POV: First Person (Silas)
The living room is dead quiet.
TV screen flickering, low voices on the news. Everyone sits frozen—like if we move too fast, the world might collapse again. My mom's wrapped in a blanket, whispering to herself. Michelle looks pale. Brian stands by the window, arms crossed, eyes glassy.
I grab the remote and turn up the volume.
"—engaged in a mid-air battle with an unidentified goblin-like figure—"
Footage plays: Spider-Man dodging bombs, Green Goblin diving like a demon on a blade. Buildings burning. Glass exploding. Screams.
And then—me.
Caught on camera in bursts. Blurred black armor. Smoke flickers.
A child falling. Me diving. Teleport. Landing in a crouched position—armored, cloaked, holding her safe.
The camera zooms in. The crowd behind me stares, stunned. The reporter's voice returns.
"The figure you just saw is believed to be the same vigilante operating in Detroit earlier this year. Known by the alias 'Sentinel,' he vanished from public eye several months ago. Today marks his first recorded appearance in New York."
"Is this a one-time rescue effort? Or has Detroit's shadow just moved east?"
Brian lets out a low whistle. "That guy was something else..."
He glances at me briefly, like he's trying to read my face. Michelle, still hugging her legs, mutters, "He looked terrifying... but he saved all those people."
I try not to react. Try not to breathe.
The broadcast cuts—new voice, angrier.
"SPIDER-MAN. IS. A. MENACE!"
I groan. "Oh no."
There he is. J. Jonah Jameson in full, booming fury.
"Don't let the costume fool you! That Spider-Menace brings destruction wherever he goes! And now he's got a teleporting sidekick?! What's next—clones?! Demons?! Space lizards?!"
"I've said it before and I'll say it again: They're not heroes. They're accidents waiting to happen!"
Brian rolls his eyes and changes the channel.
The silence returns.
Except for my mom. Her voice cracks in Krio.
"Dis no normal... dis na madness, dis na America."
[This isn't normal... this is madness, this is America.]
She clutches me like I'm the only thing still solid. I hold her tighter.
"I'm okay, Ma. You're okay. We're safe now."
She shakes her head. "Safe? We were in heaven's hands today."
No one corrects her.
Michelle finally breaks the silence. "What about the wedding?"
Brian looks at her, serious. "We still do it. Just sooner."
"Sooner?"
"Yeah. This weekend. Get married, then we leave the country. Just you and me."
Mom nods. "Yes. Go. Get away from all this madness."
No one argues.
Later that night, I sit near the edge of a rooftop, hoodie up, eyes on the city. The skyline pulses with lights like nothing happened. But I know better.
This place is cursed.
Or maybe just... cracked.
I'm still lost in thought when I see a flicker of red zip through the distance.
Spider-Man.
Swinging like it's just another Tuesday.
I teleport.
He doesn't even have time to react.
I appear beside him mid-air, grab his forearm, and vanish us both.
We reappear on the rooftop I was just on. He stumbles, twisting mid-step into a crouch, hands up, ready to web me to the wall.
I raise my hands, palms open.
"Relax. Not here to fight."
He squints behind his lenses. "Well, you've got the whole 'shadowy snatch-and-vanish' vibe down. Bit on the creepy side."
I shrug. "Let's call it a truce."
"A truce with who?"
"Call me Sentinel."
He straightens a little. "Okay... cool name. Sounds like you guard a mall at night."
I grin. "Better than Bug Boy."
"Ouch. You wound me."
"You've dealt with that Goblin guy before?" I ask.
Spider-Man sighs. "Yeah. He's a pain in the ass. Last time it was just glider tricks and pumpkin bombs. I remember thinking, 'What the hell is a pumpkin bomb?' Turns out, he's basically a Halloween-themed war crime."
I snort.
"He's stronger now," he says. "Faster. Smarter. Almost like he's been upgraded."
"You know who he is?"
"Not for sure. But I've been following leads. My best guess? Norman Osborn. Rich, shady CEO of Oscorp. Big on science. Bigger on not answering questions."
"He one of yours?"
"Not officially. But he has the resources. And the creep factor."
We sit in silence for a second, watching headlights crawl along distant bridges.
Then I say, "I've been doing this for eight months. Already feels like a lifetime."
He looks at me. "No way."
"Way."
He laughs. "Same here. Eight months of webs and chaos. Thought I was the only one."
"You're not."
"You ever meet anyone else in the game?" I ask. "Other heroes?"
"Oh yeah," he says. "I tried to join the Fantastic Four when I started out."
I turn toward him. "You're serious?"
"Yup. Thought they paid salary. Showed up at the Baxter Building uninvited. Let's just say... they weren't hiring."
"Did they kick you out?"
"With extreme politeness. But yeah. We've teamed up since, though. They're good people. Especially Ben. Big orange rock guy? Total softie."
I shake my head, amused.
"Met some of the X-Men, too," he continues. "Not as welcoming. Bunch of them have mind powers or can melt buildings. Makes a guy with webs feel kinda basic."
"And the Avengers?"
"Oh, them? Yeah, they're the big guns. Handle world-ending stuff—alien invasions, time travel paradoxes, gods throwing tantrums."
"That real?"
"Dead serious. Team lineup's stacked: Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, Wasp, Ant-Man... and Black Widow joined up later. You don't call those guys unless the planets on fire."
"So, they handle the impossible."
"Exactly. Cosmic problems, not corner store shootouts. Which means guys like you and me—we get everything else."
"Sounds like we got the worse deal."
He smirks. "Yeah... but we don't see ourselves as 'minor' heroes. Just the kind who don't need a Heli carrier to get stuff done."
I stand up, stretch my arms—
—and teleport away.
Thirty seconds later, I reappear.
Two bottles of Coke under one arm. A bag of Doritos, a pack of Snickers, and a few more snacks balanced in my hand.
I toss him a Coke.
He catches it mid-air. "Bro. You just robbed a corner store?"
"I'll leave cash later."
He cracks it open. "Fair."
We sit on the ledge again, drinking soda, biting into chocolate like it isn't the end of the world.
"Okay," he says. "I gotta ask—what does teleporting feel like?"
I look at him. "Like... pulling yourself through a crack in the world. It's cold. Loud. You never really get used to it."
I pause. Then add, "It's like slipping through a tear in something bigger—like falling into a space between everything else. I call it the Shadow verse, or sometimes the Dark Void, though… that sounds kinda lame when I say it out loud."
He snorts. "Dark Void sounds like a metal band."
"Yeah. Not the vibe I'm going for."
He laughs. "Still—pretty metal."
I chuckle. "My powers are mostly shadow-based."
I hold out my hand.
A swirl of shadow coils in my palm, then solidifies into a blade. A kunai. Then a shuriken.
He leans in. "Okay... that's actually pretty sick."
I let the shadows fade. "Your turn."
He taps his chest. "All spider-based. Strength, speed, reflexes. Wall-crawling, web-shooters."
"How'd you get 'em?"
"Radioactive spider bit me."
I blink. "Wait... you ate the spider or something?"
"No! It bit me!"
"God damn. That's worse."
He laughs. "What about you?"
"I put on a weird-looking belt. Woke up the next day with shadows clinging to my back like a second spine."
He makes a face. "I think your origin's creepier."
"I know."
We sit there a while longer.
Two heroes talking, eating snacks, and laughing on the edge of a broken skyline.
And for the first time since I put on the belt... I don't feel like the world is trying to kill me.