CHAPTER 44

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A soft hum filled the air—the quiet, rhythmic whir of machines running in the dimly lit lab. The glow of monitors cast faint shadows across the room, their screens filled with unread lines of code and data that no one was paying attention to.

Ben stirred.

His body ached as he shifted slightly, feeling the stiff cushions of the old sofa pressing against his back. He hadn't meant to fall asleep here, but exhaustion had dragged him under the moment he sat down.

His fingers twitched, gripping at nothing, as his mind clawed its way out of the haze of sleep.

Then, it hit him.

The images.

The ones that refused to fade, no matter how much he willed them to disappear.

A mother, smiling. Whispering sweet nothings to the lifeless baby in her arms. Rocking it gently, as if it would stir awake at any moment.

She truly believed her child was still alive.

The air in the lab suddenly felt heavier.

Ben sat up, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on his chest. He sucked in a breath, but it wasn't enough. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists.

He wasn't new to fighting villains, to seeing bad things. He'd seen aliens invade Earth in Endgame . He'd seen monsters that could tear through steel like paper. He had thought of threats that would terrify even the bravest of heroes.

But this?

This wasn't an alien invasion. This wasn't some monster.

It was people.

People who had done this. Who had locked up innocent lives, treated them like nothing. People who had ignored the cries of a mother who was too far gone to realize her baby had died in her arms.

Ben gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against the sofa.

The force sent a jolt up his arm, but he didn't care.

It wasn't enough.

His breathing was uneven, his mind still playing the scene on an endless loop. He could still hear the way the woman's voice trembled with hope, how she had looked at them like they were angels sent to save her—her and her child.

But they weren't.

They were late.

And no amount of fighting, no amount of heroics, could change that.

Ben exhaled shakily, his hands running through his messy hair before gripping at the strands in frustration.

"You're Ben Tennyson. You have the most powerful device in the universe. And you still couldn't save them all."

He shook his head.

No. That kind of thinking wasn't going to help.

Ben forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. He flexed his fingers, unclenching his fists, and leaned back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was still racing, but the storm in his head had begun to settle, if only a little.

A quiet snore broke the silence.

Ben turned his head.

Across from him, sprawled out on another sofa, were Peter and Ned.

Peter was half-sitting, half-slumped, his mask discarded on the floor beside him. His breathing was even, but his expression was tight, even in sleep.

Ned, on the other hand, was out cold, mouth slightly open, one arm draped over his face.

Ben stared at them for a moment.

He wasn't the only one carrying the weight of what happened.

Peter had frozen back there, just as he had. And Ned—he had been the one pulling them out at the last second.

They were all exhausted.

Ben sighed, finally allowing his body to relax against the cushions again. He wasn't alone in this.

Maybe they couldn't save everyone. Maybe there would always be moments like that—ones that left scars deeper than any battle.

A dull thud echoed in the dimly lit lab as Ben's fist struck the sofa.

Peter stirred, letting out a groggy grunt as his consciousness slowly dragged itself from the depths of sleep. His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and his vision was still blurry. His face was buried in the cushions, his hair sticking up wildly in every direction. He blinked sluggishly, smacking his lips before rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Wha—what time is it…?" Peter muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

He pushed himself up, still hunched over, as he tried to gather his bearings. His sluggish mind barely registered the faint glow of the lab's monitors before his gaze landed on Ben.

Ben sat motionless on the opposite sofa, his head tilted downward, his eyes lost in a haze of deep, troubled thought. Sweat clung to his forehead, and his breathing came in slow, heavy pulls. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and there was a tension in his shoulders that made it look like he was holding something in—something dark, something that had been eating away at him since last night.

Peter frowned.

Without a word, he stretched, groaning as he stood up, his legs still stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. He dragged his feet toward a small table nearby, picking up an empty glass and fumbling to pour some water into it. His movements were sluggish—he nearly spilled the water in his half-asleep state—but he managed.

Once done, he walked over and held the glass in front of Ben.

"Thinking about last night?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Ben didn't respond immediately. His eyes flicked up to Peter, as if he were just now noticing him.

Peter could see it clearly now—the storm behind his expression. The way his jaw was clenched, the way his shoulders were stiff, the way his entire body seemed weighed down by something he couldn't put into words.

Finally, Ben reached out and took the glass, his fingers wrapping around it with a grip that was a little too tight. He tilted his head back and drank, each gulp slow and deliberate, as if he was using it to ground himself.

Then, he exhaled sharply.

"Still trying to wrap my head around it," he muttered. His voice was steady, but there was something hollow beneath it. "How people—humans—can be such monsters."

A tired groan came from the other side of the room.

"So, what's next?" Ned mumbled, his voice muffled as he slowly lifted his head from where he had been slumped against the couch. His face was creased from the cushions, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep. He let out a yawn, stretching his arms over his head before blinking blearily at the two. "We need to go after the big guys who did this, right?"

Ben didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands together. He stared at the floor for a moment, his mind clearly somewhere else. Then, he shook his head.

"No."

Peter arched a brow. "No?"

Ben exhaled and sat up straighter. "You two are going to college today," he said firmly. "I don't want any calls asking why you weren't in class."

Peter narrowed his eyes at him, suspicion creeping into his face. "You're up to something."

Ben let out a short, humorless chuckle—one that didn't quite match his usual playful energy. It was empty. Mocking.

"Relax, Peter. I'm not going to do anything," he said, though the smirk on his lips made it hard to believe. "We don't even know who's responsible for this yet. They're in the shadows. Until they decide to step out, we're stuck waiting."

Peter studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he sighed.

"Alright," he said, though he clearly didn't believe Ben's words. "But don't do anything you'll regret."

Ben smirked, but it wasn't reassuring.

Ned let out a dramatic groan, rubbing his face as he pushed himself off the couch. "Ugh, fine. We'll go to college." He shot Ben a pointed look. "But if I find out you did something crazy while we were in class, I swear—"

Ben waved him off lazily.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Go learn algebra or whatever."

Peter and Ned exchanged a glance before making their way toward the exit.

Just before stepping out, Peter paused and looked back at Ben one last time.

Ben didn't meet his gaze.

He was already staring off again, lost in thoughts neither of them could fully understand.

Peter sighed and walked out.

As the door closed behind them, Ben exhaled and leaned his head back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

His mind replayed the scene from last night—the woman cradling her lifeless child, whispering words of comfort as if her baby could still hear her.

His fingers curled into a fist again.

If the people behind this thought they could hide in the shadows forever…

They were wrong.

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