I'm working on Marvel's Spider-Man in American comics.

Chapter 189 A Leisurely October
The last week of October arrived, and Peter sat in the classroom, attending a chemistry class while constantly twirling his pen. After the group returned from Washington, the Airbus team went into hiding, beginning to investigate and analyze where the whip might have gone.

But there are just too many possibilities. For example, Whiplash might have returned to the lab, or it might have arrived near New York. Peter has already warned Matt and the others that a terrifying alien monster has come to New York and to be careful.

But apart from being vigilant and waiting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to find a way to detect Whiplash, there seems to be no other way.

How was dinner?

Bored, Peter decided to ask Harry about the progress. Harry scratched his head a little sheepishly: "It's going well. I think Liz's father likes me quite a bit. He... he probably guesses who I am. But he doesn't have any objections, much better than my dad."

"You also need to keep an eye on those wings he's researching... anti-gravity system and stuff." Peter sighed helplessly, not wanting to tell Harry that his father-in-law might turn into a villain—and if anything, Harry himself might too.

"These kinds of high-tech experimental technologies are the easiest to steal. If they are stolen, it will be a huge problem."

“I’ll keep an eye on it. But Peter, don’t you think New York might need a… superhero who can fly?”

Peter was silent for a moment, and seeing that the teacher hadn't noticed them, he sighed and asked, "You mean you?"

"May I?"

“I…I don’t know, but my advice is not to.” Peter sighed helplessly. Somewhat unexpectedly, Harry simply ended the conversation without saying anything.

When get out of class ended, Harry's phone rang almost exactly as predicted. Peter looked over, and Harry said his dad was calling before leaving the classroom. Peter then turned to Amadeus, who hadn't said much, and said, "Hey buddy, how's that? You haven't been saying much lately."

"Me? I'm fine?"

Amadeus doesn't feel neglected. Although he has no role to play so far, it doesn't mean he doesn't exist. I'm just mentioning that he's still alive. That's all.

A little while later, Harry came in. Peter asked with a hint of worry how things went. Harry just smiled and shrugged helplessly. "Well, it's pretty much the same as before, nothing different. Our relationship has always been like this. Alright guys, anything after school today? If not, stick to the original plan?"

“There might be some…classified missions, but I haven’t received any notification yet.” Peter shrugged. “Everything as usual.”
-
For some reason, Adrian still felt very hungry. He had already eaten quite a lot at noon, but he still couldn't suppress his appetite. So, around 4 p.m., he told the researchers to leave work early and then found a fast food restaurant to feast.

He had been eating for almost an hour straight, ordering thousands of dollars worth of fried chicken and burgers, but he was still not full. Frustrated, Adrian called the waiter over to bring more food, paid for everything he had ordered before and left a tip, and then continued to devour his meal.

However, at this time, the fast food restaurant owner had secretly called the police. They suspected that this guy was a mutant whose ability was to eat and drink like crazy. And you know what? Back when Magneto was officially listed as a terrorist, there was a guy in his Brotherhood of Mutants named Meatball who could eat a lot.

But Adrian was unaware of this; he himself had unknowingly begun to wonder why he could eat so much.
Is there something wrong with me?
Just as he was wondering what was happening, armored vehicles and armed agents from the MRD (Mutant Response Division, the official U.S. regulatory agency for mutants) had completely surrounded the fast food restaurant. Adrian then realized what was going on, looking outside in confusion, then at the restaurant staff inside.

"I'm sorry, sir... I... the way you eat is really frightening. According to regulations, we must notify the MRD..." the waiter stammered. Adrian, for some reason, felt a surge of anger. He tried his best to suppress his anger and asked the waiter word by word.

Did I pay?

"You've paid, sir."

Did I leave a tip?

"Yes, I have." The waiter nodded hurriedly, banging his head around like he was pounding garlic: "You have given a full 10% of the charge."

"And you actually think I'm a mutant freak!"

Adrian roared as he stood up, grabbed the waiter by the neck, and lifted him up. When he did it, he couldn't believe his own strength. How could he be so strong? Was he really a mutant?

"Sir, lie down! Sir, lie down!"

MRD agents rushed in immediately, and Adrian casually tossed the waiter aside. Then, accompanied by a burst of rapid gunfire, more than a dozen tranquilizer darts hit Adrian, who staggered and fell to the ground.

MRD operators immediately rushed forward and first placed a mutant gene suppressor around Adrian's neck. Unfortunately, Adrian's power at this moment did not come from the X-gene, but from the alien symbiote. The green-headed, red-headed symbiote instantly covered Adrian's entire body, then lifted up an MRD operator and shoved his head off.

"Mmm...this is what good food should be."

As he spoke, Whip flexed his muscles before impaling all the MRD agents to death in one swift motion. This nearly fifty-year-old man was still not a satisfactory host, but unfortunately, now that they were on Spider-Man's territory, there wasn't much time for nitpicking.

However, wings that won't make a loud noise? That would be a great thing. Neither Venom nor Spider-Man are very strong, but they can't fly.

Thinking of this, Whiplash licked his lips, dragged over an MRD operator he had stabbed to death with his whip, bit off his head and ate it. After replenishing his phenylethylamine, he leaped and began to pounce on Adrian's laboratory. Tonight, Whiplash will fly.

Adrian Tooms will become "The Vulture" along with the whip.

　"Sir, get down!" is actually a classic phrase used by American police, but for some reason, it sounds less imposing when said in Chinese.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)