Being Spider-Man alone is already extremely taxing, and Gwen and the others also need large amounts of food to keep their bodies functioning properly.
Even though Bruce wasn't using his own powers earlier, the strain still took a toll on his physical condition.
If he hadn't slowed down his pace and abandoned all high-speed techniques that consumed too much energy, he might not have even been able to sit here and eat right now.
This left the nearby waiter stunned.
He knew exactly how much food Bruce had ordered, yet now more than half of it was already gone.
Even the two women with him were eating more than an average burly man.
The waiter couldn't help but question whether these people were even human.
Who could possibly eat this much?
At this moment, Bruce put down his bowl and chopsticks. He was almost done eating, leaving only the two Spider-Women still eating.
Maybe because they noticed Bruce had finished, Jessica and Gwen exchanged a glance, but instead of slowing down, they actually started eating faster.
The milk on the table had already been replaced several times by now.
Eventually, when the two of them were finally too full to continue, they each held a glass of milk to ease the spiciness lingering in their mouths.
Bruce waved his hand, signaling for the waiter to come over.
But before the waiter could arrive, Bruce was grabbed by the arm.
"What is this you're serving? Is this even food? You're giving me an explanation today!" The man who stopped him was clearly furious, his face bright red.
However, Bruce knew that redness wasn't from anger—it was from the spicy food.
The one causing trouble was the same burly American man who had earlier ordered the same menu as Bruce and his group.
Bruce had been observing the surrounding diners while eating.
Naturally, that burly man was within his line of sight. The moment he took a bite, Bruce had already noticed his face turn red in an instant.
Perhaps he had never eaten anything so spicy before. The man immediately spat the food out.
It was clear he preferred traditional American cuisine.
"But..." the waiter tried to say something, but the burly man didn't give him a chance. The next moment, he pulled out a gun and pressed it to the waiter's forehead.
"But what? You paying for this or not?!"
The man's sudden move caused panic among the surrounding customers. As Americans, they were all too familiar with situations like this.
Everyone immediately sat still in their seats—no one dared to draw the attention of an armed man in a situation like this.
Who knows if he was high or unstable? One wrong move and things could spiral out of control.
Gwen and Jessica were ready to act, but Bruce shook his head at them.
However, Bruce's words didn't carry as much weight anymore.
While Gwen obediently followed Bruce's signal and stayed put, Jessica refused to hold back.
After all, Bruce still hadn't fully explained what had happened with Kang the Conqueror.
In a flash, Jessica appeared beside the hostage waiter. With a swift kick, she knocked the gun out of the man's hand, and without hesitation, she delivered a punch straight to his chest.
The punch sent the man flying back into his original seat.
The dishes on the table were overturned during the scuffle, spilling food all over the burly man.
"AAAH!!"
Scalding hot food covered him, and his screams echoed through the small restaurant like a pig being slaughtered.
Perhaps due to the noise, the owner finally came out from the kitchen, still holding a wok in his hand.
He stared blankly at the scene, confused about what had just happened.
But when he saw the burly white man lying on the floor, the expression on his face quickly changed.
Though Bruce hadn't gotten involved in the action, he still caught the fleeting expression on the owner's face.
It was fear—fear of what was about to happen.
Clearly, the owner recognized this white man.
And feared him greatly.
Meanwhile, Jessica was comforting the clearly shaken waiter.
After all, anyone would be rattled after having a gun pointed at their forehead.
The waiter had actually handled it quite well.
Bruce didn't scold Jessica for acting on her own. Instead, he walked over to the white man and began checking him for injuries and identifying marks.
Especially in a place like America, guys like this usually had one or two tattoos to mark their affiliations—after all, tattoos were a big part of the culture here.
But what caught Bruce's attention wasn't the ordinary tattoos on the man's arms—it was a small design behind his ear.
"I've already called the police."
At that moment, a customer held up their phone, indicating they had already reported the incident as soon as Jessica took down the gunman.
Even though the man hadn't injured anyone, he did pull a gun with intent to harm.
Although the Creators had essentially dismantled all forms of government and military—police forces included—old habits die hard. Most people still defaulted to calling the police in situations like this.
Especially now that S.H.I.E.L.D. had re-established control, police officers were returning to duty.
It had been a day of wild ups and downs for the whole world, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was merely restoring essential functions. Without the Herbitron robots watching over everyone, who knew what people might try?
Just then, Bruce pulled out a police badge from the pocket of his coat.
"I'm a police officer. I'll handle this," he said, nodding to the customer who had called it in before continuing his inspection.
The customer looked puzzled—he glanced at his phone, then back at Bruce, who was now thoroughly checking the white man—and eventually sat back down.
Maybe he just remembered that the police department had technically been dissolved mere hours ago. But seeing a cop here now did bring a sense of relief.
"Where did you get that from?" Gwen crouched beside Bruce, whispering in his ear, asking how he got his hands on a police ID.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. gave it to me."
That response left Jessica stunned. Why had she never received any kind of special status from S.H.I.E.L.D.? In fact, when she wasn't on missions, they made her go back to school. That didn't seem fair.
Jessica didn't understand it, but she knew this wasn't the time to ask. She simply watched Bruce conduct his inspection.
In truth, Bruce wasn't lying.
His identities were indeed provided by S.H.I.E.L.D.—or more accurately, created using S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system to produce various false credentials.
These identities were all backed by official New York Police Department records stored in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database.
Sometimes, special situations required special credentials.
