Inside the Stacy household, dinner had turned into something far more stressful than Noah Vale expected.
Across the table, Gwen Stacy leaned toward him with sparkling eyes, completely focused on their conversation.
"So, Noah, what kind of food do you like?"
She pointed enthusiastically at a dish on the table.
"See? You like the steamed sea bass too! I love it."
She smiled brightly.
"Looks like we have the same taste in food. I actually cook sometimes too. Maybe next time I could make something for you."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"Oh! What kind of hobbies do you usually have?"
Noah felt his scalp tighten slightly.
The girl sitting beside him was staring at him with an intensity that almost felt tangible.
Her approach wasn't exactly subtle. In fact, her attempts at conversation were a little clumsy.
But what she lacked in finesse, she made up for with pure sincerity.
And that made it much harder to deal with.
In a world obsessed with appearance, Noah had learned something important: when someone with near-unfair charisma encountered a teenage girl who found him attractive, subtlety usually disappeared.
Gwen was being incredibly obvious.
What confused Noah the most was the silence from the other side of the table.
Her parents weren't saying a word.
Seriously? he thought. Your daughter is practically climbing over the table at this point.
Somebody say something.
At the moment, Noah found Gwen more difficult to handle than an entire squad of armed robbers.
He finished eating quickly and wiped his hands.
Then he turned toward Commissioner George Hale, who had been unusually quiet throughout dinner.
"Commissioner," Noah said calmly, "I assume you didn't invite me over just for dinner."
He set down his fork.
"Since the meal's over, maybe we can talk about the real reason I'm here."
George nodded and stood up.
"Let's talk on the balcony."
Noah followed him outside.
Inside the house, the rest of the family quietly continued eating, wisely avoiding the conversation.
On the balcony, George leaned against the railing and looked out over the neighborhood.
"You're aware of the public reaction to today's incident, right?" he asked.
"The criticism directed at the police department has gotten pretty severe."
Noah shrugged.
"How is that my problem?"
He folded his arms.
"If the NYPD had been stronger, you could've handled the robbers yourselves. I wouldn't have needed to step in."
George didn't argue.
"You're not wrong," he admitted.
"But the officers in this city are just ordinary people. Well-trained, yes—but still human."
He turned to face Noah.
"That's why I invited you here."
George took a breath.
"We want you to join the New York Police Department."
Noah blinked.
"…That's it?"
George frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"You're asking me to join," Noah said. "And that's the entire pitch?"
He tilted his head.
"Where's the rest?"
"The rest?"
"The benefits," Noah said plainly. "Authority. Resources. What do I gain from joining?"
George looked confused.
"Well… given that you're still a high school student, you wouldn't qualify as a regular officer."
He cleared his throat.
"So we'd appoint you as a special consultant instead."
Noah stared at him for a few seconds.
"That's not what I meant."
George blinked.
"I'm asking what I get out of it," Noah said bluntly.
"Why would anyone agree to something like that without compensation?"
George hesitated.
"Well… the department's budget is a bit tight right now, but—"
"Then there's nothing to talk about," Noah interrupted.
"I'm not interested."
He waved dismissively.
"You guys should just focus on handling normal crimes. Pickpockets, burglaries, stuff like that."
"As for the bigger threats… leave those to the superheroes."
George's jaw tightened.
"Superheroes?" he repeated.
"You mean the anonymous vigilantes no one has even seen yet?"
His voice sharpened.
"Without legal oversight, those people could cause just as many problems as the criminals they fight."
Noah nodded casually.
"Sure, sure. You're absolutely right."
His tone made it clear he had no interest in debating.
He turned toward the door.
"Well, dinner's finished, and I've already answered your request."
"So unless there's something else—"
"I should head out."
"Wait."
George's voice stopped him.
Noah looked back.
"Yes?"
George hesitated slightly.
"…About Gwen."
"Oh, I understand," Noah said immediately, raising a reassuring hand.
"I'll keep my distance."
"That's not what I meant," George said quickly.
He looked slightly uncomfortable.
"If you want… you're welcome to come by for dinner again sometime."
Noah blinked.
"…Sure."
The response came out a little awkwardly.
A few minutes later, Noah stepped back into the house.
The Stacy family tried to persuade him to stay longer, but he politely declined.
He had other things to take care of tonight.
Outside, the night air was cold.
As Noah walked down the street, the earlier phone call echoed in his mind.
Victor Kane.
Blackmail.
Thirty million dollars.
The killing intent inside Noah slowly returned.
But he forced himself to stay calm.
Killing someone wasn't difficult.
Getting away with it was the real challenge.
If Victor Kane suddenly died tonight—right after calling Noah—and the police checked phone records, the connection would be obvious.
The NYPD might not have supernatural abilities, but they weren't incompetent either.
Which meant the real problem wasn't killing Kane.
The problem was doing it without becoming a suspect.
Fortunately, Noah already had a plan.
As he wandered through the streets, his mind sifted through memories from his past in the criminal underworld.
Now that his mental capacity had increased again, those memories surfaced clearly.
Names.
Faces.
Addresses.
Information about various gang leaders operating in New York.
One name quickly stood out.
Brown Roderick.
Leader of the Counterstrike Gang.
Noah smiled faintly.
Perfect.
He deliberately walked along well-lit streets where security cameras were visible, eventually returning to the gym.
From there, he slipped out through a rear exit with no surveillance coverage and quietly entered a nearby convenience store.
Avoiding the cameras, he grabbed a few items:
Clothes.
Shoes.
Basic supplies.
He left cash on the counter before slipping out unnoticed.
Half an hour later, after gathering everything he needed, Noah paused.
There was still one more thing he required.
And unfortunately—
It was back at his apartment.
With that thought, Noah turned toward home.