Stepping out of the NYPD precinct, Peter ran through the booking details in his head. The guy he had just gift-wrapped for the police was Dmitri Snerdyakov. A former ace agent for the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service who had defected to the States. He was currently sitting at the top of a federal wanted list for multiple murders-for-hire and trade-secret theft.
In the comics, the Chameleon was a classic rogue, essentially a low-budget Mystique who usually needed a specialized belt to change faces. But here, the precinct captain confirmed Dmitri had replaced his own face at the biological level with a Soviet-era black-tech bionic mask.
What kind of spy replaces his actual face with an undetectable mimicry tool, and then uses his real legal name? Peter thought, swinging up to a rooftop. That is either incredibly confident or incredibly careless.
Either way, phase one of the identity theft problem was handled. Quentin Beck had panicked and cut the feed the second Peter called him out by name. Beck was a genius, but his light-particle projection field couldn't manipulate thermal radiation. As long as Peter kept his infrared overlay active, Mysterio was a manageable threat.
Peter checked the clock on his HUD. He fired a webline and yanked himself forward. If he didn't hit Midtown traffic, he'd make it to first period just before the bell.
Inside the NYPD holding cells, two officers stood outside a reinforced door. They watched the man inside through the glass. Dmitri sat on the cot, bored. His bionic artificial skin rippled, shifting like liquid metal. One second, he wore the face of a curly-haired female beat cop. A blink later, he was a bald, heavy-set detective.
"Why don't we just go in there and rip the mask off?" the younger cop muttered.
"You deaf?" the older cop replied. "Captain said it's high-tech. Grafted on. There's nothing to pull off."
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Two unfamiliar officers approached. One flashed a badge. "Captain wants to see you both in the briefing room. Shift change."
The guards shrugged and walked away.
The moment they rounded the corner, the newly arrived officer pulled a set of keys and unlocked the cell door.
"Dmitri," the corrupt officer said. "Mr. Wilson is very unhappy with your failure".
Dmitri stood up lazily. "The camera loop?"
"Pre-recorded. You can leave now. Mr. Wilson is awaiting your response".
Dmitri stepped out. His bionic skin rippled, perfectly replicating the uniform and face of the guard who had just left. He adjusted his collar. "If Fisk knew Spider-Man's new suit possessed thermal imaging, he wouldn't use the word 'failure.'"
A second imposter stepped into the cell and sat on the cot, playing the decoy. Dmitri walked down the hall alongside the corrupt cop. "Where are the others? Where are Beck and Gargan?"
"Already at the safe house," the cop replied. "Waiting for you."
They pushed through the heavy metal doors into the precinct's rear alley.
Dmitri stopped. A faint red dot danced across the corrupt cop's cheek.
"Someone is painting us," Dmitri said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Laser sight. Reflection on your jaw."
"What?" The cop flinched.
He moved too late.
A high-caliber bullet punched clean through the brick wall of the adjacent building. It caught the corrupt officer squarely in the side of the head, dropping him instantly.
Dmitri dropped. He threw his back against the brick wall and slid into the deep shadow of a dumpster.
Alarms erupted inside the precinct.
Two blocks away, crouched on a rooftop edge, the shooter checked the feedback on his tactical scope. He wore a black leather coat over a black shirt painted with a stark, white skull. He racked the bolt of his massive anti-materiel sniper rifle. The specialized round hadn't triggered the secondary electrical disruption he needed. The Chameleon was still alive.
A police drone whirred over the parapet. Its camera lens locked onto the shooter. Frank Castle didn't blink. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, turned, and vanished down the fire escape.
The precinct radio channels exploded. Frank Castle spotted! The Punisher is on site! All units, high alert!
Dmitri didn't wait. He knew Castle was actively hunting him. The Punisher had already made five documented attempts on his life. The man was a lunatic, but a highly precise one.
Dmitri slipped through the chaotic perimeter. He stole a squad car, drove three miles, ditched the vehicle at a strip mall, and walked through a department store. He shifted his face twice in the men's section. Ten minutes later, a completely unrecognizable civilian walked out the back doors, regrouping at Kingpin's Hell's Kitchen safe house.
Hours later, Dmitri unlocked the steel door of the safe house. He wiped a hand across his face, completely removing the disguise, reverting to a featureless, blurred white mask.
He zeroed in on Gargan immediately.
"What exactly are you investigating?" Dmitri snarled, slamming a hand onto a metal worktable. "Your intelligence is garbage!"
Gargan didn't flinch. "I told you yesterday Spider-Man was wearing a new uniform. You didn't listen."
"You didn't say it had military-grade sensors!" Dmitri shot back. He pointed at Quentin Beck. "And you! Your projection field is useless!"
Beck shrank back, shaking his head frantically. "It's not my fault! I don't have visual reference data for his new suit! I can't build a photorealistic 3D model and render it in real-time without pictures!"
Dmitri grabbed Gargan by the lapels of his coat. "He used thermal imaging! You told Wilson this kid was a broke vigilante! You told us he couldn't afford high-end tech!"
Gargan shoved Dmitri's hands away. "How the hell am I supposed to know where he gets his funding? When he fought the Shocker last week, he was wearing ripped fabric and duct tape!"
"Enough."
The single word hit the room like a physical weight.
Wilson Fisk stood in the doorway. He stepped into the room, his massive frame eating up the available light. He looked at the three men he was paying a fortune to employ.
"I hired you to eliminate Spider-Man," Fisk rumbled, his voice slow and heavy. "To remove this obstacle from my business operations. I did not hire you to bicker like children."
Fisk walked over to the table and picked up a spare projection sphere.
"If the defamation plan fails," Fisk said, staring at the metal ball. "We adapt. If Spider-Man catches you impersonating him again, he will pursue you. We select the location. An uninhabited construction site, perhaps. Or a bridge. We wire it with enough explosives to be conclusive, and we lure him into the trap."
Dmitri crossed his arms. "It is not that simple, Mr. Wilson. I have a personal connection with Frank Castle. He is actively hunting me."
Fisk stopped. The silence stretched.
Fisk set the sphere down gently. He sighed.
"Then perform genuine heroics," Fisk said, meeting Dmitri's eyes. "Fight crime properly. Build enough credibility that when Spider-Man shows up to confront you, he walks directly into our bomb-rigged building."
PS: While Frank Castle is absolutely terrifying when he's hunting mobsters, his very first appearance was actually in The Amazing Spider-Man #129 (1974)! He didn't start out going after the Mafia—he was originally hired by the villainous Jackal to hunt down and assassinate Spider-Man because he genuinely believed Spidey was a ruthless criminal!