The next day, Kiran sat on the couch, a patch over his left eye and his arm in a cast. His aunt paced back and forth, worry etched on her face. "So, they just came out of nowhere and robbed you?" she asked. "Y...yeah," Kiran stammered, sticking to the lie he'd concocted. "Okay... at least you're okay. Two broken ribs, a broken forearm, and a fractured skull. You can count yourself lucky," his aunt said, hugging him tightly. Kiran awkwardly returned the embrace.
Minutes later, Kiran lay gingerly on his bed, pulling out his phone. He dialed Gwen's number. "Kiran, are you okay? I've been so worried. What happened?" Gwen peppered him with questions. "Yeah, I'm okay, but Gwen... I don't think I can do this anymore... the Spider-Man thing, I mean," Kiran corrected himself sadly. "Really? I mean, I'm happy because it means you're safe. But are you sure after all the good you've done?" Gwen asked.
"I've done more harm than good. People are right about me. I should leave it to the police. Plus, now I can have a normal life," Kiran replied. A few minutes later, Kiran was hunched over his desk, struggling with late assignments, his cast hindering his movements. He tapped his pencil on the desk in frustration before tossing it behind him.
He glanced at his torn-up Spider-Man suit, a chilling flashback of Tombstone nearly killing him flashing through his mind. Then, his gaze fell upon the portrait of his Uncle. "Don't look at me like that, Uncle. I've done enough for this city," Kiran muttered to himself, shoving his costume into the closet before returning to his homework.
Meanwhile, back in Tombstone's wrecked bike shop, one of his crew members approached him. "Boss, what happened with Spider-Man?" he asked, looking around at the damage. "He escaped, but I doubt we'll be seeing him again. Keep taking everything in Harlem," Tombstone growled before walking out.
Two days passed. The television blared, "...It's been two days without a sighting of Spider-Man, and the group known as the Tombstone crew are taking over Harlem. The police are helpless against the super-powered crew. And everyone's asking if Spider..." Kiran snapped the TV off and stormed out the door.
"Yo, Kiran! How's it going?" May greeted him, jogging to catch up. "Sup," Kiran mumbled, momentarily forgetting the events of the past few days. "So, how was your weekend?" May asked. "Uhhhh. You could say I'll never forget it," he replied grimly. "Yeah, I know that feeling. The weekend is always fun until you realize you have to go back to school," May said as they arrived at Midtown High. Kiran spotted Michael wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt.
"Yo, Kiran," Michael greeted him, handing him a spare t-shirt. "Michael, why are you wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt? I thought you didn't like him," Kiran asked, confused. "I don't, but he's done a lot for this city. He's always saving people by risking his own life without hesitation," Michael explained before heading inside.
"I hope Spider-Man comes back too. Tombstone needs to be stopped," May added, concern evident in her voice. Kiran just shrugged. "I don't know..." Kiran whispered, walking towards the entrance. In the science classroom, Kiran sat down, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.
"I mean it's not like I ever wanted to be Spider-Man," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the drone of the classroom. It wasn't a complaint, exactly, more of a tired resignation. He was deep in thought, lost in a labyrinth of internal arguments, when a voice snapped him back to reality.
"Mr. Walker!" the teacher called out, her voice laced with a familiar blend of exasperation and thinly veiled amusement. Kiran, startled, shot to his feet. "Yes!" he blurted out, a little too loudly. A ripple of laughter spread through the classroom. "Nerd!" Flash Thompson roared, his voice booming with malicious glee.
Kiran gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. This was routine. "Okay, quiet down everyone. Now Mr. Walker, what is the function of the mitochondria in a cell?" the teacher asked, her tone returning to its usual placidness. Kiran, despite the lingering sting of Flash's taunt, instantly shifted gears, his mind effortlessly accessing the information.
"The mitochondria are known as the powerhouses of the cell. They generate energy by converting glucose and oxygen into adenosine triphosphate, which the cell uses to perform various functions." "Very good, but let's pay attention," the teacher said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Kiran nodded, relieved to be back in the realm of academia, and quickly took his seat.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Gwen Stacy fell into step beside him. "So, what are you doing after school?" she asked, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "Probably just gonna hang out in my room playing some D&D online with Michael," Kiran replied, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
Gwen snickered, a playful glint in her eyes. "You'd rather play a game than hang out with your girlfriend? Wow, you truly are a nerd." Just then, one of the cheerleaders called out, "Hey Gwen, we got practice!" "Okay, I'll see you later," Gwen said, leaning in to kiss Kiran quickly on the cheek before heading towards the gym.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Flash Thompson swaggered up to Kiran, cracking his knuckles. "Now, how did you get that, nerd?" he sneered. "Come on Flash, don't you have a ball to throw?" Kiran said, trying to brush him off. Flash's eyes lit up, a cruel idea forming in his mind.
