An unfamiliar voice came from outside the door.
Hearing it, Ben opened the door and saw two men standing there. One wore an eyepatch, clearly from an old injury. The other, though still young, already had a receding hairline.
"Benjamin Parker?" Nick Fury spoke in a blunt, interrogative tone.
"That's me. Your credentials?" Ben leaned against the doorway, blocking their entry as he extended his hand. "Don't think I'm easy to fool. That agency name of yours is way too long—what was it again? Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division?"
"Of course. If that's too long, you can just call us S.H.I.E.L.D." Coulson, ever the friendly one, stepped forward and presented his badge, subtly shielding his superior—Fury—whose tone wasn't exactly… approachable.
"Where were you last night? That meteor—" Fury brushed Coulson aside and went straight to the point.
"My personal affairs are none of your business. That's called privacy," Ben replied firmly. He knew how to deal with people like this—show weakness, and they'd push harder.
"Former Major Benjamin Parker of the 101st Airborne Division," Fury continued coldly. "That was no ordinary meteor. It emitted high levels of radiation. Its trajectory ended less than three miles from here. Based on our site investigation, a vehicle left the scene. The tire tracks match your car."
For a split second, Ben felt his heart stop—but his expression didn't change.
"I went out to buy some late-night food. That illegal now?"
"You don't go into the middle of nowhere to buy food," Coulson interjected from behind Fury, holding a device blinking with a red light. "Sir, there are residual energy traces around this house. They're fading, but they were definitely here."
Fury's gaze sharpened instantly. His hand lowered casually—closer to the holster at his waist.
"Major Parker, for national security, we need to take a look inside. I trust you're a patriot and won't refuse. After all… you're a retired officer."
This was no longer a request.
It was an order.
Ben stared at the two agents. He didn't believe he could take them both—especially not with guns involved.
But just then—
A beam of light cut across from the side of the street, shining directly onto Fury's face.
"Hey! What are you doing there? Take your hand off the gun!"
A sharp voice broke the tension.
A New York police cruiser had pulled up nearby. The car door opened, and a tall, upright young officer stepped out. One hand rested on his holstered pistol, the other held a flashlight, his expression alert and guarded.
It was George Stacy.
At this time, he was just a dedicated patrol officer—but his integrity and authority had already made him something of a guardian in these neighborhoods.
"This is federal business, officer," Fury said, turning his head slightly, clearly annoyed by the glaring flashlight.
"This is Queens. My jurisdiction." Stacy strode up beside Ben Parker, clearly taking a stand.
He glanced at Ben, then at the two men in black. "Ben's a longtime resident here—and a respected veteran. You show up at his door in the middle of the night without a warrant? That's unlawful entry."
"We're investigating a possible illegal entry target. Or rather… an extraterrestrial threat," Fury replied coldly. "There's something unusual in this house."
"Unusual?" Stacy chuckled.
He turned to Ben, and for a brief moment, a silent understanding passed between the two men.
George Stacy didn't know everything—but earlier, while on patrol, he had seen Ben buying a mountain of baby supplies.
Add to that Ben and May's long-standing desire for a child—and tonight's strange situation—his sharp police instincts had already pieced together most of the truth.
Whatever Ben was hiding, it wasn't some alien threat.
It was a life that needed protecting.
He knew Ben well enough to trust that.
After all, Ben had been voted "Community Good Citizen" for over a decade straight.
"Alright, cut the nonsense," Stacy said, pulling out a small notepad and giving Ben a firm pat on the shoulder. "Honestly, Ben—you've practically finished the paperwork already. Why hide it? These two probably mistook your kid's crying for an alien signal."
Fury frowned. "Kid?"
"Yeah—a child," Stacy said, turning back to Fury and speaking with perfect confidence. "Ben's distant relatives had an accident a couple of days ago. The kid was just brought here tonight. I was planning to help him file the guardianship paperwork at the station tomorrow. You know how messy these things get—especially with emergencies."
To sell the story further, he added, "Funny enough, my wife Helen just had a daughter—Gwen. I even joked with Ben that the two kids could grow up together. What, the federal government now investigating people for adopting orphans?"
Ben stared at George in astonishment—but quickly caught on.
"Yeah… the kid's a bit special. Lost his parents, you know. Cries a lot. I didn't want the neighbors gossiping."
Coulson glanced at the device in his hand.
The signal… was gone.
No matter how much he tapped it, it no longer lit up.
"Sir, the readings have disappeared," Coulson whispered. "Could've been a false positive."
Nick Fury's single eye moved back and forth between George Stacy and Ben Parker.
He was suspicious by nature—but also practical.
Without solid evidence, picking a fight in Queens with a respected veteran and a local police officer wasn't wise.
Not to mention—he wasn't yet the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Just an agent.
And according to intel, someone in the Parker household even had ties to S.H.I.E.L.D.—possibly higher up the chain.
The "adopted orphan" explanation was flimsy—
But it worked.
"…Fine."
Fury's hand moved away from his holster. He straightened his coat and gave Ben a long look.
"I hope the child grows up healthy. We'll be keeping an eye on this area. Major—if anything unusual happens, we'll be back."
"See yourselves out," Ben replied coldly. He had no intention of being polite to someone who wanted to take his child.
The black Chevrolet started up and soon disappeared down the street.
Only when the taillights vanished completely did Ben finally sag against the doorframe, as if all strength had left his body.
"George…" he said quietly, looking at the young officer beside him. "I owe you. Big time."
George put away his flashlight. The official demeanor faded, replaced by neighborly concern.
Lowering his voice, he said, "Ben, I don't care where that kid came from. I saw you buying diapers. As long as he doesn't suddenly grow tentacles and eat my Gwen… I've got your back."
"He's a good kid, George. You'll like him," Ben said sincerely.