Queens, New York.
At Garfield's home, Holland and Garfield were sitting together.
"Garfield, why do you think Maguire won't join our team? Doesn't he want to fight crime and do something for the city?"
Garfield quickly replied,
"Maguire's not that kind of guy. If he isn't with us now, it's because he has his own business to handle. Don't overthink it. And honestly, this *Daily Bugle* thing is just too much. We're clearly doing good things, so why do they keep smearing us?"
Holland scowled.
"Exactly! Why? I can't stand that newspaper."
Garfield sighed.
"Forget them. We'll just keep doing what we do. Lies won't matter—we haven't done anything wrong."
The two little Spiders, for all their justice and crime-fighting, had one common principle: never kill.
They only webbed up criminals and left them for the police to collect.
…
The two often worked together on improving their web-shooters. With their upgrades, the devices worked better and better.
Holland shook his head.
"I was even planning to give Maguire a pair of web-shooters once he joined us."
Garfield stood up suddenly, pulled a box from under his bed, and opened it.
Inside was a red-and-blue Spider suit, marked with a bold black spider emblem on the chest.
Garfield smiled helplessly.
"See? I even made him a suit. Our Spider Alliance: Red Spider, Blue Spider, and Black Spider. Sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?"
Meanwhile, while they were complaining about him, what was Maguire up to?
…
Cut to Maguire.
It was midnight. Most people were already asleep.
But at the Black Bar, the lights still blazed, and women danced under the strobes.
In the middle of the dance floor, a man in a black suit twisted and moved with sharp, flashy steps—pulling off moves so bold the whole crowd screamed.
It was Bully Maguire.
Yes—while Garfield and Holland talked about him, Maguire was busy tearing up the dance floor.
Recently, he'd found that hunting down small-time thugs gave him too few Bully Points. And frankly, those dirty jobs felt beneath him.
Bored, he had started coming to bars instead, killing time.
If he spotted the right prey, he didn't mind spending a few hundred dollars to rent a room.
But tonight's prospects were trash. Nothing worthwhile.
With no reason to stay, Maguire decided to head back to his villa.
Despite the desperate pleas of the blonde girls around him, the heartless "arsonist of love" turned his back and walked out.
…
At the door, he spotted a familiar figure—the man in the brown jacket he'd run into in an alley not long ago.
Maguire's lips curved into a sly grin.
"Sorry, brother, but I'm in desperate need of Bully Points. Looks like you'll have to provide some."
He had only 25 Bully Points left.
His Tremor-Tremor Fruit development had only reached 22%.
That's right—after all this time, it had only gone up by 2%.
The real way forward was to spend Bully Points to increase his fruit's development.
But Maguire was broke.
Each 1% increase cost 10 Bully Points.
From the system, he knew reaching S-rank meant 60% mastery.
That added up to 480 Bully Points.
For now, Maguire was poor as dirt.
…
The man in the brown jacket turned into a side alley.
Maguire followed immediately.
…
Moments later, Maguire entered the alley.
There, the man in the brown jacket stood opposite another man dressed head-to-toe in black leather.
Seeing the second man, Maguire's grin widened.
"Well damn, today's my lucky night. Two of them? My Bully Points are saved."
The two men noticed him at once.
The brown-jacketed man turned his head slowly, glared at Maguire, and said coldly:
"Leave. Now."
…
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