"Good idea." The next minute was a blur of humiliation. Kiran, soaked and humiliated, his hair plastered to his face with water, he stumbled to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with accusing eyes. But it wasn't just his reflection.
Standing behind him, shimmering faintly, was a figure clad in red and blue, the familiar spider emblem emblazoned on its chest. But the mask was off. "This is pathetic. When did we ever become such a baby?" the unmasked Kiran said, his voice a distorted echo of his own. "What do you mean? This is how our life always was," Kiran retorted, his voice laced with anger.
"Running away from who we are was never our life. What do you think Uncle would say?" the unmasked Kiran challenged. "What do you expect me to do? I tried to stop him, I lost that fight and almost died!" Kiran snapped. "So, what? You're just gonna ignore everyone that needs help? Is that what you promised to do? Is this what Uncle taught us to do?"
"I never asked for this! I never asked for these powers or the responsibility!" Kiran shouted, his fist connecting with the mirror, shattering it into a web of cracks. The unmasked Kiran remained unfazed. "But you and I both know that we don't get to choose when to be Spider-Man. It's our responsibility," he said, his voice softening. With those words, he faded away, leaving Kiran alone.
Kiran was in his room on his while clinging to his mothers HP laptop. "Definitely fried," he muttered, forcing a wry smile. His eyes landed on the worn photograph of his Uncle, a silent plea for guidance. "Okay, okay, I get it. This is what I have to do." He opened his closet, the sight of his cobbled-together costume triggering a flash of searing pain – Tombstone's brutal power, the near-death experience.
Shaking it off, he grabbed the suit, his movements deliberate as he patched up the tears. With one arm still in a makeshift sling and his bare feet sticking to the ceiling, he mused, "The real problem is how to stop Tombstone. He's practically indestructible...and completely insane with all that super strength."
The memory of the syringe, swiped from one of Tombstone's goons, sparked an idea. He dropped to the floor, rifled through his drawer, and pulled it out. "If I can figure out what this stuff is, maybe, just maybe, I can stop him. And the only place with a spectrometer is...school." Then glancing out the window reminded him of his webshooter and arm.
"Oh yeah, that's right, I'm down a web-shooter and an arm." Tucking the syringe into his backpack, he swung with his good arm, couple minutes pass as he arrived at Midtown High. "Better stick to the shadows and avoid security." He scaled the walls, maneuvering towards an open window, clinging to the ceiling like a tenacious spider.
Suddenly, a security guard emerged, flashlight beam cutting through the darkness of the hallway. Kiran's phone buzzed to life. He scrambled into a nearby classroom, answering in a hushed whisper. "Who's there?!" the guard shouted, his light probing the room. "Hello?" Kiran replied, barely audible. "Kiran? Where are you? Why are you whispering?" Aunts voice, laced with concern, filled his ear.
"Uhhh...I'm at the library," he stammered, improvising a clumsy alibi. "Okay, don't stay out too late." "Okay, Aunt," he replied, ending the call just as the guard began to push open the classroom door. Desperate, Kiran scanned the room, spotting a ventilation duct. He pried open the grate, squeezing inside.
"Mmmm. I should start using ventilation ducts more," he thought, crawling through the dusty confines. Finally, he reached his destination: the science lab. He quietly dropped down from the vent. "Alright, let's see what you are," he muttered, carefully extracting the syringe and placing a single drop of the serum into the analysis tray.
The machine hummed to life, and Kiran, with the practiced hand of someone far beyond his years, prepared a secondary reaction test, adding a reactive dye that would reveal the serum's composition. The machine beeped. "ANALYSIS COMPLETE. Enzyme Group: Unstable synthetic proteins. Chemical Trace: Modified Mutagenic Compound. Base Formula Identified: DIOX-3." Kiran's blood ran cold.
"How the hell did they get their hands on DIOX-3?" A dangerous idea started to form in his mind. "Maybe I can make some kind of counter-drug to dampen the effects. Give the police a fighting chance." He grabbed a vial of neutralized nanolytic enzymes, extracting exactly 2 milliliters, and added them to a cold solution of calmodulin blockers. The liquid shifted from clear to pale blue.
