Luke stared out the window.
Two iron shells were flying back and forth in the sky, lasers were darting around, and explosions were erupting in one cluster after another.
A chunk had been sheared off a building in the distance, and debris was falling downward.
Something was wrong.
Luke’s brain was racing.
He secretly glanced at Peter beside him, then glanced at Aunt Mei in the direction of the door, and then looked up at the grey-silver behemoth that was exchanging fire in the air.
Iron Monger.
Obadiah Stane.
He thought of Aunt Mei again—hmm, beautiful Aunt Mei.
Judging by this Aunt Mei’s appearance, isn’t this the timeline of the movie Universe?
In the movie Universe, the location of the final battle between Iron Monger and Iron Man was on top of the arc reactor at the Stark Industries headquarters.
Once the fight was over, it was over.
One arc reactor explosion, Obadiah went offline, clean and simple.
How did the fight reach Queens?
How far is Queens from there?
This is like arranging a fight at the Second Ring Road in Beijing, only to end up fighting all the way to Tongzhou.
Are you here to fight or to run a marathon?
Luke maintained a calm expression on the surface, while his inner world was already crashing wildly.
No, the plot has deviated.
What kind of version is this exactly?
He didn’t have time to overthink it; a laser outside the window grazed the roof of the building opposite, leaving a scorching burn Mark, and half of the water tower on the roof was sheared off directly.
Debris came clattering down.
Peter’s fists clenched.
He watched the scattered debris outside the window, watched people screaming and running in the distance, and watched that chaotic brawl getting closer and clearer.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
“Enough.” Peter’s voice was much lower than before.
“Uncle Su, I can’t just watch this.” Luke didn’t move.
“Help me steady Aunt Mei.” Peter turned his head, his eyes bright, but his voice was steady.
“You will know whether what I said is true or not.” After he finished speaking, he bent down to reach under the bed.
The spare Spider-Man suit, stuffed behind an old schoolbag and wrapped in three layers of socks, was being yanked out by him.
Luke watched that crumpled ball of fabric being pulled out by Peter.
Spider-Man’s suit.
Handmade version.
The sewing level was roughly between a middle school home economics assignment and a twenty-nine-point-nine-yuan free-shipping item from Taobao.
Peter had already started putting it on.
Luke stepped forward, one hand pressing down on his shoulder.
“Stay put.” Peter froze for a moment, then tried to struggle.
He didn’t break free.
But Luke knew it wasn’t that Peter couldn’t break free; it was that this child subconsciously didn’t dare to use his strength.
He was afraid of hurting him.
A child, carrying the strength to flip a car, but when facing his own guardian, his first reaction was to hold back.
Luke’s heart softened for a moment.
Then it hardened again.
“Stay put.” “Uncle Su!” Peter’s voice rose.
“I really am Spider-Man!
You wait for me to handle—” Handle my foot.
Luke’s heart was very calm.
Spider-Man, a typical late-bloomer hero.
Right now, you’re just a level-one character, you haven’t even finished getting your basic equipment, your talents are only half-filled, though your passive skills are quite flashy—web-shooters, agility, Spider-Sense, you’ve got it all.
But.
What is that silver iron shell outside?
Iron Monger.
Full-body heavy armor, firepower coverage, pure peak combat power right out of the gate.
If a level-one Spider-Man goes up there, he could slap you into a photograph and stick you on a utility pole in Queens.
And that red-and-gold one?
Iron Man.
Mark series armor, built-in AI assistance system, Repulsor Rays, chest beam, micro-missiles, fully automatic operations, full-coverage damage.
Who are you going to help?
Help Iron Man?
He doesn’t know you, he’ll blast you first.
Help Iron Monger?
Then you might as well rename yourself Spider-Villain.
Not helping either side and just going to save people?
Then you’re standing in the middle of the battlefield, two iron shells are blasting at each other, and you’re there catching bombs?
You’re Spider-Man, not a blast shield.
“I’m not joking!” Peter was anxious, struggled a bit, and found Luke’s hand didn’t budge.
“I’m not joking!” Peter’s voice rose.
“I believe you,” Luke said, pressing down on his shoulder, his tone as flat as a water surface.
“I believe you.” “You don’t believe me at all—” “I said I believe you.” Luke let go, looking at him.
“Fine, now, you, the big hero, just do one thing.” He paused, saying every word clearly.
“Protect Aunt Mei, don’t do anything else.” “I am a S.H.I.E.L.D.
Agent,” Luke said.
“I’ll handle it.” Peter opened his mouth.
Of course he didn’t believe it.
In his eyes, Uncle Su was at most a nine-to-five intelligence analyst, whose most dangerous job was probably getting his mouth burned by coffee in the office.
Letting a desk jockey handle a scene where two iron shells were blasting each other in the sky?
Bang, bang, bang!
The door was knocked loudly.
Aunt Mei rushed in, her hair half loose, not even having time to untie her apron, a spatula still clutched in her hand.
