"How is this possible?!" Colonel Roddy stared at the screen in disbelief. His eyes widened as he watched the two figures—Peter and Felicia—soaring through the skies. He had never imagined that the unidentified flying objects would turn out to be two people.
"Colonel, what are your orders? Do we continue the pursuit?" a pilot's slightly panicked voice crackled over the communicator.
"Pursue them! I don't care what kind of monster they are—violating our military no-fly zone is a blatant provocation. Such behavior must be punished. They must be taken down!"
"Understood!" The pilot didn't hesitate. Upon receiving Colonel Roddy's orders, he immediately pushed the control stick forward, continuing the chase.
"Boss, they're still coming. The fire-control radar's locked on to us again," Felicia reported.
"Got it," Peter replied calmly. "If they want to play, we'll play—our way. Felicia, time to learn some real air combat. Watch carefully."
With that, Peter disengaged the AI-assisted operation of the 9S system and switched to 100% manual control. Though manual control lacked many of the AI's automation functions, it gave the user complete freedom—allowing them to unleash their full potential.
Of course, this required an operator with absolute mastery over their body. Without that, such control would be useless. But Peter was no ordinary human.
Having injected both the Lizard Serum and Spider Serum, Peter had attained a level of physical control far beyond normal. Every nerve, every muscle, obeyed his will with unmatched precision. With that kind of control, he could perform aerial maneuvers no machine—or AI—could replicate.
He reduced his flight speed to Mach 1.
Immediately, the F22 fighter that had been tailing him rapidly closed in. It was nearly on top of him, seemingly about to crash. But just as the collision seemed inevitable, Peter twisted his body and performed a flawless mid-air backflip, assisted by the anti-gravity system built into his nano-suit.
The fighter's wing grazed past his suit—and in that exact moment, Peter slashed with his Lizard claws.
The reinforced claws ripped clean through the F22's wing, slicing it in two. The fighter, now with only one wing, lost control. It spiraled downward, heading for a crash.
But Peter didn't leave it at that.
He shot forward, closing the distance in seconds, and raised his palm. A pulse of energy blasted from his palm cannon, striking the aircraft before it hit the ground.
Boom!
The renowned F22 fighter erupted in a fiery explosion, lighting up the sky like a blossom of flame. The brilliance of it dazzled the airmen below.
At that moment, the fire-control radar of the second F22 fighter locked onto Peter again. This time, it launched a Sidewinder missile at him.
As the missile streaked toward him, Peter didn't release flares. Instead, he accelerated. Rapidly.
Matching the Sidewinder's speed, he flew alongside it. For a moment, the missile couldn't gain ground—it couldn't hit him.
Then, Peter extended both arms and fired twin strands of Spider Silk. The strands adhered to the missile's surface.
Instantly, Peter cut his speed and fell back behind the missile. Using the traction from the Spider Silk and his own anti-gravity agility, he twisted mid-air and yanked hard.
The missile, still armed and active, veered wildly—straight toward the pursuing F22.
The pilot, unprepared for such a surreal move, could only scream in panic as the missile he had just launched slammed directly into his jet.
Boom!
Another explosion shook the air. In less than sixty seconds, two of the Air Force's most advanced jets had been neutralized—by one man.
In the Air Force Base control room, everyone stared at the screen, mouths agape.
The F22, considered a near-invincible machine in daily operations, had just been humiliated by a single, unidentified, humanoid enemy. It was unbelievable.
If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, not one of them would've believed it. Not even under threat of death.
The control room fell deathly silent.
You could've heard a pin drop.
All eyes turned to Colonel Roddy, waiting for new orders.
The Colonel gritted his teeth, fists clenched tight. His face was a storm of rage, his anger ready to erupt like a volcano.
But he held it in.
"Cease pursuit immediately," he ordered coldly. "We can't afford more unnecessary casualties. Save all combat footage—every frame. I'll send it to my superiors for evaluation."
He yanked off his headset, slammed it onto the table, and stormed out of the control room.
Meanwhile, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, two newly captured images of Peter and Felicia—both clad in their nano-suits—landed on Nick Fury's desk.
"When did this happen?" Nick asked, his gaze fixed on Natasha across from him, his tone sharp with curiosity.
"Ten minutes ago," Natasha replied. "Colonel Roddy of the Air Force Base submitted the report."
"These two photos—any other data?"
"No. The intruders disabled the Air Force Base's entire network. These photos were transmitted through satellite communication only."
Nick narrowed his eyes. "Flying black battle suits... with cyberwarfare capabilities? Since when did our world produce such a genius in tech?"
"Any word from Tony Stark? Could Stark Industries be behind this?"
"No contact with Stark. Which means this probably isn't his doing. It's likely a new force—or an external one."
"External?" Nick said, his voice tense. "If this really is an outside force, we have a much bigger problem. They entered U.S. airspace—and we had no idea?!"
"Natasha, track down where these two airborne intruders first appeared. If we can't locate their launch point, narrow it down to their entry coordinates. I want to know exactly who we're dealing with."
"Understood. I'll begin immediately."
"Oh, and about our last lead—Curt Connors. Any updates?"
Natasha shook her head. "No conclusive results yet, but we've identified a key suspect—Peter Parker. He's the only person known to have both a conflict with Curt and access to his Lizard Serum research."
"You think he also injected the serum—and killed Curt?"
"That's one of the possibilities. Our team is still conducting a covert investigation. It'll take time."
"I see," Nick murmured, eyes drifting back to the photos on his desk. He stared at them in silence, thoughts racing.
Back in the sky, after disposing of the F22 fighters, Peter and Felicia flew out of the no-fly zone with casual ease.
With no further pursuit, Felicia let out a sigh of relief. She turned to Peter, her eyes glowing with admiration.
"Boss, what now? Should we head back?"
Peter shook his head. "No. If I'm right, they're tracking us now—scrambling to trace our location. If we return home, they'll be on our doorstep within hours."
"Then what do we do?"
"We fly out of the country. Straight to the Middle East."
"The Middle East? That's over ten thousand kilometers away! And we'll have to cross the Atlantic. Do we even have enough power for that?"
"Of course. These nano-suits are powered by miniature nuclear reactors. They can keep us flying around the globe multiple times without needing to recharge. The Atlantic? That's nothing."
With that, Peter and Felicia activated their thrusters and accelerated—hard.
They reached Mach 2.5, blasting through the sky with thunderous sonic booms. Their bodies became blurs of motion, vanishing into the clouds at breakneck speed.
They were heading straight for the Middle East.
Their next objective: rescue Tony Stark.
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