Become Kingpin and build a hero mercenary company.

Confusion, like the morning mist, shrouded the heart of this warrior from the past.

He knew he needed time to observe and understand this new era, and the complex and contradictory new things it had given rise to, such as the "Hero Association."

But one thing he was certain of was that no matter how times change, some core values, such as courage, sacrifice, and selflessness, should never be put on a price tag.

Chapter 26: Recruitment Posters Sweep the Globe

Before the echoes of Kingpin's declaration that "being a hero is a job" had subsided, a more precise, impactful, and "down-to-earth" visual storm was meticulously planned and ignited globally by the Hero Association's public relations and marketing department (personally overseen and led by Wesley).

Overnight, from giant electronic billboards in Times Square, New York, to light boxes in London Underground tunnels, from screens at bustling intersections in Shibuya, Tokyo, to advertising boards on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro… and even in every corner of the online world, social media feeds, video website ads, and pop-ups on major portals… were all taken over by a series of recruitment posters with highly unified design styles but extremely “magical” and “anti-traditional” copywriting.

The core visual element of these posters is naturally the association's simple blue shield emblem, but what truly catches the eye are the slogans displayed in bold, eye-catching fonts. They completely abandon the grand terms such as "responsibility," "honor," and "sacrifice" commonly found in traditional hero propaganda, and instead use a straightforward, almost crude, yet precise, realistic rhetoric that strikes a chord with countless people.

One of the main visual posters:

The background features a majestic profile of Flint Marko, the Sandman (authorized and moderately beautified), controlling a sandstorm, with the caption below:

Gold will eventually run out, but heroes should come to the association to collect their pay!

Your abilities deserve a better reward.

Main visual poster, part two:

The image is divided in two. On the left is a masked vigilante (his image blurred) buying a discounted sandwich at a convenience store late at night, against a desolate background; on the right is a Sharia dressed in a smart association uniform, sitting in a bright and clean restaurant enjoying a nutritionally balanced meal.

Still worrying about battle losses and dinner?

Join the association for comprehensive benefits including five social insurances and one housing fund, free meals and accommodation, and reimbursement for combat losses!

Main visual poster number three:

A serene close-up of a meditator wearing a silver mask, captioned below:

The greater the ability, the clearer the KPIs.

[Reject pointless battles, redeem points for clear and transparent ways to become stronger.]

Poster series "Benefits Edition":

Worried about injury? World-class medical insurance protects you and your family!

Fear of retirement? The association can plan the perfect retirement for you, ensuring even heroes enjoy a glamorous later life!

[Yearning for advancement? We offer customized growth paths and allow you to redeem cutting-edge technology equipment!]

Tired of being alone? Join us, find like-minded comrades, and fight side-by-side!

These posters, like carefully crafted sugar-coated bullets, have generated an explosive response worldwide with their strong visual impact and pragmatic style that is "rough in language but sound in reason."

Ordinary people found it fascinating; these slogans were easier to understand and resonate with than lofty declarations of heroism.

"The words may be crude, but the principle is sound! Even heroes need to eat!"

"Five social insurances and one housing fund, reimbursement for combat losses... I'm totally tempted by these benefits!"

"Look at their logistical support! It's much better than some of those who fight and run, leaving behind a mess!"

Those individuals hidden in various corners of society, possessing superpowers that are either strong or weak, overt or covert, experience even more intense inner turmoil.

A young man, who had been hiding his abilities due to their inconsistency and lack of competence, and working at a fast-food restaurant, saw the phrase "Your abilities deserve better rewards" on a subway billboard and began to seriously consider things for the first time...

A hapless fellow who accidentally caused property damage while using his abilities to stop a crime and was struggling to pay compensation, suddenly brightened up when he saw the words "battle damage reimbursement"...

A person with special abilities, who was learning on their own, making slow progress, and feeling incredibly lonely, developed an intense longing for a "personally tailored growth path" and "finding comrades-in-arms"...

Of course, the controversy and criticism were equally loud.

