Summary: Jemo enters the room where his men disappeared—and slowly realizes they've walked into something far beyond a simple robbery.
Jemo knew something was wrong before he stepped inside.
It wasn't a sound that warned him. In fact, that was the problem. The hallway behind him still had noise—glass breaking somewhere far, men moving, low voices talking—but the moment he got closer to this room, all of that felt far away, like it didn't belong here anymore.
He slowed down without thinking about it.
"…report," he said.
His voice didn't carry. It just stopped.
No answer came back.
That alone told him enough.
The men behind him shifted a little. Not loud, just small movement—boots scraping, someone adjusting their grip. They felt it too, even if they didn't understand it.
"Hold here," Jemo said.
He stepped forward alone.
The room opened in front of him.
Glass cases broken.
Shards all over the floor.
Artifacts missing.
Everything looked normal at first glance—the job had started, just like planned.
But something didn't fit.
No one was there.
He walked in slowly, boots pressing down on the broken glass. The sound felt louder than it should have. It echoed just a little, then died too quickly.
His eyes moved across the room.
Bags on the floor.
Half-filled.
Left open.
They didn't leave.
They stopped.
Jemo didn't rush. His mind was already working, putting things together without panic. Fast. Quiet. Clean.
This wasn't messy.
This wasn't random.
Something controlled this.
"…where are they?" one of the men behind him asked.
The question hung in the air longer than it should have.
Jemo didn't answer.
He was looking at something else.
A thin line.
It stretched from the floor.
Up.
Almost invisible.
He followed it with his eyes slowly.
Up the wall.
Past the light.
Into the dark space near the ceiling.
"…don't move," Jemo said.
"Boss, I don't see—"
One of them stepped forward.
"Don't."
Too late.
The man looked up.
Then froze.
"…what the hell…"
That was enough.
The others looked up too.
And then they saw it.
Bodies.
Wrapped tight.
Hanging from above.
Every missing man.
Still.
Alive.
That made it worse.
No one spoke for a second.
Not because they didn't want to—
but because they didn't know what to say.
"…what did this?" someone whispered.
Jemo stepped forward again.
Slow.
Looking up.
Studying.
The bodies weren't placed randomly.
They were spaced.
Set.
Like someone took time doing it.
That meant something important.
Whoever did this wasn't rushing.
"…he's here," Jemo said.
That changed everything.
"…Spider-Man?" someone asked.
The name didn't sound right in this room.
Jemo didn't answer.
He was already looking around again.
Corners.
Ceiling.
Shadows.
Reflections in broken glass.
If it was him—
then this wasn't chaos.
This was control.
"…watch every direction," Jemo said.
They obeyed fast.
Too fast.
Fear was starting to show now.
Then—
a sound.
Soft.
Tap.
Above them.
All guns went up.
Nothing there.
"…stay focused," Jemo said.
But something had already changed.
Because something moved.
Fast.
Just for a second.
Across the ceiling.
Gone.
"Did you see that?!"
"Where—?!"
Voices broke.
Jemo raised his voice just enough.
"Quiet."
They stopped.
The silence came back.
But now it felt full.
Like something was there.
Jemo looked into the dark.
"…you're fast."
Nothing.
"…but not invisible."
For a second, nothing answered.
Then—
"Doesn't matter."
The voice came from nowhere.
And everywhere.
Everyone froze.
"…show yourself," Jemo said.
A pause.
Then—
"Turn around."
Too close.
Behind them.
One man reacted.
He turned fast—
gun up—
Gone.
Pulled up.
No sound.
No struggle.
Just gone.
For a few seconds after that, no one moved.
[End of Part 5]