Inside an apartment in Queens, the twilight glow filtered through the window, casting a warm golden edge on the slightly worn furniture.
The air was filled with the aroma of stew, the result of Mei's busy afternoon.
Peter Parker sat at the dining table, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the surface, his gaze somewhat adrift as he stared at the gradually lighting up city lights outside the window.
His heart was undergoing a battle far more intense than facing any supervillain.
On one side was Uncle Ben's maxim, etched into his soul—"With great power comes great responsibility."
This sentence supported him through every night he swung through the New York sky, and it fueled his courage to step forward in the face of danger.
Spider-Man should be selfless, a friendly neighborhood hero, existing to help others, and should not be tainted by worldly things like money or points.
Joining an association and getting paid to be a hero?
This felt... like a betrayal, a betrayal of his inner beliefs.
On the other side was the cold, hard reality.
On the dining table, the glaring numbers on the supermarket bill that had quietly slipped out of Mei's shopping bag and caught his eye; Mei in the kitchen, humming a song while rubbing her somewhat sore shoulders, her forced casualness unable to hide her fatigue; and the second-hand calculator in his backpack, its screen completely shattered and no longer able to turn on, along with his increasingly thin wallet from repairing his suit and replenishing web fluid...
These images spun like a carousel in his mind, converging into a heavy pressure that almost suffocated him.
He had helped so many people, stopped so many crimes, yet why was it so difficult to even replace a basic study tool for himself, or make the person who raised him a little more comfortable?
"Peter? Dinner's ready, dear." Mei walked out of the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of stew, a gentle smile on her face, pulling his thoughts back to reality.
"Oh, okay, Mei." Peter quickly got up to help set the table.
During dinner, Mei seemed to notice his absentmindedness and asked with concern, "Peter, are you under too much study pressure lately? Or... is something going on at school?"
She hesitated for a moment, then softly added, "Or, is it about... that 'Association'? You asked me my opinion about it before."
Peter's hand, holding the spoon, paused.
He lowered his head, looking at the rich soup in his bowl, silent for a few seconds.
Mei's perceptiveness left him nowhere to hide.
"Mei," his voice was a little dry, and he finally made up his mind, looking up, his eyes full of struggle and honesty, "I... I am indeed thinking about it.
I saw their recruitment; they offer salary, security, and even reimbursement for... some damages.
If... if I join, maybe I can help you out a bit, and you won't have to work so hard..."
He spoke his truest, and most shameful, thought—he wanted to earn money, to improve their lives.
Mei put down her spoon and looked at Peter seriously, not answering immediately.
Her gaze was gentle and complex.
After a long while, she gently took Peter's hand that was resting on the table.
"Peter," her voice was very soft, yet carried a firm strength, "Do you know what Ben and I most hoped you would become?"
Peter looked at Mei and shook his head.
"We hoped you would become a good person, a kind, upright person willing to help others," Mei slowly said.
"As for how you help others, whether it's like Robin Hood, robbing the rich to help the poor, or like... like a firefighter or a Police officer, treating it as an honorable profession, these are not contradictory."
She squeezed Peter's hand firmly: "If your 'power,' while helping others, can also allow you to live a better, more secure life, can make those who care about you no longer worry about you, and even make them proud of you, Mei thinks there is nothing wrong with that.
Far from being a defilement, it is a... mature choice."
Mei's words were like a key, gently unlocking the heavy lock in Peter's heart.
He had always placed "selfless dedication" and "receiving rewards" in absolute opposition, but had never considered that the two might find a balance.
"With great power comes great responsibility," Mei repeated the phrase he knew so well, "but bearing responsibility does not mean you must put yourself and your loved ones in a difficult situation.
Peter, your responsibility also includes taking care of yourself, so you have the ability to continuously help more people.
If that association can give you that kind of support, Mei supports any decision you make."
Looking at the unreserved trust and support in Mei's eyes, Peter felt his eyes well up.
