MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

Peter followed the Black police officer into the NYPD station.

As soon as they entered, they came across Matt Murdock, wearing his usual sunglasses. Matt and his team had just finished speaking with George Stacy and were about to leave when Matt's heightened senses picked up a familiar, eerie presence—the same one he had encountered at the hospital before.

"You're Peter Parker, right?" Matt asked as he approached Peter. He had already learned Peter's name during his time at the hospital.

Peter, now stopped in his tracks, looked up at the blind man. He recalled hearing of Matt Murdock—a lawyer from Hell's Kitchen, also known as Daredevil, and a well-known superhero.

"Do you need help?" Peter asked, frowning. He wasn't one to shy away from helping those in need, especially the vulnerable. It was, after all, in his nature to lend a hand—something he had done for an elderly lady once, despite it ending poorly for both of them.

Matt shook his head. "No, I just wanted to meet you, Mr. Parker." He had investigated Peter, knowing him to be Gwen Stacy's friend and feeling curious about Peter's strength and the strange aura surrounding him.

"I'm a lawyer, and I heard about your bravery at the hospital. If you ever need help, maybe I can assist," Matt offered, pulling out a business card from his pocket. He extended his hand to Peter for a handshake.

Peter looked him over, then shook his hand. "You're trembling, Mr. Murdock," Peter observed, noticing the sweat forming on Matt's brow and the slight tremor in his arm. "Perhaps you should see a doctor. I know some good ones who might be able to help." His tone was casual as he let go and walked into the police station.

Matt, now standing alone outside, raised his deformed hand and hissed in pain. "Damn it!" he muttered, shaking his hand to ease the discomfort. "That guy almost broke my bones."

After regaining his composure, Matt turned to his men. "Dan Stein is dead, right?"

"Yes, he died yesterday," one of his men replied. Dan was a gang member linked to Matt's employer and had just been autopsied by Dr. Strange. The reason Matt was interested in his death was because a man Matt had interrogated earlier, Jason, had once passed some goods to Dan.

These weren't ordinary drugs—they were much more dangerous. Matt pulled out a small glass vial from his pocket, filled with a pink, misty substance. "This is the boss's product. It can transform someone, releasing all their inner desires." He shook his head, putting the vial back. "It's like seducing the devil within people."

Inside the station, Peter had just started speaking with the Black officer when George Stacy approached him. "Peter, we need to talk," George said, looking troubled.

In George's office, Peter sat across from the police chief, who appeared more agitated than usual. George, visibly upset, began, "I don't know how many secrets you're hiding, but one thing's clear—you need to stay away from Gwen."

Peter frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

George slammed his hands on the table, grabbing Peter by the collar. "Yes, you do! You know exactly what I'm talking about. That incident at Midtown High's football field—don't think I didn't notice. I've covered for you. You pushed Gwen into the spotlight, and now everyone thinks she killed Frank! If Gwen gets hurt, I swear, I'll kill you."

Before Peter could respond, the office door burst open, and George's assistant stood there, shocked at the scene. "Sorry, sir, I just—" The assistant started, only to have George throw a cup at him, shouting, "Get out!"

Peter remained calm despite George's manic behavior. He observed that something was clearly wrong with George—this wasn't the same man he knew. George's actions and wild accusations made no sense.

"This isn't you," Peter said evenly. "You're acting like a madman, saying things that aren't true."

"This is me!" George's eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted in rage.

"Even if that's true, you're wrong," Peter continued, undeterred. "You think I'm putting Gwen in danger, but no. You're the one responsible."

George was stunned. "What did you just say?"

"When Gwen was just eight years old, you were the one who taught her how to subdue criminals, how to stay hidden," Peter said, his voice unwavering. "You've drilled the ideas of responsibility and protection into her head for years. If there's any danger now, it's because of the ideals you taught her. If you've been wrong all this time, Gwen might never know what's right."

Peter's words struck George, leaving him shocked and ashamed. But soon, anger took over again. How dare this kid talk to him like that? His face red with fury, George grabbed his pistol from the desk and pointed it at Peter.

Meanwhile, unaware of the confrontation between her father and Peter, Gwen was at home, working on her web-shooters. She had been experimenting with different sticky solutions, adding the web-like substance she'd previously shot onto the wall. But no matter what she tried, she couldn't shoot webs like Spider-Man could. At best, her wrists could only emit a sticky, thick goo.

Frustrated, she resorted to creating her own web-shooters to mimic Spider-Man's swinging. After a while, she glanced at her phone, took off her glasses, and decided to head to the police station, worried about Peter's sudden summons there. Before leaving, she snatched her web-shooters and hurried out the door.

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