Chapter 3: Becoming a Security Guard at Stark Industries
The lens looked reflective, perhaps equipped with an internal HUD or a night-vision filter. I could imagine myself staring at the world through that lens—not as an ordinary human, but as a guardian moving in the shadows of the city.
A slim black line stretched from the armpit down to the wrist, like a channel of flowing energy that emphasized its technological nature. At the wrist, I could see the subtle integration of a web-shooter device—not bulky, not protruding, but seamlessly fused into the design of the suit. Unlike the classic version that jutted outward, this one looked organic, as if it were part of my own body.
A black belt circled my waist, with a hexagonal logo at the front—minimalist, yet powerful. At a glance, it looked like a multifunction tool: perhaps for storing web fluid, housing a communication system, or even containing a backup energy module. Its shape was solid, giving off the sense that it was ready for anything.
My eyes drifted down to the legs. The design was sleek, flowing seamlessly from thigh to the tips of the shoes. No seams, no straps. The soles were dark gray with a rough texture underneath, likely made from high-grade anti-slip material.
I could even imagine what it would feel like to cling to the side of a tall building, feeling gravity tug at my body—yet this suit would resist it, holding me firmly in place.
A small smile crept onto my face. A sense of disbelief slipped into my chest.
“Wow… this is so cool,” I whispered, almost like an awed breath that escaped my lips without permission.
“Well, at least it doesn’t look like that generic red-and-blue Spider-Man costume,” I said with a crooked smile, a satisfied tone clearly coloring my low voice.
“This… is way cooler.” There was a hint of pride there—a mix of disbelief and admiration that I couldn’t quite hide.
I stepped to the side of the bed, where the underwear I had prepared lay neatly folded on the mattress. My movements were slow but steady. I picked it up, then carefully began to put on the Spider-Man suit, like someone donning something more than just clothing—a symbol, or perhaps my new skin.
The moment the gleaming white fabric touched my skin, a cool sensation spread instantly, making me shiver slightly. The material felt flexible yet strong, elastic yet solid.
Every fiber seemed to move, adjusting itself to the shape of my body, clinging perfectly to every curve of muscle, even to the smallest movement of each breath I took. The suit felt alive—I could sense it. It responded to every motion, every touch, as if there were a subtle connection between us.
Within seconds, the suit fit perfectly. I stood upright before the holographic mirror, observing my reflection—no longer that of an ordinary human.
“…I look amazing,” I murmured in awe, though there was also a trace of arrogance I couldn’t quite suppress.
My lips curved upward, a reflex I didn’t even realize. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the surface of the white suit. Its sheen was like liquid metal, pulsing softly in rhythm with my breathing.
I turned slightly, studying the large black spider emblem on my chest, which seemed almost alive, faintly shifting with each rise and fall of my breath.
I raised my right hand, watching how the light slid along my arm all the way to my wrist.
“Change into a dark-blue short-sleeved T-shirt, with dark-blue long pants and a pair of sandals,” I said calmly but firmly.
At once, the surface of the suit pulsed softly, as if it were breathing. The black spider pattern on my chest began to dissolve, flowing slowly like ink dropped into water. The white color darkened little by little, transforming into a smooth, elegant deep blue.
A faint sound, like a soft hiss of air, could be heard as the fibers of the suit rearranged their molecular structure, softening and reshaping themselves.
In a matter of seconds, I was no longer wearing a superhero costume—but casual clothes exactly as I had asked for: a dark-blue short-sleeved T-shirt, comfortable, well-fitted long pants, and light black sandals that looked as though they were a natural part of the outfit.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror once again. There were no boundary lines, no traces of any transformation. My skin looked smooth, the fabric followed every movement of my body perfectly. It felt strange—as if I were still wearing a costume, yet now I looked like an ordinary person. I let out a slow breath and gave a small chuckle.
“Cool…” I whispered, tilting my head slightly, gazing at the reflection with quiet satisfaction.
But my curiosity surfaced almost immediately. I moved my wrist a little, feeling the fine texture of the fabric that now looked like ordinary cotton, yet felt far lighter and cooler against my skin.
“But do I have to always say what I want to wear out loud before this costume reacts, Spider-Man System?” I asked, my tone casual but filled with curiosity.
[You only need to think about what you wish to wear, and in an instant the Transforming Spider-Man Suit will respond according to your desire. Simply give a mental signal or intent to change, and the suit will adjust without the need for any verbal command.]
The voice echoed softly inside my head—smooth, neutral, yet perfectly clear. There was an artificial quality to it, but it wasn’t unsettling.
“Is that so?” I murmured quietly, staring into space for a few seconds before letting a small smile form. I gave a light nod, relief showing on my face. “That’s good. Because it would be pretty troublesome if every time I wanted to change, I had to say it out loud.”
I studied my reflection once more, now with a different kind of calm. From someone who had been confused by these new powers, I was starting to feel that maybe… things weren’t so bad after all.
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Then I walked out of my room—or rather, the living room that also functioned as the main area of my small house. The space was narrow, its walls still bare without any decorations, the faint smell of fresh paint mixing with the cardboard scent of boxes I hadn’t had time to unpack yet.
The low-hanging ceiling lamp cast a slightly dim, yellowish light, making the corners of the room look as though they were still hiding secrets left behind by the previous owner.
The atmosphere inside still felt unfamiliar, like a place that had not yet truly become “home.” Everything was arranged only as needed—as if I were merely passing through, not settling down.
According to the memories of the previous owner of this body, I was now Dante Arashi, a twenty-one-year-old orphan who had just moved to Queens, New York, about a week ago. His life… or rather, my life now, was nothing special. My first job? A security guard at Stark Industries.
Yes, Stark Industries! The company owned by Tony Stark—aka Iron Man! A name so enormous that merely saying it could make your breath catch. Did that mean I might actually meet Iron Man in person?
Crazy… my mind immediately drifted to all kinds of absurd possibilities—from becoming his friend to… well, maybe having lunch together?
Saving the world side by side?
Or at the very least, getting a photo with him and showing it off on social media?
But for now, I figured it would be better to go outside and take a look around New York first. Explore first, become a hero later—that was the plan.
I took a deep breath, the slightly chilly morning air filling my lungs. My hand reached for the doorknob, already a bit worn—who knew how many hands had touched it before mine.
My chest thumped lightly for no clear reason, perhaps because this was the first day I was truly “starting a new life.” With a gentle push, I opened the door.
Fresh morning air brushed against my face, carrying with it the scent of toasted bread from a neighbor’s house, the faint chirping of birds, and the distant rumble of a city that never truly slept.
But just as I stepped outside, my movement came to an abrupt halt.
At the moment I opened the door and stepped out, a woman from the house next to mine had just finished locking her door.
She stood there—a woman who turned out to be my neighbor.