The robber raised his gun, ready to kill Ben Parker again.
But then—he saw him.
Carl.
He froze completely.
He knew exactly what Superman looked like.
And as a criminal, he feared men like Carl—these beings of overwhelming power and moral clarity.
Of course, fear was the only sensible response.
What did the word superhero mean, after all?
First, they possessed power beyond that of ordinary people.
Second, they used that power to do extraordinary things—protect the innocent, fight evil, and uphold justice.
And Carl had done all that, and more. He'd defeated Abomination and saved countless lives.
"Hero" — no title suited him better.
So yes, Carl was a true superhero in every sense of the word.
And the long-haired robber, being nothing more than a petty thief, naturally trembled before him.
First off—
Carl was a superhero.
He, on the other hand, was a criminal.
And not just any superhero, but the Superman—mighty, righteous, and unshakable.
How could anyone in his position not be afraid?
In this world, there were probably only a handful of lunatics or supervillains who weren't terrified of Superman.
He was neither of those.
Just an ordinary criminal.
One punch from Superman, and he'd probably explode like a balloon.
So when he saw Carl standing there, he froze, his fear plain on his face.
Before Carl could even speak, though
A furious roar split the night.
"—It was you?!"
"You bastard! You're the one who killed my uncle?!"
The long-haired man spun around instinctively, trying to see who had shouted.
But before he could even turn fully
Pain exploded through his wrist.
Clatter!
The gun flew out of his hand, clattering across the ground.
Then the world spun around him.
In the next instant, his body was slammed hard to the floor.
The strength pinning him down was overwhelming—he couldn't even twitch.
"Don't hurt me! Please—please!" he cried out in panic.
"Please, I'm begging you!"
But the one holding him down wasn't Carl.
It was Peter Parker.
Peter recognized him immediately.
He was the same thug who had robbed the convenience store—the one Peter had run into when he went to buy milk.
Back then, the store clerk had been rude, and the robber had even tossed Peter a bottle of milk before running off.
So Peter had let him go.
He never expected… that same robber would be the one who tried to kill his uncle!
That realization hit him like a freight train.
It was his fault the killer had escaped.
If not for Superman's intervention, Uncle Ben would've died because of him.
The thought made his stomach churn.
But thank god—thank Superman—Uncle Ben was alive.
He couldn't imagine what would've happened otherwise.
Anger burned through his veins.
"First you rob people, then you shoot them?" Peter snarled. "You're nothing but scum."
"Then die!"
Peter's fist clenched tight, and he swung it down with all his might.
He meant to kill him.
Ever since the spider bite, Peter's strength had grown to terrifying levels.
He could crush metal faucets just by turning them too hard—
What chance did a human body have?
But before his punch could land—
A firm, familiar voice cut through the air.
"Stop, Peter!"
Peter froze.
He turned his head, stunned.
"Uncle Ben?!"
"But why—why stop me? He tried to kill you!"
"That's over now," Ben said softly. "I'm alive again."
"But he did shoot you!"
Ben's voice stayed calm. "Even so, Peter, that doesn't give you the right to decide his fate."
"We're law-abiding people. What we do is call the police—"
"—and let justice handle it."
Peter's jaw tightened. He wanted to protest, to scream that the man deserved to die.
But Uncle Ben's words—his principles—weighed on him.
"Fine…" he muttered at last.
Ben nodded in approval. "That's better."
He took out his phone and began dialing the police.
While he did, the long-haired robber still lay pinned beneath Peter, trembling.
He had no idea how close he'd just come to death.
When he turned his head, he saw who was holding him down.
"You?! You're that kid!"
He squirmed frantically. "Let me go! The cops are coming!"
"You can't do this! Did you forget I gave you that milk? We're friends!"
Bang!
Peter slammed his fist into the man's back—holding back just enough not to kill him.
It hurt, but it wouldn't break him.
If not for Uncle Ben, Peter would've already ended him.
"Friends?" Peter growled. "You killed my uncle!"
"W-What?"
The man froze. His mind blanked.
Then he heard Ben's voice on the phone and realized—he really had shot that old man earlier.
But the guy was still alive!
"H-Hey, sorry, man!" the robber stammered. "I didn't know he was your uncle—and he's fine, right? He's fine!"
"If it weren't for Superman, my uncle would be dead!" Peter shouted, landing another punch—this one heavier.
The thief choked out a groan of pain, gasping for breath.
Ben finally spoke again, calm as ever.
"That's enough, Peter. I called the police. They'll be here soon."
Peter exhaled, stepping back reluctantly. "…Got it."
Carl finally spoke up, his tone even.
"Since it's settled, I'll be heading back."
He'd only come to make sure things didn't spiral out of control.
Back at the dorm, Zhang Manyue was already showering.
By now, she was probably done.
Ben looked up in surprise. "You're leaving already, Mr. Superman? Thank you so much for everything tonight."
"Yeah," Peter added quickly. "You saved my uncle—and helped me too. You can't just leave without dinner!"
Carl chuckled. "That's kind of you, but it's late. I won't intrude tonight."
"If there's a chance, I'll visit next time."
Ben smiled. "Then it's settled. Thank you again, truly."
Peter nodded as well. "Thanks, Superman. See you!"
Carl nodded once. "Take care."
And then
His figure blurred, and he vanished from sight.