"Hello, Peter Parker," Captain America said with his characteristic warmth and sincerity.
After a measured pause, he added with quiet significance, "Or should I say, Spider-Man."
The friendly expression on Peter's face immediately shifted to guarded alertness. His mind raced through the implications—if someone had been willing to kidnap him to target Spider-Man, it stood to reason that other interested parties might threaten Uncle Ben and Aunt May to achieve similar goals.
However, his spider-sense remained completely silent, suggesting that whatever these visitors wanted, immediate physical danger wasn't part of their agenda.
Peter had fought alongside Captain America during the recent crisis, though he'd never seen the man's actual face. At the time, Rogers had been wearing his full uniform and mask.
Steve seemed to recognize Peter's uncertainty and raised his hand to cover the upper portion of his face in a gesture that immediately triggered recognition.
"Captain Rogers!" Peter exclaimed, his wariness instantly transforming into surprised delight. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm visiting some friends in Queens," Steve replied with a slight smile. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought a couple of colleagues along. Professional courtesy."
He stepped aside to reveal a dark sedan parked at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the afternoon sun like mirrors.
Nick Fury lowered the driver's side window just enough to show half of his face, offering a cautious wave that spoke volumes about his recent educational experience at Primus. Clearly, the SHIELD director had learned the value of proper introductions and advance notice when dealing with the Parker family.
Peter found himself hesitating as he studied the partially visible stranger. The man's appearance—dark skin, serious expression, and what appeared to be an eye patch—created an impression that wasn't entirely reassuring. This was the 21st century, after all, and the pirate aesthetic raised certain questions about his professional affiliations.
Still, Captain America's presence provided considerable credibility, and his spider-sense continued to register no threats. After a moment's consideration, Peter nodded his agreement.
Nick Fury emerged from the vehicle accompanied by a striking redhead whose appearance had clearly been calibrated for maximum psychological impact. Natasha Romanoff was a masterpiece of strategic presentation—her black leather jacket was zipped just low enough to create a gravitational field that could capture the attention of any heterosexual male between the ages of fourteen and ninety.
The effect on Peter was both immediate and obvious. One glance at the carefully constructed display was enough to convince him that these people definitely had something important to discuss with him. Something very important indeed.
"Uh, hello there," Peter managed, his face flushing crimson as he deliberately averted his gaze while shaking Nick Fury's offered hand.
The reaction was exactly what Fury had been hoping for. With practiced smoothness, he positioned his hands in a subtle gesture that seemed designed to direct Peter's attention back toward Natasha's... professional attributes.
"Nick Fury, SHIELD," he said with calculated informality. "This is Agent Natasha Romanoff."
"Would you like to come inside?" Peter asked, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the visual distraction that was apparently standard issue for international espionage work. "We could sit down and talk properly."
Steve Rogers shot a disapproving look toward Natasha, silently communicating his opinion that using seduction tactics on a teenage boy was crossing several ethical lines simultaneously.
Natasha's expression suggested she shared his discomfort with the assignment, but professional duty demanded certain sacrifices.
Nick Fury, meanwhile, was congratulating himself on the apparent success of his psychological approach. The innocent young hero was clearly susceptible to traditional manipulation techniques.
"Excellent idea!" he declared with enthusiasm, clapping Peter on the shoulder with false camaraderie. "I like your thinking, kid!"
He moved toward the house with confident strides, but stopped abruptly mid-step, one foot suspended in the air as a critical question occurred to him.
"Just to be safe," he said with obvious concern, "your cousin isn't here, is he?"
Peter shook his head in confusion.
The relief that flooded Nick Fury's features was almost comical. His posture straightened, his voice regained its commanding authority, and his entire demeanor shifted from cautious diplomat to confident operative.
He was back in his element.
"That's unfortunate," he said with transparent insincerity. "Ben and I are old friends, you know."
Peter's eyebrows rose in skeptical disbelief.
The group settled onto the Parker family's modest furniture—a collection of well-worn pieces that had clearly seen decades of faithful service. Peter busied himself providing water glasses while Nick surveyed their surroundings with obvious puzzlement.
"For someone with billionaire status," Fury observed, "the furnishings here are remarkably... understated."
Understated was diplomatic language for what could more accurately be described as deliberately austere. It was like discovering that Tony Stark had chosen to abandon his Malibu mansion in favor of a cardboard box under a highway overpass.
