Dennis Caradin woke up to a violent pain. It felt as if his head had been split open by an axe, his wrists painfully constricted by the ropes, and his feet dangled in the air, swaying like a ship caught in the waves.

“Where am I?”

He tried to open his eyes, but a dim light flooded his vision, leaving everything blurry and filled with double images, making it impossible to see clearly. When he spoke, his voice was a painful wail.

He didn’t know where he was, but one thing was certain: this was not the sea. The air didn’t carry the wet, salty scent of the ocean; instead, it was thick with dust, rust, and a faint whiff of gunpowder, like every abandoned factory in Hell's Kitchen.

He had been kidnapped.

He quickly realized this; such things were common in New York. But he couldn't understand who would bother to kidnap him, a low-level thug.

His eyes still couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t stop him from feeling fear and regret.

Damn it!

If he had known this would happen, he should have robbed some money and stolen a car to escape from this damned place!

“Dennis Caradin.”

A strange voice, somewhat sharp and with a double tone, echoed in his ears. The voice reverberated in the space around him, as if countless people were speaking to him, layers of sound pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

A look of fear appeared on Dennis Caradin’s face as he pleaded, “Sir…”

“Dennis Caradin,” the voice continued, “do you know why I brought you here?”

Dennis Caradin’s vision began to clear, and he found himself hanging from the ceiling of an abandoned factory. Not far away were makeshift barriers and walkways made of iron sheets, while there was nothing beneath him.

His heart sank, and his body shook uncontrollably, swaying even more violently.

“I don’t know, sir…” Dennis Caradin’s voice trembled, carrying a sobbing tone. “Whatever you want, I can give you. Whatever you want to know, I will tell you. Please…”

Someone like him, a lowly figure struggling in Hell's Kitchen, had little courage, and now he was completely terrified. But he thought that since he had not been killed immediately, there must be some value in him, right?

He just hoped that the person would get what they wanted and let him go.

However, the next words from the other side plunged him into despair.

“I only want your life!”

“No, sir, please…” He was in tears, his face filled with fear as he kept looking down — he was at least fifty feet high (about fifteen meters), and if he fell from here, his brains would definitely be splattered everywhere.

So he desperately searched for the person who had kidnapped him, wanting to see who they were. He wanted to know how he had offended that person; he would kneel and apologize for anything, as long as they spared his life.

Soon, he spotted a strange, slender shadow standing in the darkness —

“Sir…” Dennis Caradin seemed to see a savior as he cried, “Please don’t kill me, sir. I can do anything for you, anything…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, his words stuck in his throat like a fishbone, his eyes wide open, but his pupils shrank several times.

Because that strange shadow stepped out from the darkness, revealing itself before Dennis's eyes, looking like a monster!

It resembled a velociraptor, most of its body covered in black, with blue arms and feet, and a long tail adorned with blue stripes — the Flash!

This kidnapper was, of course, Bente.

Originally, Bente planned to keep an eye on Uncle Ben during the time after Peter was bitten by the spider to prevent Uncle Ben from encountering danger. But after turning into the Flash yesterday, he changed his approach — why wait for a tragedy to happen before trying to stop it?

Evil should be nipped in the bud!

Thus, he immediately began searching for clues.

He didn’t know who the criminal who would kill Uncle Ben in this world would be, but he had seen two versions of the Spider-Man movies and had two clues in mind —

In Toby's version of the movie, Uncle Ben was killed by Sandman, William Baker; while in the Amazing series, the murderer had a star tattoo on his wrist. The world he was in felt like a composite of the three Spider-Man universes.

“I hacked into the New York Police Department's system and found your file, Dennis Caradin.”

Bente's tone was somewhat impatient as he paced on the iron platform, his rollerblade-like feet making a “clattering” sound on the ground.

“There aren’t many criminals in New York with a file who have a star tattoo on their wrist — only you!”

Of course, Bente also investigated Sandman, William Baker, but found no trace of him.

“If I offended you before, I am willing to apologize…” Dennis humbly pleaded.

He clearly realized that Bente had a specific purpose in capturing him, not a random attack from a madman, but he also knew he had no real value and that no one would pay for his worthless life.

So the only possibility was that he had accidentally offended someone, or — he secretly glanced at Bente’s appearance — or accidentally stepped on the lizard in the sewer?

“I will apologize to you too after I kill you.”

Bente sneered. He walked up to Dennis's side, and now he only needed to extend his black hands, sharp like scissors, to cut the rope that was suspending Dennis.

He knew this was not an act of justice.

Perhaps he did not deserve Spider-Man's powers or the Omnitrix.

But that didn’t matter; he was not a hero and did not intend to become one.

What mattered was that he could use this power to protect the people he cherished!

“No! No! No!”

Dennis screamed as he saw the rope slowly being cut by Bente's sharp claws, the fear of death almost making him wet his pants. He had no time to think about what kind of creature this was; he just wanted to live!

“I don’t know, sir, I don’t know where I offended you,” he cried quickly, “but please, spare me, please…”

“You don’t know? That’s fine, I can tell you.” Bente said, “Because you will kill a kind and good person, and that’s what you deserve!”

“I didn’t,” he sobbed, shaking his head desperately, “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Not yet,” Bente said, “but that will change in a few days.”

A few days later?

Dennis felt that this monster must be insane!

Now Dennis deeply regretted not leaving this damned place in Hell's Kitchen sooner!

Those gang members fought day and night; joining a gang was a sure way to get killed.

He should have left for Brooklyn, Queens, or anywhere to grab some money and then steal a car to get out of New York!

Anywhere would do, San Francisco, Washington…

Just as long as that monster didn’t find him.

But it was too late to say all that now.

What could he do?

He could only try to reason with a monster, only plead for mercy from a madman:

“I won’t! I promise!”

But Bente had no intention of continuing the conversation.

After becoming the Flash, his personality had become a bit more impatient; being able to talk this much with Dennis was already showing some patience.

Now, with his claws cutting through the rope, Dennis instantly lost his last support and screamed as he fell. Bente didn’t look down; he knew Dennis’s head would smash onto the hard concrete and then splatter like a watermelon.

“Boom!”

A loud noise!

But it wasn’t the sound of Dennis hitting the ground; it was a fiery figure crashing through the ceiling of the abandoned factory.

The figure zipped past Bente, the scorching heat wave hitting his face!

He dove down and caught Dennis just as he was about to hit the ground. Then, he let go, gently placing Dennis on the ground, his hands spewing fire as he slowly floated up to meet Bente's gaze.

“Tony Stark!”

Bente's voice was filled with fury.