As evening fell at Stark Building, Miles slumped on the sofa and let out a sigh, his eyes listlessly fixed on the ceiling as he complained, "This is just too hard; I'm practically dying from exhaustion."
Peter was adjusting the spider leg support system on the back of the Spider-Man suit. He pushed his glasses up and said, "Spider abilities should give you extraordinary stamina. Back then, I couldn't sit still for three minutes, so why are you still complaining about being tired?"
"I'm not talking about fighting, I'm talking about studying!" Miles ranted from the chair: "I'm really fed up with math problems, I'm just not cut out for academics! You can't expect me to meet the average educational standards of Spider-Man, I'm just a poor illiterate..."
"Impossible," Peter flatly rejected him, adding, "Spider-Man's powers not only provide you with superhuman strength but also speed up your thinking. You should be very well-suited to learning."
"But I don't love studying," Miles protested: "I don't want to sit in class, or study chemistry and physics, let alone do math problems! Oh my God, I haven't even finished my math homework..."
"Then you'd better finish it quickly, we have training tonight," Peter turned around after adjusting the equipment and said, "Once you can beat Sandman, you'll have passed the newbie course."
"This is just the newbie course?!"
"Then score full marks on a math exam."
Miles sprang up from the sofa and said, "And the equipment? I'm going to get that big guy tonight for sure!"
Peter handed him the adjusted battlesuit and explained, "You also have to understand, most of the superheroes are off to Centaurus now, and the others are busy taking care of their kids. There aren't many superheroes left to spar with you. It's also because Sandman owed us a favor that he agreed to help you. You really should treasure this opportunity."
"Got it," Miles tossed a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and waved his hand dismissively, "Just watch, I'll find his weakness tonight, and I'll definitely beat him by tomorrow at the latest."
Watching Miles leap out of the window of Stark Building, Peter shook his head—he really wasn't a good superhero mentor. He could discuss technology, but he barely ever engaged in discussions about life goals, especially not from the position of an elder. He lacked that kind of authority.
But there was no urgency. Miles was still young, with plenty of room to grow. It wasn't necessary to rush things; he would eventually find the right partner of his own.
Right after Miles jumped down, he spotted that massive figure from afar. This guy known as Sandman really was tough to deal with—it was bad enough to see him but not hit him, but every time Miles' surprise attack failed, Sandman would form a mocking face out of sand to ridicule him, even simulating Miles' own swirling form, which was absolutely despicable.
Miles saw that trademark smile again, took a deep breath, and clenched his fists—he already had some clues. Old grudges and new ones together, he would make this monster pay tonight!
Miles shot out a strand of Spider Silk, swinging high, and once again a chase unfolded in the skies above Manhattan with the immense dust storm.
Miles was also a witness to Sandman's previous rampage. Although he wasn't the one to subdue this sand creature then, he had heard some hints from other superheroes. If he wasn't mistaken, Sandman was vulnerable to water.
But Sandman surely knew this too, so he wouldn't just run towards water without a reason. Miles had tried a water gun, but the power was too weak, or he went as far as bursting a fire hydrant, but a hydrant, after all, was stationary, while Sandman could grow legs and run. No sooner had Miles burst one than Sandman had already fled without a trace.
Miles knew he had to set up a scenario that forced Sandman into contact with water. He only had some ideas on how to do it today.
To force such a large creature back with water, ordinary wells or reservoirs clearly wouldn't be adequate—the best would be natural bodies of water. New York was by the sea, but an even better choice was the Hudson River. Although it wasn't a major river, it was enough to disrupt Sandman's movements.
Miles hurried towards the Hudson River, with Sandman chasing behind him, seemingly having seen through his plan, following ever more closely, constantly firing arrows made of sand to interfere with his actions.
Miles dodged agilely and finally reached the banks of the Hudson River. He swung across to the opposite bank with a strand of Spider Silk, leaving Sandman on the shadowy side of the river, gaping in frustration.
On the building across the river, Miles shrugged his shoulders and wiggled his hips, even making a face at Sandman with his spider mask on. But the next second, the tornado-shaped Sandman charged up, leaped into the air, and like a gust of wind, swept across to the other side, landing right in front of Miles.
Miles was stunned, and he took off running, but Sandman didn't give him that chance. After he reformed his body, he swung his massive arm and grabbed Miles, held him in front of his face, and revealed an evil grin.
"Since I got trapped by water last time, I've been practicing a lot. You're still way behind, kid," Sandman said with a chuckle, vigorously shaking Miles before tossing him into the sky, then catching him with his hand again.
Miles, dizzy from shaking, nearly vomited. He tried to break free from Sandman's hand, but instead of a showdown of strength, the sand parted when he exerted force, and as soon as he tried to escape, the grains came back together. He was like a traveler trapped in quicksand, the more he struggled, the deeper he sank.
Underneath the mask, Miles pulled a bitter face, knowing that being a superhero was not so simple. He had fallen into a trap today, but now he had found a new weakness in Sandman. Tomorrow, he'd be waiting for Sandman!
Even Sandman felt that bullying a kid was a bit dull. He shook Miles again, and just as he was about to put Miles down, a green beam of light shot from the sky, striking Sandman's arm.
