Chapter 121

In a narrow alley in Queens, New York, Peter was hiding behind a trash bin, Pikachu crouched on his shoulder, poking its small head out to look, and said: “Are you sure those monsters are really here?”

“Of course, I’ve been following them for days—this is one of their small outposts.”

“Alright, so what are you planning to do now?”

“I have to eliminate them. Besides this small outpost, two larger ones lie on the adjacent streets.”

Pikachu jumped onto the trash bin and stared eye to eye with Peter. “Are you sure you can take them? If they really have seven or eight of them, you won’t have the advantage.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure—but I have to do this.” Peter shrugged, the two white eyes on his spider mask narrowing as he said: “From Gwen, I learned the NYPD is hunting these monsters, and many officers are injured—bullets and tear gas don’t work on them.”

“They’re clearly a tough enemy, but I must face them alone. Since becoming Spider-Man, I’ve never fought a real opponent by myself.”

“You really won’t tell your friends? Aren’t you afraid of danger you can’t handle?”

“No, this time I’m doing it myself.” Peter said firmly: “I’m Spider-Man, not someone’s sidekick—if I can’t do anything without others, what kind of hero am I?”

Then Peter reached out and ruffled Pikachu’s head. “You’ve got to keep this secret too.”

Pikachu waved a paw and flicked his tail. “Don’t worry—Detective Pikachu’s lips are sealed. We’re good buddies—I’ll keep it quiet for you.”

The next morning, Pikachu was devouring a sandwich enormous compared to his size. Schiller spread a spoonful of jam onto a slice of bread and said: “So what are these monsters? Did you see them?”

“No, but Peter says they seem to drink human blood—that’s why the police are chasing them, though not very successfully.”

“Drink blood? Vampires?” Schiller mentally recalled what he knew of vampires in Marvel comics—and realized he remembered almost nothing. The Earth-born vampires in Marvel seemed to have no distinguishing traits—just like most legends: afraid of silver, garlic, holy water, crosses.

“Do you think they’re within Peter’s capability to handle?”

Pikachu swallowed his sandwich and said: “With Spider-Man’s fists and Detective Pikachu’s brain, what enemy could we not defeat?”

“True, but I think Peter hasn’t fully grown yet—he might need some help.”

“Help? You’d be that kind?” Pikachu stared with round eyes at Schiller, who smiled. Pikachu shivered—he knew whenever Schiller smiled like that, someone was going to suffer.

At that moment, Steve, in his running gear, walked in on schedule and said: “Morning. I should file a breakfast reimbursement with S.H.I.E.L.D.—after all, I eat all my breakfasts here.”

Schiller didn’t mind—he pointed to the chair beside him for Steve to sit. Western breakfasts were all self-service: bread toasted yourself, coffee brewed yourself—Steve wouldn’t eat much anyway.

Unexpectedly, Colonel Coulson entered, dressed in a suit, looking hurried: “There’s been some trouble in Queens, Captain. I’ll be working overtime—I’ve assigned another agent to handle your meals and living arrangements. He’ll be here this afternoon to relieve me.”

“Relax, I’m not a baby—do you think I can’t take care of myself?” Steve bit into his sandwich, mumbling: “What’s going on in Queens? I’ve noticed all the agents have been busy—are you dealing with someone?”

Coulson smirked—he clearly knew something but didn’t want to say. Schiller said: “Our good neighbor Spider-Man’s been frequenting that area lately.”

Coulson paused. “Spider-Man? What’s he doing there?”

“I heard he’s tracking a group of monsters—he’s still investigating, and apparently plans to handle this operation alone.”

After Coulson stepped out, he picked up his radio: “Director, good news—Spider-Man plans to take on all of New York’s vampires alone, and he’s already got a detailed operation plan…”

“Yes, I know. Of course their shadows are behind this. Without Spider-Man’s friends, how would he dare do something this big?”

“True. Besides, the Hand has been restless lately—we’re short on personnel. I’ll recall the two squads from Queens. After all, if Stark and the Captain lend even covert help, those vampires will get a lesson.”

That night, Spider-Man clutched Pikachu, shot a webline to a wall, and swung swiftly forward, tossing two trash bags behind him as he turned—while a swarm of giant bats chased him, their eyes glowing red, fangs bared, emitting piercing shrieks, terrifying to behold.

Spider-Man shouted as he ran: “You flying rats! Can you catch me? Try it if you dare!”

