"Zip it! Don't even breathe, someone's coming!" Zhong Qiang's ears twitched like a feline's. He didn't even turn around, just threw a sharp hand gesture toward Peter Parker and Huang Liang, signaling them to drop into the shadows.
Peter and Liang froze instantly. Even without the formal training the others had, Peter's internal alarm—that strange buzzing at the base of his skull—was already screaming. Something was very wrong with the rhythm of the harbor tonight.
The heavy, metallic scent of the sea was thick, but it was being overtaken by the smell of diesel and something clinical, like a hospital. A little further out, a massive cargo ship was cutting through the fog, its engines a low, guttural thrum that vibrated in the soles of their boots.
As the gangway lowered, the pier suddenly swarmed. A large group of men, all uniformed in tactical black and clutching submachine guns, fanned out with terrifying efficiency. These weren't your run-of-the-mill street thugs or low-level mobsters. They scanned the area with infrared goggles, their movements synchronized and professional.
"This isn't a casual hand-off," Huang Liang whispered, his eyes narrowed. "Look at their formation. There are some serious players behind this shipment."
Down on the pier, a man in a sharp grey overcoat stepped off the ship. He didn't look like a sailor; he looked like a middle manager for a Fortune 500 company. He walked up to a rugged man waiting by a black SUV and handed him a small, laminated note.
"The client is extremely specific about this batch," the man from the ship said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "You deliver it to the designated coordinates—exactly as we discussed. No detours, no 'creative' side deals. If even one seal is broken, you won't live long enough to regret it."
The rugged man nodded, his eyes darting to a specific shipping container that had just been winched onto the dock. "The one with the star engraved on the corner?"
"That's the one," the manager replied. "Get it moving. Now."
Back in the shadows, Zhong Qiang closed his eyes. He wasn't looking with his sight; he was looking with his Qi. His breathing slowed until it was nearly non-existent. "I hear them," he murmured, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "A lot of heartbeats. But they're faint... slow. Like they've been drugged. They're sleeping."
He snapped his eyes open, and for a second, they glowed with an amber intensity. "They've got kids in those boxes. Little girls, mostly. We don't wait for a plan. We go."
"On my mark," Jack commanded, his voice dropping into professional 'Officer' mode. "Engage the cloaks."
Peter Parker watched, his jaw hitting the floor, as the three men in the swallowtail suits reached for their collars. With a faint hum of static, their silhouettes began to shimmer, turning into a watery distortion before vanishing entirely into the darkness.
"Wait, what? Do tuxedoes just... do that now?" Peter blinked, rubbing his eyes. He frantically scanned the area, trying to catch a glimpse of a footprint or a shifted shadow. But even his Spider-Sense was quiet. Since Zhong Qiang and the others didn't intend to harm him, his biological radar was giving him a big fat zero on their location. "Is that a mutant power? Or did they just go ghost?"
"It's tech, Peter," Huang Liang explained, though he looked equally frustrated by being left behind. "They call them the 'Three Heroes of the Swallowtail' for a reason. Those suits are specialized gear from the Master's connections. They're basically walking ghosts."
Down on the pier, the professional soldiers started falling. It was like watching a glitch in a video game. One man would be scanning the perimeter, and the next second, his head would snap back as if hit by an invisible brick, and he'd collapse without a sound. Then another. Then a third.
The commotion broke out instantly. "Contact! We have a breach! Where are they?!" the rugged man screamed, spraying his SMG into the air in a blind panic.
Peter shifted, his muscles tensing. "Should we jump in? They're outnumbered like ten to one!"
Huang Liang held him back, his expression thoughtful. "Not yet. They haven't called for the assist, and if we jump in now, we might just get in the way of their invisible pathing. Besides..." He paused, looking at Reese Fisk's general direction—or where he thought Reese was. "I'm still trying to figure out Reese's angle here."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked.
"Reese is a Fisk," Liang muttered. "His dad is the Kingpin. Most of these harbor operations... they usually pay a tax to the Fisk family, or they belong to them outright. Why is he so eager to smash his own father's piggy bank?"
What Liang didn't realize was that Reese Fisk was playing a much deeper game than simple rebellion. Ever since Reese had seen Huang Wen's power—seen a man who could treat the laws of physics like mere suggestions—the idea of being a 'Mob Prince' felt pathetic. Small.
Reese knew exactly who his father was. Wilson Fisk was a titan of the old world, a man who ruled through fear and ledger books. But Reese wanted the Kingpin Group to evolve. Thanks to Jack's influence, they had already started pivoting toward legitimate defense contracting and high-end tech. But the old man was stubborn. Wilson kept his claws in the gutter, letting lower-level gangs run human trafficking and drug routes as long as they stayed quiet.
Reese hated it. Not just because it was immoral, but because it was sloppy. In a world with people like Huang Wen, being a 'crime lord' was like being the king of a trash heap. Reese was using his time as a 'hero' to systematically dismantle the illegal branches of his father's empire, forcing the Kingpin Group to either go fully legitimate or face total collapse. He wanted to show his father that the shadows were no longer a safe place to hide.
Wilson Fisk, curiously enough, wasn't even angry. He watched the reports of 'invisible ghosts' smashing his shipments and smiled. He saw it as a test. If Reese could defeat the underworld, then Reese was strong enough to lead it—or replace it.
"Wait! Who's there?!" The manager from the ship screamed as he felt a cold breeze pass him. He swung a heavy flashlight, but it was caught mid-air by an invisible hand.
CRACK.
Zhong Qiang reappeared for a split second, his fist connecting with the manager's jaw in a perfect Wing Chun strike. The man folded like a lawn chair.
As the remaining crew members on the ship realized the pier was lost, they started scrambling back toward the deck, trying to pull the gangway up.
"Going somewhere?" Jack's voice boomed from the air.
"Let's move!" Huang Liang shouted to Peter. "The pier is clear, but we can't let that ship leave the dock!"
Liang didn't wait for an answer. He blurred forward, his Qinggong allowing him to skip across the tops of the shipping containers like a stone across a pond. Peter, eager to prove himself, took a massive leap, sticking to the side of the ship's hull and crawling upward with frightening speed.
By the time Jack and the others reached the deck, Huang Liang was already there, standing over two unconscious sailors.
"Stealing our thunder, Liang?" Zhong Qiang asked as he deactivated his cloak. The fabric of his suit shimmered, and his head seemed to materialize out of thin air, followed by the sleek, charcoal lines of the swallowtail coat. "That's a bit rude, don't you think? We did all the heavy lifting downstairs."
Peter Parker dropped down from the rigging, landing with a soft thwack on the metal deck. He was staring at the Three Heroes, his eyes wide behind his mask. "That technology... it's flawless. I couldn't even hear the servos. How much power does it draw? Is it light-bending or a localized perception filter?"
Zhong Qiang shrugged, adjusting his cufflinks. "It's 'Master Huang Wen' tech, kid. That's all you need to know. And like I said before... you want in on the club? You gotta wear the suit. You can't be a 'Hero of the Swallowtail' looking like a festive blueberry."
Jack tapped his ear-piece, his face turning grim as he looked toward the cargo hold. "I've got backup on the way. Three squads of the PD's finest. I told them to bring blankets and medics."
He turned toward the large container with the star engraving. "Now, let's go see what these bastards were so worried about. If there's a single scratch on any of those kids..."