As the sand of the arm scattered, Miles fell to the ground. After rolling around a few times, he looked up at the sky incredulously.
Sandman's huge figure obscured half the sky, but Miles wasn't watching him. Instead, he saw a bright figure flying from behind. Clad in a vintage armor with a cloak fluttering in the wind, the key was the helmet that emitted endless mysterious light in the night sky.
Miles recognized him and shouted his name—"Mysterio!!!!!"
"Oh my God, it's Mysterio!" Miles's shout also echoed the sentiments of most of the awakening onlookers; this was the superhero who had saved the space station! People began to take out their phones to record the scene.
The Sandman, whose arms had been scattered, turned around and saw a figure floating in the air. He wondered what was going on. Hadn't Peter informed him about this scenario? Was this another rookie hero who needed training?
Unsure of what was happening, the Sandman didn't dare to make a move. However, Mysterio raised his hands, and suddenly flames erupted, sending a fiery dragon flying towards the Sandman.
Feeling the heat, the Sandman quickly dispersed into sand, as the fiery dragon soared past and struck the roadway, tearing open the asphalt surface. Two women returning home late at night nearly got hit by the fragments.
Miles was stunned. He rushed over, a strand of spider silk latching onto a piece of debris; with a flip and a kick, he sent another flying, then approached the two women and said, "Are you alright, get to safety quickly."
Without needing his warning, the crowd dispersed, screaming and seeking shelter behind nearby buildings. Yet Mysterio seemed utterly unaware, alternating between unleashing fiery dragons, ice cones, and relentless laser blasting the roadway and buildings around it.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Sandman roared.
New York State had laws regarding superheroes compensating for public property damage; even if it was in the act of saving people, large-scale destruction of buildings warranted a fine. And if a person was accidentally hurt, the compensation would be even greater.
Even with Peter's and Nick's approval, the Sandman and Miles had only engaged in a mild chase around the city, capturing one another to signal the end. They didn't dare actually fight, as neither could afford the damages.
Had Mysterio lost his mind? Just this street alone would cost half a million US dollars! The two buildings beside it looked quite old—any structure over 70 years old would require compensation at heritage rates. One laser strike could cost millions!
Absolutely insane! The Sandman had never encountered such a reckless squanderer of money.
While Mysterio might have lost his mind, he hadn't. He might have had a temper, but he wasn't stupid. If he dared to confront Mysterio head-on, he'd bear at least 30% of the S.H.I.E.L.D. assessed damages the next day. Forget 30%, even 3% was more than he could afford. It was time to run!
The Sandman turned tail and didn't stop there; he even collected all the sand that had dropped during his scuffle with Miles, leaving no trace that could be used to assess damages.
Before he left, he didn't forget what Peter had told him. He scooped up Miles, knowing the kid was also from the slums. Why make it tough for another poor soul? Let the rich handle the compensation; it was time to bolt!
Miles had also realized the gravity of the situation, but he was more concerned about bystanders getting hurt, which was why he hadn't fled immediately.
When Sandman grabbed him, he hadn't fully grasped what was happening, but soon the potential compensation amount for his involvement hit him like a starting pistol in a hundred-meter dash. If Bolt himself were here, he wouldn't catch Miles now. Run!
The two broke fellows ran all the way to the edge of the Bronx, gasping for air, and after exchanging a glance, they each saw the relief of a narrow escape reflected in the other's eyes.
True to their fears, it wasn't even ten minutes before they saw S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters flying towards the area.
As Mysterio slowly lowered his hands, he thought the so-called sandstorm and Spider Man were nothing but a facade created by Stark Group—fragile, barely lasting a laser hit before fleeing.
The citizens should now see who the real hero was, Mysterio thought, as he gently landed on a rooftop.
Then he heard the sound of helicopters. Looking up, he saw five helicopters bearing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s emblem hovering above him.
Hmph, always a step behind, Mysterio thought contemptuously. The monster had fled, and only then did they show up. It didn't matter; after all, they were the official authority. He'd give them that much credit.
He nodded to the agents in the now-open helicopter door, polite yet reserved, feeling like a true sage.
Just as he was about to leave, he saw an agent write something down and a piece of paper fluttered down, landing right in front of Mysterio. He reached out and caught it.
It read, "Superhero Damage Assessment and Compensation Bill:
Superhero Mysterio responsible for destruction of one street roadway, three heritage-protected building facades, and one heritage-protected structure. Initial estimate of damages: approximately 4.82 million US dollars. Due to severe impact, maximum penalty applies, additional fine of 60% of damages.
Please proceed to the nearest bank within three business days to pay the damage compensation and fine. Penalty issued by: Homeland Strategic Defense Attack and Logistic Support Bureau Level 8 Agent Natasha Romanoff."
After dropping the fine notice, Natasha picked up the phone and said, "Hello? Shiller, it's handled."
Then she added, hesitantly, "I don't really have any objections to the rest, but don't you think getting these buildings emergency heritage protection status overnight was a bit underhanded?"
"You get half."
"Then I think this street is quite historically valuable," she replied.