"Now to slow the adrenal trigger, stop the muscle feedback loop before it spikes…" He carefully dripped in protein kinase inhibitors, adjusting for solubility. Steam hissed from the beaker as the compounds reacted, but he didn't flinch, scribbling data with focused intensity. The mixture turned amber.
"That's it…that's the balance point." He placed the vial in a mini-centrifuge and watched as it spun under UV light. Molecules aligned, the serum glowing faintly. "Come on, hold it..." he whispered. The centrifuge stopped. He lifted the vial, the liquid stable. "Yes! This should buy them at least 2 minutes. I just have to get it to them..." A wave of doubt washed over him. He glanced at his cast, then at a scrawled "Don't Give Up" that Gwen had written on it one day ago. He sighed, determination hardening his features. "Fine. I'll do it."
Gwen hummed a tune as she prepared for bed. The late hour had finally caught up to her, and she was eager to slip between the sheets. She peeled off her t-shirt, reaching for a soft pajama top, when a sharp rap echoed against her windowpane. Her head snapped up. It was Kiran. He was frantically waving, his face a mask of urgency... until he registered her state of undress.
He immediately clamped his hands over his eyes, a mortified groan escaping him. Gwen, cheeks burning, snatched a nearby shirt and yanked it on. She fumbled with the window latch, throwing it open. Both were a mess of crimson embarrassment. "Sorry," Kiran stammered, still averted. "I thought I should drop by. Before I go… stop Tombstone." His voice was laced with a fear that cut through the awkwardness. Gwen recoiled.
"But he nearly killed you, Kiran! I thought you said you were done with being Spider-Man?" She tugged him inside, a forceful pull belying her concern. "I was…" He paused, his eyes clouded with a grim resolve. "But I'm making the same mistake that got my uncle killed. I have to stop Tombstone, Gwen. Or more people will die." His gaze locked onto hers, pleading.
"But that's not your responsibility," Gwen argued, her voice softening. "Let the police handle it." Kiran shook his head, his jaw set. "I thought the same, but… what if this is my responsibility? The reason I have these powers? I have to, Gwen." Gwen's shoulders slumped. She lowered her head, then gently took his hand in hers, her fingers twining with his. Lifting her head, she met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and love.
"Just… just try to come back to me." Kiran's hand tightened around hers. He leaned in, his other hand cupping her cheek, and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. It lasted a minute, the world fading away as they clung to each other, a promise of return woven into the touch. They pulled apart, foreheads touching, a silent understanding passing between them. With a final, lingering look, Kiran slowly backed away. He took a deep breath, a determined glint in his eyes, then launched himself out the window.
Now in Harlem gunshots echoed off the brick buildings as five police officers, pinned behind their cruisers, desperately returned fire against a ruthless Tombstone gang. "Please no," one officer pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut, anticipating the inevitable. Just as the gang members were about to deliver the final blow, four strands of shimmering web shot out, snatching the guns from their hands.
"Hey guys, you miss me?" A familiar voice chirped. Kiran, clad in his suit, launched into action. A web-kick sent one thug sprawling into overflowing garbage cans. He followed up with a leg sweep, felling two more before delivering a knockout punch to each. "You remember what happened last time you fought the boss, kid," the last gangster sneered, but his bravado crumbled as Kiran webbed him up securely.
"You know what they say," Kiran retorted, a playful tone masking his grim determination, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." With a final flourish, he swung away, leaving the tied-up thugs for the arriving police. "Gotta help the police with Tombstone's men first," Kiran muttered, landing silently on the side of a building.
He surveyed the scene below – five more groups of cars roared up, surrounding three officers who were huddled behind their vehicles, exchanging gunfire with the relentless assailants. "We can't hold on much longer!" one officer shouted. "Where's backup?" Suddenly, a red and blue blur swung into the fray, a whirlwind of fists, feet, and sticky webs. Tombstone's men fell like dominoes.
"Spiderman!? Am I glad to see you again," a relieved officer exclaimed. "Yeah, good to be back," Kiran responded, quickly assessing the situation. "Good, 'cause we could use your help. Our men are struggling," the officer pleaded. "Okay, I'll see what I can do to thin out the numbers," Kiran replied, launching himself back into the fight. For the next few minutes, Kiran was a one-man wrecking crew, assisting the police in dismantling Tombstone's operation.
