"…Sigh."
Peter shook his head slightly as he looked toward the distant sky.
Beyond the helicopters carrying SWAT teams, his enhanced vision could clearly make out fighter jets circling high above. And judging by the scale of the disturbance on Liberty Island, it was only a matter of time before naval forces arrived as well.
The chaos had bought them time—
But it had also drawn the world's attention.
Peter glanced at Jean in his arms, then at Wanda standing quietly beside him, her gaze lingering on the two of them.
"In the meantime… wait for me at the school. I'll come find you."
Before either of them could respond, Peter leaned in and planted a firm kiss on Jean's lips. Then, pulling Wanda closer, he repeated the gesture without hesitation.
"Wait for me."
Under the reluctant gazes of the two women, he stepped back—
And vanished into the darkness.
With a powerful leap, Peter plunged straight into the river, cutting through the water at incredible speed toward the opposite shore.
Splash!
He broke through the surface once more.
But this time—
He wasn't drenched.
A thin layer of telekinetic force surrounded his body, repelling the water entirely. Not only did it keep him dry, it also drastically enhanced his mobility underwater.
The more he used it, the more convinced Peter became—
His choice had been absolutely right.
Telekinesis was simply too versatile.
Mind control.
Object manipulation.
Defense.
Mobility.
Even detection.
One ability—
Covering the functions of several others.
"The only downside… is raw power output."
Peter muttered to himself.
Compared to Storm's lightning, Cyclops' optic blasts, or even Magneto's overwhelming metal manipulation—
Telekinesis lacked explosive destructive force.
Against heavily armored opponents, it might struggle to deal decisive damage.
But—
Its advantages far outweighed that flaw.
And besides—
This was only the beginning.
He wasn't limited to just one ability.
…
After one last glance at Liberty Island—now completely surrounded—Peter turned and headed for home.
Jean and the others would be fine.
No one would dare provoke them—not when Magneto was still a looming threat, and Professor Xavier remained the most powerful mind on the planet.
As for his identity being exposed?
Peter wasn't worried.
Other than Jean and Wanda, no one even knew his name.
The only real risk was Mystique—
But he had already accounted for that. Before leaving, he had deliberately woken her up.
With her intelligence, she had likely slipped away long ago.
Of course, nothing was foolproof.
But that didn't matter.
Even if authorities tracked him down in ten days… or fifteen—
By then, it would be too late.
That window of time was all he needed.
Peter sprinted through the city streets, moving swiftly through the night.
But soon, he frowned.
This… was too slow.
The chaos at Liberty Island had drawn massive attention. With the police already on-site, civilians felt safe enough to approach the area.
The result?
Crowds.
Traffic.
Every street clogged with people trying to get closer.
It severely hindered his movement.
But then—
Peter smirked.
He had telekinesis now.
With a thought, invisible platforms formed beneath his feet.
He leapt upward—
And shot into the sky.
Hundreds of meters above ground, far beyond the reach of human sight, Peter began experimenting freely.
He stepped on invisible footholds.
Pulled himself forward with unseen force.
Even tried shaping telekinetic "wings" to glide through the air.
Each method—
Faster.
More exhilarating.
"This is way more fun than swinging."
By the time he reached home, he almost felt reluctant to stop.
The thrill was intoxicating—
Not unlike Tony Stark's first flight in the Iron Man suit.
…
"Uh… I'm back."
Peter quietly opened the door and glanced at the clock on the wall.
It wasn't too late—just before nine.
But still later than usual.
"Peter? Where have you been? I called you several times, but you didn't pick up!"
Aunt May's worried voice came from the kitchen.
Moments later, she rushed out—still wearing her apron, hands damp from cooking—and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Hey, Aunt May, I'm fine. My phone fell into the water. I promise it won't happen again."
With Peter's memories fully integrated, his feelings for Aunt May and Uncle Ben were genuine.
To him—
They were family.
He gave Uncle Ben, who had just stepped out of the living room with a remote in hand, an awkward smile.
But before he could say more—
Aunt May suddenly pulled back, frowning.
"…Peter."
She sniffed slightly.
"What is that smell?"
Her expression grew more suspicious.
"It smells like… dead fish. And… sewer water?"
Well—
The Hudson River wasn't exactly clean.
With nearby factories and city waste flowing into it, the water quality was far from ideal.
Even though Peter's clothes had already dried—
The smell hadn't.
And indoors, without the wind to disperse it—
It became painfully obvious.
Then—
Aunt May noticed something else.
"Did you get into a fight?"
She pointed at his clothes, now riddled with small tears.
"And where is your backpack?"
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T/N:
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