Spider-Man's somewhat 'socially embarrassing' debut was like a pebble dropped into the tranquil lake of the Association, and before the ripples had fully subsided, another, deeper and more binding undercurrent began to subtly surge into the daily lives of every hero within the Association.
This was not a sudden storm, but a systematic, gradually permeating process of standardization. Kingpin's will, channeled through Wesley's efficient management team, was undeniably integrating the concept of 'hero'—a notion full of variables and uncertainties—into the cold framework of corporate management.
The first to arrive was what was internally nicknamed the 'Hero Bible'—the "Hero Conduct Code and Rights Protection Manual (Official Version)". It was no longer the simple initial draft, but a massive document hundreds of pages thick, with painstakingly detailed clauses. Every registered hero, from S-Rank Sandman to a D-Class newcomer fresh out of probation, was compelled to receive this electronic file via the Association's internal terminal and was required to complete online learning and assessment within a specified timeframe.
Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, was currently holed up in his room, staring at the dense text on the screen, feeling a headache worse than dealing with ten Electro.
"Chapter 3, Article 7, Paragraph 4: When a hero causes damage to public property during a mission, he must submit a detailed report within 24 hours after the mission's conclusion via the 'Battle Damage Reporting System' built into the APP. The content includes, but is not limited to, a list of damaged items, on-site photos/video evidence, an explanation of the cause of damage (distinguishing between necessary and unnecessary damage), and an initial estimate of repair costs... Failure to submit on time or an non-compliant report will result in the corresponding compensation being directly deducted from the mission's point reward or hero's salary, and may affect the hero's rating..."
Peter looked at this regulation, and in his mind, he could already see his tragic future of having to stay up late writing reports, finding angles for photos, and even estimating repair costs just to get reimbursed for a scraped fire hydrant.
"Chapter 5, Article 2: Hero uniforms and personal equipment must comply with the Association's basic safety and image standards. The Equipment Research Department will conduct regular spot checks. The use of non-standard or self-modified, potentially high-risk equipment is prohibited without prior registration and safety verification..." This made him instinctively touch his web-shooters. These things were his own invention; did they count as 'non-standard'? Would that eccentric Dr. Leo forcibly dismantle them for 'research'?
"Appendix B: Hero Conduct Guidelines. Heroes are advised to maintain a professional and restrained image when interacting with the public and media, avoiding inappropriate remarks or actions that could harm the Association's reputation..." This immediately reminded him of the embarrassment of being surrounded and photographed not long ago, and his face flushed again.
Not just Spider-Man, but almost all heroes were 'digesting' this manual in their own ways.
Sandman Flint read it very carefully, even taking notes. For him, these rules and regulations were not constraints, but an unprecedented 'guarantee' and 'guidance.' The Association even handled post-battle psychological counseling, so these regulations must also be for everyone's good. He paid particular attention to the clauses regarding salary, benefits, and disability pensions, as these related to the future financial security of him and his daughter.
Daredevil Matt Murdock, using special reading equipment, 'listened' to most of the manual's core content. His keen senses allowed him to 'hear' more between the lines—an extremely strong desire for control, meticulous logic, and an almost obsessive pursuit of 'order' and 'controllability.' This deepened his wariness of Kingpin, but for now, he needed this job and income, and could only choose to act within the rules.
The Silent Heart Master Lin was perhaps the least affected; he was already taciturn and restrained in his behavior, so many of the manual's requirements were simply routine for him.
However, the manual was just the beginning. Subsequently, a series of supporting systems and processes began to operate.
Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for missions were forcibly implemented. From mission acceptance, on-site assessment, action execution, to target handover, battle damage reports, and mission summaries, every step had clear timeframes, operational standards, and documentation requirements. Heroes began to get used to using the Association-issued, waterproof, shockproof, and encrypted recorders to capture key footage during combat for subsequent reports.
The hero point ranking system was further refined. Points were no longer just currency for redeeming rewards, but core indicators directly linked to hero rank, salary, and resource access. Rank promotion required fulfilling multiple requirements such as corresponding points, mission completion rate, and comprehensive evaluation, forming a clear career progression path and subtly intensifying the internal competitive atmosphere.
An Internal Audit and Disciplinary Committee was quietly established. It was responsible for supervising hero conduct, handling internal complaints, and investigating and punishing violations. Although there were no public cases of disciplinary action yet, this Sword of Damocles hanging over everyone's heads made all heroes realize that the Association was not a playground where they could do as they pleased.
What made heroes like Spider-Man, who were accustomed to solo work and acting on impulse, most uncomfortable was the pervasive 'feeling of being managed.'
Even a simple street patrol (now integrated into the Association's daily mission system, with basic points) required checking 'completed' on the APP afterward and briefly describing the patrol's situation.
Using any non-standard equipment, even if it was just Peter's self-mixed different formulas of web fluid, required 'non-standard equipment registration' in the equipment management module, filling in its purpose, composition (which could be vague), potential risks, etc.
Even non-mission communication between heroes and their statements on the internal forum were under a form of invisible supervision.
"I feel like I've joined some kind of strictly disciplined... company?" Spider-Man couldn't help but complain to several equally resigned lower-ranked heroes during an informal gathering (at an Association-designated rest area). "Before, I could go wherever I wanted and deal with bad things as I saw them, so free! Now, I have to 'punch in' for 'work' and write 'work summaries' after a fight!"
A C-Class Hero, also tormented by paperwork, nodded in agreement: "Tell me about it! Last time I dealt with a Wolf-Class monster and accidentally damaged a streetlamp, writing the report gave me such a headache! And I had to distinguish if it was 'tactically necessary' or 'operational error'!"
Another hero lowered his voice: "I heard the Disciplinary Committee has already started talking to a few 'troublemakers,' apparently about 'unnecessary showboating' during missions and 'exaggerated actions that could cause public panic'...
The atmosphere became somewhat subdued.
"But," a relatively rational B-Class Hero began, "it's undeniable that with this system, our rights are indeed better protected. If we get injured, we get the best medical care; if equipment is damaged, there's a reimbursement channel; and even... if we die, our families receive compensation. This was unimaginable before."
Sandman Flint listened silently nearby, not joining the discussion, but he inwardly agreed with the latter's words. For him, stability, security, and clear rules were far more important than vague 'freedom.'
Peter also fell silent. He thought of the possibility of Mei no longer having to worry about bills, of perhaps soon getting a new calculator, or even upgrading his equipment. These tangible benefits swayed on the scales against the 'freedom' he was losing.
The Association's rules and regulations, like a giant, precise mold, were attempting to shape every 'hero,' with their varied forms and distinct personalities, into 'parts' that conformed to its standards and needs.
This process was destined to be accompanied by discomfort, friction, and growing pains.
But for Kingpin, all of this was necessary. Unordered heroism was dangerous and uncontrollable. He didn't need a group of vigilantes relying on their abilities to dispense justice, but a 'professionalized' team that obeyed orders, followed discipline, and could efficiently complete missions.
These seemingly cumbersome rules and regulations were the foundation for building this team.
Spider-Man and his colleagues were learning how to become 'qualified' Association heroes on this path paved with rules. And where this path ultimately led, no one knew.
The only certainty was that the 'romantic' era of the masked vigilante, acting on his own whims, was fading further and further away under the cold and efficient institutional iron heel of the Association.