I Am Gwen's Spider-Man Mentor

After the police officer returned the document to the old man, the old man hugged his document tightly as if he had found his true love again. He thanked the policeman repeatedly: "Mr. police officer, thank you very much. This document is very important to me and many people." important."

The policeman glanced helplessly at the direction Gwen was leaving. He couldn't catch up with the ghost Spider-Man who could swing between tall buildings. In fact, unlike many of his peers, he himself has a more open and admiring attitude toward Spider-Woman.

Any conscientious police officer will find that Gwen Stacy's superhero behavior effectively deterred crime and also greatly reduced the risks of their work - only in the current New York, and even in the entire In the United States, police officers who do their job are as rare as bureaucrats who do not accept political donations.

"You should thank Miss Spider." The policeman did not take the credit in the end. "She completed most of the work before I arrived. I just arrested the criminals in accordance with the procedures and... adopted flexible methods within the existing system. It’s just a gesture of returning the lost property in advance, Mr. Stewart.”

Hearing this, the old man raised his head and looked at the narrow sky between the high-rise buildings in New York and sighed: "I know she is very good, but there are things that superheroes can't help..."

When the police heard this, they could only shake their heads helplessly and put aside the old man's sighs. For ordinary people like them who were working hard, Gwen Stacy had already helped enough. And more importantly, it should be a matter for those in power and successful people. They also know that the "good neighbor" can't do much.

But when it comes to successful people - as many successful people as there are in New York, there are a hundred times or even a thousand times that number of losers, and every loser has a twists and turns that are enough to write a two million word novel. A heart-stirring story.

The police also knew very well that the old man with gray hair, casual clothes and a gloomy face was not a so-called "loser"; in fact, even the powerful NYPD Commissioner had to be careful to smile in front of this old man.

The old man who has read countless people clearly understands the thoughts of this NYPD patrol officer. He knows very well that the reason why the NYPD group of idiots do special things for him is entirely because of the high prestige and appeal he enjoys in the entire United States; If it were ten years ago, he might have been complacent about this, and even considered using it as an episode or baggage in the show; but now, he only feels that these things that others are tirelessly pursuing throughout their lives are incompatible with the documents in his hands. Than, it's just a cloud of smoke.

"Mr. Police Officer, I have something urgent to do to visit some old friends. I'm afraid I can't go back with you to take notes now. If you don't mind, you can come to this place with your colleagues to find me tonight. Put the paper before entering the door. Show it to the security guard and someone will take you to my office, or the whole branch."

The old man scrawled a string of words on the small piece of paper and signed his name. He put the piece of paper into the hands of the police officer who had just put a criminal into the back seat of the police car and was unaware of the situation for a moment. Then he shouted at the police officer. He nodded, hugged the document in his hand, hailed a taxi and drove away.

It wasn't until the taxi disappeared around the corner of the traffic light that the two policemen realized that the old man had just stuffed something into himself, and then they were so excited that they almost went dark and choked.

Fortunately, another police car arrived at the scene in time to provide support, giving the ecstatic two people someone to talk to, and thus prevented the Daily Bugle from publishing "Shock!" the next day. Two NYPD inspectors were exploited and passed out on the streets of New York" front page banner.

The policeman who had taken the old man's note earlier put another criminal into the back seat of the police car that was supporting him, then opened the door next to the driver's seat and got into the car. While driving the car, he read Miranda expressionlessly like a mantra. warn.

After the chanting was completed and the car was parked, the policeman asked in an unkind tone:

"Name!"

"Richard." The criminal sitting in the back seat with his hands cuffed replied helplessly in a low voice.

"Speak louder, haven't you had enough to eat?" the policeman shouted dissatisfiedly, "Why are you robbing?"

"Richard Brown! I didn't have money to buy medicine, so..."

"What kind of medicine?" The policeman started the car and asked casually, but after a while, he realized that he had not received an answer - these days, being a police officer in the NYPD requires a sense of smell that is more or less extraordinary than ordinary people. The police officer sneered and asked, "Illegal drugs, right?"

The back seat still didn't answer, obviously acquiescing to this answer.

"Let's talk about this to the police, professional?" The policeman turned on the left turn signal and started. After he asked this question, he glanced at the man in the back seat through the rearview mirror, only to find that the man suddenly shook his head after hearing his words. He buried his head, almost burying it between his legs.

"Professional!" The police officer raised his voice. He instinctively tried to grasp all possible doubts.