The defenders of traditional values ​​are heartbroken:

"Blasphemy! This is a complete desecration of the spirit of heroism!"

"Equating noble sacrifice with vulgar money is a sign of moral decay!"

"This encourages utilitarianism! Who will be willing to selflessly sacrifice for their beliefs in the future?"

Some existing heroic organizations or individuals who adhere to traditional heroic ideals (especially certain masked vigilantes) felt offended and targeted. The subtle contrasts in the posters were undoubtedly an attempt to elevate one while belittling the other.

At S.H.I.E.L.D., Director Fury's desk is piled high with public opinion reports and analyses from all over the world.

"He muddied the waters with an almost shameless bluntness," Agent Coulson concluded. "Now, there are probably very few gifted individuals around the world who don't weigh the pros and cons of joining the association. This naked material temptation is fatal to many gifted individuals who are in a difficult or confused period."

Fury's single eye was grim. Kingpin's move was no longer a sophisticated technical demonstration, but a direct and effective talent war. He used real money and a visible future plan to create an irresistible gravitational field.

Inside Stark Tower.

Tony Stark stared at the poster on his tablet that read "Gold will always run out," and nearly crushed the tablet in anger.

"Vulgar! Low-class! Utterly tasteless!" He paced back and forth in the lab, roaring at the air, "Jarvis! Draft a proposal for Stark Industries' 'Future Heroes Foundation' right now! We're recruiting too! Better pay! More generous terms! I'm going to bury that damn muscle-bound bastard in money!"

"Sir, according to preliminary calculations, to achieve the welfare levels promised in the association's publicity and to cover the globe, the initial budget may require..."

“No matter how much! Just do it!” Tony interrupted.

However, despite Stark Industries' deep pockets, how could its hastily cobbled-together "Foundation" compete with Kingpin's comprehensive system, which integrated systemic support, institutionalized management, and clear promotion channels? Not to mention the unfathomable technical support behind the association. Few responded.

In a classroom at Midtown High School.

Peter Parker felt like he was about to split apart. His phone, his webpage, the billboards he saw on his way to and from school… everywhere was covered in recruitment posters for the association. The slogans were like a cacophony in his ears, constantly swirling in his mind.

"Gold will always run out..." He looked at his secondhand phone with a cracked screen.

"Five social insurances and one housing fund, reimbursement for battle damage..." He recalled his wallet, which had been depleted last night from repairing the web-shooter.

"Points redemption, become stronger in a clear and straightforward way..." He thought of the tech accessories in the app store that made his mouth water.

"Finding like-minded comrades..." He recalled the loneliness he felt when facing danger alone.

"No! Peter! Hang in there!" He slapped his face hard. "With great power comes great responsibility! It's not for the money! It's not for the points!"

But another voice whispered, "But... if we had a stable income, wouldn't Aunt May not have to work so hard? If we had better equipment, wouldn't we be able to save more people? And... the association doesn't seem like a bad guy; they really are helping..."

The scales in my heart are tipping little by little.

Inside an apartment building in Queens.

Flint Marko, who was taking care of his daughter, also saw the association's recruitment ad on television. Looking at his own stylized, imposing image on the poster, and listening to the straightforward yet truthful slogans, he was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Without the association, without the advance of 500,000, without the growth experience points redeemed through points, what would Penny and he be in now? He couldn't bear to imagine.

He picked up his phone, logged into the association's internal forum (accessible only to heroes), and posted a message:

[A true story: Joining the association was the best decision I ever made. It wasn't for slogans, but for a real life and hope.]

His post was quickly followed by comments and endorsements from several other early adopters.

This global recruitment poster storm, initiated by the Hero Association, has successfully implanted its concept of "professionalizing heroes" into the consciousness of countless people around the world with its unique, controversial yet undeniable realistic charm.

It was more than just a recruitment drive; it was a profound and far-reaching shock to societal values. It forced everyone to rethink: in an era where supernatural powers are increasingly intervening in daily life, should the definition of "hero" also evolve with the times?

