After the Blacklight Virus consumes a living organism, it gains the ability to absorb the victim's memories.
It can also take on the appearance of the absorbed life form, generating a disguise that is nearly identical to the original.
The principle is not complicated: upon contacting a biological surface, the virus rapidly senses the material's hardness, texture, and size, while capturing its color data. Once absorption is complete, it morphs its own structure into the acquired data.
Having changed his appearance to that of the Mutant Hughie, Peter extended his arm.
With a slight mental command, his right hand twisted and deformed. Black tendrils wriggled across it, and moments later, they shaped themselves into a razor-sharp hand blade.
The blade portion was formed from mutated cells resembling a metallic edge, glowing with a faint dark-red light that stood out strikingly in the rainy night.
Having consumed a Mutant, he had also mastered the other's innate ability.
Yet compared to the original host's hand blade, the one evolved by the Blacklight Virus was heavier, and its edge was no longer made of bone, possessing instead a more pronounced metallic texture.
Feeling the mutated mantis blade, Peter suddenly slashed forward.
A piercing sound rent the air. Fueled by the snap of his waist and abdomen and the mechanics of power transference, the blade accelerated continuously through the swing, tearing across the dark curtain of the rainy night like a blur.
If used in combat, such a suddenly accelerating strike would indeed catch an opponent completely off guard.
Unfortunately...
Peter shook his head.
The person you ran into this time is no ordinary human.
Reverting his right hand to its normal form, he accessed the target's memories once more.
Hughie Hoffman had grown up in a Catholic family, but being a Mutant meant he was inevitably hated and resented by his parents.
Like all rebellious American teenagers, he struggled helplessly against an identity crisis he couldn't escape, ultimately choosing to run away from home.
After various hardships, he arrived in Hell's Kitchen, joined a gang, and became an operative under Kingpin.
At first just an ordinary grunt, his violent and aggressive nature soon earned him the role of a dedicated hitman for the organization.
Relying on his innate Mutant abilities, he had accumulated countless blood debts and gradually morphed into a cold-blooded killer.
"As a natural-born villain, I suppose this is a fitting end."
After offering a brief epitaph for Hughie Hoffman, Peter took two steps forward and picked up the earpiece lying on the ground.
He hadn't absorbed the earpiece, and it was still functioning, transmitting an anxious voice from within.
"Mantis? Are you okay? Hey, Mantis?!"
A hurried female voice called out to Hughie.
"I'm fine. The target's been taken care of."
Having transformed into Hughie, Peter's voice matched the other man's perfectly.
Impersonating Hughie, he replied through the earpiece.
"Thank goodness, I thought something went wrong. Is that asshole who robbed the laundry shop dead?"
After confirming Hughie's safety, the woman on the other end of the line let out a long sigh of relief.
"Dead as a doornail. I've got things to handle, shutting off the comms."
With that, he ripped off the earpiece and crushed it to pieces.
Inheriting Hughie's memories had given him some insight into Kingpin's criminal empire.
Knowing that his current strength was not yet enough to start a high-profile war against them, he chose to keep things steady for now.
By using Hughie's identity to speak with them, he would make them believe the laundry robber was dead and that Hughie had taken the money and vanished.
This would deflect their suspicions entirely onto the Mutant Hughie.
Tossing the fragmented earpiece onto the ground, Peter waded through the puddles by his feet and walked slowly forward.
Meanwhile.
George Stacy, having finished inspecting the crime scene, emerged from the room with his partner.
The two men brushed past Peter just as he walked by.
Since Peter was wearing Hughie's face at the moment, George failed to recognize him.
After they passed each other, George stopped, turned his head, and stared at the figure walking away in the rain, a frown forming on his brow.
"What's wrong?"
Noticing his partner staring at a strapping white man, Jeff asked with a puzzled look, "Is something off?"
"No, just... I've got this weird feeling about him. It feels like..."
"Like he's no good, right?"
Jeff cut George off. "Nobody around here is any good, so don't be surprised."
George shook his head, pulled his gaze away, and climbed into the police cruiser with his partner.
The rain was coming down harder now, the heavy downpour quickly blurring the city into a vast sheet of white.
...
The next morning, the sky cleared after the rain.
Forest Hills, Queens.
"We got a letter in the mail from Midtown High School."
Ben held a stack of mail retrieved from the box and handed the topmost envelope to May.
"From Midtown High?"
May took the letter with a puzzled look. "This is the first time the school has ever notified us this way."
As she spoke, she tore open the envelope and read the words inside.
"...Therefore, the entire faculty and staff have taken up a collection in Peter's name. Peter is an exemplary student who has helped many people at school, and we believe this accidental injury was not intentional on his part."
"Considering the school's position, we have decided to handle this anonymously. We hope you will accept our help."
Hearing May read those words, Ben leaned in with a surprised expression.
May looked up at her husband in astonishment and continued reading:
"We hope to help you through this difficult time as quickly as possible. The school faculty made this contribution... Lastly, please accept our sincerest wishes."
After finishing every word on the letter, May pulled a stack of cash from the envelope.
She counted it—it was exactly 2,500 dollars.
After a few dozen seconds of shock, May finally snapped out of it. "Th-this... is this real?"
"Whoa, Peter really is a well-liked kid!"
Ben took the letter from his wife's hands, his voice brimming with joy and pride.
May clutched the bills, her hands trembling slightly. "Th-this really is the best thing that's ever happened to me!"
Her tone was laced with irrepressible excitement.
"Yes, we should be proud of Peter,"
Ben said warmly to his wife.
Upstairs, Peter leaned his back against the wall, listening to the conversation below.
Naturally, the letter hadn't been mailed by the school, nor was the cash inside donated by the faculty.
He hadn't made any special contributions to the school, nor was he one of America's Ten Most Inspiring Figures—why on earth would the school lose its mind and raise money for him?
He had written the letter himself, and the cash inside was money he had slipped in there.
As for the source of the bills, it was the ill-gotten gains from the laundry robbery the night before.
Knowing that Uncle Ben and Aunt May would never accept a large sum of money appearing out of nowhere from a high schooler, this was the only method he could use.
"Peter, are you upstairs? You should probably come down and see this, we got a wonderful gift."
Aunt May's voice drifted up from below.
"I'm coming."
Peter adjusted his mood, put on a casual expression, and walked downstairs toward them.