The slow-rolling black stretch limousine drew all eyes.
George Stacy's brow furrowed. He'd already run the plates — the car belonged to none other than Wilson Fisk, the infamous Kingpin of New York's underworld.
The Thirteenth Street district wasn't exactly poor, but it certainly wasn't the kind of place you'd expect Fisk to visit. That alone set George on edge.
Meanwhile, Aunt May, still tense with worry, pressed George anxiously.
"Mr. Stacy, please, just tell us — what's happened to Peter?"
Before he could answer, the limo eased to a stop directly in front of the Parker home.
A man stepped from the sidewalk, moving with the crisp precision of a professional chauffeur. He opened the rear door with a deep bow —
And out stepped Maguire, clad in a black suit, moving at an unhurried, confident pace.
The chauffeur straightened, bowed again, then left without a word.
Seeing Peter return, Uncle Ben and Aunt May hurried toward him.
Maguire, spotting the police car and George Stacy at his door, altered his path to greet them.
Their relief was palpable; the weight in their chests finally lifted.
"Where have you been, Peter? You're late," Aunt May scolded gently, her voice full of concern.
"I had some things to take care of, Aunt May," Maguire replied smoothly. "I'll explain later."
Uncle Ben interjected, "Peter, Captain Stacy's here to see you — says he's got something to discuss."
George, taking in the couple's silvered hair and open concern, decided to hold his questions until they were at the station.
"Come with me to the precinct," he told Maguire. "We just need a statement."
At that, Ben and May both frowned.
"What's happened? Is Peter in trouble?" Ben asked sharply.
George shook his head, smiling to ease them.
"No, not at all. Today Peter helped us apprehend a dangerous criminal. We just need his account for the report."
May exhaled in relief.
"Oh, well… in that case, Peter, go on with Captain Stacy."
Ben clapped him on the shoulder with a proud grin.
"Good work, kid."
---
The two men rode in the police car toward the station.
"Thanks for covering for me," Maguire said lightly.
George chuckled. "No problem. You did do the right thing. But I am curious — how are you so strong? And that white thread — what exactly is it?"
"Maybe superpowers," Maguire replied with a shrug. "I'm not sure why I'm this strong. The thread's just something I've been working on. Nothing special."
George smirked. "If you didn't have an alibi, I'd have sworn you were that guy in the spider suit at the Brooklyn Bridge today."
*So Garfield was the one who stopped Connors,* Maguire thought.
"I'm not that bored," he said aloud, "to run around as some masked hero."
---
At the station, the statement was routine. But afterward, George fixed him with a steady look.
"How come you were in Fisk's car? Do you know him?"
"He's a friend," Maguire said without a hint of concern.
George's frown deepened. "Do you understand who Fisk is? Associating with him—"
"What, the big bad crime boss? So what?" Maguire cut in, his tone almost amused.
George's voice turned hard. "Maguire, I know you can handle yourself, but if you break the law, I *will* come after you."
Maguire's eyes chilled. "George, for Gwen's sake, I'll give you this warning: the world has changed."
With that, he turned and walked out.
George watched him go, unsettled. *What did he mean by that?*
---
Back home, Ben and May were waiting in the living room.
"Well?" Ben prompted. "Tell us, hero — what was today's good deed?"
Maguire spun a generic tale of chasing down a fleeing crook, careful not to hint at his powers.
"Good job, kid," Ben said warmly. "Helping others — that's the Parker way."
May tilted her head. "Peter, who did that car belong to? Was it Harry's?"
Harry was well-known to both of them, Peter's close friend.
Maguire grinned. "Uncle Ben, Aunt May… I've struck it rich."
---
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