American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

Chapter 257 Which is worse: wearing underwear on the outside or just wearing a red and blue bra?

The battle is underway in the cancerous universe, and trouble is brewing in the normal universe as well. When faced with another Earth, one that has even grown a mouth and wants to devour their own, the people of the ordinary Earth are instantly plunged into panic.

New York, the famous city, is trembling amid gravitational anomalies. Even more terrifying, some of the twisted and corrupted creatures from the cancerous universe have managed to escape and have entered the normal universe, completely disrupting the city's already fragile order.

At this moment, the myriad aspects of human nature were laid bare: Christians, believing themselves to be sinners, knelt in prayer, standing in the street...

The doomsday cult members, proud and excited by the fulfillment of their prophecy, are preparing to ascend to Noah's Ark with their arms outstretched. Ordinary people, believing the end of the world is near, are running around hysterically. Criminals are taking the opportunity to smash, loot, and burn. But the super criminals who were not invited for various reasons are actually maintaining order.

For example, Martin Lee, the Mr. Negative, a gang leader who is trying to consolidate Kingpin and Hammerhead's legacy, is currently directing his men to arrest ordinary criminals.

The reason Mr. Negative wasn't invited by Red Skull is simple: he has two personalities. One is gentle and kind, dedicated to helping the vulnerable, while the other is cold, vengeful, and ruthless in achieving his goals. It is because of the existence of the former personality that he was ignored by Red Skull.

Hong doesn't need a gang leader who might betray him at any moment.

Mr. Negative, who was maintaining order and directing his men to arrest the robbers, seemed to hear something. He looked up and saw a familiar "little bug" swaying wildly in the sky.

"Hey, Mr. Spider!" he called out, "Could you help tie that robber up?"

Spider-Man casually fired a web bullet, easily binding a fleeing robber who was still clutching jewelry. The sticky web hardened rapidly upon contact with air, and the robber, despite using all his strength, was unable to break free.

"You're welcome, I'm your—" Spider-Man quickly tried to cover up his mistake, "Uh, I'm a good neighbor of good people, Spider-Man, don't forget to return the jewels to their rightful owner!"

Mr. Negative waved his hand, and two seconds later, Spider-Man could no longer see him. It was unclear whether Mr. Negative had returned the jewelry to the boss, but now was not the time to dwell on such matters.

After he and the other heroes took the seriously injured Steve to the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay for treatment, Fury used a holographic projection to gather them together, then held a small meeting and assigned tasks.

Spider-Man was naturally assigned the task of stopping crime, and his unique fighting skills, which do not involve killing, are very suitable for the current situation.

Spider-Man swung to the top of a tall building and looked at the small communicator on his wrist. This pager-sized communicator could only hold two lines of text, but it was secure enough.

"Alright! Let me see what the next task is—hmm?" Peter's eyes widened: "Discover a new superhuman, communicate with them, and confirm their intentions?"

A smile appeared on his face beneath the mask.

Even with two universes about to collide, Spider-Man remains optimistic—a new superhuman, great, time to try making a new friend! As for whether it's the right time to make friends, well, that's probably not Spider-Man's concern.

A few minutes ago—

Clark looked up at the other Earth above him; Rune might be fighting there, but he had no intention of helping.

It seems wrong to help any universe.

Just then, Clark's super hearing suddenly picked up shouts and the sound of shattering glass, and it was very close to him. Clark turned around and saw several masked black men smashing all the windows of a bakery. Not content with stealing bread and cash from the register, they began to vent their violent desires.

Clark immediately understood what he should do: he couldn't decide which universe he should help, but he knew that looting and pillaging at this time was definitely wrong.

"Gentlemen," Clark appeared instantly beside the thugs, his clothes fluttering in the chaotic air. "If I remember correctly, Mr. Doomsday didn't give you a letter of marque, did he? If I remember correctly, you should go ask 16th-century England for one."

The masked Black mob clearly didn't understand his humor. Their knowledge base didn't allow them to remember anything beyond the three things: "Black people were trafficked to America," "Everyone discriminates against us," and "Everyone owes us." This, of course, didn't include the fact that Britain had legalized piracy in the 16th century.

One of the thugs raised his bat, intending to attack, but in the next second, he found that the bat in his hand had turned into a twisted shape—this was not a wooden baseball bat, but a solid alloy bat. So he immediately retreated in terror behind another thug who was obviously stronger.

"Another superhuman trying to be a hero?" The thug immediately pulled a pistol from his pocket, cocking and engaging the safety in a single, fluid motion—clearly a seasoned gunman. "I've seen plenty of these kinds of people, kid. If you don't want to die, get out of here!"

The thug's words did not deter Clark; instead, he puffed out his chest and said with an air of arrogance, "Why don't you try shooting?"

During his training at Avengers Tower, he already knew his defensive capabilities; common firearms such as pistols and rifles could not penetrate his defenses, and research also showed that his physical abilities were still improving.

Clark's reaction, however, put the mob leader in a dilemma. The superhuman he had encountered earlier, upon seeing him draw his gun...

They immediately chickened out. The thug leader wasn't stupid; he wouldn't rob those well-known superhumans. As for what to do with the unknown superhumans, guess why they were unknown?

But now he had met a tough opponent. If he fired, he would be sent to jail. If he didn't fire, he might not be sent to jail, but he would definitely lose face in front of his underlings. So he began to hesitate.

But his underlings were clearly unhappy.

"Boss, he looks down on you, shoot!"

"Shoot! Kill this suicidal idiot!"

Under pressure from his underlings, the thug leader looked at Clark, whose face contorted under their intimidation. Clark's face seemed to be filled with a contemptuous smile: How dare you—how dare you despise me? No one can despise me!

The next second, he pressed the trigger, and bullets poured out in a very short time. His lack of formal training resulted in a low hit rate; only two out of seven bullets hit their mark. However, Clark remained unharmed and continued to stand in front of them without even a scratch.

Now, the thug leader completely panicked. He had severely overestimated his accuracy; in his mind, at such close range, he should have hit the target at least five or six times. However, the opponent was completely unharmed, so the thug leader immediately screamed in terror, "Y-what are you?"

"Just someone passing by."

"Mr. Twisted Stick?" A cheerful voice came from above. Clark looked up and saw a red and blue figure hanging upside down on the roof not far away.