Manhattan, Gorin Apartments.
Since marrying George Stacy, Helen Stacy had lived the role of a gentle, devoted housewife. Tonight she was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
In the living room, nine-year-old Howard Stacy and eight-year-old Simon Stacy—Gwen's younger brothers—were glued to the television, desperate to watch as much as they could before their mother noticed.
Because once Helen's hands were free, studying time would begin.
"Your sister Gwen does so well in school," she often reminded them. "You both came from the same stomach, so you should be able to do just as well."
But the truth was, their grades teetered on the edge of passing. Sometimes, they slipped under. Their year-end exams had been a disaster, and Helen had punished them by cutting down their daily playtime.
The doorbell rang.
"Howard, Simon. Back to your rooms. Study."
"…Okay."
Grumbling, the boys headed upstairs just as Helen opened the door.
Standing there was Hawk. He greeted her politely with a warm smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Stacy."
Helen blinked in surprise, then smiled. "Good evening, Hawk. Please, come in."
"Thank you."
Gwen appeared instantly, taking Hawk's hand and pulling him inside.
It was the first time Hawk had been invited as a guest into someone else's home in this world.
The Stacys lived in a two-floor duplex. Not especially large, but neat and warm, filled with a family's presence.
Footsteps came from upstairs. George Stacy descended from his study, his expression stern and serious, every inch the unyielding patriarch.
"Dad," Gwen greeted.
"Mr. Stacy," Hawk said respectfully.
George gave only a curt grunt, then walked silently to the dining table.
Helen shook her head with a faint smile. "Sit, Hawk. Dinner's ready."
"Thank you."
Hawk sat down across from George, returning his cold nod with a polite smile.
Helen called up the stairs, "Howard, Simon, dinner."
"Coming!"
The two boys bolted down the stairs, but stopped short when they saw Hawk. They stared at him openly even as they sat down.
Hawk noticed and extended his hand. "Hello, Howard. I'm Hawk."
"I'm Howard."
"I'm Simon."
Simon jumped up eagerly to shake his hand. Then he blinked and asked bluntly, "Are you my sister's boyfriend?"
Hawk instinctively glanced at George.
Sure enough, George's face darkened to a stormy shade.
But he didn't speak.
So Hawk smiled at Simon and nodded. "Yes."
George's expression blackened further.
Gwen reached out and ruffled Simon's hair with a grin. Good job, little brother. She decided she'd slip him ten dollars as a reward tonight. Howard, though, was out of luck.
Dinner was served in typical Western fashion, each person with their own plate—appropriate, given Hawk was still an outsider. Communal meals were reserved for close family and old friends.
Hawk understood.
And yet, the food was delicious. Better than anything he'd had in this life. School food was awful, and alone he ate just to survive. But this… this felt like a true dinner.
George ate silently, sipping whiskey now and then.
Helen, ever kind, asked Hawk gentle questions, making sure he was comfortable.
Gwen played mediator, smoothing the tension while keeping a wary eye on her father.
Howard and Simon happily focused on their plates.
Then George set down his glass, cleared his throat.
Helen and Gwen stiffened.
Here it comes.
Hawk braced himself, meeting George's gaze calmly.
But Helen, catching Gwen's pleading look, stepped in first. "George, why don't you tell us about work? That Spider-Man—have you caught him yet?"
"…"
George gave her a look, then shifted his gaze from Gwen to Hawk. His lips curved in a faint, humorless smile.
"Not yet. But we will. He's an amateur. He's left us plenty of clues."
And before they could interrupt again, George leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing on Hawk.
"Tell me, Hawk. What's your opinion of this Spider-Man? Do you think he's really some kind of vigilante hero?"
Under the table, Gwen's hand gave Hawk's thigh a warning squeeze.
Hawk chuckled softly and shook his head.
"Sir, I've been in Maryland the past few weeks. I only got back yesterday, and today I spent in the library."
"To be honest… I'm still just a student. All I care about right now is whether I can get my NYU scholarship and a loan approved."
"As for Spider-Man? Whether he's a vigilante or just some punk showing off… I don't care."
...
(End of Chapter)
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