Don't Trust Your Instinct Alone
"Kam, now!" Peter shouted as he sprinted straight at the enemy in front of him.
His spider sense was screaming at him with absurd intensity, to the point that trying to tell one warning from another was pointless. It was like an alarm that had gone off and refused to shut down until the person in front of him was beaten.
Actually beating him was another matter.
But he had no other choice.
Kamala stood behind him with an unusually serious expression. She raised both hands toward Peter, and a platform formed in midair right in front of him. Peter leapt onto it just as a full path began to take shape, appearing in different positions and sizes. Some were wide, others barely big enough for a single foot.
With his sharp reflexes, Peter used those platforms to spring around his opponent in perfect coordination.
He launched himself like a coiled spring packed with energy. He spun, built momentum, and drove himself hard toward Owen, who did not even bother to shift his stance.
When Peter's fist was about to connect with his face, the man simply caught his wrist with ease, stopping him midair as if it weighed nothing. Owen did not even blink.
Peter didn't stop.
Even with his wrist trapped, he twisted his body fast, wrapping himself around the man's arm. In less than a second, he executed a clean joint lock, trying to throw him off balance.
The man simply released him and, with the same casual ease, slapped Peter across the face.
It was enough to stun him for a split second.
The next instant, a blow landed against his side and sent him flying straight toward Kamala.
Her eyes widened as she saw him hurtling in her direction. She covered her head as a wall of light appeared in front of her like a defensive shield.
Peter slammed into the barrier hard.
The air left his lungs instantly. It felt like crashing into something harder than steel.
"Uh… sorry, Peter," Kamala said when she saw him sprawled in front of her.
"No… it's fine. This is how I cushion the pain," Peter replied, though the strain in his voice did not make it very convincing.
"Watch out!" Kamala shouted when she saw something flying toward them.
She raised another shield quickly, placing it right in front of Peter this time. Whatever was coming smashed into the barrier and shattered it with ease, like glass breaking in midair.
Another object shot straight at her head.
The ball struck her forehead with a sharp, hollow thud. The impact knocked her down onto the ground. She grabbed her head in pain as the object that hit her bounced once, twice, then rolled to a stop at her feet.
It was a ball.
"Instructor, that hurts!" she yelled, glaring at Owen, who was observing them as if grading an exam. He pulled out a tablet and began writing something down.
"Alright, we can call it for today," he said calmly while looking at the two of them.
Both of them had been sent flying more than once in less than five minutes.
Hits, shattered shields, a ball straight to the forehead.
Nothing gentle.
But nothing dangerous either.
Peter, finally catching his breath, let out a long sigh and dropped flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Kamala, on the other hand, was still annoyed as she felt the small bump forming on her forehead, muttering something about telling Wanda.
Owen chose to ignore that.
"Even if you did not improve as much as I expected, at least you are using your powers better than before. That is good. You will not lose control so easily… or end up stuck in a tree after climbing up to rescue a cat," Owen added, fixing his gaze on Kamala, who for some reason had a strange history with saving cats from trees and then getting herself into trouble.
She pouted slightly and looked away, pretending not to notice.
"Still, Peter needs to improve the way he relies on his own senses. You are still making mistakes. I do not know if you noticed, but you tried to apply a lock to my right hand. If instead of hitting you I had released heat… you would be burned to a crisp right now," Owen said, looking at him seriously.
"It is hard when every move I make sets off my spider sense. Even standing still makes it warn me that I am in danger. I cannot focus properly on my attacks like that," Peter replied, the complaint aimed more at his own power than at Owen.
"That's because you give your spider sense too much importance. It's useful in a fight. It helps you react faster. But if you let it control every single move you make…"
Owen vanished in a red flash.
He reappeared right in front of Peter, his fist stopped barely an inch from his face. The wind from the restrained force pushed Peter's hair back.
Peter's eyes went wide.
Unlike before, when danger had seemed to scream at him with every movement, this time there was nothing.
No warning.
No pressure.
No instinct pulling at his nerves.
Just silence.
And then, suddenly, a fist hovering inches from his face.
"…your own reflexes won't improve on their own," Owen finished before lowering his hand calmly.
"Alright. You can rest this week. The adults will be a bit busy. Though Nicolás might still be around. You can use the time to work on your aim with him," he added casually.
"R-right," Peter replied, still trying to process what had just happened.
Kamala had already disappeared, most likely off to complain to Wanda.
Owen looked at Peter for a moment.
"Don't worry. You improved a lot more than you think. Though we still have a problem with how much you hold back," he said.
"Well… I just don't want to hurt anyone," Peter answered, a little embarrassed.
"That figures. But think about this. If you hold back, sometimes your enemy won't go down with the first hit. And that gives them time. Time to hurt someone standing behind you. Time for a desperate move."
It was not a scolding.
It was a warning.
"Mm… I'll keep that in mind," Peter said.
…
Owen left the training room after finishing the day with the two kids. He walked toward V.I.T.A.E.'s renovated living room.
Nicolás, Pietro, and Wanda were there, chatting calmly. When they saw him, Wanda gave him a soft smile. Pietro and Nicolás, on the other hand, were wearing amused ones. For some reason.
Those two idiots were probably trying to convince Wanda of something.
Owen had no proof.
But he had no doubts either.
He was about to say something when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was Banner calling; the one who was supposed to be watching over the island. And the so-called prisoners.
He answered calmly.
"Did something happen?" Owen asked, since Banner seemed to be enjoying a vacation over there and was only supposed to call in specific situations. Besides, things should have been quiet for a few days while the political fight to amend certain points of the Registration Act began. He was supposed to be resting.
"Oh, nothing serious. Just calling to let you know the new 'prisoners' arrived. It was fun seeing who you sent. Though it looks like you didn't tell him anything about the island. When he stepped off the ship he was completely confused… and ready to fight. You should've seen him," Banner said, clearly amused.
As he spoke, confusion slowly crept across Owen's face.
"What? What prisoners are you talking about? I didn't send anyone there," Owen replied, now clearly puzzled.
The three people sitting in the room looked at him when they noticed his expression.
Nicolás, after hearing Owen's words, felt his smile falter slightly. As if he had just remembered something he had forgotten.
"Oh. Right. I forgot," he said calmly. "Don't worry. It's just Bucky and Steve. I thought it would be fun for Cap to take a little vacation, so I set up a small trap with a ball."
He smiled, openly entertained.
Owen stared at him for a moment.
"You sent Bucky too?" he asked seriously.
"Yes. Is there a problem?" Nicolás replied, no longer smiling.
He did not have a spider sense like Peter.
He did not need one.
Trouble was already moving.