As Peter groaned in pain from the heavy-handed massage, Toby's voice remained cold and steady.
"You can choose to be the neighborhood hero. You can take on the 'responsibility' of protecting everyone. That's your path."
"But understand this: while you're out protecting the world, someone has to protect our home. You've chosen the masses; I'm staying behind to guard the family."
"I won't stop you from being a hero, Peter. But mark my words: never try to recruit others into your crusade. You wouldn't be helping them. You'd be leading them to their graves."
Leaving Peter to chew on that heavy silence, Toby grabbed his keys and headed out. It was the weekend, and he had a debt to pay—specifically, a dinner for Gwen Stacy.
Toby didn't wait for Gwen to call him this time. He drove straight to her apartment. He knew the address well, thanks to Aunt May. Over the last two years, Gwen had been a constant fixture at the Parker house, often staying late to study with Peter. May, ever the matchmaker and concerned parental figure, never let Gwen walk home alone at night. That job always fell to Toby.
He stopped at a local market near her building to pick up some high-end chocolates and a fresh bouquet of lilies. He wanted to give Gwen a proper surprise. If he was going to accept her as a woman and not just "Peter's friend," he couldn't keep letting her take all the initiative.
Toby stood before the Stacy apartment and gave the door three firm knocks.
A few seconds later, frantic footsteps approached. The door swung open to reveal Gwen Stacy. Her hair was a bird's nest of blonde tangles, she was wearing oversized bear-patterned pajamas, and a toothbrush was hanging out of her mouth. She didn't even look up.
"Thanks, but we don't need coupons, we don't play the lottery, we have a TV, and I have something incredibly important to do today, so please—"
She started to swing the door shut.
"I'm guessing that 'incredibly important thing' involves the dinner I owe you?" Toby asked.
Gwen froze. She looked up, her eyes widening into saucers as she stared at him. For a moment, she just blinked, processing the fact that Toby was standing in her hallway. Then, the realization of her current appearance hit her like a freight train.
No makeup. Messy hair. Bear pajamas.
"Holy—" She muffled her own curse with a hand, remembering she shouldn't swear in front of her crush.
"Toby! Wait! Stay there! Do not move! I'll be right back!"
She slammed the door shut and bolted toward her bedroom at terminal velocity. She was going to achieve a "Full Glamour" transformation in record time or die trying.
Inside, Captain George Stacy sat at the dining table, fork halfway to his mouth. His "Police Instinct" was screaming. He had never seen his calm, brilliant daughter lose her composure like that.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The only thing that could make a girl that age act like a malfunctioning robot—other than a family tragedy—was a boy.
The Captain set his fork down, his face darkening. He stood up and marched to the door, pulling it open to find a tall, handsome young man standing in the hall.
George Stacy began his visual inspection. The boy was built like an athlete—broad-shouldered and confident. His posture was perfect. His face was ruggedly handsome, his expression warm yet possessing an undeniable edge. He was even wearing a crisp, well-tailored suit that would make any father-in-law nod in approval.
*Damn it,* the Captain thought. *How is this kid so perfect? I can't even find a loose thread to pull on.*
Stacy hated him on principle. In his years on the force, he'd learned that people who looked this perfect on the outside usually had a basement full of skeletons. He stepped into the doorway, using his "interrogation" voice.
"Name? Occupation? Address?"
Toby didn't flinch. He didn't look annoyed. He simply offered a respectful, measured smile.
"Good morning, Captain. My name is Toby Parker. I currently work in research, specifically focused on the elimination of city pests. I live at 104 37th Avenue, Flushing, Queens."
The polite, structured answer caught the Captain off guard. Usually, when he talked to young men this way, they told him to go eat dirt or got nervous.
Wait. *Parker?*
The name rang a bell. George Stacy prided himself on knowing who his daughter spent time with. He'd run a background check on the Parker family years ago when Gwen started visiting them.
The results had been... annoyingly clean.
Ben and May Parker? Five-star citizens. Hardworking, honest, and kind to a fault.
Peter Parker? A straight-A student, polite, and quiet.
And Toby? While not as "soft" as his cousin, his record was impeccable. Top marks in sports, top marks in academics. He was a "Transformer of Men"—a high achiever in every category.
When the Captain last checked, several major corporations were fighting over Toby's resume. He hadn't known where the boy ended up.
"Eliminating city pests, huh?" Stacy repeated.
In a city like New York, most people would find that job unglamorous. But to a cop like George Stacy, who spent his life cleaning up the human filth of the streets, hearing a brilliant young scientist dedicate himself to "pest control" felt noble. It was a job for someone with a sense of duty.
He had no idea that when Toby said "pests," he wasn't talking about cockroaches. He was talking about the predators Toby hunted in the dead of night.