"Hello, hello. Sorry I'm late."
The man looked up to meet Peter who was approaching in a hurry, to that he let out a small laugh. Signs of aging were beginning to be visible on him, being very close to his 50th birthday.
He was George Stacy, a captain in the Vale police force for years, with a long and successful career whose only mistake had long since been forgotten.
George had a history full of ups and downs: he married his high school girlfriend, who sadly died giving birth to their daughter, Gwen.
Throughout his career, he had to deal with wannabe hunters and huntress who came up with vigilantism so over the years he became more flexible with rules and sanctions. He would say the turning point was when a certain girl took down several gangs that were having a brawl with nothing more than her skill.
Years later he learned that that girl was now the leader of Beacon's star team, Team STRQ, but that's a story for another day.
"Hey Pete, I thought you weren't coming, which is understandable because I see you guys are filling them with homework, huh."
"It's still a year away and they already want to get us ready for graduation... May is right, some teachers just want to get those Lien's."
"Bah, don't blame them. Besides, I know who's teaching you, they're nice. Except your biology teacher, she thinks she's a citizen of Atlas."
"Cocky much?"
"Exactly."
Peter wasn't going to deny it, it was nice to visit George. Ben and he were good friends, this from the very friendship Gwen and Peter had formed as kids, but it also felt a little awkward.
And how could he not be, he was with his ex-girlfriend's father and the second most publicly opposed person to Spider-Man - he had even alleged that he was part of a gangster gang in Mistral! And on public television!
It wasn't like Jameson calling him a thief and stuff, but more than once it had been made clear to all of Vale that the police captain didn't look kindly on the arachnid vigilante.
CRACK!
George and Peter quickly turned to see what that had been, seeing that now the highest window of the house was broken and covered with several paint stains.
As for the object that broke the window, the young Parker analyzed it closely. He identified it as a scrapbook.
"That... isn't that Gwen's room?"
"Sigh, yeah. She's been in, eeeh, a rebellious phase, let's say."
Peter had to help finish that furniture as quickly as possible.
"Heh, three more days and she'll probably show up with her hair painted or shaved, maybe both."
"... Son, if you're right about that, I'll start to believe that your Semblance is seeing the future."
"I don't think something that convenient could exist, sir," Peter joked as he walked over to the shards of glass and began picking up the remains. "But seriously, is Gwen all right?"
George sighed, surveying the scene with some resignation.
"It's just a phase, Pete. But you know how most teenagers are. Sometimes, they seem to want to try all the colors of the rainbow in their hair and rebel against the world."
"I guess so," Peter replied, remembering his own rebellious time, although in his case, it involved more swinging between buildings than experimenting with hair dye, "I hope it's nothing serious. But, changing the subject, how have you been, sir?"
The police captain shot him a sly look.
"Oh, you know, trying to survive the bureaucracy and endless reports. You know how it is."
Peter nodded with a smile.
"Yeah, I guess we all have our daily struggles. But, speaking of which, there's something I have to tell you."
George arched an eyebrow.
"Is this about Spider-Man, are you trying to convince me again that he's a hero and not a problem?"
"No, that's not what this is about," Peter replied earnestly. "There's something bigger, something going on in Vale. Something that goes beyond street fights and common assaults. Something that... well, might need the attention of the police."
George looked at him curiously.
"You're being rather cryptic, Pete - what do you mean?"
"You know I work for the Daily Bugle because I know Spider-Man, right?"
"Sigh, yeah."
"He gave me information about unusual movements in the underworld. Something big is brewing, and I think we'd better be prepared. It could be dangerous, not just for me, but for the whole city."
George Stacy's face became more serious as he processed the information.
"Okay, Peter, I'm willing to listen to you. But you need to be more specific - what do you know?"
Peter looked around, making sure no one else was listening. Then, in a low voice, he began to share the details he had discovered as Spider-Man, aware that what was coming could change Vale's destiny and possibly affect those he cared about most.
... ... ...
... ... ...
"And who is this?"
The Prowler met up with his usual crew, skilled thugs who worked for the highest bidder.
They called themselves The Enforcers.
