It’s been a few months since Jefferson was knighted at police captain of the NYPD.

Things have been primarily good since then, despite finding out Miles, his only son, has been Spider-Man #2 for a year and some months.

Besides coming to terms with that, things are good, he can’t complain. He accepts his son—he got his A+ in Spanish—and his station is steady. They’re just steady, with all the mainstream villains and such.

Tonight, however, is upside down completely.

They got called to a homicide; a brutal part of Queens. The scene is just incredibly heartbreaking.

Now, he’s here. The body bags are being wheeled into the ambulances, the officers are numbering the evidence and taping it off, and you’re here; the sole survivor.

Jefferson steps closer before sitting on the curb next to you. He isn’t the first officer or even paramedic to try speaking to you. He doesn’t even know what he should say to you, to comfort you. He should’ve payed more attention in sensitivity training.