"We're comfortable here," Peter explained simply. "Uncle Ben and Aunt May have lived in this house for years. They're attached to everything in it, even the old black-and-white TV that still gets static sometimes."
Peter glanced at the vintage wall clock, then back at Nick Fury, who seemed to be deliberately avoiding the purpose of his visit in favor of small talk.
"So," Peter ventured hesitantly, "what exactly did you want to discuss?"
His hands moved nervously as he tried to frame the question diplomatically.
"I don't mean to rush you, it's just that Uncle Ben and Aunt May will be home in a few hours, and they might not appreciate me entertaining visitors who look like... well, they might get the wrong impression."
Peter's face reddened as he realized how his words sounded.
"I'm not saying you're dangerous or anything! I mean, Captain Rogers is here, so obviously you're in the clear. It's just that they don't know you, and honestly, you do look a bit like a pirate, and she dresses like someone who works in certain types of establishments..."
The brutal honesty hit its targets with devastating accuracy. Nick Fury turned away in embarrassment while Natasha quietly zipped her jacket up to a more conservative level.
"You really have a gift for talking, kid," Fury muttered.
"Thank you," Peter replied with genuine gratitude, completely missing the sarcasm.
"That wasn't a compliment. Never mind, let's get to business." Nick retrieved a thick folder from his briefcase and placed it on the coffee table with ceremonial gravity. "I was planning to ease into this gradually, but given your... direct style... I'll cut to the chase."
He stood up, his expression shifting to one of professional seriousness.
"We're here about Richard Parker and Mary Parker."
The words hit Peter like a physical blow, draining the color from his face and leaving him staring at the folder as if it contained live explosives.
"Your parents," Nick clarified unnecessarily.
"Take a look."
For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the rustling of papers and the ticking of the old clock. Steve watched Peter with growing concern, recognizing the particular stillness that came when someone was processing information too painful to fully comprehend.
This was the second time that Peter had encountered concrete information about his parents' fate. The first occasion had led him to Dr. Connors' laboratory, where a radioactive spider bite had transformed him into Spider-Man. Since then, the trail had gone cold—neither Connors nor Norman Osborn had been able to provide additional details about Richard and Mary Parker's disappearance.
Most people who knew the family assumed the worst. Only Peter had maintained stubborn hope that some extraordinary circumstance had forced his parents to leave, and that someday they might return.
Now that hope was being systematically destroyed by official documentation.
"So they're dead," Peter said finally, his voice unnaturally calm.
"The night they left you here, their plane was attacked," Nick confirmed with professional detachment. "It was during a storm—terrible flying conditions, but they took off anyway. The wreckage was never recovered, but we've pieced together what happened from other sources."
"Hydra killed them," Peter stated rather than asked.
The emotional numbness in his voice worried Steve more than tears or anger would have. Sometimes the most devastating wounds were the ones that didn't bleed.
"Are you okay, Peter?" Steve asked gently, placing a supportive hand on the young man's shoulder.
"I'm fine, Captain. Thank you."
Peter's attention returned to Nick Fury.
"I thought Hydra was destroyed during World War II."
"Most of it was," Nick acknowledged. "But organizations like that are never completely eliminated. They're like weeds—cut off the visible growth, and the roots find new ways to spread."
He leaned forward, adopting the tone of someone sharing confidential information.
"We've kept this information classified for years. Originally, we planned never to tell you—knowing about Hydra could put an ordinary civilian in terrible danger. But recent events have made it clear that you're far from ordinary."
Nick gestured toward Peter with obvious respect.
"You possess abilities that, with proper training and support, could make a real difference in the fight against threats that conventional law enforcement can't handle. This is both a gift and a responsibility that your parents helped create."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"We have a common enemy, Peter. The question is: what are you prepared to do about it?"
When Peter finally asked the crucial question, Nick Fury's expression shifted to one of barely contained triumph. This was the moment he'd been building toward.
Time to close the deal.
With theatrical solemnity, he delivered the recruitment speech he'd been rehearsing for days.
"I have this idea," he began, his voice carrying the weight of destiny itself, "to bring together a group of remarkable people. To see if we could become something more—to fight the battles that ordinary people can't win, when the world needs us most."
Peter stared at him with growing recognition.
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.