Marvel: The Amazing Spider-Man in the Multiverse

George Stacy, serving as a patrol sergeant at the Manhattan 12th Precinct, found himself in a position that was essentially the tip of the spear, still primarily a "police officer" rather than a "police official." Consequently, his days were always packed. It was six in the evening when he finally completed his day's patrol according to his schedule and returned to the precinct.

He had barely sat down when a colleague approached him with surprising news. He immediately stood up and walked into the station's hallway, where he saw his daughter carrying a Chinese takeout dinner for him.

"Welcome to the NYPD," Chief George said, embracing his daughter. He released her, noticing her slight embarrassment: "What brings you to visit your old man?"

"First, you're not even 50 yet; I wouldn't call that old. Second, I'm here to bring you dinner. I guess you haven't eaten, have you?"

"Just about to eat. I was taking a break."

Gwen eyed her father with suspicion: "About to eat what?"

"...I don't know. If you hadn't come, I'd still be trying to figure it out. Did you eat, Gwen?"

"I taste-tested it for you; that Chinese restaurant is pretty good."

"You taste-tested it for me?" George paused, then frowned: "Eating out isn't always good, maybe once or twice... Girls your age should also learn how to do housework. It's a shame Helen passed away so early, otherwise she would have taught you."

Gwen maintained a polite smile, holding the takeout and looking around: "So, are you planning to eat dinner in the hallway?"

"Of course not."

George led Gwen to his desk, which was mostly clear except for some casually placed daily items. Gwen keenly spotted a memo on the desk, picked it up, and read: "'Web fluid will degrade automatically within two hours. Please prepare for reception. —Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.' Huh, is this the memo Spider-Man left for you?"

"Yes, I originally planned to send it to evidence or file it, but then there really wasn't anywhere to put it, so I brought it back. I always find the handwriting a bit familiar, but I'm certain it's not Peter Parker's." Chief George was quite confident, the confidence of an experienced officer: "I would never mistake Peter's handwriting; I remember it very clearly."

Gwen took a few more glances at the memo, then simply nodded.

Yes, Peter Parker's right-handed handwriting certainly isn't like that.

Also investigating Spider-Man's identity was the Chameleon. All day today, he had again been pretending to be Spider-Man, striking down evil everywhere. From yesterday afternoon until this afternoon, Kingpin's demolition trap had been ready for a long time.

But Spider-Man hadn't come!

"Your supposed 'dog-crap' deduction is completely useless. 'Spider-Man is a high school student,' my ass. We need to attract him after school!" The cursing Chameleon ranted at Mac Gargan: "Where is he? How long has it been since Spider-Man showed up?"

"My deduction is definitely correct; it's you who's too much of a coward. Afraid of the Punisher, afraid to do anything bad." Mac Gargan firmly refused to admit it was his problem. He believed it was Chameleon's fault, even with holographic projections, he didn't dare to do anything truly bad, terrified of being shot dead by the Punisher. What was the holographic projector for then? Just to sit there uselessly?

The Chameleon was equally frustrated but wouldn't admit his own mistakes either.

After all, every time he released a holographic projection to attract Spider-Man, he had to hide nearby and couldn't completely abandon the scene, which was his biggest headache. If he didn't need to be present, he would have fled long ago.

"Hey, uh, guys?"

Quentin Beck arrived with a new projector. He reached out and handed it to the Chameleon: "Latest tech. I've finally integrated the invisible light spectrum into the projector. Now, even with thermal imaging, you won't see any problems."

Thermal imaging works by detecting infrared light, and infrared is naturally a form of light. It was just that before, Quentin had subconsciously overlooked this, so he hadn't programmed for it.

"Good."

The Chameleon took the small, spherical projector.

"By tomorrow, Spider-Man should finally leave this beautiful world. Provided, of course, that he actually comes."

"Don't worry," Mac Gargan sneered: "I'll go with you to the ambush site. Then you'll know my deduction is absolutely correct."

Even on the second day, Karl King's condition hadn't improved; in fact, it had worsened. His mother, Mrs. King, worried about her son's health, quietly opened his door once more and whispered.

"Karl, are you alright? Karl?"

Karl King couldn't utter a single word. Mrs. King cautiously walked over to Karl and found that her son's body was covered in large, swollen red patches. Worried and heartbroken, she reached out to touch him.

Splat.

Karl King's skin ruptured like a blister, and then countless spiders burst forth from beneath his epidermis, splattering onto Mrs. King. Mrs. King instinctively screamed, but the spiders didn't stop because of her terrified shriek. Instead, they completely covered her, baring their sharp fangs against her skin and biting down hard.

As flesh and blood were torn apart, the eyes of countless spiders seemed to perceive something.

They saw a mother toiling day and night, caring for her child's health, hoping he wouldn't become scum like his father.

They saw how the woman worked three part-time jobs a day to feed her child, who, being a football player, had an enormous appetite.

They saw this woman unable to sleep at night, getting up four or five times to check if her son needed any help, even if it was just to alleviate a little of his pain.

Countless spiders coalesced, first forming the outline of Mrs. King, then transforming into the appearance of Karl King. They secreted a viscous fluid, creating a layer of mimetic skin that covered them.

"Self-righteous woman. Dad was right after all."

Karl King looked at the skeleton on the floor, picked clean by the spiders, and almost vomited. But then he looked into the mirror, saw his new self, and smiled.

It was a new day. He had been in bed for almost two days. Now, perhaps school had just ended?

He nonchalantly walked out of the house and entered a comic book store he rarely frequented. A moment later, amidst a brief scream from within the comic book store, a monster cloaked in Spider-Man's skin stuffed itself into that disguise and casually walked out.

"So, Peter Parker really is Spider-Man, but where are you?"