"Mr. Beck has always been working on the Far Side of the Moon, hasn't he?" Shiller asked, "Has he also gone to participate in the technical staff selection for the Stella Core Space Station?"
"Yes, because Rebecca works on the Space Station. Oh, how could I forget to mention, Rebecca is the girl he likes. She's a good girl, highly educated, beautiful, and very serious about her work."
Casada showed a hesitant expression and said, "But Beck has always felt inferior, thinking his family background isn't great, he hasn't had much education, and he's just average-looking, definitely not a match for Rebecca's other suitors."
"The work on the Far Side of the Moon is a long-term job, technically difficult, and hard to produce results. Yet, he's just an ordinary technician, hardly anyone listens to him, so Beck thought he'd work at the Space Station for a while and get himself a position as a technical supervisor. That way, it would be easier for him whether it's advancing his career or chasing after the girl."
"Wait a minute, miss," Shiller realized something was amiss and said, "Mr. Beck joined the Solar System development plan so early and has such rich working experience and strong capabilities, and he is still just an ordinary employee to this day?"
Casada sighed and said, "His temper is just too bad. He's like a tinderbox, very loyal, but too supportive of friends over fairness, which has led him to offend almost every supervisor possible. I heard even the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was quite irritated by him. His position has been a cycle of promotions and demotions, and it seems he recently made a mistake that nearly got him fired."
Shiller nodded, knowing how difficult it would be for such a person to get promoted, but perhaps love does have that kind of magic power. Even someone usually dismissive of management would sharpen their skills to climb the ladder.
Just as they were talking, Casada's phone rang. She answered, exchanged a few words, and after hanging up, said, "Rebecca just called my husband. They had some interactions at work before. She said she has prepared an interview guide and wants Beck to take a good look at it, hoping he can try for the technical supervisor position."
"It seems Beck isn't as unpopular as he thinks," Shiller said. "Although such people are often seen as thorns by their superiors, precisely because they're straightforward and defy authority, they also have a unique personal charm."
"Exactly," Casada said. "Sometimes I can feel his pain. When his emotions erupt, it's completely out of his control. He worries every day that he might lash out and hurt someone, but it's not really his fault."
"I think I know who we should talk to," Peter suddenly spoke up.
Shiller looked at him, and Peter said, "Although the Stella Core Space Station isn't a classified project, the list of candidates for the interview must be a confidential document. Otherwise, it would be too easy for someone to tamper with the selection process, and Nick wouldn't have overlooked such a matter."
"This kind of confidential document isn't something that just any Brooklyn resident would have access to. Even if they heard about the recruitment, they wouldn't have the connections. Therefore, the problem must be with someone at the top."
"Speaking of who in the Brooklyn Area would be qualified to access that list, that would only be Kingpin," Shiller said.
In front of Kingpin's palace, all sorts of luxury cars were parked, and celebrities in all colors strode across the red carpet into the opulent building, their faces beaming with congratulatory cheer.
Today is Kingpin's birthday, and he's hosting his own birthday party.
Kingpin, still with a towering and commanding figure, was in his room putting the final touches on his attire, ready to make an impressive entrance, but at that moment, something stirred on the balcony.
Without any surprise on his face, Kingpin turned to the figure coming in from the balcony and said very familiarly, "Peter, why do you always come in through the window? Don't you know you can come through the front door with your invitation?"
"I lost the invitation," Peter said irritably. "I'm not at all interested in attending your birthday party."
Kingpin wasn't upset at all. His expression was almost affectionate, as he said, "That's alright; just send me an invitation when it's your birthday, and I'll definitely be there."
The smile on Kingpin's face was hard to hide, and his joy at the sight of Spider-Man was quite different from the past.
Spider-Man is great, with the ability to fight, escape, conduct research, and lacking cunning—what kind of heaven-sent worker is this?
If it weren't for that damn Black Devils getting the jump on him, wouldn't he have taken half of those five or six hundred Spider-Men for himself?
With over two hundred Spider-Men, he wouldn't just be talking about the Solar System development plan; he could even dip his fingers into the spaceship manufacturing industry—there are planets made of gold out there in the cosmos.
And besides, other Spider-Men are one thing, but his very own Spider-Man is incredibly valuable. Why didn't he realize during their fights back then that this kid could develop atmospheric transport technology? If he had noticed that earlier, wouldn't he be lying on a mountain of gold counting money like Stark?
Born at the wrong time, Kingpin thought bitterly to himself. If only he had recognized Spider-Man's value sooner, Spider-Man would call him a criminal, and he'd call Spider-Man a patron saint. Wouldn't that be perfect, each to their own?
Peter's now here alone to see him, and although he says it's not for congratulations, at least he came. This shows that the kindness Kingpin has shown these past few days hasn't been in vain.
"Do you know about Bullseye's death?" Peter asked.
"Oh, him? Well, he's gone now, and I don't care," Kingpin said indifferently. "The guy was never content, had too many ideas, and wasn't smart enough. What era is it now, still wanting to drag me into traditional crime."
"He had seen you before."