Chapter 7: Salary as a Security Guard at Stark Industries
The Marvel Universe has far too many alternate realities. Honestly, I haven’t even read all the comics. I only know about Earth-76 mostly from YouTube reviews. Even those tend to focus more on wild theories and over-the-top thumbnails with exaggerated shocked faces.
Yet it was precisely because of that limited knowledge that I realized one thing: being a security guard at Stark Tower was not safe.
Even though the salary was high—around $8,000 to $10,000 a month—the risks were just as high. If one day robots flooded the building or aliens decided to drop by Manhattan for a casual visit, then the first person to suffer the consequences would be… me.
Especially if I happened to be standing in front of the parking area, waving a flashlight baton like an idiot while a giant monster calmly chose a VIP parking spot.
That was exactly why I had to be frugal. Every cent had to be counted, every expense carefully controlled. My eyes fell on the free glass of plain water the waiter had brought—yes, free water. The best friend of anyone living on a tight budget. I let out a slow breath. It felt like I was playing a survival game with hard mode activated right from the start.
Then, a mischievous thought crossed my mind.
“Wait a second… aren’t I Spider-Man now?” I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head as I stared blankly out the window. My reflection appeared faintly on the glass—a face that still looked like an ordinary guy, yet hiding a massive secret beneath the skin. “If that’s the case… couldn’t I steal from gangsters or the mafia? Or at least… from thieves themselves?”
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, my fingers tapping lightly against it as if hoping a brilliant idea might surface from beneath my skin.
“Hmm… that’s not such a bad idea, right? They’re criminals. I’d just be… taking back money that came from crime in the first place.” The thought spun in my head like a stubborn pop-up notification that refused to disappear.
It really did sound like something an anti-hero in a movie would do. But I quickly shook my head, brushing aside that reckless fantasy before it turned into a stupid decision.
“No, no, Dante. That’s the beginning of a downfall,” I told myself, forcing my voice to sound firm. “Focus first. You can’t even shoot spider webs properly yet.”
I looked down at the table in front of me, trying to ground myself again. Not long after, the waiter returned with my order: a simple plate of grilled chicken, thin steam still rising from it, and a cold glass of apple juice with beads of condensation slowly sliding down the sides.
The portion wasn’t big, but the aroma… oh, the aroma felt like an official invitation from culinary heaven. My stomach immediately protested, growling loudly like a starving monster demanding to be fed.
“At least it tastes good,” I muttered after the first bite. The edges of the grilled chicken skin were slightly crispy, while the meat inside remained tender.
The seasoning was simple—just salt and pepper—but that simplicity was exactly what made it so satisfying. For only ten dollars, it was more than enough to replenish the energy I’d been burning since morning.
Once the plate was empty and the apple juice left nothing behind but a lingering sweet aftertaste on my tongue, I stood up. I adjusted my jacket, which did a poor job of hiding the fact that I was tightening my belt to survive. After paying at the counter—no tip, sorry, wallet—I headed toward the exit.
“Alright,” I whispered to my own faint reflection in the café window. My hair was a bit messy, my face ordinary, but my eyes… my eyes held a massive secret. “It’s time to get moving.”
I pushed the door open, and the bell above it chimed softly once again, as if bidding me farewell. The midday air greeted me warmly, mixed with the familiar scent of pollution and exhaust fumes that had become this city’s official perfume. Sunlight reflected off the glass of towering buildings, making everything look like a vast arena where fate loved to play its jokes.
I walked into a narrow, deserted alley. It was wedged between two tall buildings, their walls still damp with the remnants of morning dew. The atmosphere was dark and slightly eerie—the kind of place perfect for a superhero transformation scene… or a mugging. Thankfully, this time, it was the former.
After making sure no one was watching, I lifted my gaze upward—toward the three-story building looming in front of me. From below, its height felt like a small challenge, as if it were quietly provoking, “Go on. Show me what you can do.”
“All right, Dante…” I whispered softly, my breathing tightening just a little. “Time to climb again.”
I pressed my palms against the rough red-brick wall. A strange yet familiar sensation spread across my skin—a subtle stickiness, as if some invisible energy were anchoring my fingers firmly to the surface.
Within seconds, that odd reflex kicked in, and I began to move. My body ascended, crawling upward like a true spider. The motion felt agile and natural, so smooth that I almost forgot I was still a beginner at this.
The midday wind tugged at my jacket, fluttering its edges like small, frustrated wings. The higher I climbed, the stronger the scent became—metal, dust, and exhaust from the streets below. It was the unmistakable smell of a big city, a reminder that danger was always lurking behind its constant noise and motion.
When I finally reached the rooftop, I took a deep breath. The wind was stronger up here, sweeping through my hair and forcing my feet to steady themselves. But something had already changed. While I was climbing, I had switched outfits—my suit had activated, wrapping around my body automatically the moment I focused on my task.
Now I stood as Spider-Man… a cleaner, whiter version.
The suit was a gleaming white, as if woven from futuristic fibers, reflecting sunlight like a smooth glass surface. In several places, black accents formed sharp, sleek patterns, giving it an aggressive yet elegant appearance.
On my chest, a large black spider emblem stretched across my shoulders and down toward my abdomen, like a visual warning that this identity wasn’t just about style—it was a declaration of war against the threats of the world.
The mask… ah, the mask made me look like a mysterious being from some futuristic realm. Its white color contrasted sharply with the large, reflective black eye lenses, shaped like elongated water droplets stretching toward the sides. From the eyes alone, an aura of “alert but cool” radiated effortlessly.
Thin black lines ran along my arms, flowing like hidden streams of energy, ending at web shooters seamlessly integrated into my wrists—far more modern than the classic box-like attachments.
The black belt around my waist bore a hexagonal symbol—not merely an accessory, but a multifunctional tool I could access anytime the situation demanded it. Meanwhile, the leg sections were slim and tightly sealed, fitted with special anti-slip soles that clung firmly to walls, making me feel as if I were living inside a parkour game with cheats enabled.
Then I took a long, steady breath, letting the air fill my lungs completely, trying to calm my heart, which was beating far too fast—almost as if it were about to leap straight out of my chest.
The pounding echoed in my ears, mixing with the realization that I was truly standing on a rooftop, alone, wearing a skin-tight suit that I definitely couldn’t call normal.
The midday breeze drifted gently around me, brushing across the rooftop and gliding over the suit clinging to my skin, sending a brief chill before the warmth of the sun seeped back in.
“All right,” I murmured softly, my voice nearly swallowed by the wind, as I looked down at my hands covered in white gloves patterned with fine web designs. The pattern was clearly visible under the daylight, its thin lines forming a design that felt all too familiar. “Time to try using my spider webs.”
I straightened my body, pulling my back upright as if preparing for something important, then raised one hand forward the way I had seen in movies. The motion felt awkward, far from the heroic grace I was used to seeing on screen.