"That's for the best," George Stacy said as he scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper and handed it over along with a business card. "Bring the child over tomorrow morning. Documents or not, I'll help you sort out the birth certificate and registration. Think of it as making sure Gwen has a playmate in the future. A girl shouldn't grow up without someone looking out for her—and I can't be by her side forever."
Ben accepted the number and card. Truthfully, even without Stacy's help, he had already planned to use his own connections to secure Clark's identity.
"Thanks. I really appreciate it," Ben said sincerely.
After seeing Stacy off, Ben shut the front door tightly, then let out a long breath and sank down onto the floor, exhaustion written all over his face.
May, having settled Clark, walked over. "They're gone?"
"They're gone… but they've definitely got their eyes on us now. No matter what, I'll protect Clark," Ben said firmly.
At that moment, Clark had already woken up.
Babies slept often—but also woke often. It was exhausting. He was hungry. While sunlight strengthened his body, that didn't mean a baby could go without food. So he began to cry loudly.
Hearing the cries from the room, the two new parents exchanged a smile—then hurried in, scrambling to take care of him.
—
Time passed quickly.
In just eight months—
On August 10th, at New York University Medical Center—
The cry of a newborn rang out.
Outside, four people were overjoyed.
Mary Parker had finally given birth after ten months—a second son for the Parker family.
The boy who would one day be known as Peter Benjamin Parker.
For now, though, no one had even thought of a name. They were simply too happy.
"Clark, your little brother's here! Are you happy?" Richard Parker held his nephew, teasing him. "You'll protect your little brother from now on, right?"
By now, Clark's language skills had developed well. With his rapidly growing super-brain, he had already learned basic English.
"OK," he said clearly—while even raising three fingers.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Clark was nothing short of a genius—and today, the Parker family had even greater joy.
Soon, Mary and the newborn Peter were wheeled out. Both mother and child were healthy—the delivery had gone smoothly.
Held in someone's arms, Clark looked at the future Spider-Man and gave him a friendly little wave.
—
A few weeks later, at the Parker home—
The two brothers, just over a year apart, lay in separate cribs.
This had been everyone's idea—not just May's. They wanted the boys to grow up close, just like their fathers.
On an ordinary night—
Clark lay awake, staring at the moon outside the window, wondering whether reflected sunlight from the moon would also strengthen a Kryptonian.
Then—
His super hearing picked up something incredibly faint.
It was coming from his baby brother—Peter.
Peter had rolled over in his sleep, and the blanket had covered his nose and mouth, blocking his breathing.
His heartbeat and breathing had already become abnormal.
This was a classic sign of sudden infant death syndrome.
In a normal household, this would have been a silent tragedy.
But Clark—
He refused to let that happen to his family.
He wanted to scream—but he knew it wouldn't work. His parents would assume it was just normal crying, and by the time they came, it might be too late.
He considered crawling over to pull the blanket away—but his one-year-old body couldn't handle such a complex action. Worse, if he used too much strength, he might crush the crib.
In less than a fraction of a second, Clark made his decision.
He began to cry—
Louder… and louder.
Not just crying—but calling for help.
Finally, he shouted:
"Help!"
The sound instantly reached Ben and May's bedroom.
Both of them shot upright.
(As for Richard and Mary—they had already left a week earlier to return to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.)
"It's—Clark!" May rushed into the nursery, Ben right behind her.
The moment they entered, they saw Peter—his face already turning purple.
They quickly repositioned him, clearing his airway. Then they checked Clark—only then did they finally relax.
"You're a hero, Clark," May said, picking him up and kissing him. She assumed he had been frightened by Peter. "You saved your brother, didn't you? You're such a good big brother."
Clark smiled, resting his head against her shoulder, a quiet sense of satisfaction filling his heart.
—
Outside, in that black Chevrolet—
A drowsy agent scribbled in the surveillance log:
"Target A (Clark Parker) emitted abnormal crying at 2:14 AM, lasting 37 seconds. Target B (Peter Parker) began crying shortly after. Assessment: normal infant interaction. No anomalies detected."
—
A few days later—
Clark, now just over a year old, began learning to walk.
But with the mind of a teenager—and a body already developing at the level of a ten-year-old—
How could he not walk?
"Uh-oh… this might be a problem…" Clark thought, standing far too steadily.
"I want to walk like a baby! An adult can't wobble like that without being drunk… this is way too stable…"
No, this wouldn't do.
A normal baby learning to walk should stumble, fall, cry, and get back up.
He couldn't skip that process.
So over the next few weeks—
Clark began deliberately learning how to fall.
He would intentionally twist his ankle slightly, then collapse onto the carpet in an exaggerated, baby-like fashion.
But all of this—
Did not escape Ben.
The veteran noticed something off.
Every time Clark "fell," his body remained unnaturally rigid. He instinctively braced himself with his hands. And he never truly cried—at most, he just made a face, as if to say, "I tried."
This child…
Was far too "mature."
—
Meanwhile, at the street corner—
Inside that same black Chevrolet—
A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent yawned and wrote in the log:
"Target A (Clark) has begun walking. Coordination slightly below average for age. Target B (Peter) developing normally. Conclusion: The Parker household is the most boring family in Queens. Requesting reassignment."