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Peter and Sylas exchanged a look of pure panic, then bolted like their lives depended on it.
Behind them, the furious voice echoed through the trees:
"HEY! YOU LITTLE BRATS! I SWEAR I'LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!"
Femus was absolutely losing his mind.
After several minutes of sprinting…
"Uh… Sylas… was running really the best idea?" Peter gasped, chest stinging from his barely healed wound. "I mean—we literally ran. Like actual criminals."
Sylas threw an arm around his shoulder. "Dude, that wasn't on us. Nobody could've guessed that couple was into… whatever that was. We genuinely thought she needed help."
"But what if they circle back and find us again?" Peter looked around nervously. The last thing he wanted was Uncle Ben hearing about him breaking some weirdo's wrist.
Sylas flipped open the map. "Relax. We're at the far west side of the forest. They'd need a GPS and divine intervention to find us."
Peter exhaled, relieved. Though the guilt still hit him.
He… did throw the rock too hard.
---
Meanwhile…
Ten Shadow Ninjas, fully disguised, were already infiltrating JFK International Airport.
A staff member approached them. "Excuse me, can I help you?"
One ninja scribbled on a notepad:
Where is the ticket counter for flights to Germany?
"Oh, Germany, is that desk over there?" The staffer pointed cheerfully.
The ninja nodded politely then walked away.
Of course, none of them bought tickets.
They had no passports, no money, and no interest in paperwork.
Instead, they slipped into the boarding area, hid inside restrooms, then knocked people unconscious one by one and stole their clothes to blend in.
The plan was… chaotic, illegal, and flawless.
---
Back at the River
"You're back! And look now you can witness the true greatness of Uncle Ben!"
Ben proudly displayed a bucket containing five impressively large fish.
While the boys were away, he had gone full National Geographic.
"Awesome catch, Uncle Ben!" Sylas said.
Peter nodded quickly, though his mind was far away—mostly praying that Femus wasn't lurking behind any tree.
Ben squinted. "Peter, you okay?"
"Totally fine!" Peter lied instantly.
Soon, the whole family gathered for the best part of the trip: grilling lunch.
Ben cleaned the fish.
May set up the portable grill and arrange the charcoal.
Peter and Sylas helped slice beef for backup because none of them truly trusted Ben's fish.
Laughter carried across the river as they cooked.
By the time the sun began to dip, everyone felt peacefully full and tired.
---
"Pack it up, kids," Ben announced. "We should get going."
"Finally," Peter sighed in relief, clutching the grill stand. "No more worrying about random forest perverts."
Ben raised a brow. "What, already homesick?"
Peter froze. "Uhh… yeah. Home. Miss it. A lot."
Only Sylas understood the real reason.
At the parking lot—
"HEY! IT'S YOU TWO!"
A familiar angry voice echoed.
Femus.
His hand was bandaged like a cartoon character after a boxing match, and he was limping slightly.
Apparently, he'd been waiting at the parking area the entire time.
Too bad for him… the Parkers were already inside the car with the doors closed.
Ben glanced around. "Is someone calling us?"
"Nope!"
"Nope!"
Peter and Sylas said at the exact same time.
Ben shrugged and drove away.
Both boys slowly leaned back in their seats, letting out their biggest exhale of the day.
But Ben… felt something was off, Those two were definitely hiding something.
Then—
SCREEECH!
Ben slammed the brakes. Everyone jerked forward in their seats.
"Ben!? What happened?" May steadied herself.
"The car in front of us braked suddenly," Ben said, getting out to look. "Looks like there was a crash."
The road ahead was blocked. Cars were already jammed bumper-to-bumper behind them too.
No one was moving anytime soon.
And then New Yorkers being New Yorkers—
A full-blown roadside fistfight erupted between two drivers.
"Hit him!"
"Knock his dumb head off!"
"WOOO!"
People were cheering like it was UFC on the asphalt.
"Fighting solves nothing!" Ben declared and stepped out.
Sylas' eyes widened. "Oh no."
He rushed after him. "Peter, come on!"
Just in time—
"Mind your business, old man!"
One driver swung at Ben's face.
Sylas yanked Ben's shirt from behind, pulling him out of range just as the punch whooshed past.
Peter's eyes narrowed.
Someone tried to hit Uncle Ben?
No. Absolutely not.
Something fierce flashed across Peter's face.
This was the fastest way to get him angry—
Threaten his family.
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