In Zhongcheng High School, in a first-year classroom equipped with a television, radio, and folding blackboard.
No matter how reluctant Peter was, Ned, who thought they had reached a consensus, still became his deskmate as a friend.
Other students are still reporting in and choosing their seats.
Taking advantage of this time, Ned started a conversation with Peter, "Peter, who is your favorite hero among the Avengers?"
"Hero?" Peter answered without hesitation: "Iron Man."
"oh oh!"
Ned was even more excited, spitting everywhere, "I like Iron Man too! His iron suit is so handsome, and of course, he is also very rich. But he is only the second one in my mind. As expected, my favorite is the symbol of peace. He is the real number one hero!"
Peter did not refute this.
Indeed, when discussing this topic, everyone in New York City, regardless of gender, age or status, will default to leaving the first place to the symbol of peace. This is a consensus among everyone.
When it comes to the symbol of peace, no one would compare him to other heroes. After all, the symbol of peace is the first superhero. He ended the long-lasting World War II, founded the Avengers, and saved the world many times. No other hero can compare with him in terms of fame or achievements.
The significance of the existence of the symbol of peace is more like a belief, and has even transcended the framework of the hero itself.
The corners of Peter's mouth curled up quietly. If the fat Ned in front of him knew that he had a fight (beaten) with the symbol of peace, he wondered if he would be so shocked that his jaw would drop.
"Just sit here and wait for someone?"
The male student near the classroom podium quarreled, took the remote control from the podium, and turned on the TV next to the blackboard.
The channel that had just been opened was broadcasting news and current affairs, and the fire footage with thick smoke immediately attracted the attention of all the students in the classroom.
"At 6:50 last night, a fire broke out at the Remi Five-Star Hotel on the central street of Queens. The fire was so severe that it basically covered the entire fifth floor. Fortunately, there were no casualties, thanks to a mysterious man wearing a red and blue tights..."
The female reporter played a video while explaining. In the video, Spider-Man could be vaguely seen swinging his spider silk back and forth, rescuing the affected residents from the fifth floor to the ground at the door.
Ned looked at the news in surprise and said, "Wow, is that a new hero? That guy seems to be able to fly?"
"No, he shouldn't be able to fly." Peter touched his nose. It felt really good to watch himself on TV.
Ned continued to comment: "His clothes are more like Iron Man's design style. Could they be made to imitate Iron Man's suit?"
"This..." Peter didn't know what to say. After all, the Spider-suit was made by Tony. It could be said that Ned inadvertently touched upon the truth.
"Since he's a new hero, he should have a name, right? Let me think about it, how about calling him Fire Monkey? It's a cool name, right?" Ned looked at Peter with interest, wanting to hear his opinion.
Peter corrected him a little excitedly: "His name is Spider-Man, not Fire Monkey Man!"
"Uh." Ned looked confused and obviously frightened. The other students also cast puzzled looks at Peter.
"Childish." A short-haired female student who was sitting in the corner reading quietly looked up and glanced at Peter.
“Well, I heard it from others.”
Peter spread his hands awkwardly and buried his head in his schoolbag.
The news report concluded: "The cause of the fire has not yet been determined. The police have initially ruled out an accidental fire. This incident was most likely caused by humans. Please continue to follow the New York News Channel for more details..."
"Is it man-made?"
Peter raised his head, and his mind recalled the mysterious figure wearing a glass helmet, armor and cloak, who flashed by in the red mist last night.
Who is that person
At this time, in a restaurant in New York.
He was about thirty years old, but with a face full of stubble and a weathered look, he could no longer be called a young man. He was wearing a waiter's suit and squatting at the door of the restaurant in a daze, looking frustrated.
His name is Scott Lang, and he was in prison for theft and had just been out for a few months. Although he managed to find a low-level job, after the divorce, he couldn't even get custody of his little daughter.
Scott needed some money now, a lot of money, which he probably couldn't earn in half a lifetime as a waiter.
Perhaps knowing Scott's current situation, groups of "old friends" appeared in front of him again, throwing out some cake-like suggestions to him when he was in trouble.
After hearing his old friend's proposal, Scott refused without thinking too much, saying, "Still stealing? Please, I have retired and cannot go to jail again!"
"Hush, man, keep your voice down."
One of the fat bearded men put his arm around Scott's shoulder and said in a low voice, "We really need you this time. I guarantee that this is your last order. As long as you take it, the money you get will not only support you for the rest of your life, but also allow your daughter to return to you."
Scott remained silent, but he had to say that he was moved. He could do anything for his daughter.
"Tell me, who is the target?" Scott said in a deep voice.
"I knew you wouldn't refuse."
The fat man with the beard clenched his fist excitedly and said simply: "The other party is a businessman and scientist. He has many properties in New York. He has a villa that has been idle for a long time. According to understanding, there is a super safe room there. By the way, the businessman's name is Hank Pym..."
Late that night, a van with curtains stopped on the road in the villa area.
"I'm going."
Scott, wearing a nightgown, put on a headset and a mask, and got out of the van from the back door. The other accomplices who stayed in the van operated various instruments and equipment, blocked nearby surveillance and signals, and monitored every move in the nearby streets. Their professionalism was no less than that of international thieves.
After Scott left the van, he headed straight for the target villa. He came to the wall, climbed over it skillfully and deftly into the yard, opened the anti-theft window with tools, and then crouched down to get into the villa.
"Go along the hall. There is a staircase on the right. Go up to the second floor. The target is in the third storage room from the bottom..."
Following the instructions from his companions via the headset, Scott turned on the flashlight and came to the storage room on the second floor. When he saw the fingerprint security door, he couldn't help but smile.
This is too easy, so it's certainly not a problem for him.
Use tape to stick old fingerprints left on the handle to reproduce the texture, and then use the replicated fingerprint to pass the scanning level.
Five minutes later.
Scott entered the storage room smoothly without setting off any alarms, and saw the thickened insurance steel door that was two meters long and one meter wide.
"No wonder you came to me, he's such a troublesome guy." Scott exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" asked the companion in surprise.
"It's Carbondale, built in 1910, using steel from the Titanic."
Scott smiled his usual smile, "Remember hitting the iceberg? Its resistance to cold is average."
Scott is a former chief engineer and also a top-notch thief. He knows exactly how to pry open the safe at a glance.
A small hole is drilled in the main structure of the safety door, and a large amount of water is injected. Liquid nitrogen is used to accelerate freezing, and the inside and outside of the safety door are quickly frozen into ice...
"Bang!"