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"Uncle Ben, are you okay?"
Peter looked genuinely worried as he steadied the older man.
Ben waved him off, clapping a hand on Sylas' shoulder. "I'm fine. This kid had my back."
Peter's expression darkened as he turned toward the two men who'd been fighting.
"Is beating each other up really that fun to you?"
"Oh yeah? You wanna join in, tough guy?"
One man swung at him.
Peter tilted his head slightly. The punch missed by a mile.
"That's it? That's your power level?" Peter mocked.
"Mother—!"
The guy lunged again, fuming, throwing a full-on haymaker.
To a regular person, it would've been a blur.
To Peter Parker?
It was slower than a loading screen.
He caught the man's wrist with one hand.
Then casually flicked the man's forehead.
Thunk.
"AAAAARGH!"
The guy collapsed, clutching his head. Spider-strength was no joke Peter was lucky he'd held back, or that forehead would be cracked like a walnut.
Peter glanced at the other guy.
"You want a turn?"
The second man shook his head so fast he nearly dislocated something, sprinted back to his car, and buckled himself in like a terrified toddler.
Ben crouched beside the first guy.
"Are you sure your head's okay?"
"I'm— I'm fine!"
He scrambled away, shooting Peter one last traumatized glance before disappearing into the traffic jam.
Ben sighed. "Peter… that was a bit excessive. Look at the size of that bump."
"But he tried to hit you," Peter shot back.
"Yes, but he didn't. A tap would've been enough. You didn't need to flick the man into next week."
"But—"
"No buts. Control your strength." Ben stood. "Next time, don't go so hard."
He walked back toward the car.
And for the first time in his life…
Peter disagreed with Uncle Ben.
Deeply.
If I don't hit back… people keep hitting.
Tompson stopped bothering me after I stood up for myself.
People only understand force when you show it.
And more importantly—
I have to protect the people I love.
Sylas stepped beside him. "You good?"
Peter forced a smile.
"I'm fine."
Sylas frowned. "That smile looks more broken than your camera lens."
Peter looked offended, but also… he couldn't deny the truth.
"Let's head back," Sylas said, pulling him toward the car.
The rest of the ride was silent.
Uncomfortably silent.
Even Aunt May kept giving Sylas that
"What happened?" Look.
He shrugged helplessly.
Eventually, the traffic cleared and they made it home.
---
Back at the Parker House
Ben returned the rental car.
Aunt May immediately cornered Peter as he walked inside.
"What happened out there?"
"Nothing, Aunt May." Peter grabbed his bag and disappeared into his room.
Slam.
Aunt May turned to Sylas. "Please check on him?"
"Of course."
Sylas put the grilling gear away, then knocked on Peter's door.
Knock knock.
He didn't wait for permission just opened it.
Peter sat on his bed scrolling through the pictures on his camera, staring hardest at the family photo.
"Do you think I was wrong?" Peter asked quietly. "Be honest."
Sylas took the camera, looked at the photo, then said:
"Don't overthink it. Do what you feel is right. And by the way this photo? Looks great."
Peter blinked.
Then smiled an actual, real smile.
"Yeah… it does."
"Rest up. Today was supposed to be fun. Didn't expect it to end with traffic and headaches."
Sylas left the room, stretching.
Behind him, Peter watched with a calmer expression.
---
Late That Night
Ben returned home.
Aunt May took his jacket.
"The boys asleep?"
"They showered and knocked out," she said. Then her voice tightened. "Ben… what happened? Peter came home and barely spoke."
Ben didn't answer.
He just walked to the bedroom.
Aunt May sighed. "Why does everyone hide things from me?"
---
Meanwhile… Across the Atlantic
"Sir, would you like something to drink?"
A flight attendant smiled politely at a "passenger" reading a newspaper.
The shadow ninja lowered the paper just enough to signal "No thanks," then nudged the ninja beside him.
The second ninja shook his head.
The attendant moved on.
The ninjas stayed completely still.
Germany was only an hour away.
Their mission was clear: No chaos. No killing. Just reach Bavaria.
Originally, they planned to hijack the plane…
But they realized that would end with half the world's military pointing guns at them the moment wheels hit the runway.
So instead, they had blended in among regular passengers by assaulting bathroom-goers, stealing their clothes, and calmly taking their seats.
Silent. Efficient. Terrifying.
Then—
"LISTEN UP! EVERYBODY FREEZE!"
Ten passengers suddenly jumped to their feet, guns drawn.
A hijacking crew.
Of course.
The plane erupted in screams.
The shadow ninjas all lifted their newspapers like synchronized swimmers.
Not. Our. Problem.
"We're only here for one person!" the hijacker leader shouted. "Where is Ms. Kamala?! Stand up!"
Nobody responded.
"Search everyone!"
Four gunmen split up, holding a photo as they scanned each row.
The ninjas slid their hands toward their belts, preparing their throwing knives.
If the hijackers threatened them, the flight would be over in sixty seconds.
They were six hours into the flight.
One hour left.
Sylas had absolutely no idea his elite team had just walked into a hostage crisis at 30,000 feet.
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