The wall in his heart, named "persistence" but actually a mix of "stubbornness" and "confusion," crumbled.
After dinner, Peter returned to his room.
He closed the door, leaned against it, and took several deep breaths, as if to squeeze out all the hesitation and uncertainty in his chest.
He took out his phone with the cracked screen, his fingers trembling slightly, and once again tapped the blue APP icon.
The interface was still simple; the [Register / Log In] button seemed to emit an unprecedented attraction and... weight.
This time, he did not hesitate again.
His fingertip fell, pressing the button.
The registration process was much more rigorous and complex than he imagined.
It required filling in detailed personal information (he used a carefully redacted version), providing a preliminary description of his abilities (he vaguely wrote "enhanced physique, agility, reaction speed, adhesion abilities, and special web-shooters"), reading and agreeing to a dozens-page long "Hero Conduct Code, Rights Protection, and Confidentiality Agreement," and finally, undergoing a real-time, remote basic ability verification.
The APP guided him to activate his phone's front camera and sensors (the Association's technology clearly bypassed normal phone permission restrictions).
Instructions appeared on the screen:
[Please complete in order:]
[1. Perform a vertical jump in place; height must reach the preset standard (monitored by phone gyroscope and accelerometer).]
Peter easily jumped, far exceeding the standard.
[2. Perform rapid movement along a specified trajectory to test reaction and agility (captured by camera dynamically).]
Peter's figure created a gust of wind in the small room, completing the task precisely.
[3. Demonstrate the anchoring and pulling ability of the "special web-shooters" (a safe anchor point must be specified).]
Peter aimed at the chandelier bracket on the ceiling, shot a web, and performed a slight pull.
[4. Strength test (requires sustained pressure on a specified area, indirectly measured by sensors).]
Peter pressed steadily with one hand, and the data met the standard.
After a series of tests, a prompt finally appeared on the phone screen:
[Basic Ability Verification Passed.
Identity Information Recording...]
[Verification Passed!
Welcome, new Hero!]
[Please set your Hero alias.]
Peter looked at the input box, his heart pounding.
He took a deep breath and solemnly entered the name he knew so well—
Spider-Man
[Alias "Spider-Man" successfully registered!]
[Generating your exclusive Hero interface and account...]
[Initial Points: 0]
[Hero Level: To be determined (to be assessed after completing the first official mission)]
[Permissions: D-Class Hero basic functions and Mall browsing permissions have been opened.]
It was done.
He really joined.
A strange, complex emotion, mixed with relief, subtle excitement, and a lingering sense of guilt, filled his chest.
He was no longer the "vigilante" outside the system; he had become a member of the Hero Association, a... paid "professional Hero."
He eagerly tapped on [Mission Hall].
The interface seemed different in his eyes; those missions and points were no longer just symbols of temptation, but things closely related to him.
Soon, a suitable mission caught his eye:
[Queens · Convenience Store Robbery (occurred, robber at large) · White]
[Mission Requirements: Track and subdue the robber, recover stolen money.]
[Reward Points: 25.]
The location was nearby, the difficulty was not high, and the points were also considerable.
Peter, no, now he was the registered Hero Spider-Man, he did not hesitate at all, his fingertip lightly tapping on "Accept Mission."
[Mission Accepted!
Good luck, Spider-Man!]
Putting down his phone, Peter quickly changed into his red and blue suit.
His movements were still practiced, but his state of mind was different.
He looked at himself in the mirror, the masked friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, who now seemed to have an additional identity.
He pushed open the window, and the cool night wind brushed against his mask.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, and to the World, "From now on, Spider-Man... is also a job."
As his voice fell, he flicked his wrist, and an off-white web shot out, sticking to the wall of the building opposite.
The red and blue figure gracefully swung out of the window, like an arrow released from a bow, quickly merging into the night of Queens, speeding towards the mission objective.
A new identity, a new journey full of unknowns and possibilities, had officially begun.
And Peter Parker did not know how this seemingly simple decision would profoundly change him, and everything he cared about.