Webs ensnared fleeing vehicles, punches sent thugs flying, and kicks left them groaning on the asphalt. "Spiderman! They're getting away!" an officer yelled, pointing to a car speeding down the street. Kiran swung after it, his heart pounding. "They're going to kill someone," he thought, weaving through panicked pedestrians. He landed on the roof of the speeding car with a thud.
"You guys mind pushing on the brakes?" he quipped. Then he saw it – a school bus, packed with men, women, and children, desperately trying to escape the chaos. The runaway car was on a collision course, about to slam into its side. "Then I'll just make my own. Hope my new web-shooters can hold," Kiran thought grimly. With a backward flip, he shot two strands of web at the back of the car, planting his feet firmly on the ground, bracing for the impact.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the pavement as he pulled. "Come on, come on, come on!" Kiran yelled, straining against the car's momentum. The car began to slow, but not enough. It crashed into the bus, sending it teetering precariously to one side. In a split-second decision, Kiran launched himself on a webline to the other side of the bus, catching it as it tipped over.
The weight slammed into his already injured arm, sending a jolt of agony through his body. He winced, but ignored the pain, focusing on the task at hand. He strained, muscles screaming, and lifted the bus back upright, gently setting it back on its wheels. "Yay Spiderman!" the children yelled, their faces alight with excitement. Kiran waved, a surge of relief washing over him. He climbed onto the roof of the car and webbed up the fleeing thugs, suspending them from a nearby lamppost.
"Now, you mind telling me where your boss is?" Kiran asked, but the thugs remained stubbornly silent. "Of course," Kiran sighed, resigned. Just then, a police officer approached, his face grim. "Spiderman, I just got word that the rest of Tombstone's gang is downtown. And Tombstone is there. They may need your help." Kiran nodded grimly. The fight was far from over. "Let's go," he said, swinging away.
The stale air inside the convenience store hung thick with the scent of fear and gunpowder. Tombstone's crew was pinned down, huddled behind aisles of chips and soda. Outside, Chief Thompson's voice boomed through a megaphone. "Come out with your hands up! This is your final warning!" Police sirens wailed, a discordant symphony of desperation.
"Boss! We need backup! We're getting overwhelmed!" a nervous voice cracked from the back. Tombstone, a mountain of a man whose skin seemed impervious to everything, snarled. "Shut your mouth! Before I shut it for you permanently." He stalked past his cowering men, the sound of gunfire seemingly irrelevant to him.
Bullets pinged harmlessly off his granite-like skin. Reaching the corner of an aisle, he ripped a metal corner protector clean off, twisting the screws with a grunt. He hurled it at the police barricade, scattering officers. "Now GO!" he roared. The men, spurred by his fury and their own terror, scrambled to inject themselves with the last vials of DIOX-3. The transformation was instantaneous and grotesque.
Their skin turned a sickly gray, veins bulged like writhing worms, and their eyes glowed with an eerie, crimson light. A primal roar ripped from their throats as they burst from the store, easily overpowering the shocked police. One of the transformed men, his enhanced strength terrifying, lifted a policeman off the ground by his neck, preparing to crush the life out of him.
But before he could, a figure swung in from the rooftops, a blur of red and blue. Kiran landed gracefully on a nearby car, his eyes glinting beneath his mask. "It's that spider freak!" one of the gray-skinned men snarled, lunging forward. Tombstone stopped him with a dismissive wave. "I thought I ran you out of town, kid." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like the grinding of boulders.
"Yeah, well, when there's a crazy, gray-skinned crime boss running around Harlem," Kiran replied, calmly replacing his web cartridges, "you tend to rethink things." He launched himself forward, throwing a punch that Tombstone easily deflected. Kiran, nimble and quick, slid under Tombstone's legs, firing twin streams of webbing from his shoulder-mounted shooters.
The sticky strands snared Tombstone's arms, anchoring him to the wall. Kiran backflipped away, landing lightly on his feet as Tombstone struggled to rip himself free. "Aw, c'mon, Tombmie, is that all you got?" Kiran quipped, sticking to the window of a nearby bodega. Tombstone, with a roar of frustrated rage, ripped a heavy blue mailbox from its moorings and hurled it at Kiran.
"Right back at you!" Kiran yelled, webbing the mailbox in mid-air and redirecting its trajectory, sending it crashing back into Tombstone with a resounding thud. "Come on! I'm right here, all battered up!" Kiran taunted, adopting a ridiculous baseball batter's stance.