He accelerated, leapt onto a tall wall, and the bats whooshed past him.

Behind the wall lay a landfill, where a massive garbage truck stood. Peter moved nimbly, sprinting three steps to the truck’s rear—where the uneven piles of trash made flight difficult. The bats transformed into human forms: pale faces, glowing red eyes, claws tipped with sharp points.

Peter and Pikachu crouched beside the truck. Pikachu said: “Listen—you’ve got to time this right. If they catch up, we’re outnumbered.”

“Don’t worry—I’ve never felt my mind this clear.” Spider-Man said: “Dr. Connors was right—use your brain, and you get smarter.”

The Marvelous Woodland Tale

“You think you’ve gotten smarter?”

“Of course. My thoughts are crystal clear. You go into the truck’s cab—I’ll lure them over, then lead them in a circle. When they get close to the back of the truck…”

Soon, the vampires spotted Peter standing atop the garbage truck, waving and taunting: “Hey! You flying stinking rats! You’re nothing compared to my rodent friends! Want me to bring you some peanut butter?”

There were about a dozen vampires—none native to New York, recently transferred here. Finding the city’s defenses lax and no vampire hunters in sight, they feasted openly, even draining two young police officers dry.

This man in tight spandex dared insult the noble vampire race. The leader instantly transformed into a bat and lunged at Peter.

The vampire-bat’s wingspan stretched nearly two meters; its aerial charge was terrifying. But Peter showed no fear—he rolled nimbly aside and leapt off the truck.

The bats directly above him, without hesitation, dove toward the truck. Peter used his speed advantage: when they lunged left, he rolled to the front; when they dove right, he drew them backward.

After a few rounds, the bats grew impatient. They split into two groups, attempting to flank Spider-Man—perfectly playing into Peter’s hands. Some circled left, others right; Peter rolled swiftly to the truck’s rear, and the bats converged there.

Peter shouted: “Pikachu! Now!”

As soon as he spoke, he shot a webline to the trash pile and leapt away. Before the bats could react, the rear gate of the truck opened—mountains of garbage instantly buried them all.

Though the bats were large, the trash was far more. Though they had wings, they lacked powerful limbs to break free. Trapped the moment the garbage fell, they were buried alive.

Peter leapt again, landing on the truck’s hood, and high-fived Pikachu, who jumped out of the cab. “They’re probably just low-level thugs,” Peter said. “Gwen told me these monsters can use magic.”

Before Peter could drag the vampires out of the trash pile and beat them, sirens blared outside the landfill—the police had been watching the outpost and had arrived.

Peter glanced up from the hood. Pikachu said: “We’ve got to go. Now’s not the time to deal with cops—you’re dressed worse than those monsters.”

“I’m doing good!” Peter said.

But after a moment’s hesitation, he followed Pikachu’s plan—shot a webline to a nearby building, and swung away swiftly.

Mid-swing, Peter said excitedly: “Somehow, I feel today’s mission went incredibly smoothly.”

“Did you see? When they tried to surround me, in the past I’d have charged straight in, taken down one side—and ended up trapped. But today? Did you see that awesome roll? I gathered them all together…”

“You’re different today. You used to be all fists. Today you beat them with your brain. That’s a real breakthrough—congratulations.”

Peter swung to the roof of a tall building, set Pikachu down, then sat on the edge. He was thrilled. “Now I understand what my friends meant—only wisdom plus strength can truly defeat them. Using your brain isn’t shameful.”

“Don’t forget what Detective Pikachu taught you.”

“What?”

“Surveillance and preparation. Without the two days of stakeout, could you have learned their speed and mobility in bat form?”

“That wasn’t you teaching me—it was Dr. Schiller. Honestly, the only thing you taught me is that rodents can be good or bad.”

Pikachu spun around and lashed his tail hard across Peter’s shoulder. Peter yelped in pain, rubbing his shoulder. “What’s wrong with that? Aren’t you a rodent?”

“But they’re bats—not rodents.”

Peter grimaced, clutching his shoulder. “Come to think of it—how did these monsters even come about? Why can they turn into bats? Why do they drink blood?”

“Gwen’s been terrified lately—those two officers attacked are still in critical condition. She’s terrified her father might be targeted next.” Peter lowered his arm, gazing into the distance. “Worse—they seem to have a strange power that can turn ordinary people into their offspring.”

“So you’d better be careful. Even if your suit’s tough, two claws could turn you into a rodent too.”