Chapter 908

Sentient beings can never imagine how immense public pressure can be, unless it happens to them.

Many will think those who kill themselves under public pressure are simply weak-hearted and fragile, but if the same thing happened to them, the result would likely be the same.

The Skrulls are sentient beings too; their willpower is not much stronger than that of humans. He can mimic Spider-Man's appearance and abilities, but he cannot mimic Spider-Man's resolve and will.

This Skrull officer was never a good man; in his not overly long life, all he ever did was obey orders and prepare for the revival of the Skrulls.

Before this, he never realized how painful his job would be—no matter what he did, no matter what he said, no matter what image he projected, no one ever acknowledged him.

This pressure is lethal to anyone.

Unfortunately, he was not a young man who gained spider mutations—he was merely an officer bound to obey orders, and faced with these accusations, he had no right to even turn dark; he could only suppress everything inside him, transforming from initial triumph and pride into utter rage and grievance.

Once granted limited freedom of movement, he inevitably began to wonder: why don't these people recognize him? Is he truly inferior to Spider-Man?

Anyone will feel resentment, especially when constantly compared to another person and universally deemed inferior in every way.

The fake Spider-Man began frantically doing good deeds; he even directly replaced the New York Police, appearing at every possible or already occurring crime scene, doing his utmost to combat criminals and help others.

Then, Police Chief George of the New York Police Department was the first to accuse Spider-Man, claiming he shouldn't treat the police this way, that he was seizing responsibility to expand his own power.

If this continued, police might all lose their jobs, and Spider-Man could never truly replace every officer—resulting in even greater threats to citizens' safety.

Then he tried doing nothing, and was again scolded for inaction and merely riding the wave of popularity.

The fake Spider-Man didn't realize that once you outwardly show you listen to certain people's opinions and are willing to change, they naturally assume they have the power to control you.

They won't praise you for complying with their wishes; instead, they'll demand you perform like a clown, criticize every single action of yours, nitpick endlessly, to satisfy their desire to control others.

The fake Spider-Man failed to grasp this at all, and thus easily fell into the trap of public opinion; once newspapers and forums realized he altered his behavior based on their absurd opinions, everyone became even more reckless.

They demanded the second-generation Spider-Man stop wearing his suit, claiming superheroes should be honest; they demanded he stop using webbing, because it wasn't eco-friendly or sanitary.

They demanded he issue three warnings before using force against criminals, and that he cause no scratches or bruises during combat; he must also rescue victims' property—even if an apple fell to the ground, he had to pick it up.

The fake Spider-Man was nearly driven mad by these humans.

He realized he was gradually splitting: on one hand, the superhero he mimicked was supposed to be optimistic, cheerful, and full of vitality—he loved this world and everyone in it.

But on the other hand, the world's feedback toward him was so negative and vicious that the fake Spider-Man began to wonder: why does Spider-Man even help these people?

He began doubting whether his memories were truly accurate; before this, he had never questioned his ability to replicate memories, but now, he truly wavered.

How could Spider-Man still have kindness to help such cruel, disgusting people who spare no effort to harm others?

Were the scenes in his memory—Spider-Man getting along harmoniously with others—really real?

Standing on the roof of the Empire State Building, the Skrull posing as Spider-Man felt dark clouds gathering before his eyes, countless fragmented hallucinations flashing past; he felt none of this was real.

Perhaps this was merely a dream he had inside his life-support pod; when he woke, everything would unfold exactly as he imagined—he would stand atop New York, receiving applause and cheers, fully replacing the superhero's identity.

At that moment, his phone rang. The fake Spider-Man picked it up, and Shiler's voice came through: "I'm in S. . . . . .'s lab. I want you to come help me test my psychological abilities. I'm a doctor—I need patients…"

Hearing this, the fake Spider-Man understood: this man was his ally, the Skrull assigned by the leader to mimic the mind-reader, who had now successfully replicated Shiler's abilities and was preparing to test them.

But the instant he realized this, he hesitated—more precisely, he felt resistance.

The Skrull military operated under absolute authoritarian rule; subordinates must obey superiors without question, not even allowing rebellion in thought. Yet now, the fake Spider-Man knew clearly: his inner turmoil must not be discovered by his telepathic ally.

If the Skrull impersonating Shiler revealed his emotions to the superior posing as Nick, he would likely face death.

