I'm in Marvel's infinite draw

In Midtown High School, the first grade classroom is equipped with TV, radio, and folding blackboard.

No matter how reluctant Peter was, Ned, who thought he had reached a consensus, became his tablemate as a friend.

Other students are still reporting and choosing seats one after another.

Taking advantage of this time, Ned still opened the topic to Peter, "Peter, who is your favorite hero in the Avengers?"

"Hero?" Peter replied without hesitation, "Iron Man."

"oh oh!"

Ned was even more excited, spit flying, "I like Iron Man too! His iron suit is so handsome. Of course, he is also very rich. But he is only the second in my mind, and my favorite is indeed Still a symbol of peace, he is the veritable No. [-] hero!"

This Peter did not refute.

Indeed, no matter men, women or children in New York City, when talking about this topic, they will tacitly leave the first place to the symbol of peace. This is the consensus of everyone.

When it comes to the symbol of peace, no one compares him with other heroes.After all, the symbol of peace is the first superhero. He ended the protracted World War II, founded the Avengers, and saved the world several times. No other hero can match his fame or achievements.

The meaning of the existence of the symbol of peace is more like a belief, and it has even surpassed the framework of the hero itself.

The corners of Peter's mouth curled up quietly. If the fat Ned in front of him knew that he had fought (beaten) with the peace symbol, I wonder if he would be so shocked that his jaw would drop.

"Just sit here and wait for someone?"

The male students near the classroom podium bickered, took the remote control from the podium, and turned on the TV next to the blackboard.

The channel that was just opened was broadcasting news and current affairs, and the scene of the fire with thick smoke immediately attracted the attention of all the students in the classroom.

"At [-]:[-] last night, a fire broke out suddenly at the Remy Five-Star Hotel in the central street of Queens. The fire was serious and basically covered the entire fifth floor. Fortunately, there were no casualties, thanks to a man in red and blue The mysterious man in the tight costume..."

The female reporter released a video while explaining.In the video, Spiderman can be vaguely seen swaying spider silk back and forth, and rescued a disaster-stricken resident from the fifth floor to the ground at the door.

Ned looked at the news and said in surprise: "Wow, is that a new hero? That guy seems to be able to fly?"

"No, he shouldn't be able to fly." Peter touched his nose, the feeling of watching himself on TV is not bad.

Ned continued to comment: "His clothes are biased towards Iron Man's design style. Could it be made to imitate Iron Man's suit?"

"This..." Peter didn't know what to say. After all, the spider suit was made by Tony. It can be said that Ned touched the truth inadvertently.

"Since it's a new hero, there should be a name, right? Let me think about it, how about calling him Fire Monkey? That's a cool name." Ned looked at Peter with great interest, wanting to hear his opinion.

Peter corrected a little excitedly: "His name is Spider-Man, not Fire Monkey-Man!"

"Uh." Ned looked bewildered, obviously frightened, and other students also turned their puzzled eyes to Peter.

"Childish." A short-haired female student sitting in a corner quietly reading a book glanced up at Peter.

"That, I also heard from others."

Peter spread his hands in embarrassment, and buried his head on his schoolbag.

The news finally made a phased summary: "The cause of the fire has not yet been ascertained. The police have initially ruled out an accidental fire. This incident is likely to be artificially induced. Please continue to pay attention to the New York News Channel for specific follow-up information..."

"Why?"

Peter raised his head, recalling last night in his mind, the mysterious figure wearing a glass helmet and an armor cloak, flashing through the red mist.

Who is that?

At this time, a restaurant in New York.

About 30 years old, but with a bearded face and a sense of vicissitudes on his face, he can no longer be called a young uncle. Wearing a waiter suit, he squatted in a daze at the door of the restaurant in frustration.

His name was Scott Lang, and he had only been out for a few months after he had been in prison for theft.Although he managed to find a low-level job, after the divorce, even the custody of his eldest daughter, who was a few years old, was difficult to win back.

Scott needs a sum of money now, a sum of money, and he probably won't be able to earn half of his life as a waiter.

Perhaps knowing Scott's current situation, "old friends" in twos and threes appeared in front of him again, throwing a cake-like suggestion to him who was in trouble.

After Scott heard the old friend's proposal, he didn't think too much about it, and immediately refused: "Still stealing? Please, I've already washed my hands and can't go to jail again!"

"Shh, buddy, keep your voice down."

One of the fat men put his hands on Scott's shoulders and said in a low voice, "We really need you this time. I can assure you that this is your last order. As long as you take it, the money you get will Not only will you not worry about the rest of your life, even your daughter will be able to return to you."

Scott was silent, and had to say that he was moved, and he could do anything for his daughter.

"Tell me about who the target is." Scott said in a deep voice.

"I knew it, you wouldn't refuse."

The fat man clenched his fist excitedly, and said simply: "The other party is a businessman and scientist. He has many real estates in New York. He has a villa that has been idle for a long time. According to my knowledge, there is a super safe room there. By the way, the businessman's name Called Hank Pym..."

Late that night, a van with curtains was parked on the road in the villa area.

"I'm leaving."

Scott, who was wearing a night suit, put on the headset and mask, and got off from the back door of the van.The other accomplices who stayed in the car manipulated various instruments and equipment, blocked nearby surveillance and signals, and monitored every move in the nearby streets, with a degree of professionalism no less than that of international robbers.

After Scott got out of the van, he approached the target villa in diameter. He came to the wall, climbed over into the courtyard skillfully and dexterously, opened the anti-theft window with a tool, and crawled into the villa with a cat.

"Along the hall, there are stairs on the right hand side, go up to the second floor, and the goal is the third storage room from the bottom..."

Following the instructions from his companion through the headset, Scott turned on the flashlight and came to the storage room on the second floor. When he saw the fingerprint security door, he couldn't help but smile slightly.

This is too childish, so naturally it won't bother him.

Paste the old fingerprints left by the handle with tape, reproduce the texture, and pass the scanning level with the reproduced fingerprints.

5 minutes later.

Scott didn't touch any alarms, and entered the storage room smoothly, and saw the thickened safety steel door that was two meters long and one meter wide.

"No wonder you are looking for me, this is a troublesome guy." Scott exclaimed.

"What's wrong?" The companion asked in surprise.

"It's Carbondale, made in 1910, out of Titanic steel."

Scott showed a habitual smile, "Remember hitting the iceberg, its cold resistance is average."

Scott is a former chief engineer, and he is also a top thief. He knows how to pry open the safe at a glance.

A small hole was drilled on the main structure of the safety door, and after injecting a large amount of water, the freezing was accelerated with liquid nitrogen, and the inside and outside of the safety door quickly froze into ice...

'Boom! '