Now that everyone knew Bruce was a police officer, the previously wailing burly man stopped making noise. Instead, he sat obediently where he was.
Even though he was clearly in great pain, he didn't let out a single sound.
"You're kind of interesting. Doesn't it hurt?" Jessica asked, curious about why he was holding back so hard, watching his gritted teeth and tense expression.
The white man tried to speak, but all he could manage were a few grunts—clearly, the pain was still very real.
Just then, a police car pulled up outside. An officer stepped through the door, looked at the man lying on the ground, then at Bruce conducting his inspection, and momentarily didn't know what to make of the situation.
"Who called the police?" one of the officers asked.
Since the situation wasn't clear yet, the first thing to determine was naturally who made the call.
The same customer from before raised his hand again. An officer walked over to him and began taking his statement.
Meanwhile, another officer approached Bruce.
"Excuse me..." The officer hesitated, unsure of Bruce's role as he watched his professional demeanor.
Bruce stood up and handed over his badge.
After seeing Bruce's badge, the officer's attitude became noticeably friendlier.
After all, they were colleagues—especially in times like this, it felt more reassuring.
"Let's talk outside." After retrieving his badge, Bruce patted the officer on the shoulder.
"Sure, but..." The officer glanced at the burly white man lying on the ground, then back at Bruce, before finally looking down at his body camera.
"Relax. There's nothing shady going on. I just want to check on the situation. After all, they just disbanded us and now they're reorganizing again? We've got to talk about it. Figure out what exactly happened." As Bruce spoke, he was already leading the officer outside.
As for the scene inside, if those two Spider-Women couldn't handle it, they might as well take off their suits and behave like good kids.
Leaning against the police car, Bruce glanced at the restaurant.
"This whole thing feels rough. I honestly thought I was out of a job."
"Yeah, but the speech back then sounded pretty good. That guy said we didn't need to spend money anymore—that part actually made people happy," the officer said, recalling what the Creator had initially said.
Then he shook his head.
"He said a lot of good things. And those robots were indeed amazing. No matter what kind of trouble popped up, they'd show up in time," the officer added with a touch of melancholy.
"What's wrong?"
"The problem is... robotic law enforcement isn't exactly ideal. And people—well, they're not content just because they have food and clothing." The officer clearly had seen some things lately.
He seemed a bit disheartened.
"I wouldn't know. I was home watching a game at the time," Bruce said, curious, glancing over at the officer.
"New York's a great place... but it's rotten to the core," the officer said, looking at the relatively clean street.
"Money's become worthless, sure. But even without it, people always find something to trade."
"In that short time, I saw panic everywhere. People were terrified by the actions of those bigshots floating up in the sky."
"Think about it—everything changed overnight. That's terrifying."
"They say there are no more boundaries, but seriously, who the hell can even get up to that thing floating over our heads?"
"And who knows—if those guys up there have a bad day, what's stopping them from ordering their robots to just level the whole place?"
His voice rose as he spoke.
But Bruce didn't stop him—he just listened quietly.
"The guy on TV did do some good things. But the issue is, he did what he thought was good."
Just then, the officer who had been taking the statement walked out with the burly white man.
"Alright, we'll talk more next time we meet," said the officer standing beside Bruce, as he patted Bruce on the shoulder.
"Next time, drinks are on me."
"Sounds good." The officer reached out his hand. "Bob Jay."
"Bruce Wayne."
"Hahaha! Same name as the main character from the comic my son loves." Bob laughed and patted Bruce's shoulder. He didn't for a second believe the man in front of him was that bat.
After all, name coincidences were way too common.
Every now and then, someone shows up with the same name as a comic book character—it's not unheard of.
"See you around."
As Bob drove off in his police car, Bruce waved him off.
Once the car was out of sight, the smile on Bruce's face vanished.
He turned to look at the two Spider-Women walking out of the restaurant.
"You two need to stay here tonight. That guy is probably a gang member, or part of some organization. Don't let them retaliate here." Bruce spoke seriously.
The two Spider-Women nodded solemnly, clearly understanding the gravity of the situation.
"Gwen, get in the car." Bruce didn't say anything more, just gestured for Gwen to get in. But he grabbed Jessica's arm, "You're coming with me."
Gwen looked confused, but didn't say anything. She quietly got into the Mustang's driver seat.
Good thing she knew how to drive—otherwise, things would've been a lot more troublesome.
Jessica, meanwhile, climbed into the passenger seat of Bruce's pickup truck.
As the pickup began to move, Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but Bruce cut her off.
"You were too reckless just now. What if that guy had fired?" Bruce stared ahead at the road, but the rebuke in his tone was clear.
"I saw it—he didn't even disengage the safety," Jessica snapped back with defiance.
"And even if he did, I was confident I could save—"
"Confident? How confident? How confident are you without revealing your identity? A hundred percent?" Bruce wasn't going to let her off easy. He was blunt and direct.
"What right do you have to scold me?! What gives you the right?!"
Jessica suddenly exploded, glaring at Bruce.
"Stop the car!"
The pickup slowly pulled over to the curb. Jessica stared Bruce down, then got out and slammed the door hard.
She stormed off, fuming. Luckily, Gwen had been following behind in her car the whole time. Seeing Jessica stomp toward her, Gwen silently watched her climb into the passenger seat.
"Drive. But not to the Batcave."
Gwen didn't ask what had happened—she just obediently turned the car around and drove off in the opposite direction.
(End of chapter)
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