I'm not Spider-Man, even though I'm parasitized by an alien!

“I may have been a good girl, and it’s not my fault that I was surrounded by villains and madmen half the time. I’ve always done things my own way, but I’m afraid the symbiote will really make me hurt you, Peter. If I did what Eddie did, would you forgive me? No, even if you forgive me, I’m afraid I won’t forgive myself.”

Gwen said dejectedly.

"Yes, I will. Don't worry, Gwen, I'll handle it."

Peter reached out and touched Gwen, whose eyes were wide open like a fawn's, and who seemed uneasy.

He could sense the fear and worry in the girl in front of him.

Gwen wasn't worried that the symbiote would harm her, but rather that it would cause her to harm the people around her.

Peter gently kissed Gwen's forehead and started talking to her about Harry, "You know what? Harry joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Harry joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

Gwen looked surprised.

Peter nodded. "It's a bit strange, but the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. said it himself, so it shouldn't be wrong."

Gwen took out her phone. "Yes, this is strange. Although Harry said he was going on vacation and turned off all communication devices, I didn't expect him to secretly become a secret agent. I have to leave a message on his personal social media app to ask him about it."

After leaving a message for Harry, she turned on her phone and found a notification.

"A demonic murder suspect has been spotted in New York City!"

Gwen stared at the headline of the news article, stunned.

"This is.?"

Gwen handed the phone to Peter, "Why is this guy's mask so similar to the Green Goblin's mask?"

Peter frowned as he looked at the suspect's portrait in the news.

However, the colors are clearly different, and there are also many differences in the design details.

When did this guy appear out of nowhere?!

"Are you alright, George?"

At the Stacy family home, Devoe asked George Stacy, who had just finished a phone call with his daughter.

"It's alright, you know, daughters always go through a rebellious phase at this stage, but it's much better now, at least Gwen is willing to call me."

George was still very happy to have his former colleague visit him.

Even though he is no longer a policeman.

"Have you heard of that guy who calls himself a demon?"

After Detective Devoe and George exchanged a few words about Gwen, the conversation turned to the suddenly appearing "devil."

"Yes, Officer Frank is investigating, isn't he? I've heard he's doing a good job."

"Yes, he did a good job, but I still hope you can come back, George. I know you've always cared about this career."

George shook his head, picked up his coffee cup, and said, "I'd rather be a good father than a police officer. Besides, I might not be suited for being a police officer. When you compromise on certain things, you have to sacrifice something."

Seeing George's determined expression, Dwolf nodded helplessly.

"No matter what, I will miss the days we worked together."

"Me too."

George held up his coffee cup for her.

Back at the police station, Devoe hadn't even had a chance to rest when she received a report.

The person who reported the incident claimed that when passing by their neighbor's house, they heard the sound of things breaking, and it seemed that the neighbors were arguing or fighting.

So she had no choice but to drive to the location where the police were called.

Brooklyn.

Light streamed through the broken window into a gray expanse, capturing swirling dust and decaying debris beneath the beams.

The beam of light ended on Chris Martin's face, where he was strapped to an old table.

The leather pad beneath him was torn and bit into his bare back, thighs, and buttocks.

The smells were a mixture of sweat, urine, and rust, all intertwined to create a pungent, unpleasant chemical stench.

Chris Martin's mouth was stuffed with barbed metal wire, the wound extending all the way to his head, from front to back—rusty barbs were stuck into the corners of his mouth.

Metal wire pinned his head to the table.

His tongue and lips were dry and cracked, indicating that he had been there for some time.

The walls around him were blackened and charred, and the wallpaper was bubbly like skin that had been soaked in water for a long time.

The ceiling was pulled down everywhere, knobs and wiring hang precariously, supported by drooping, damaged insulation bundles, looking as if gray clouds were being dragged down by a downpour.

"Tread! Tread! Tread!"

A man suddenly emerged from the shadows.

“Young man, listen to me tell the story of poor old Polly’s fate. He was a young man, young and unrestrained, self-important, yet he groaned in despair and died in groaning.”

This song has a folk flavor; it is ancient, slow, and rhythmic.

The man's voice was deep and hoarse, and behind it, the sound trembled and swayed, from low to high notes, as pleasant and melodious as the sharp teeth of a fork piercing a stone slab.

“He would go out to frolic, dance, and play, even though all his friends would say, ‘When I grow old, I will turn to God, and I’m sure He will take my soul.’”

Chris Martin struggled with his mouth gagged; his cracked lips scabbed over, and fresh blood flowed out and dried.

Both of his palms were marked with an "X"; the wounds were shallow but identical. He also had two identical marks on his feet.

“One Friday morning, Polly fell ill. His stubborn heart began to fail, and he cried out, ‘Oh no, my days are over, and it is too late to repent.’”

The man continued singing the ballad, and his face emerged from the shadows.

The man wore a demon mask on his face, and behind the thin goggles strapped to his flesh, his eyes gleamed through the lenses.

This was not his head, but a hood that covered his shoulders and extended down to his bare, grayish-yellow chest.

He emerged from the shadows, a dagger in his hand.

"He called his father to his bedside, his eyes rolling and swirling above his head. Oh, Godfather, farewell, your wicked offspring screaming in hell."

The man continued singing the ballad.

Chris Martin struggled desperately after seeing the dagger.

He rubbed his head back and forth, trying to escape, trying to free parts of his body—he screamed in agony as the barbed wire sawed into his cheek.

Blood churned in his throat, almost suffocating him.

A man wearing a demon mask walked over, his fingers damp and red.

Just as the man wearing the demon mask was about to stab the man in the head with the dagger.

At the critical moment, the door to the dimly lit room was suddenly kicked open.

"Oh!"

The blinding sunlight shone in.

Dwolf stood at the door with a gun in hand. "Police, don't move!"

The man wearing a demon mask held a dagger high into the sky.

A beam of light suddenly shone on him, causing him to stop moving involuntarily.

When Chris Martin, who was tied up, saw the police arrive, he immediately began to twist and struggle, screaming loudly.

The person wearing the demon mask paused for a moment, then suddenly swung the dagger downwards.

But Chris Martin used all his strength to dodge backward, and at the same time, Devon pulled the trigger.

With a "bang," the bullet grazed the hand of the masked man.

The dagger landed heavily on the table, cutting into a notch that hadn't just formed.

Unfortunately, Chris Martin didn't dodge; his head rolled behind the table with a "thud."

Then the man wearing the demon mask kicked it into a tattered wicker basket lined with black plastic garbage bags.

Blood dripped onto the damaged floor.

"Damn it!"

Devoe never expected that her routine home visit would lead her to a murder suspect.

What's even more despicable is that this guy actually killed someone right in front of me.

Enraged, she repeatedly pulled the trigger.

All the bullets in the magazine were fired at the enemy.

Devoe fired all the bullets in her gun in one go.

But the man wearing the demon mask had already dodged to the side.

Seeing that the bullets missed their target, Devoe quickly retreated while preparing to call for backup.

But to her surprise, a flying skateboard suddenly appeared out of the darkness.

"Oh!"

The "devil" riding a flying skateboard slammed into her and sent her flying.

"Boom!"

Dwolf's pistol also flew out of his hand.

at the same time.

Stacy's house.

George Stacy suddenly noticed that Dwolf had left something at home.

He walked to the table and found that the other person's police badge had been left there.

He picked up the badge, stroking the patterns on it, hesitated for a moment, and finally took out his phone and dialed Devon's number.

Chapter 260 Collapse and Rebirth