Chapter 24: Arrival in Manhattan
But no. Tony chose to become a symbol of fear. Maybe that was the definition of extreme dedication… or madness that had been meticulously organized.
I shook my head lightly, forcing the thought away.
Enough daydreaming. It was better to head out and make my way to Manhattan. Queens didn’t have many tall buildings suitable for swinging. I had no desire to repeat yesterday’s incident—when I launched myself forward with absolute confidence, only to realize there wasn’t a single building high enough to support my arc.
I’d been forced to awkwardly turn back midair, like a spider that had misjudged the distance to its own web. The embarrassment still lingered, even though no one had actually seen me.
I closed my laptop slowly, making sure every digital trace had been erased and no suspicious tabs remained open. The screen dimmed, reflecting my own image for a brief moment—a perfectly ordinary face burdened with thoughts far too heavy for it.
I pulled on a black hoodie, drawing the hood low over my head. Long black jeans and black shoes completed the outfit. Simple. Unremarkable. Just a young man heading out for an afternoon walk.
After locking the door behind me, I started toward Manhattan.
The daytime air greeted me with a soft breeze that slipped beneath my collar, carrying the scent of car exhaust, street food, and sun-warmed concrete. Car horns blared in uneven rhythm. Fragments of conversation drifted past. Footsteps pounded against pavement. Together, they formed the restless symphony of a city that never truly slept.
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...
...
Now I was in Manhattan. Honestly, the place deserved to be called an urban jungle—giants of steel and glass towering like ancient, greedy trees that devoured the sunlight.
Skyscrapers stood shoulder to shoulder, as if competing to pierce the gray sky, casting long shadows that swept across the streets below. Wind funneled through the narrow gaps between buildings, carrying the sharp scent of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and discarded fast food left to wilt on the sidewalks.
Neon lights and massive billboards reflected sharply against the towering windows, glowing like colonies of fireflies trapped in metallic foliage. Red, blue, and violet flickered endlessly, creating the illusion of perpetual daylight within the already crowded afternoon.
Below, horns blared in reply to one another, brakes screeched in protest, and human voices collided with hurried footsteps—melding into a wild symphony that never truly stopped. This city did not sleep; it merely blinked.
I sat on the edge of a five-story building, my legs dangling lazily over the empty drop, biting into a burger I had bought from somewhere I didn’t even remember. The afternoon wind brushed against my face, rustling the thin wrapping paper in my hand.
The burger tasted mediocre. The bun was stiff and dry, as if it had already accepted its fate as a discounted meal. The meat was cold, stripped of whatever spirit it once had. Each bite felt like a small compromise against better culinary standards.
Still, believe me—the unpleasant taste was nothing compared to the bitter truth I had to accept: I was now living in the Marvel universe… a world that seemed to have an annual tradition called “global catastrophe.” Here, the apocalypse wasn’t a rare event. It was practically a scheduled program, like a summer festival—just with more explosions and fewer fireworks.
There were several reasons I chose Manhattan as my temporary base. First, of course, the mission and its rewards. The more chaos, the greater my chances to interfere and harvest the benefits. This city was fertile ground for anyone seeking trouble—or deliberately chasing it.
Second, I wanted to measure how often chaos truly occurred in New York. My provisional answer? Almost hourly. Criminal drama here fell like rain in the middle of a storm. It didn’t matter whether you carried an umbrella, a raincoat, or a long prayer—there would always be splashes reaching you.
One alley might be filled with a robbery in progress. Two blocks later, a high-speed car chase could be unfolding. And above the skyline, something strange and glowing might suddenly appear.
After all, whether in comics or on the big screen, New York is always the epicenter of madness. If it isn’t aliens descending from the sky with gleaming armadas, then it’s mutants losing control of their powers.
And if it’s not that, maybe it’s a giant robot that suddenly decides its existence lacks meaning and chooses to demolish a few city blocks in search of self-actualization. Or a genius scientist so bored he attempts to fold reality itself just to satisfy his curiosity.
All of that means one thing: I have to be ready.
Hm?
[A fire has been reported in an apartment building in Manhattan...]
The mechanical notification cut through my thoughts. I glanced at my Spider Watch, its screen glowing with a faint bluish light. A live broadcast flickered to life, showing flames devouring an apartment building. Thick black smoke billowed upward, forming a dark pillar that clashed against the city’s lights. Tongues of fire licked at the upper-floor windows, while frantic silhouettes moved behind the glass.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then took another bite of the burger in my hand. My brain worked quickly—calculating distance, estimating potential casualties, considering the risk of structural collapse. But at the same time, a far more urgent question surfaced.
Become a hero now, or finish eating first?
A classic dilemma. Even someone like Superman has probably faced it at some point—saving the world on an empty stomach is hardly ideal. Hunger dulls focus, and in this world, a lapse in focus can mean getting crushed by falling debris.
[Daily Mission: Rescue the People Inside the Burning Apartment Building]
[Completion Condition: Rescue Five Trapped Fire Victims: 0/5]
[Reward: Spider Robot]
“What? The reward’s another Spider Robot?” I muttered under my breath. My face probably displayed a mix of surprise and resignation—the expression of someone who’s been toyed with by a system one too many times.
I let out a small snort, rolling my eyes briefly like a teenager who just realized the grand prize was nothing more than a cheap keychain. The afternoon wind blew again, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke that had begun to reach even the rooftop where I sat.
“Hey, Spider-Man System, what’s with this? Haven’t I already received a Spider Robot before?” I asked inwardly, frowning slightly. It felt strange to receive the same reward yet again. In a world filled with aliens, mutants, and city-destroying machines, my system seemed remarkably loyal to a single type of gadget.
The transparent screen blinked softly at the edge of my vision.
[Spider Robot is a Repeatable Reward. The more Spider Robots owned, the wider the surveillance coverage that can be achieved. Mission efficiency will increase significantly.]
I fell silent for a few seconds, digesting the explanation. Those little robots were undeniably useful—they could slip into ventilation shafts, map out rooms, even serve as my eyes and ears in places I couldn’t physically reach.
“Hm... I suppose you have a point,” I murmured at last, a faint smile forming on my lips. In a chaotic world like this, information is power. And power means surviving a little longer.
Alright. No time to be lazy.
I rose from the edge of the rooftop, slipping the burger wrapper into my small bag—I had no intention of leaving evidence behind.
Carefully, I moved toward the back side of the building, choosing a path with minimal lighting and far from surveillance cameras. Manhattan might be a magnet for chaos, but the city’s CCTV worked harder than half the office employees downtown.
A short command flashed through my mind.
In an instant, my clothes transformed. Shimmering white fibers spread from my wrists, wrapping around my body with perfect precision. The white Spider-Man suit clung to my skin, light yet sturdy. Fine web-like patterns stretched across my chest and arms, while the black eye lenses narrowed automatically, adjusting to the surrounding light levels. It felt like slipping into a new identity—sharper, more prepared, more… iconic.
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