“Those two outside, those two iron men!” Her voice was urgent and fast, the spatula pointing out the window in an arc.
“What do we do?!” Peter instinctively stood in front of Aunt Mei.
Luke noticed this action.
Natural, fluid, without any process of thought.
The body moved before the mind.
The kind where the protective instinct is written into the genes.
“Don’t be afraid, Aunt Mei,” Peter reached out to support Aunt Mei’s shoulder.
“It’s okay—” Aunt Mei’s eyes suddenly widened.
She pointed out the window, her voice suddenly sharp— “That!
That thing!
It’s flying over here!” Peter shuddered.
His Spider-Sense exploded.
The sharp tingling from the back of his head surged through his whole body like an electric current, and every hair on his body stood up.
Something was coming this way.
Very fast.
Very dangerous.
He turned abruptly, shielding Aunt Mei behind him, facing the window— Outside the window.
Spotless.
There was nothing.
In the distant sky, the two iron shells were still entangled, but their trajectory had shifted, moving quite a distance away from this apartment building.
No bombs.
No missiles.
Nothing was flying over.
The Spider-Sense vanished as quickly as it had come, as if someone had flipped a switch.
Peter stood there, stunned.
No.
That sense just now was real.
His Spider-Sense never lies.
Something had indeed flown toward here, and it was close enough to trigger his alarm.
But now there was nothing.
He turned back.
Then he discovered something strange.
Luke had changed positions.
Three seconds ago, Luke was standing on his left, near the door.
Now, Luke was leaning against the wall on the right side of the window, his posture loose, both hands clapping against each other, as if brushing off dust.
No, not like brushing off dust.
Peter smelled a scent.
A burnt smell.
Very faint, but it definitely existed.
The edges of Luke’s palms were slightly red, the skin on his fingertips was darker than normal, as if he had just touched something extremely hot.
“Uncle Su…” Peter spoke, his eyes complex.
“Peter,” Luke interrupted, his tone as casual as if chatting about the weather.
“You really should clean this room.” He clapped his hands, his expression natural.
Peter stared at his hands.
That burnt smell hadn’t dissipated yet.
Aunt Mei was distracted by this sentence and subconsciously looked around Peter’s room.
It was indeed a mess, socks draped over the desk lamp, textbooks piled next to the pillow, and a pair of sweatpants from who knows when hanging off the corner of the table.
Her expression switched from horror to disgust, and the speed of the switch was professional.
“Oh my god, Peter, this room of yours—” “May, that’s not the point—” Luke stepped forward and patted Peter on the shoulder.
The force was very light.
But that hand was hot.
“Take care of Aunt Mei,” Luke looked at him, his voice low, but every word was clear.
“Don’t do anything.” “Everything will be fine.” After he finished speaking, he turned and walked toward the door.
Aunt Mei switched from disgust mode back to panic mode instantly: “Su!
Where are you going?!” “I’m going to buy two cartons of milk to mediate.” Luke didn’t even look back, raising his hand as a farewell.
Aunt Mei chased him for two steps, running into the hallway in her slippers.
The hallway was empty.
The emergency exit light was still flashing.
There wasn’t a soul in the stairwell.
Luke had disappeared.
As if he had never existed in this building at all.
Aunt Mei stood stunned in the hallway, clutching the spatula, her expression blank.
Peter stood at the doorway, staring at the empty hallway.
He looked down at his own hands.
Then he sniffed the air again.
Burnt smell.
Spider-Sense doesn’t lie.
Something had indeed flown over.
And then it had been blocked by someone.
…
On the roof of the apartment building.
Luke stood by the railing, the wind blowing his coat wildly.
Luke’s heart was not calm at all.
This won’t do.
In just that short while, he had already used teleportation to block who knows how many bomb fragments that had splashed over.
Every time the Spider-Sense rang, it meant something was flying toward the residential building.
Every time the Spider-Sense vanished, it meant he had already taken care of that thing.
His hands were almost burnt to a crisp.
The temperature of those fragments was ridiculously high; feeling them with his bare hands was like using his hands to flip steaks on a teppanyaki grill, the well-done kind that was already smoking.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
He took a deep breath.
The system panel emerged quietly in his field of vision.
A line of text hung there quietly, as if waiting for him to click it.
[Reward: Admiral Kizaru — Battle Suit Set] Luke stared at those clothes for three seconds.
Yellow striped suit.
Floral shirt.
And a pair of sunglasses.
He went silent.
Overtime, can’t do it.
Wait for S.H.I.E.L.D.
to come and clean up, to erase the traces?
Too late.
If those two iron shells fight for a little longer, half of the infrastructure in Queens will be scrap.
If those two iron shells fight for a little longer, half of the infrastructure in Queens will be scrap.
By the time Fury brings people to arrive, he’ll only be coming to collect corpses.
Do it himself.
Luke looked at that set of Kizaru’s clothes, his mouth twitching.
Fine.
This outfit, he really had to wear it.