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Chapter 3: George Gets Shot
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 15:31:39 +0000 UTC
"Ohh—so you were staring at Mary Jane, huh?"
Lucas teased, patting Peter on the shoulder.
"Buddy, take my advice—forget about Mary Jane. She's not right for you. You can't handle her."
Lucas spoke with the tone of someone who had seen it all. Back in his previous life, watching the Spider-Man movies, he'd always thought Mary Jane and Peter were a terrible match. The real perfect pair had been Gwen. Only now, because of Lucas' presence, Peter and Gwen had never developed romantic feelings for each other—just a pure friendship.
"H-how did you know?!"
Peter's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't told anyone about his crush on Mary Jane.
"Of course I could tell. The way you look at her—it's like she's a candied sweet potato. If I couldn't figure that out, I'd gouge out my own eyes and quit this colorful world for good."
Lucas rolled his eyes. As someone who knew a thing or two about Marvel, he was more than aware of Peter and Mary Jane's little story.
"Buddy, you can't tell anyone, especially Gwen."
Peter grabbed Lucas' arm, practically begging.
"Pathetic. Don't ever tell people we're friends."
Lucas stood up and walked straight toward Gwen's table.
"Hey there, beauties!"
He slid casually into the seat right next to Mary Jane.
From the moment he came over, Mary Jane's gaze never left him.
"Have you ordered yet? Want me to get something for you?"
Lucas ignored her staring. He was already immune to that look—he'd grown up with people gazing at him like that.
"We've ordered already, just waiting on the food."
Gwen answered naturally, looping her arm around Lucas'.
Lucas didn't think much of it; Gwen often did this. But Mary Jane and Felicia both noticed the gesture immediately. They exchanged a glance but stayed silent.
Just then, Peter finally shuffled over, greeting the group awkwardly.
Felicia greeted him warmly, but Mary Jane didn't even glance his way. That crushed Peter, and he slumped into the seat beside Lucas, looking wounded.
Felicia caught on, smirked knowingly, but said nothing.
At that moment, Lucas' phone buzzed. It was Helen calling.
"Yo~ Mom, it's your cute and charming son speaking~"
His silly words drew laughter from Mary Jane and Felicia—they'd never seen anyone so shamelessly narcissistic. Though, to be fair, Lucas had the looks to back it up.
But then, Lucas' smile vanished. His expression hardened, and he shot up from his seat.
"Where are you right now?!"
His voice was low, urgent, deadly serious.
"…I'll be there right away."
He hung up and turned to Gwen.
"Gwen, come with me. Something happened at home."
Gwen froze for a moment, then her face paled. She knew Lucas would never joke about family matters.
"What happened? What's wrong?"
"On the way. I'll explain."
Lucas waved Peter over. "Take care of our bags."
"Do you need my help?"
Peter had never seen Lucas so frantic. His gut told him something serious had gone down.
Mary Jane and Felicia also asked if they could help.
"No. There's nothing you can do. If I need you, I'll ask."
Lucas shook his head, then pulled Gwen along, running out of the cafeteria.
"Lucas, tell me what's going on!" Gwen cried, gripping his arm tightly. She'd known him her whole life and had never seen him like this.
"Mom just called. Dad's been shot. He's in surgery right now. We have to get to the hospital."
Lucas' voice was heavy with anger and dread.
"What?! No… no!!"
The words hit Gwen like a thunderbolt. Tears streamed down her face, her whole body trembling.
Lucas squeezed her hand, his warm grip steadying her a little, though she couldn't stop crying.
They rushed to the hospital. Outside the operating room, Helen sat slumped on a bench, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together, looking like all the life had been drained from her.
"Mom!!"
Gwen ran to her, hugging her tightly. Both broke down in tears.
Lucas joined them, holding them both as he tried to calm them down.
Only after their sobbing eased did he speak.
"Mom… how did Dad get shot?"
Helen wiped her tears, her voice trembling.
"They said your father was leading a team chasing down gang members. A firefight broke out, and their leader shot him. By the time I got there, he was already in surgery."
"And the cops? Why are you here alone?"
Lucas' anger flared. The police commissioner, their top man, nearly killed—and they hadn't even left anyone behind to look after the family? Outrageous.
"Your Uncle John was here the whole time, but he just stepped out after a call. He said they caught one of the gangsters."
Lucas' fury eased slightly. He sat beside Helen, waiting with her.
Two long hours crawled by before the operating room doors finally opened. A weary doctor stepped out.
"Doctor! How is my dad?"
Gwen rushed forward, still streaked with tears.
"He's stable now. The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch."
The doctor left, and George Stacy was wheeled out, transferred to the ICU.
Lucas clenched his fists as he stared at his unconscious father. Rage burned in his chest. He swore he'd find out who pulled the trigger.
After staying with Gwen and Helen for a while, Lucas made an excuse to leave. He headed straight for NYPD headquarters.
Everyone knew him as the commissioner's adopted son, so no one stopped him. He quickly found John, who was drowning in paperwork and stress.
"Uncle John—who shot my dad?"
Lucas didn't waste time.
John glanced at him, troubled. He already knew which gang was responsible. They had even caught one of the thugs. But the guy was tight-lipped, clearly trained to wait for his lawyer.
John didn't want to tell Lucas anything. He could already see what Lucas was planning. George was barely out of surgery—John wasn't about to let the kid throw himself into danger.
Lucas noticed John's silence and strode toward the interrogation room. He'd already heard from Helen that one suspect had been caught. He was determined to get answers.
But John grabbed his arm. "Kid, I can't let you go in there. Not only is it against the rules, but those men are killers. Do you even understand what you're getting into? You're just a high schooler. Even if I told you, what could you possibly do?"
