At the same time, although Peter had gradually recovered, S.H.I.E.L.D.
was dealing with a new problem.
Inside the office of Nick Fury—
Fury paced back and forth, irritation written all over his face.
Bloodshot veins crept across his eyes.
On the screen before him was a classified operation report—accessible only to Level 8 agents.
Operation Codename: Twilight
Targets: Richard Parker & Mary Parker
Status: Missing
Last Known Location: Algerian border
Note: Wreckage of a crashed aircraft discovered on-site.
Survival probability… extremely low.
“HYDRA got there first,” Fury said coldly, his tone edged with frustration.
HYDRA
By now, he had already taken over as director.
Standing beside him, Phil Coulson had also risen to Level 8.
“They cleaned up Richard and the others… and took the Super Soldier research with them.
We’ve lost top agents—and we’re left cleaning up the mess.”
Coulson’s expression was grave.
“Then… what about their son, Peter Parker?
He’s currently living with his uncle’s family.
Should we make contact?
Richard might have left something behind.”
Fury fell silent.
He thought back to that day eight years ago—Ben Parker’s stubborn defiance, his background, and the way the local community shielded him.
“…No,” Fury finally said, shaking his head.
“Leave the Parkers alone for now.”
“Why, sir?
The boy could be important.”
“Because that household doesn’t have just one ‘key’ individual,” Fury said, turning around.
“Do you remember the older boy—Clark Parker?”
Coulson nodded slightly.
“We’ve monitored him for eight years,” Fury continued.
“And found nothing.
His life is clean—too clean.
Average in every possible way.”
“And that,” he said with a cold smirk, “is exactly what makes it abnormal.”
He pulled up another file—Clark Parker’s complete record.
“Medical reports: never been sick.
Not even a cold.
School records: average grades, nothing remarkable.
Community feedback: kind, obedient… a little slow.”
“All the data points to one conclusion—he’s perfectly ordinary.”
Fury’s gaze sharpened.
“But my instincts say otherwise.”
“A boy who appeared out of nowhere eight years ago.
Physical abilities beyond normal children.
And now living with the son of a top agent.”
“Coulson… don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence?”
Fury opened one final record—the last message sent before Richard disappeared.
“Look at this.”
“…’Trust Clark.'”
He froze.
“So our strategy doesn’t change,” Fury said decisively.
“Continue surveillance.
I want to know everything that happens in that household—big or small.”
Time slipped by like water through open fingers.
Before anyone realized it—
The calendar had turned to late August, 2008.
Morning sunlight streamed through the window, waking Clark from his sleep.
According to official records, he was sixteen.
In reality—
He sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet sigh as he looked at his body.
He had grown.
A lot.
With age—and constant exposure to the yellow sun—his Kryptonian physiology had accelerated his development far beyond normal limits.
Now, he stood over 1.85 meters tall.
He didn’t look like a high school student.
He looked like a grown man.
To hide it, he had always worn those dull black-framed glasses, maintaining the image of a harmless, slightly awkward “nerd.”
But now—
He was about to enter high school.
And he didn’t want to keep playing that role.
So he made a change.
A small one.
He stopped wearing the glasses.
That was it.
Yet compared to his physical growth, something else troubled him far more—
His mind.
His “super brain.”
What had once been fast thinking had now evolved into something terrifying—processing power beyond human comprehension, rivaling technology thousands of years ahead.
If he wanted to—
He could solve countless problems in the world.
And that was exactly the problem.
It scared him.
Because nothing felt hidden anymore.
Everything became predictable.
Understandable.
Calculable.
That kind of absolute rationality—
It made him feel like he was drifting away from being human.
Becoming something else.
Something closer to a machine—
Or a god.
And so—
Clark made a decision no one could have expected.
He chose to suppress it.
To deliberately limit his own mind—
Refusing to think beyond human boundaries.
Clark felt that this choice reflected the most human part of himself.
Even with only his physical abilities, he could already handle threats on a cosmic scale.
He didn’t need more.
He would rather spend his days studying, training, living step by step—
Than become some cold, hyper-rational version of Superman.
He just wanted to be someone warm.
A good son to Ben and May.
A good brother to Peter Parker.
“Clark!
Peter!
Breakfast!
Unless you want to be late on your first day of school!”
May’s energetic voice rang out from downstairs.
“Coming!” Clark replied, getting out of bed.
The door next to his room opened, and fifteen-year-old Peter stepped out, his brown curly hair a complete mess.
Thanks to the genius intellect inherited from his parents, he had skipped a grade and was now entering Midtown High alongside Clark.
Yes—
Their family had produced a prodigy.
Peter clutched a thick copy of Advanced Mathematics in his arms, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he mumbled, “Morning, Clark.
I updated the web-shooter design last night.
Where do you think we can get high-strength carbon fiber materials?”
Ever since that stormy night years ago, Peter had channeled all his longing for his parents into an intense passion for science.
Of course—
He hadn’t been bitten by a spider or gained any superpowers.
This was simply one of his projects.
“Brush your teeth first, genius,” Clark said with a smile, patting his shoulder.
“Or Ben’s going to smack you with the newspaper.”
After washing up, the two headed downstairs.
The TV was already on.
A breaking news headline scrolled across the screen:
“CEO of Stark Industries, billionaire Tony Stark, has gone missing after his convoy was attacked by armed militants in Afghanistan during a demonstration of the ‘Jericho’ missile.
The military is currently conducting a full-scale search…”
At the table, Ben spread jam onto a slice of bread while glancing at the news.
He had been working at the Daily Bugle for over a decade, serving as deputy editor—second only to J.
Jonah Jameson, and sometimes even more influential when it came to decision-making.
After all, Jameson had a habit of delivering news in fits of explosive rage.
“Another arrogant billionaire getting swallowed by the war machine,” Ben muttered, setting the newspaper down.
“Jameson’s called me five times already this morning, demanding we dig into Stark Industries’ stock situation.”
“Don’t overwork yourself, Ben,” May said as she brought over plates of eggs and bacon, her expression tinged with concern.
“I’m more worried about those street cases you’ve been looking into.
The news said there was another armored criminal in Brooklyn last night—robbed an armored truck.
Even the police couldn’t handle it.”
“Don’t worry, May.
I’m from the 101st Airborne,” Ben said with a relaxed smile, then turned to look at the two boys.
“First day of high school, huh?
Ready for a new chapter?
Remember—don’t go looking for trouble.
But if someone comes after you…”
He paused, his tone firm.
“A Parker never backs down.”
“Understood, sir!” Clark and Peter snapped into mock salutes at the same time.
May couldn’t help but laugh.