"The security cameras were disabled before the blackout," Coulson reported as he summarized the scene. "But we found useful footage from a bank across the street. It shows that during Shocker's attack, a masked individual burst in through the window from our side, using some kind of chemically produced adhesive webbing launched from his wrists."
Fury stared at the figure in red and blue on the screen.
"According to what we got from the NYPD, Ben Parker was the one this masked guy saved. Coulson, take a look at the movement, the abilities, the tech involved..."
"You think we're looking at some kind of genetically modified subject, or maybe a super-soldier derivative?" Coulson picked up the thought immediately and started running with it. "Could Oscorp's research really have succeeded? Are they already putting prototypes into the field?"
"Maybe it's not that simple." Fury stepped through the wreckage, kicking debris aside until he stopped in front of a pillar riddled with damage. He pulled on gloves, then used metal tweezers to extract a warped fragment lodged in the concrete.
It was clearly metal that had been melted by extreme heat, flattened and distorted out of its original shape.
"Coulson, Shocker's gear doesn't generate heat like this. And that masked kid sure as hell wasn't throwing fire around. There wasn't even a visible flash in the footage." By now, Fury already had a theory forming.
"Then maybe it was from the rifle blowing up?" Coulson asked.
"I checked the weapon. That barrel didn't burst, it melted. And one of the nearby walls collapsed for no apparent reason. Based on the wind readings, no airflow that night should've been strong enough to knock it over. Something pushed it down."
Fury sealed the fragment into an evidence bag, then turned and looked in the direction of Queens.
"Sir... you mean there was someone else at the scene?" Coulson felt a chill creep up his back. "Besides the two people being targeted, there was another individual? A third party?"
"Not someone," Fury said quietly. "Something like a ghost, Coulson. An invisible ghost. A ghost in the Parker house. A ghost quietly watching everything."
In Fury's mind, he was back to January 1, 1992. What had happened that New Year's Day.
That alien ship.
The one marked with an S.
And the words Richard Parker had left behind before disappearing:
Trust Clark.
Bit by bit, everything in Fury's head was starting to connect.
The quiet internal drumbeat of revelation was already beginning.
Clark Parker.
The child who had vanished into that alien craft.
The boy with the impossibly clean file.
For all these years, he had lived like just another ordinary face in the crowd, but Fury's instincts had never fully bought it.
"Open a file on the masked one. Provisional codename: Spider. Start satellite-assisted facial tracking. I want to know who's under that mask." Fury had Peter halfway uncovered with one sentence. "Classify him at the same priority tier as Matt Murdock."
In Fury's view, no one stayed secret forever.
Not from S.H.I.E.L.D.
Not from Nick Fury.
For now, though, he set Clark aside again. He turned, his coat snapping behind him, and prepared to leave the scene.
He needed to keep watching.
"And Clark Parker?" Coulson followed after him. "Should we send in a Crossbones team for a cautious first-contact probe?"
That made Fury stop cold.
His reply came sharp and absolute.
"No. Let me be very clear. Under no circumstances, at any level, does anyone make contact with Clark Parker. No one disturbs him. I'll decide who approaches him."
Fury's caution, in that moment, saved S.H.I.E.L.D. from losing a team.
The next day, after school, the group gathered once again at the abandoned factory.
When Peter, Gwen, and Cindy pushed open the doors, they all froze.
The place, which had been a total mess before, had been cleaned spotless. Even the old machinery had been stacked neatly in one corner.
A large open area had been cleared in the center of the building, and there was even an old couch and a workbench sitting there, somehow dragged in from who knew where.
Clark had done it all himself ahead of time.
He was currently lounging on the couch, drinking a Coke.
Seeing the three of them standing there in shock, he lifted a hand.
"Hey. You made it."
Then he sat up, drained the rest of the soda in one go, crushed the can down into a little metal ball with one hand, and tossed it neatly into a distant trash can.
"Today, we've got something important to deal with."
Gwen ignored that entirely and finally blurted out what had been stuck in her chest all day.
"Peter, did you go to Manhattan by yourself last night? My dad said there was a masked figure in the Daily Bugle building." Gwen sounded more upset than curious.
Cindy was upset too, though mostly because Peter had gone without her. Deep down, she wanted that same kind of freedom, but Clark had only just managed to press that impulse down the past couple of days.
And Peter had gone anyway.
"We agreed that until we had full control over our powers, nobody was supposed to act alone," Gwen went on. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If the news hadn't said the guy got away, I would've thought you'd already been arrested!"
Peter kept his head down and accepted the scolding from both girls.
In reality, though, not much of it was sticking.
Mentally, he had already drifted off somewhere else.
"All right, girls, give Peter a break," Clark cut in, ending that line of attack. "He did it because he was worried about Ben, and he already got punished for it. That's not why we're here today."
Clark stepped between the three of them and looked over the young people in front of him, all of them brimming with potential.
"Last night's fight exposed a lot of problems. Peter, did you write that reflection I told you to?"
Peter's brain crashed instantly.
He had completely forgotten.
Seeing the look on his absent-minded little brother's face, Clark waved it off and continued with the important part.
"You don't have an intelligence network. You don't have any shared communication equipment. And most importantly, you don't have professional gear designed to work with your abilities."
He pointed around the newly cleared space.
"From now on, this can be your base. I'll get the land rights handled as soon as I can. If you're serious about using your abilities to help people, then you can't operate like random street punks, each one doing your own thing."
Gwen looked at Clark, this boy the same age as her, calmly standing there and directing everything that needed to be done, and to her he looked like he was practically glowing.
At this point, if Clark pointed somewhere, Gwen would have marched there on instinct.
He was just too much.
Too charismatic.
Too ridiculously good-looking.
Meanwhile, Clark was still talking about everything they lacked.
"Gwen? Gwen? Did you hear any of that?" He waved a hand in front of her face.
Gwen snapped out of it immediately. "Uh... yes. Yes, I heard."
Clark, being a student himself, knew exactly what that look meant.
She had zoned out.
And not in the slightest clue where her mind had gone.