The association's name, along with these "magical" posters, truly stepped out of New York and became a global phenomenon.

A torrent of talent began to quietly converge towards the Fisker Building.

Chapter 27: Peter Parker's First Heartbeat

The New York night sky, for Peter Parker, should have been Spider-Man's absolute domain. The wind whistling in his ears, the trails of his webs tracing the sky his unique musical score, and the city lights below his eternal audience. But tonight, this pure, chivalrous joy is overshadowed by an unprecedented, bittersweet feeling called "reality."

He crouched on the cold decorative edge of a Brooklyn bank building, like a real spider, hiding himself in the shadows of the Gothic architecture. Below, red and blue police lights flashed, illuminating the bank entrance as if it were daytime. Several dejected robbers were being led into police cars, their bodies still covered in sticky spiderwebs—Peter's specially made ones.

A few minutes earlier, an attempted robbery had occurred here. Peter, as usual, arrived just in time and, with his agile movements and precise web-shooter, easily subdued the group of poorly equipped, clumsy thieves. The process went smoothly, without even causing much damage to the bank lobby's obviously expensive crystal chandelier.

This should have been a perfect victory, one worth reminiscing about before bed.

If... his sealed box containing precious special fiber materials hadn't been used in the heroic sacrifice.

Just as he used a beautiful pendulum swing kick to knock out the last robber, the man pulled the trigger in a panic. The bullet missed Peter, but it precisely pierced the backpack that Peter had casually hung on the statue next to him, and hit the hard plastic sealed box inside.

"Oh no..." Peter inwardly groaned. As he handed the robbers over to the arriving police and quietly retrieved his backpack, his heart sank. The box contained the special fibers he had painstakingly salvaged from Osborn's abandoned laboratory, fibers he had spent countless hours refining—crucial materials for upgrading his suit's durability and elasticity, and for testing new spiderweb formulas! To obtain these materials, he had scrimped and saved to buy special containers, and had almost been caught by security. Now, the bullet had not only pierced the box, but also scattered and contaminated the precious fibers, rendering it completely useless.

The direct loss of materials, coupled with the initial investment and effort, amounted to far more than one hundred dollars! This was no small sum for him and Aunt May. He could almost see Aunt May's forced smile, her eyes betraying her exhaustion, when she discovered he would have to spend extra money on replacements.

A mix of frustration, heartache, and self-reproach welled up inside him. He had helped others and stopped a crime, yet this had further increased his already meager living expenses and the hidden costs of his heroic cause. This severe imbalance between his efforts and the rewards felt like a tiny fishbone stuck in his throat, neither going up nor down, causing him immense discomfort.

Subconsciously, almost with a masochistic urge, he pulled out his phone with the cracked screen and opened the blue, now incredibly glaring app—Hero Association.

My fingers trembled slightly as I swiped to the [Mission Hall].

A task whose status was just updated was prominently listed:

[Brooklyn Bank Robbery (Solved) - White]

[Task status: Completed]

[Task Reward Points: 80]

His gaze was fixed on the number, and his breathing became rapid. He had secretly studied the association's internal points redemption system (partially visible to tourists) and knew that 100 points were roughly equivalent to $1000 in purchasing power or certain goods.

In other words, these eighty points are roughly equivalent to eight hundred US dollars!

Not only could it easily cover his lost materials and containers (and even allow him to purchase higher-grade, purer laboratory-grade materials!), but it would also leave him with a substantial surplus! Enough to buy Aunt Mei that better kitchen blender she'd been eyeing for so long but hadn't been able to bring herself to buy! Even… it would give him the resources to redeem some of those standard components he'd been eyeing in the app store—components he could use to upgrade the Spiderweb Launcher's energy core or sensing system!

A powerful emotion called "heartbeat" surged forth like a tidal wave, instantly shattering all his previous psychological defenses and moral admonitions.

"If...if I had registered...if I had accepted this mission just now..." Peter murmured to himself, his voice sounding somewhat dry behind his mask, "Then these eighty points...would be mine?"

