There are three simple rules Nellie Jenkins must follow as she orchestrates an article for the school newspaper on fellow classmate, Peter Parker.
Rule #1. Do not observe the person you are writing about outside of school grounds.
Rule #2. Do not mi...
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Peter swung above the streets, soaring through the city that never sleeps. He couldn't shake the troubling thought that Nellie was back in his bedroom probably feeling unimportant to him; he hadn't even heard what she'd come to talk to him about before he ditched her.
But being a hero meant there was times he had to make decisions, sometimes difficult ones. This particular decision seemed more rational; something terrible was about to go down in Chinatown, and he felt as if he were in a race against time to make it there.
Blue and red flashing lights along with the piercing sounds sirens alerted Peter at a distance, telling him he was close. He shot one final string of web and plummeted towards the scene, landing on his feet on the hood of a cop car.
Three policemen jumped back at the sound of Peter's feet banging against the metal of the vehicle. One when drew his gun in a flash, but immediately lowered it upon realizing it was Spider-Man.
Peter threw his hands in the air as he clumsily backed off of the car, "Sorry, sirs, uh—"
He still hadn't really gotten the hang of this—being a known hero.
"I've got this!" He assured them, giving them a brief thumbs-up. "You guys can probably go home now, actually—"
A flash of white light rumble through the restaurant across the street, the glass windows shattering. Bystanders shrieked, though they were presumably safe behind the barriers police had formed from this side of the street.
Peter gave a quick salute to the policemen and slung a web above one of the broken windows, then used his strength to send himself gliding inside. He rarely seemed to use doors.
Once inside the restaurant, Peter crawled from the ceiling and down the wall, taking shelter behind the bar area. Peering over, he tried to get a look at what was going on.
He saw a man, who appeared human, but was colored like that of a photo negative. His skin was midnight black, but seemed to have an under-glow. His eyes, eyebrows, and hair were bright white, like a blacklight. It wasn't rocket science for Peter to determine this was the man the news reported as a 'Mister Negative.'
Across from him, was a man, definitely human. He was obviously of Italian descent, his accent thick as the two men argued. A tattoo on his neck showed the letter M, representing the Maggia, Peter assumed.
Usually, this wasn't the kinds of fights Peter usually took part in. He handled crime—the little guys, as Mr. Stark would say—and left the inhuman battles to the older, more experienced heroes.
