Chapter 288: Extracting Information

[Third Person's PoV] 

Peter sat on the stairs, leaning back casually with his arms draped over a step above him. One leg was stretched out lazily, his entire posture radiating a calm, uncaring confidence.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Peter spoke nonchalantly, "I've got all the time in the world. You? Not so much. If you don't get that hand checked out soon, you could either die from blood loss, or—if you're lucky—just lose the hand."

The Chameleon gritted his teeth, glaring at the bleeding wound. A small puddle was forming beneath him. His breathing grew ragged, adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins. He could feel the weakness creeping in, dragging him down inch by inch.

When he glanced back at Peter, the kid was still lounging comfortably on the stairs, wearing that same confident smile. And all the Chameleon could do was tremble in place.

"You devil child… you monster!" he spat, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Peter stretched an arm up toward the ceiling, resting his head back against the step as he glanced at an invisible watch.

"Hm… Let's see. It takes about five minutes for all the blood to leave the body. First minute, you lose sensation in your limbs. By the second, your heart starts to spasm. Third minute, your vision goes blurry and you start to fade in and out. Fourth, your heart shuts down, and your brain gets hit hard. Fifth minute... you're pronounced dead," Peter said, making it all up with the confidence of a seasoned doctor. The trick was sounding absolutely certain.

He suddenly inhaled sharply. "Yikes… you're almost through your first minute."

"Alright! Alright, I'll talk!" the Chameleon yelled in a panic. "Your company—it's in the spotlight! It's become a target! I was hired to sabotage it by your competitors! And I was getting paid a lot!"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Continue~" he said, casually running his fingers down his chest and blowing on them with a smirk.

"What do you mean—"

"You're obviously not telling me everything." Peter yawned. "If I were you, I'd hurry it up~"

The Chameleon looked down at his hand, panic rising, and blurted, "Parker Industries has been moving into the medical field—specifically prosthetics! I was sent to steal the plans!"

Peter's smile vanished into a frown. "That shouldn't be public knowledge. Only higher-ups and investors know that. Looks like I need to schedule a meeting… There's been a leak. Go on."

The Chameleon nodded frantically. "And now everyone knows you're just a kid about to become a multi-billionaire! It was supposed to be easy—sneak in, rip you off, walk out rich. But clearly, that didn't work! Look at me now! That's everything, I swear! Just don't let me die!"

Peter's voice dropped, calm but cold. "Who was it? Who hired you?"

"It was AIM! But they weren't the only ones—Hammer Industries, Roxxon Corp, Stark Industries, and more! None of them want a new player on the board!"

With a tired sigh, Peter finally stood and walked toward him. Before the Chameleon could react, Peter jabbed two fingers into precise pressure points, knocking him out instantly. His body slumped forward.

Without missing a beat, Peter pressed three acupuncture points in quick succession, halting the bleeding. With one hand, he carefully pulled the knife from the wound—the hand remained bloodless. He knelt, placing a palm over the man's chest. His chi-healing was refined to the point where he could replenish blood without closing any injuries.

Peter sighed. 'I thought Kraven would be involved, but this? What a mess… And if Stark Industries is part of it, then I think I know why Nicky's been looking for me…'

He pulled out his phone, dialing.

"Yeah, I need security to clean this up. And get the police—I've got an intruder and an attempted assassination."

"..."

"No, I'm fine. Not a scratch. But send paramedics. One of our staff was injected with a strong sedative—I want to make sure they're okay."

…

Peter unlocked the utility closet and found Janice tied up and unconscious, her head resting against the wall. Her hands, legs, and mouth were bound. He quickly knelt down, undid her bindings, and effortlessly lifted her in a princess carry.

As he turned around, he found Natasha standing behind him. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing and walked past, handing Janice over to the arriving paramedics.

Returning to Natasha, he said, "Tell Janice she can take the rest of the week off—paid vacation. Knowing her, she'll argue we'll fall behind, so counter with the option for her to work from home. But stress that she has to rest."

He gave her a few more instructions to follow in his absence. Natasha nodded and made a note of everything, silently watching as Peter walked toward a different elevator, away from where the paramedics had gone.

"If you don't mind me asking… where are you going?" she said, her brows furrowed slightly with concern. "I don't think it's safe for you to be walking around alone—you were just attacked, Mr. Parker."

Peter didn't stop as he stepped into the elevator. "I do mind, actually… so I won't be answering." He pressed the button and added, "Don't worry about me. Just focus on the tasks I've given you. You have your orders."

Natasha blinked, surprised, as the elevator doors closed. The numbers above began to descend.

Peter leaned back against the elevator wall, eyes closed for a moment. 'How tiresome…' he thought, sighing.

He arrived at the ground floor just in time to see the paramedics carrying Janice out through the front doors. Peter followed quietly, slipping outside to see her being loaded into the ambulance. On the other side, The Chameleon was being placed onto a stretcher.

Blending into the growing crowd, Peter disappeared from view.

Within a minute, the sharp thwip! of webbing echoed through the busy streets of New York. A blur zipped through the sky—a webslinger clad in black and blue, with a hood drawn up over his head.

Instantly, the attention of the crowd was drawn to the web-slinging hero of New York as he soared through the city in style.

Spider-Man dove down, watching the moving traffic and people below—like ants from his height. As they grew larger in his vision, he fired a web, latched onto a building, and swung forward. He somersaulted through the air, transitioned into another web swing, then released and deployed his web-wings, gliding effortlessly. He turned corners, weaving between towering buildings, navigating the concrete maze with ease.

…

Spider-Man landed atop a large water tower, perching on its peak. Below, Nick Fury stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out over the city.

Raising his wrist, Nick checked the time. "At least you're punctual. I can count on that much."

"Oh, Nicky," Peter said playfully. "Like I'd ever miss a date with you~"

"Unfortunately, your personality is still as insufferable as ever," Fury muttered.

Peter pretended to pout. "You did call me, remember? Not the other way around. You're lucky I have a soft spot for you. Despite all the emotional damage, I still came to help." He sighed dramatically.

Nick let out an audible groan of exasperation.

Peter dropped down beside him with a gasp. "I'm… I'm in a toxic relationship," he said solemnly, lenses shifting expressively. "I think we should seek counseling together. Work through our issues. Help our bond bloom into something truly special."

He placed a "loving" hand on Fury's shoulder.

Nick turned toward him slowly, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Can you be serious… for five seconds? Just five?"

Peter paused. "Five seconds? That's a tall order, but for you… I'll try." He straightened up. "So, what's going on?"

Fury studied him for a moment. A troubled look crossed his face before he finally spoke.

"I need your help. You and your team. I'm looking for Tony Stark… and I believe, with your assistance, we'll find and secure him much faster—and much safer."

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