The man in the back seat couldn't sit still. Even the police officer, who had been silent just now, couldn't help but use a little more force to hold the man's arm.

The man was in pain, so he squeezed out a few words in a mosquito-humming voice: "Unemployed, former firefighter."

"Unemployed, ex-fireman, Ambrose." The policeman in the back seat loudly replied to his colleague who was driving in the front seat.

The police officer named Ambrose was a little surprised. He stepped on the accelerator, accelerated from the branch road to merge into the main road, and asked by the way: "Firefighter? How could your fire department get its employees to this point?"

The man ignored the policemen who were watching eagerly beside him, and just buried his head more and more, as if he was reminiscing about his beautiful past.

After a long while, he squeezed out another word: "2001..."

Firefighter, 2001, unemployed...

Those three words were enough for Ambrose and his colleagues to piece together what happened to the man. He and his colleagues sighed in unison, and their original disgust for the criminal disappeared.

It wasn't until the car returned to the door of the 15th Precinct that Ambrose squeezed out two words to break the suffocating silence in the car:

"Thank you...and...sorry..."

----Dividing line----

When Richard Brown and his friend helped each other out of the police station, it was completely dark. The former firefighter looked sadly at the long line of cars in front of the police station and sighed inexplicably.

He also had a car back then, and it was a good car. It was a pickup truck that was as reliable as theirs back then!

"Boss, it's my fault for causing trouble for you." The companion who supported him whispered. He knew that this was his business, but he got the captain involved and asked him to accompany him into the police station. He paid an extra bail before he could get out.

After the captain's wife and children abandoned him, his life was not satisfactory. This time disaster struck from heaven...

"It's all my fault." His subordinates began to blame themselves more and more.

"It's okay, our group, the old guys have all left one by one, there are only a few of us left, that's all we can do to help each other." Richard shook his head, stopping the old subordinates from feeling sorry for themselves.

"But if we didn't get the money this time, what should we do with the medicine? You said you were going to see your daughter next week..."

Hearing this, Richard lowered his head. The sight of his daughter and the coldness and determination of his ex-wife's ultimatum made his heart break every time he recalled it. After a long while, the former tough guy sighed: "I'm like this now. It's better not to see her than not to see her. Let her think that my father is better off dead."

"Boss..." The subordinate couldn't bear hearing this. He pondered for about three or four seconds and said tentatively: "If... you want to make money, I still have a way."

"Stop robbing cars, stealing cars, and picking locks." Richard shook his head, "We can't do this job."

"It was an accident this time!" His subordinates were a little angry, "If it weren't for that damn Spider Woman, we would have succeeded, that damn little girl!"

"Hey!" Richard turned to his men and emphasized that the former fire captain still had some justice in his psychology: "Although we don't have the money to do some less upright work to make a living, even if she catches We, Spider-Woman, are not wrong either, you know what, she is not wrong!”

"Then where was she when we rushed into the burning building to save people?"

Richard shook his head. He knew he couldn't go any further on this issue, so the former fire chief changed the subject: "You just said you still have ways to make money?"

"The pier, there is a gang at the pier that is recruiting people recently. They don't have any conditions. It seems that they can just help them transport some medicine." His subordinates didn't have the time to talk about Gwen's problem and the captain who just accompanied them to the house. Out of anger, he just frankly revealed the information he knew.

"Drugs? You mean illegal drugs?" Richard sneered at this, "We have just come out of the police station, so be sober and don't cause them any trouble."

"But it is said that they are also involved, they will not care about it, and boss, do you know-" The subordinate pretended to be mysterious and leaned into his captain's ear:

"Legend has it that this was the business of New York tycoon Wilson Fisk, also known as Kingpin."

"Is the news reliable?" Richard frowned. He looked at his men with a profound look - if he hadn't been forced into a corner by the world, the proud fire captain would never have been reduced to being associated with a gangster.

The subordinate nodded, confirming his message.

After the two former firefighters supported each other and slowly left along the street, a strong black-haired man about 1.9 meters tall turned around and came out from the corner of the street. The man watched the two former firefighters leaving with calm eyes.

After a long while, the man who seemed like a statue and had no emotions sighed.

"If you choose the law, you still have a chance."

The man shook his head, put his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, and turned around to leave, leaving only one sentence:

"But if you choose to commit crime, there is only one way forward for you."

The dim lights in the night seemed to have been swept away by the man who left, and became darker.