!” Peter looked up, his mouth stuffed full, and let out a muffled “Hmm?” “Don’t be so rude!” Aunt Mei put down her cup, her face full of the confusion of “Is this really the child I raised?” Luke leaned back in his chair, watching this scene.
Super metabolism.
The Spider physiology consumes a lot of energy to begin with, and yesterday’s battle had severely overdrawn his reserves; his body needed a massive influx of calories to repair itself.
In other words, this kid wasn’t eating breakfast right now; he was recharging himself.
“Young people these days have such scary appetites~” Luke said indifferently.
Then he picked up a cup on the table and cracked four raw eggs into it.
Crack, crack, crack, crack.
Aunt Mei turned her head to look at him.
Luke raised the cup, tilted his head back, and downed it in one go.
Aunt Mei: “…” Peter, with half a slice of toast in his mouth: “…” Luke put the cup down, egg residue on the corner of his mouth, his expression unchanged.
“Replenishing protein.” Aunt Mei looked at Luke, then at Peter.
Two people, one eating dry food, the other drinking it raw.
She reached up and covered her forehead.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
As if she had found a lifeline, Aunt Mei immediately stood up and walked toward the door.
Luke waited for her to leave the living room, took a photo out of his pocket, flicked his finger, and it flew precisely into the plate in front of Peter.
In the photo.
A small, thin figure, hair messy, wearing a hoodie, was walking along the sidewalk of the Queensboro Bridge toward Queens.
Four in the morning.
The background was the Manhattan skyline.
The moment Peter saw the photo, the food in his mouth almost sprayed out.
He swallowed hard, his eyes wide as copper bells.
“Uncle Su!
It’s not what you think!” Luke crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
He didn’t speak.
He just watched him.
“I’ve made myself clear enough, haven’t I?” Peter’s lips moved.
“I must be responsible for your safety.
I think Aunt Mei—” Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The alarm went off.
Luke looked down at his wrist.
Eight forty-seven.
He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table.
“Alright, I won’t say any more to you.
I have to go to work.” He walked over to Peter, looking down at him.
“When I get off work, we’ll talk again.” The emphasis on the words “talk again” made the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand up.
Luke turned and walked toward the door.
In his mind, the system panel popped up.
[Roleplaying Kizaru Borsalino] [Current Progress: 89%] [Remaining Time: 6 Days] Eighty-nine percent.
Eleven percent left.
Six days.
Alright, at this rate, these six days should be easy to get through.
He walked to the door.
He stopped.
A woman was standing in the hallway, talking to Aunt Mei.
She was wearing a loose beige sweater, jeans, and cotton slippers on her feet.
Her hair was casually tied in a bun, she had no makeup on, and a small dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth when she smiled.
She looked like an ordinary person who had just moved into a new apartment— Sharon Carter.
Luke’s footsteps paused in place.
Sharon turned her head, her gaze meeting Luke’s.
She flashed a bright smile.
“Hello!
I’m your new neighbor.” Luke looked at her.
Her smile was friendly.
Her eyes were innocent.
If Luke didn’t know that this person was a former S.H.I.E.L.D.
Agent, Peggy Carter’s niece, and a badass who would help Captain America steal equipment in the future, he might have actually believed it.
Luke had only two words in his mind.
Surveillance.
Fury.
This old fox was really fast.
What “new neighbor”?
More like a new surveillance device.
“Hello.” Luke squeezed out a polite smile.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Luke pulled out his phone.
A number was displayed on the screen.
He answered it.
“If you haven’t appeared at the studio by nine o’clock—” Nick Fury’s voice came from the receiver, his tone flat.
“—I will fire you according to your labor contract.” Luke glanced at the time.
Eight fifty-one.
From Queens to the S.H.I.E.L.D.
studio in Manhattan.
Nine minutes.
Luke was stunned.
Heh~ Six days, why do I feel like it won’t be too dull~ Luke hung up the phone and turned to run.
Sharon Carter’s bun was blown askew by the gust of wind from him rushing out, and she stood there blinking.
Aunt Mei poked her head out.
“Su?
Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” Only a distant response came from the end of the hallway.
“I’m late—!” Aunt Mei and Sharon looked at each other.
“Is he…
always like this?” Sharon asked.
Aunt Mei thought for a moment and nodded.
“Pretty much.”