At that moment, the fake Spider-Man crouched on the building's roof and saw a robbery unfolding below; he naturally said: "Sorry, Doctor, I'm busy—the media are watching me. I must maintain order in New York. Call the captain or Mr. Stark…"

He hung up, just as he had done countless times before: swung over on webbing, landed, subdued the criminal, waved at the cameras, then moved on to the next crime scene.

But this time, he no longer felt annoyance or confusion about Spider-Man; instead, he felt relief—so long as there was work to do, he wouldn't have to see a psychologist, wouldn't be exposed for his strange emotions; he wished for even more crime scenes.

Meanwhile, Shiler glanced at his phone, shook his head, and dialed again. Steve's voice came through. He spoke again: "This is Shiler. I'm in S. . . . . .'s lab. I need you to help me test my psychological doctor abilities…"

"What? You're busy? Spider-Man says he's busy too… Alright, I'll ask Tony then. Goodbye."

After hanging up, the fake Captain America gripped his shield tightly and sighed. He was indeed busy—busy fighting Hydra.

Captain America and Iron Man's deaths had not been made public, so they didn't need to use the second-generation identities publicly. But Captain America hadn't been available for public appearances these past few days—he'd been relentlessly hunting Hydra.

Ever since discovering Hydra's German headquarters likely bombed the warehouse, Captain America, under Nick's orders, had been stopping these reckless acts—not out of justice, but to prevent further loss of Skrull property.

In the fake Captain America's memory, Hydra wasn't hard to deal with; most Hydra leaders were like typical villains—plotting, failing, then being dispatched by Captain America's shield.

Only a few Hydra members he'd encountered after awakening were somewhat formidable, but this Skrull impersonating Captain America was older and more experienced than the fake Spider-Man, one of the strongest impostors overall. He believed he could easily handle them with his skills and methods.

Then he got beaten senseless by Hydra.

The fake Captain America now wandered through the corridors of an abandoned warehouse. About half an hour ago, it wasn't abandoned—but when he heard the explosion, he knew he'd been tricked again.

These Hydras were far stronger and more cunning than in Captain America's memory—decoys, traps, luring, withdrawal—they understood military tactics perfectly and executed them flawlessly.

That alone would've been bad enough, but worse, they somehow knew Captain America's every habit and routine—down to which foot he stepped out of the plane first, how he retrieved his shield, which arm he gestured with when speaking.

The fake Captain America felt as if an invisible surveillance camera was filming him 360 degrees, feeding data to a strategy team that then generated real-time tactics to counter him.

First, they used a decoy to lure him to another warehouse, where an explosion was hidden precisely in his blind spot. He wasn't at the epicenter, but the blast still shook him, injuring his lungs; then assassins struck, slashing his arm.

Every time he lay down to rest, Nick Fury's phone call would come again, informing him another warehouse had suffered heavy losses, urging him to think of the Skrulls' future, to stop resting and keep working.

Now, the weary fake Captain America trudged through the abandoned warehouse's corridors when suddenly, he saw a golden-haired figure flicker past. Instinctively, he gripped his shield and stepped back warily.

A golden-haired girl appeared at the corridor's end, raised her hand, and fired an air blast toward Captain America. He rolled aside, threw his shield in retaliation.

The shield sliced through the air at incredible speed—but when it struck the girl, it passed right through. Captain America's face darkened; he knew it was a hallucination induced by a mind-reader.

As expected, a deafening explosion ripped through the entire corridor. Captain America barely leapt out a nearby window before being flung over ten meters by the blast wave.

When he hit the ground, he spat blood. He knew he had to preserve his life to preserve his disguise.

Another flaw of Skrull disguises: once their strength is depleted, they suffer grave injury, or die, the disguise instantly vanishes, reverting them to their green-skinned form.

But then his phone rang again. Nick's cold voice came through: "Captain, what's wrong? Why did you lose this warehouse again?!"

"Sorry, Director, I really…"

"You must remember who you serve and why you exist. Your only value is loyalty to the great ideal. If you can't fulfill that, death on the battlefield is your best fate!"

After hanging up, Captain America closed his eyes. As the phone slipped from his hand, the screen lit up with a message: sender Sharon Carter, a S. . . . . . female agent.

"Steve, I've sent you all the warehouse intel. Also, there might be danger there—be careful."

"And if you're too tired, come back and rest. Don't push yourself too hard."