"A little more respect for our friend here, he was the head of maintenance at Oscorp," he said. pointing to a man of medium height, dark skin, a padlock beard and short hair.
"Hey, I heard about you when you robbed that idiot Osborn in the face. Well done."
"Hphm. What's your name?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm Max Dillon."
Max greeted each of The Enforcers as he beamed with confidence. He was absolutely confident that with this coup all his debts would be settled and he would finally live like a king.
With the respective introductions made, they gathered the material they would need and set up a table to meet and go over the plan.
"Tombstone has asked us for strange things in the past, but not something like this," he said as he saw what the targets were.
Information purchased from the mysterious The Rose about Quentin Beck related that the now actor was a mechatronics engineer to the extent that he did some lecturing at Atlas and Mantle, even going so far as to open a charity in Mantle that later passed into the hands of a man named Martin Lee.
Using his engineering talents, Beck had designed a revolutionary technology for the realization of special effects in motion pictures. As far as was known, that project had been delayed for several years by Jacques Scheene's sabotage and General James Ironwood's constant requests to take custody of the technology by the arguments that it had great military potential.
These obstacles led Beck to leave Atlas and settle in Vale, where he had been living for 5 years.
The Enforcers, under the leadership of the Prowler, carefully observed the details of the plan on the table.
Max Dillon made sure that all the devices needed for the heist were ready and in perfect condition.
"Beck is our primary target. We need to retrieve that special effects technology that Tombstone wants at all costs," stated the Prowler, fixing his gaze on the floor plan of Quentin Beck's residence in Vale. "We have information on his daily habits, but we need to be stealthy. We don't want to alert Ironwood or any other forces that might intervene."
Max, with a spark of excitement in his eyes, took the floor.
"If we pull this off, folks, we'll make sure Tombstone rewards us handsomely. This will change our lives."
Night fell over Vale as The Enforcers moved with precision and stealth toward Beck's residence. The dark corridors and empty alleys became their playground. As they neared the target, the tension in the air became palpable.
As they reached the location, The Prowler pointed toward the main entrance.
"We're going to split up. Dillon, make sure you disable any security systems. The rest of you, find the exact location of Beck's technology. We need to be quick and efficient."
With coordinated movements, each member of The Enforcers moved deeper into the residence. Meanwhile, in the shadows, a hooded figure watched the operation from a distance.
A murmur spread among the team members as they discovered the extent of Beck's technology.
"There's something else here," said one of the Enforcers, examining the blueprints he found. "It looks like Beck had other projects, something to do with Mantle and Atlas."
The hooded figure, unknown to The Enforcers, stood in the darkness, anticipating what was about to happen.
... ... ...
... ... ...
"Ugh, what a fiasco," Spider-Man said as he made his evening patrol of the Vale.
George and he had managed to assemble all that furniture that would be headed for the F.E.A.S.T. facility in the kingdom. Not to mention that they had been urgently requested, this because of the arrival of a group of refugees from a town recently destroyed by the Grimm.
Spider-Man sighed as he swing his body between Vale's buildings. He looked down, watching the lights twinkling in the streets as the city came alive with its bustling nighttime hustle and bustle.
The thought of becoming a student at Beacon, the prestigious academy for hunters and huntress, had crossed his mind more than once. At times, the temptation to join the ranks of the defenders of the realm was there, but he remembered the reason he put on the mask in the first place: responsibility. He couldn't turn his back on Vale, even if it meant giving up certain opportunities.
As he swing from building to building, Spider-Man remembered how it all began. That day when he gained his spider abilities, the loss of his Uncle Ben and the promise he made to himself. Being Spider-Man wasn't just a choice, it was an intrinsic part of who he was.
"Maybe Beacon would be an amazing experience," he mused aloud as he cast a web to swing higher. "But this city needs me. I can't leave it unprotected." The night breeze blew through his mask, reminding him of the loneliness that sometimes accompanied his labor.
As he headed toward Vale's skyline, Spider-Man decided that, while Beacon might be a tantalizing dream, his unwavering duty as Vale's masked hero would always occupy the center of his heart.
"There's no going back," he muttered to himself, strengthening his resolve. With each swing, he plunged once more into the city, ready to face whatever threat might lurk in the night.