Why? Because Blaine had barely attended school since crossing over and becoming a bounty hunter.
And school itself was a small society that adapted to the times and government policies. Many of the new teachers didn't know Blaine at all.
If a new teacher disliked Blaine, didn't know who he was, and saw that he skipped so many classes, they might give him a failing grade. That would be hard to deal with.
So, at least for these few days, Blaine needed to show up at school daily—giving the teachers a chance to meet and get acquainted with him, and making things easier for the principal.
Blaine agreed without hesitation. After all, he had nothing better to do these days, and he could chat with little Spider-Man at school.
Originally, Blaine thought graduating or not was something the principal alone could decide. But he hadn't expected the school to still depend on government oversight—the principal didn't have full control.
It seemed capitalist society wasn't only filled with the stench of money, but also burdened with messy political hierarchies.
The boring morning passed quickly.
Naturally, Blaine spent most of it sleeping. He only listened to one class seriously before giving up.
He noticed that all of the teachers this morning were new. It seemed the principal had specially arranged for new staff to handle Blaine for these few days.
The afternoon was even duller. But during the second class, something suddenly happened.
With Blaine's enhanced physique, not only his vision, smell, and hearing but all of his senses had been strengthened.
A few streets away, his danger sense picked up something unusual.
It felt no more than a mosquito bite, but it was still a warning of danger—though negligible in degree.
Not only Blaine, but Peter Parker, who was sitting by the window, also sensed it.
Peter's Spider-Sense tingled, warning him of trouble on Center Street in Queens.
As the neighborhood's self-proclaimed protector, Peter couldn't just ignore it. Queens was Spider-Man's territory—whoever dared cause trouble here was asking for it.
Thinking fast, Peter slipped a note to Ned in the front row while the teacher was writing on the board.
The two had a tacit understanding.
Ned let out a sudden cry and stood up.
"Teacher, I think I ate something bad at lunch—my stomach hurts!"
He clutched his stomach and doubled over, selling the act.
All eyes in the classroom went to Ned.
But while everyone was distracted, a figure opened the window and leapt out with practiced ease. Clearly, it wasn't his first time.
Blaine saw it all. So, little Spider-Man was heading off to play hero again.
Still, his friend's terrible acting was almost laughable.
After all, Peter Parker wasn't like Blaine. He couldn't come and go openly in front of the teacher.
In Aunt May's, MJ's, and the teachers' eyes, Peter was still the perfect, obedient student.
"Teacher, my stomach hurts too. I'm going to the bathroom…"
Blaine stood up and walked out at a leisurely pace.
His steps didn't look at all like those of someone with a stomachache. But he didn't need to act—he was only helping the new teacher save face.
Naturally, the teacher had already been briefed by the principal and turned a blind eye to Blaine's behavior.
At the stairwell, Blaine teleported to the roof, donned his Hunter suit, and rushed toward Center Street. On the way, he spotted Spider-Man swinging between buildings.
Crossing two streets, it took him only ten minutes to reach the site of the danger.
Blaine landed on a rooftop and looked down.
A man with mechanical arms sprouting from his back was wreaking havoc in the street.
"Is that Doctor Octopus?" Blaine muttered.
Doctor Octopus was considered one of Spider-Man's earliest and most dangerous enemies.
But only in the early stage—eventually, Spider-Man's growth would outclass him.
What really puzzled Blaine was this: according to the plot, Doctor Octopus shouldn't even be alive now. Why was he here?
Could this anomaly really be because of Blaine?
"Oh, crap—stop, stop, stop! Put the car down, yeah—wait—"
"Damn it, I said put it down, not throw it at me!"
"And that telephone pole—don't even think about it! Don't you want to be a law-abiding citizen? Be good, or I'll spank your little butt…"
Spider-Man's mouth was running nonstop, his earnest lectures turning the fight into a comedy routine.
From above, Blaine was amused.
But Octavius was not. Enraged by Spider-Man's chatter, he lashed out.
One of his mechanical arms impaled a car and hurled it at the young hero.
Spider-Man didn't flinch. He planted himself and raised his arms, bracing to catch it.
Boom!
A small car weighed nearly half a ton. Thrown with Octavius's mechanical strength, the impact carried tens of tons of force.
The result: Spider-Man's legs buckled, and he dropped to the ground under the weight.
Clearly, the young Spider-Man was still weak.
Even after the alien invasion, his mindset had changed, but his strength hadn't yet reached Blaine's expectations.
"Looks like little Spider-Man's about to get a beating," Blaine concluded.
Sure enough, what followed was a one-sided fight.
Spider-Man fell into a defensive struggle, dodging blows, taking hits, and scrambling to save bystanders from falling debris.
In no time, his homemade suit was slashed with multiple tears, blood seeping through.
"After all, he was my first client. Guess I'll help him."
Maybe it was boredom, or maybe it was impulse. Blaine leapt from the rooftop like an Assassin's Creed leap of faith.
A sudden thought crossed his mind: What would it be like to leap from the moon to the Earth one day?
"Hey, Mr. Hunter, when did you get here?"
"Sorry—you probably noticed I'm a little busy…"
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