Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
ONE ; 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇!
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
"—IS THE CHEAPEST, meanest, and most annoying carbon-based organism in the galaxy and I am gonna make his life hell."
Oh, Peter Parker was angry. Frenetic. Enraged. Furious. Every synonym that was associated with mad. So mad, he might as well have cracked his locker right off its hinges. Something heavy slumped down his gullet, a ring of fire perhaps, as he glanced at the textbooks he needed for the last period and chucked his nearly empty bag into the fitted space. Empty, he growled in his head. Notes? Gone. Suit? Gone. Ten dollars worth of lunch money? Gone.
"Her," Ned added with a shrug. Peter looked at him. "It could be a girl."
"A girl thief?"
"Wow. Spider-Man's a sexist."
Even though Ned Leeds was a socially awkward and entitled geek, he had chaste personified. He respected popularity—way too much—moreover, he admired the brains in a woman. If this female robber of his imagination had managed to lift a backpack that was webbed to a three-story high fire escape, she must have been one hell of a looker. That's what his conscience said.
"Whatever," Peter grumbled. "Still stole my stuff."
Ned sighed, frustrated now. "Why don't you think a girl could've done it?"
"Because," he drawled out, chewed on his cheek to make up for his thinking time. "Girls are cute. Adorable. Sensitive, you know?"
And besides, if a girl burglar was off and about in his neighbourhood, Spider-Man would have caught her by now. He kept track of small-time criminals, drug dealers, gangsters; he would have seen her come on the radar.
"Black Widow is an assassin, Peter," Ned begged to differ as he sauntered beside him, struggling to match his intensified gait. "The Scarlet Witch literally decapitated Ultron in Sokovia."
"But the Black Widow didn't steal my damn suit, Ned."
"Your suit which has a tracker," Ned said, matter-of-factly.
Peter's eyes widened for a hopeful second before it diminished in a flash, remembering something that took place. "The tracker which you took out?"
"Oh, yeah," he hummed, his eyes glazing over with a far-off look. "Good times."
Define good, he wanted to say. Slumping in defeat, the pair slowly trudged down the corridor, bumping shoulders with schoolmates and clearly not excited for their next period. Peter's mind had been glued to the loss of his costume and web-shooters, never experiencing denial that was so cruel. How was he going to the friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man, now?
