I am not Spider-Man because I am parasitized by an alien!

In a warehouse in Hell's Kitchen, a white man is suspended in mid-air by a rope.

The other person had an upturned nose, curly red hair, and was wearing an outdated black leather jacket. He looked exhausted.

"Please, put me down."

The man requested weakly.

"You're not from here, are you?"

Matt asked him standing in front of him.

"You can tell from your accent that you are not a local. By 'local' I mean the North American continent. Maybe you are German or Polish, or from an Eastern European country."

Matt made an inference based on the voice and asked the other party: "Am I right? Mr. Jason Teague."

Jason, who was hanging, opened his swollen eyes and nodded.

He wanted to say something more to beg for mercy, but was quickly interrupted by Matt.

"Mr. Jason, you shouldn't be eating my employer's goods."

Matt said what the other person had done wrong.

"My employer is a man who doesn't like trouble. He likes people to follow the rules, and you happened to make a mistake that he doesn't like."

"Have you found the goods he swallowed?"

Matt asked the man next to him.

"Most of them have been found, but some are still missing."

His subordinates reported to him: "According to what he said, some of the goods were sold by him."

Matt nodded, indicating that he already knew.

He gestured to the person next to him, and his men immediately came over and blocked Jason's mouth.

Jason struggled desperately to speak, but couldn't.

He had his stinky socks in his mouth and there was a piece of tape on the outside.

After Jason calmed down, Matt stared at the lamb in front of him.

Although he couldn't see it, he nodded frequently as if appreciating a work of art.

Then Matt's fingers crawled up Jason's chin like spider legs.

His fingers crossed the dried blood, came to the ears that were as swollen as cauliflower, and then passed a series of numbers on his forehead.

The numbers on the forehead were not written with a pen, but scratched out with a razor blade.

Matt lifted Jason's head and touched the messy flesh on the back of his neck with his fingers.

"It looks like you've been through a lot of torture."

Matt sighed quietly at the tied guy.

Then he gently tapped the scabbed area with his fingertips, once, twice,

"And it's a new method of torture to extract confessions."

Matt turned to his men and asked, "What did you do?"

"New tools, sir."

The subordinate explained to him, "We just randomly picked a few things from his kitchen. They were made from cheese grating. I even broke three of his fingers with a garlic press."

"The perfect combination of torture and cooking is really unique."

Not sure whether it was sarcasm or praise, Matt said to his subordinates expressionlessly.

"Actually, I also do some research on food. I fried some donuts before I came here."

Matt kept himself far away from Jason and said casually: "Although I have confidence in your cooking, I don't have much confidence in your torture."

As he spoke, he pushed up the frames of his sunglasses.

"He has already recruited."

The subordinate said: "Sir, do you mean that he didn't tell the truth?"

"I'd rather hear him say it myself."

Matt's expression became a little solemn, "This matter has dragged on for long enough, and my employer is already very dissatisfied."

He said taking out a small bag from his pocket and placing it on the ground.

Then he opened the bag, pinched the bottom, and dumped the contents onto the floor.

The bag was filled with tiny bones, most of which were no bigger than marbles. Some looked like long teeth, and more looked like hand bones.

The wrist bones are like driveway gravel, the metacarpal bones are like Lincoln blocks, and the finger bones are like dog treats or the tips of an umbrella.

These bones were cleaned cleanly and spread out in white on the ground.

Matt didn't touch the bones, just ran his fingers back and forth over them, like he was reading the words in a child's book.

Jason, who was tied up, looked at him in horror, not knowing what this guy wearing sunglasses wanted to do.

Matt can't see with his eyes, but he can easily touch the bones he wants.

"Very well, this is it, starting with this finger."

After selecting it, he said with satisfaction.

Then he collected the bones on the ground and put them back into the small bag.

Then he stood up and looked into Jason's blood-red and frightened eyes.

"Actually, you shouldn't have made a mistake."

Matt shook his head and said, "You know where these bones come from? I took them from people who were punished."

"I also have a hobby, which is cooking. I cook with hands taken from people."

He continued in a nonchalant tone:

"Cook until the meat separates from the bones, like stewing veal knuckles. Once there is no more meat on the bones, take it out, wash it with bleach, smoke it, and then I'll see if there's anything suitable, and put it in In my collection bag."

Before he could finish speaking, Jason said in a horrified and unclear voice: "I, I, tell the truth, please let me go and don't cut off my hand!"

Hearing what the other party said, Matt nodded with satisfaction.

After everything was settled, he left the dock warehouse.

After the subordinate walked out of the warehouse, he asked him nervously: "Sir, have you really done that? Collecting cooking hand bones."

Matt pushed his sunglasses and smiled: "How is it possible? I am a lawyer, not a butcher."

"What I showed him just now were just some cow bones and bear claw bones. I am not bored enough to play this kind of butcher game. My employer has done this before."

The subordinate swallowed his saliva, looked at Matt's handsome profile, and muttered in his heart: "You are not a butcher, you are a devil."

Midtown High School.

Peter put his schoolbag in the locker and looked at the empty locker next to it.

That was Gwen's locker.

After hesitating for a while, he took out his mobile phone and sent a text message to Gwen.

"Are you still taking a break today? Gwen."

Gwen quickly replied to him: "Yes, I need to spend some time to control myself. If I throw King Kong to the ground every time, it will be a disaster for me."

Peter frowned and replied to her: "Control? How to control?"

"That's a long story. Controlling your own body is a difficult thing anyway. I have to change myself. Don't worry, I will go to class tomorrow, and maybe I will surprise you then."

"Well, I'm looking forward to it."

Peter put away his phone and walked towards the classroom.

But after entering the classroom, he found that the atmosphere in the classroom seemed a little different from usual.

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