Leon Graves skillfully weaved through the cracks in the peeling brick walls like a giant gecko, nimbly flipping himself into the sealed attic.
This was a place he had discovered eighteen days ago.
The attic was hidden on the top floor of an old apartment building, its entrance long sealed shut with cement.
Even the most experienced homeless drifters in the area had no idea there was a hidden space up here.
But for a wall-crawling Spider-Man, this wasn’t a problem.
He crawled through the window and casually pushed the loose wooden board back into place behind him.
The room was thick with dust.
Furniture from more than a decade ago sat abandoned inside, carrying a stale, moldy smell.
But there was an old sofa with exposed springs here.
And more importantly, there was a roof that could shield him from the wind and rain.
Best of all, he could siphon water and electricity from the apartment building downstairs.
For an undocumented teenager wandering through Gotham without wanting to fall into crime, this was basically a five-star presidential suite.
Leon collapsed onto the sofa.
The springs screeched violently, stabbing into his backside hard enough to make him wince.
But he didn’t have time to care.
He quickly pulled out a paper bag hidden inside his hoodie.
Before he even opened it, the smell of cheap grease hit his nose.
Inside were two cheeseburgers and a box of slightly crushed fries.
This was the “loot” from tonight’s patrol.
Half an hour earlier, a robber who had just hit a convenience store happened to run into him in an alley.
The guy had been carrying his late-night meal in one hand.
Before he could even take a bite, Leon had slammed him to the ground with a textbook shoulder throw.
While dodging the man’s flailing arms, Leon had calmly lectured him.
“Hey, bro, calm down. Look, you rob a convenience store, I stop you from robbing a convenience store—that’s just standard superhero procedure. But you’ve already bought your midnight snack and you’re still robbing places? That’s unprofessional. Do you realize how slow the GCPD responds? You could’ve finished eating first and then robbed the place. Or robbed it first and eaten afterward. Your order of operations is completely wrong, bro. Completely wrong.”
The robber got nagged into questioning his entire existence and ran away without even daring to take the burgers back.
What a joke.
If you encountered a masked lunatic in Gotham who kept rambling nonstop, had insane strength, and could crawl on walls, wouldn’t you run too?
The System hadn’t reacted at all during the incident.
As long as the food wasn’t technically stolen, the System usually pretended not to notice “unclaimed property.”
Leon even suspected the System realized he was on the verge of starving to death and intentionally made an exception.
He took a huge bite out of the burger.
The cold cheese and dry bread tasted better than a royal banquet.
While chewing, Leon sorted through the original owner’s fragmented memories.
The original owner’s father had been named Old Graves.
Back in his homeland, he had lived a decent middle-class life.
But for some reason, the man had suddenly become obsessed with chasing the so-called American Dream and brought his son to Gotham.
Chasing dreams was one thing.
The problem was that the old man insisted on taking the illegal route and smuggled them into the country.
As a result, the moment they arrived in Gotham, before they even got close to seeing the Statue of Liberty, they walked directly into a gang shootout at Gotham Harbor.
Old Graves died on the spot as a sacrifice to the American Dream.
The original owner escaped alone from the docks and wandered Gotham’s streets for several days before eventually starving to death beside a dumpster.
Then Leon arrived.
Along with a Spider-Man Role-Playing System.
The original owner’s name had been Peter.
His father originally carried the surname Graves, but after immigrating, he changed it to Parker because he thought it sounded more American.
At the time, Leon had been given two choices.
One.
Call himself Peter Parker.
A name practically cursed by fate itself.
Two.
Be called Peter Graves.
Leon had immediately chosen a third option.
To hell with both.
He was undocumented anyway.
Why should he care?
His name was Leon Graves.
In a city filled with lunatics, talking less and exploiting loopholes more was the true key to survival.
That’s right.
Talk less.
At that moment, a pale blue translucent interface suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[Ding! Phase One Role-Playing Mission Completed.]
[Current Character Compatibility: 5%]
[Distributing Phase Rewards…]
Leon instantly sat upright.
After half a month of hard work, he was finally seeing some return.
Originally, he thought the System would reward him with cash.
Or maybe a high-tech nano-suit that didn’t need to be hand-washed.
Instead, a line of text appeared on the interface.
[Unlocked Ability: Organic Web Shooters]
Leon froze for a moment.
He instinctively looked down at his wrist.
Considering most versions of Spider-Man had to create their own web fluid and web shooters, Leon had already mentally prepared himself to dig through Gotham’s garbage piles for spare parts.
But this System skipped all that and went straight to biological mutation.
“Thank God. That saves me a fortune in material costs.”
Leon muttered to himself.
If he really had to gather chemicals and machinery himself, he estimated he’d still be busking on Gotham’s streets two years from now.
He followed the strange instinct that had suddenly appeared in his mind.
Pressing his middle and ring fingers against his palm, he aimed toward the corner of the room.
Pfft.
A soft sound echoed out.
A strand of white webbing shot from his wrist and stuck perfectly to the broken wardrobe in the distance.
Leon curiously grabbed the web and tugged on it.
The moment he pulled, his expression froze.
The webbing sagged limply like overcooked noodles.
With the slightest force, it snapped instantly.
The broken ends looked strangely translucent.
Honestly, it even looked…
weak.
“I’m so underweight that even my webs are malnourished. Amazing. Weight loss success.”
Leon muttered while firing several more test shots.
Each attempt became worse than the last.
The final strand didn’t even travel two meters before dissolving midair like poorly mixed glue.
[System Prompt: Due to the host’s prolonged malnutrition and severe protein deficiency, current web strength is only 0.5% of standard Spider-Man levels.]
“Adjustment period.”
“Right.”
“It’s not malnutrition. It’s an adjustment period.”
Leon stared silently at the sticky white residue on his wrist.
Then he punched the air in frustration.
This damn System was way too realistic.
He couldn’t even afford food, and now even his webbing was brittle from starvation.
Leon looked down at his hands and felt the faint warmth spreading through his stomach from the burger.
He sighed and collapsed back onto the broken sofa.
Outside the window, Gotham’s night sky remained dark and overcast.
In the distance, police sirens occasionally screamed through the city.
Leon rolled over.
Amid the creaking springs beneath him, he slowly drifted into deep sleep.
In his dream, he sat aboard Tony Stark’s private jet while holding an unlimited black card and devouring an enormous feast.
Meanwhile, Batman crouched beside him, respectfully handing him napkins.
“Leon, eat more.”
“The future of Gotham depends on you.”
Leon burst out laughing in his dream.