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"Thanks for the help," Aunt May said warmly as Sylas finished wiping the counter.
"No problem, Aunt May. I'm heading upstairs," he replied.
"Wait—there's a glass of warm milk on the table. Take it with you before it gets cold," she reminded him.
"Got it." Sylas smiled, grabbed the mug, and made his way toward Peter's room.
He knocked. Knock, knock, knock.
A muffled crash came from inside. Then, "Come in!"
Sylas opened the door, grinning. "What's going on in here?"
Peter sighed in relief. "Oh—it's just you, Sylas, you scared me."
Sylas stepped closer. "Everything okay?"
Peter hesitated, fingers fidgeting on the keyboard. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."
"Thinking, huh? About the part where you punched Flash Thompson today?" Sylas teased.
Peter looked sheepish. "I don't even know what happened. I just… reacted. It was like my body moved on its own."
Sylas nodded slowly. "I get it. But next time you unlock some mysterious super-reflexes, make sure you use them to protect your favorite brother, yeah?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "Please. You've been the tough one since we were kids."
He wasn't wrong. Even as the younger brother, Sylas had always been the one standing up for him. Still, Peter couldn't help but notice his brother had been acting differently lately. Sharper. Stronger.
"Hey, Sylas," Peter asked after a pause, "if you suddenly got some kind of incredible power… what would you do with it?"
Sylas's expression froze for just a second. "Hard to say," he replied lightly. "Stuff like that doesn't really happen, does it?"
Peter gave a small smile. "Yeah. Guess not."
"Anyway, wanna play something before bed?" Sylas asked, eager to shift the mood.
"Can't. I've got a report to finish."
"Oh crap—I forgot about that!" Sylas downed the rest of his milk in one gulp. "Good luck, bro!"
"Close the door!" Peter called after him.
Click.
...
Later That Night
Inside his own room, Sylas summoned a shadow ninja from the inky aura swirling around his hand.
"Can you write reports?" he asked.
The ninja tilted its head in confusion.
"Eh, worth a shot." Sylas handed it a pen and paper. "Come on, you're the embodiment of ultimate fear! I believe in you."
The silent warrior stared blankly at the page.
"Whatever. I've got other things to do."
He peeked out his door. "Goodnight, Aunt May! Uncle Ben! Turning in early."
"Sleep well, sweetheart!" May answered.
Ben glanced at his watch. "Before eight? First time he's ever gone to bed this early."
"He's probably exhausted," May said. "He's been staying up late all week."
Back upstairs, Sylas summoned another ninja and pointed at the bed. "You—wear my hoodie and lie there. Pretend you're asleep."
The creature nodded and obeyed without question.
Another ninja scribbled away at the half-finished report, its glowing eyes perfectly visible in the dark.
Sylas flipped the light switch off and nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect."
He slipped on a black tactical-style ninja suit, fastened his mask, opened the window, and leaped into the night.
...
Rooftops of Queens
A shadow darted across the skyline, landing silently on one building after another.
"This feels amazing," Sylas whispered, exhilarated.
Ever since his body had changed, his reflexes had become sharper, his balance perfect, he moved like a ghost through the air.
Then came the sirens.
WEE-OOO! WEE-OOO!
"Police chase?" Sylas crouched on the edge of a rooftop, eyes narrowing at the flashing lights below. "Looks like something's going down."
He decided to follow keeping pace above the streetlights, testing his newfound speed.
After ten minutes, the convoy stopped, cornering a silver van in an alley.
"Robbery?" he murmured. "Or something bigger?"
...
Street Below
"Everyone stay sharp!" the lead officer barked. Four cruisers boxed the van in. Guns were drawn.
"Inside the vehicle! Drop your weapons and step out hands where we can see them!"
No response.
The officer tried again same silence.
Then, from the window, clink!, A grenade arced into the street.
"Down!"
BOOM!
Shrapnel tore through the air. Chaos erupted as gunfire followed.
"Die, pigs!" yelled a scar-faced man, unloading his rifle.
Bullets ripped into cars and concrete, forcing officers into cover. Smoke filled the alley.
...
High above, Sylas counted. "Six gunmen. Organized. Armed. Idiots."
Then he spotted the scar-faced leader pulling a heavy black duffel from the van.
"Get that loaded! We regroup at the drop point!" he shouted.
The thieves scattered into side alleys.
"Cops can't chase all of them," Sylas muttered. "Perfect time for a little… field test."
From above, he tracked the leader's route like a hawk. The man ran hard, clutching the duffel, never noticing the silent shadow tailing him across the rooftops.
The alley ended ahead blocked by four officers waiting in ambush. The crook didn't know it yet.
"Time to move."
Sylas dropped like a stone. The thug heard a whisper of wind before a boot smashed across his jaw, slamming him into the wall.
CRACK.
Sylas plucked the duffel clean from his hands. "Thanks, pal. I'll take that."
The man groaned, reaching for his gun but Sylas was already gone, vaulting up the brick wall and vanishing into darkness.
"Wha—?!" The thug barely got to his feet before police swarmed in.
"Freeze! Drop your weapon!"
He could only grit his teeth as the black-clad figure disappeared above. "Kid! You'd better pray I never find you!"
...
Rooftop
Sylas landed smoothly on a rooftop several blocks away, heart still racing.
"That went better than expected." He set the duffel down, breath misting in the cool night air. "Now… what did I just steal from a bunch of armed lunatics?"
He unzipped the bag.
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~Support with 300 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
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