Once this idea takes hold, it spreads like wildfire and can no longer be contained.

He helped others, and the association rewarded him. This seems... almost like a fair exchange? Perhaps even a virtuous cycle? He uses the points he earns to improve himself, and then can better help even more people? Isn't this much better than the current situation, where he bears risks and responsibilities while worrying about making a living, damaged personal belongings, and painstakingly prepared experimental materials?

"With great power comes great responsibility..." Uncle Ben's words echoed in my ears again, but this time, they seemed to clash sharply with the reality before me. Does taking responsibility mean enduring loss and poverty? Why can't there be a way to both shoulder responsibility and ensure the livelihood of myself and my loved ones?

The association's model was like a key, inserting it into the lock in his heart that had never been opened before.

He looked at the high-tech equipment and materials in the preview images of the app store, then at the sealed box in his backpack, riddled with bullet holes and littered with materials. A huge sense of disparity and temptation almost overwhelmed him.

He imagined how he could upgrade his equipment if he had points, how he could make Aunt Mei's life easier, and how he could stop worrying about these unexpected losses and hard-to-obtain resources...

The "Register" button seemed to radiate an alluring light, constantly tempting his fingertips.

He was almost about to press it.

But at the last moment, a deeper unease and stubbornness held him back.

Is this really the right thing to do? Directly linking Spider-Man's actions to money and points? Is that still Spider-Man? Is he still the neighborhood hero that Peter Parker believes in—someone who exists simply to help others?

Will there come a day when, before taking action, he subconsciously glances at the app to assess the task's reward points? Will he hesitate because of low reward points? Will he... lose his purest initial motivation because of this?

Two completely different thoughts were fiercely battling in his mind, making him feel agitated and even causing his net-swinging movements to feel less fluid than usual.

He ultimately did not press that button.

He silently closed the app, shoved his phone back into his hidden pocket, and wandered aimlessly between buildings like a defeated soldier, heading towards his home in Queens.

This time, however, his signature, lively internal monologues were gone, replaced by a weighty reflection.

The night sky remains the same, the city remains the same.

But for the first time, Peter Parker's heart truly wavered because of the "eighty points" he had not yet obtained and a box of scrapped "special fiber materials".

Maybe...maybe I just want to learn more? No registration, just browsing?

Or... find an opportunity to ask that sandman? He seems like a decent guy...

Countless thoughts swirled within him.

Spider-Man's red silhouette seemed to carry an unprecedented sense of bewilderment in the New York night.

Chapter 28: Aunt May's Worries

In the Parker family's apartment in Queens, a place always filled with the subtle aroma of baking and a cozy atmosphere, the tranquility of the night was broken by a soft rustling sound of a key being inserted into the lock.

May Parker was sitting on the living room sofa, mending an old sweater for Peter with some wear and tear at the elbows, under the soft light of a floor lamp. Hearing the door open, she looked up, a warm smile naturally spreading across her face.

“Peter? Is that you, dear? Why are you a little later than usual today?” She put down her needlework and asked habitually. As a nurse, she had a precise sense of time, not to mention her concern for her only nephew whom she had raised.

“Uh…yes, it’s me, Aunt May!” Peter’s voice came from the porch, with a hint of urgency and…guilt? He kicked off his shoes, a little more forcefully than usual, and hurried across the living room with his head down, seemingly trying to slip straight back to his room. “Something…took me a while on the way, so I was delayed.”

Aunt May keenly noticed the unusual tone in his voice and the way he tried to avoid her gaze. She slightly furrowed her carefully drawn brows. Peter has been... a little off lately.

This strange feeling wasn't the typical rebelliousness or silence of teenage boys, but rather a state of... absent-minded excitement mixed with anxiety.

She recalled the details of the past few days:

When Peter eats, he often stares blankly into space, his hand holding the fork hanging in mid-air. Occasionally, a silly smile will inexplicably appear on his lips, but the next second he may turn into a frown and sigh at the peas on his plate.