"I'm heading upstairs, Aunt May," Silas said after helping with the dishes.
May smiled. "Go on, kid. There's a cup of hot milk on the table—take it with you."
"Thanks, Aunt May." Silas grabbed the milk and headed to Peter's room.
He knocked on the door. Knock, knock, knock.
A crash came from inside, followed by Peter's voice. "Come in!"
Click. The door opened.
"What're you up to?" Silas asked, holding the milk with a grin.
Peter, at his computer, sighed in relief. "Oh, it's just you, Silas."
"What's wrong?" Silas stepped closer.
Peter hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't. "...Nothing. Why're you here?"
Silas raised the milk. "Just to chat."
"You seemed different today," Silas said. "Taking on Thompson like that."
Peter fumbled for words. "I don't know… it just… happened, you know?"
His tone was halting, clearly unsure how to explain his new abilities.
"I get it," Silas said, setting the milk on the desk and massaging Peter's shoulders. "But you'd better protect me from now on."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Please, I know you're tougher than me."
Growing up, despite being the older brother, Peter often relied on Silas to stand up for him in fights. But now, with his new strength, Peter wasn't so sure who was tougher.
"Silas, can I ask you something?" Peter said.
"Go for it," Silas replied, nodding.
"If you suddenly got, like, crazy strong powers, what would you do?" Peter asked, clearly wrestling with his own newfound abilities.
He couldn't imagine using them just to fight at school—it wasn't him.
"Hmm… no clue. That kinda thing doesn't happen," Silas said, knowing exactly what Peter meant but keeping his own powers secret for now.
"Wanna play a game?" Silas changed the subject.
Peter shook his head. "Nah, I've got that expo report to finish."
"Crap, me too!" Silas groaned, grabbing his milk and heading to his room.
Peter chuckled, watching him go. "Close the door, will ya?"
Click.
Back in his room, Silas summoned a Shadow Ninja. "Know how to write a report?"
The ninja tilted its head, confused.
"Come on, you're part of the ultimate fear-inducing Shadow Corps. I believe in you!" Silas handed it a pen and paper.
The report, due Monday, was from the science expo. But Silas had bigger plans tonight.
At the staircase, he called out, "Aunt May, Uncle Ben, goodnight! I'm beat, gonna sleep."
"Okay!" May replied.
Ben, on the couch, glanced at his watch, puzzled. "It's not even eight. First time he's gone to bed this early."
"Probably tired from staying up late every night," May said.
In Silas's Room
Silas summoned another Shadow Ninja, dressed it in his pajamas, and had it lie in his bed, pretending to sleep.
He checked on the ninja writing the report at his desk, then flicked off the light. Shadow Ninjas had night vision—darkness was their domain, so the lack of light didn't faze them.
Satisfied, Silas nodded. He donned his black ninja outfit, put on Tara's brown mask from Jackie Chan Adventures, and opened the window. With a leap, he was gone.
Rooftops
A dark figure bounded across the city's high-rises—Silas.
"This feels like flying," he said, exhilarated.
His ninja-like agility, amplified by his spider powers, made him even swifter. Clad in black, he blended seamlessly into the night.
Woo-woo! Woo-woo!
"Police sirens?" Silas paused on a rooftop, peering at the streets below. Cop cars sped by, clearly on a mission.
"Sounds like fun," Silas muttered, deciding to follow and test his speed.
After ten minutes of pursuit, the police cars surrounded a silver van.
"Robbers? Terrorists?" Silas mused, clinging to a high wall.
If they were robbers, he could score some cash. If terrorists, a gunfight might be worth watching.
On the Ground
"Everyone, stay sharp!" the lead officer commanded.
Four police cars had boxed in the van, but the criminals were armed, so caution was key.
"You in the van! Drop your weapons, raise your hands, and walk toward us!" an officer shouted.
No response.
The officer repeated the command, but the van remained silent.
The police exchanged glances, loaded their weapons, and cautiously approached.
Suddenly, a hand emerged from the van's window, tossing a grenade.
Click! Ding!
"Get down!" an officer yelled.
Boom!
As the explosion rang out, the criminals poured out, opening fire.
"Die, pigs!" a scarred man bellowed, laughing.
Rat-tat-tat!
A firefight erupted. The grenade had caught the police off guard, forcing them to take cover behind their cars.
From his perch, Silas counted six criminals, brazenly showing their faces.
"Pack it up! We're moving out! Meet at the usual spot!" the scarred man shouted.
The robbers moved with precision, fleeing into an alley, the scarred man carrying a black bag from the van.
"After them!" the police shouted, recovering from the initial assault. The criminals' dispersal gave them a chance to pursue.
"Interesting. What's in that bag?" Silas wondered. If it was valuable, he wanted it.
The scarred man, running and checking for pursuers, didn't notice Silas above him.
"The cops can't keep up," Silas observed, tracking the alley's layout. The only exit was guarded by four officers.
"Time to move!" Silas dropped from the wall. The scarred man heard a noise and looked up, only to see a black blur. Silas's foot connected with his head, slamming him into the wall.
Silas snatched the black bag. "Thanks, I'll take this."
He'd held back to avoid killing the man—he needed a scapegoat, not a corpse.
"Damn you!" the scarred man growled, reaching for his gun. But Silas leaped onto the wall and vanished into the night.
"Kid! I'll find you!" the man shouted as police voices closed in. Gritting his teeth, he fled.
The entire heist took less than five seconds—smooth and flawless.
"Let's see what's inside," Silas said, landing on a rooftop. He opened the black bag to inspect its contents.