c8: Young Spider-Man
Lifting his foot out of the alley, Ryan Wong stepped onto the streets of Hell's Kitchen, maintaining the confident posture of Minato Namikaze with his signature wind-style aura, walking briskly.
He was trying to stumble upon a "random mission."
The so-called "random mission" was essentially waiting for someone to approach him for help, and then taking on their problem, much like a spontaneous Hero for Hire, a nod to Luke Cage and Iron Fist.
He couldn't just drag someone out and say, "I want to help you with something, just pay me~" That would be too cheap and far too obvious.
So Ryan Wong had thought about it all night and devised a strategy to "take random missions."
As long as the place he was in was messy enough, someone would definitely come looking for help. After all, this was Hell's Kitchen, the territory once patrolled by Daredevil and Jessica Jones, a neighborhood where crime and drama brewed every night.
However, as they say in Konoha, when it comes to taking on tasks, it's all about Konoha's Mission Hall, where missions abound and assignments never run dry.
Without a "Mission Hall" in this world, things were indeed a little inconvenient.
"Hey! That kid in fancy dress!"
But instead of waiting for a "random mission," trouble found him first.
Ryan Wong was stopped by a bald man.
He was a white guy, nearly two meters tall, with a barrel chest, round face, and a menacing look—more Kingpin's goon than an ordinary thug.
"What's up with you?" Ryan Wong asked politely, though his tone suggested he was ready for anything.
This was part of the plan. Finding trouble, taking it on, and completing the task—that was the whole point.
Of course, if the job didn't pay, then so be it.
So he was already prepared to be stopped by strangers.
Ryan Wong was very approachable, but the man thought he was easy prey. He reached out, grabbing Ryan's collar with one hand, and said in a gruff voice, "You walking around here looking for me, punk?"
"Huh?" Ryan Wong raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the bald man's hand gripping his collar. "Mind letting go before you talk?"
"Haha! Bald John is about to get rough again! We've got a show, folks! I'll bet five seconds!"
"Five seconds? You're giving that kid too much credit. He'll be begging for mercy before the first hit lands!"
"I bet three seconds!"
"It's on!"
The bystanders, clearly rough characters from Hell's Kitchen, watched with glee rather than stepping in or calling the cops—typical for a place frequented by the likes of Punisher and Elektra.
Obviously, these guys were cut from the same cloth as the usual street thugs seen in Marvel's street-level comics.
Bald John heard Ryan Wong's words and grinned, "Boy, it seems you really came here for me, and you're even offering me money, huh?"
Now Ryan Wong understood. "Robbery?"
"No, no, no~ how can you call it robbery?" Bald John's breath reeked of cheap beer as he spat his words onto Ryan's face, making him frown. "Didn't I just say? You came here to give me money."
"I'm thinking, you should give me, what, a thousand bucks?"
As he said this, his free hand balled into a massive fist, waving it threateningly in front of Ryan's face.
"I don't wanna hear you say no, or I might get angry. And then, who knows? My fist might just fall on you like Juggernaut crashing through a brick wall."
Seeing this, Ryan Wong didn't reply immediately. Instead, he turned his head and scanned the thugs and bystanders around him.
"So you're all bottom-feeders. The kind that would fit right into the Kingpin's crew, huh?"
"!!!" Bald John bristled with rage. "Boy, what did you just say?!"
With that, his fist was about to come crashing down on Ryan.
At that moment, a small voice rang out from the side, "Leave him alone, or I'm calling the police!"
Bald John halted and turned to look.
Ryan Wong also lowered his hand, which had been subtly preparing to form a Rasengan, and glanced over.
It was a boy, probably no older than twelve, with messy brown hair and round glasses. He was holding a cheap flip phone, his voice trembling but determined: "Let him go!"
"Hahahaha!!!" Everyone, including Bald John, burst into laughter.
Dragging Ryan Wong by the collar, Bald John swaggered over to the boy, bent down to meet his eyes, and sneered, "Hey kid, don't you know the NYPD doesn't come to places like this? You think this is Metropolis or something, with Superman ready to swoop in?"
"Ah!" The boy flinched, his face pale. "But the police officer said they'd be here soon…"
"That's a lie, kid! They'll show up only when the mess is done, to mop up the blood! Hahahaha!!"
The surrounding thugs roared with laughter, enjoying the spectacle.
The boy's face turned ashen—it was Peter Parker, no more than eleven years old. Though still young, he knew what was coming.
Confronting thugs like these meant, at best, a severe beating and getting robbed. At worst, he didn't want to imagine.
All he had done was step out to buy groceries, and now he'd stumbled into a nightmare.
His innate sense of justice so characteristic of the future Spider-Man—wouldn't let him stand by and do nothing. But he wasn't reckless. Instead of charging in like Robin, he tried to call for help.
And yet, the police weren't coming!
What could he do now?
As Ryan Wong took in the panicked boy's face, he realized it was time to act.
He admired brave kids like this—ones who, despite being powerless, stood up to protect others.
In this situation, it was his responsibility to protect the boy.
So Ryan Wong raised his hand and gripped Bald John's wrist—the one holding his collar and began to apply steady, unyielding pressure.
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