Tombstone, panting with effort, glanced around. He saw a cluster of terrified pedestrians huddled near the sidewalk. A cruel smile twisted his lips. He ripped a heavy lamppost from the ground and hurled it towards the group. Kiran reacted instantly, sprinting forward and catching the falling lamppost with a thick web. "Hey! That's a foul!" he quipped.
Kiran then stared down Tombstone while signaling the civilians to get out of her. "Okay, Tombmie, now it's just you and me," Kiran quipped, his voice a touch too bright, a touch too forced. A quick glance revealed the rest of Tombstone's crew, five figures, encircling him, cutting off any escape.
"Guys, I didn't mean to forget about you! It's just... I'd prefer to keep this a mano a mano thing," Kiran stammered. Before they could react, Kiran moved. He feigned right, dodged a clumsy punch, and sent the nearest thug careening through a plate glass window with a well-aimed kick. Then, with a flick of his wrists, twin streams of web shot out, blinding the remaining goons.
They flailed, swatting uselessly at the sticky substance as Kiran swiftly ensnared them in thick, webbed cocoons. "Cool, looks like the new web-shooter's feature works," Kiran muttered to himself, replacing his web cartridges. "But they hold less web fluid than my first ones. And I still need to find an opening."
Taking a deep breath, Kiran charged, a blur of motion, dodging Tombstone's sluggish, predictable swings. "Hey, heads up!" Kiran shouted, firing a web line that snagged a heavy mail collection box. With a sharp tug, he yanked it forward, slamming it into the back of Tombstone's skull. Tombstone barely flinched.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" he boomed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Well... yeah," Kiran admitted nervously, his voice muffled by his mask. Tombstone roared and swung his massive arm. Kiran, nimble as a spider, launched himself onto Tombstone's back, clinging to him like a persistent, irritating bug.
"So, where'd you get the name Tombstone?" Kiran asked, his voice a constant stream of chatter designed to distract. "Lost a bet? Actually I'm thinking you did something at school to get that name." He crawled all over Tombstone, webbing him up as he went, a futile attempt to restrain the brute. Meanwhile, miles away in her room, Gwen stared at her phone, her knuckles white as she gripped the device.
The screen showed a shaky, pixelated live stream of the fight. She rocked back and forth, a silent prayer escaping her lips. "Come on, Kiran," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Back in the heart of the action, Tombstone, enraged and frustrated, stumbled blindly through the street, Kiran a persistent passenger on his back. They crashed through the glass doors of an apartment lobby, sending shards flying.
Kiran was tossed violently through the air, smashing through the flimsy doors leading to the stairwell. "Ouch. Man, I hate stairs," Kiran groaned, picking himself up. His spider-sense screamed a warning. He barely had time to react before Tombstone's fist smashed through the stairwell railing, cracking the concrete.
"That's definitely coming out of your deposit," Kiran quipped, scrambling back. He flipped onto the stair bar, using his momentum to swing out of reach, but Tombstone was too fast. A monstrous hand clamped around Kiran's throat, lifting him into the air. He was shoved backwards, crashing through a reinforced window that nonetheless cracked under the impact.
"This time, I'm going to squeeze the life out of you," Tombstone hissed, his face contorted in a sadistic grin. Kiran clawed at Tombstone's grip, struggling to breathe. "Come on, Kiran... think before you black out." He could feel the pressure building, his vision starting to blur. Then, his eyes fell on Tombstone's eyes, the only vulnerable part of the seemingly impenetrable villain.
He remembered the syringe he had managed to slip into his utility belt, the one containing a counter-serum meant to weaken Tombstone. "Your skin may be impenetrable," Kiran gasped, his fingers fumbling for the syringe. "But what about the eyes!" With a surge of adrenaline, Kiran jammed the syringe into Tombstone's left eye, piercing the surface and injecting the serum. "Ahhhhh!" Tombstone roared, releasing Kiran and clutching at his bleeding eye. The pain was excruciating, the chemical reaction searing his senses. Kiran landed hard against the wall, gasping for air and rubbing his bruised neck.
Tombstone stumbled backward, his hand clamped over a rapidly swelling, bloody eye. "So, let's see how I do when you're mortal," Kiran snarled, launching himself at the behemoth of a man. Outside the shattered apartment, the sounds of sirens and shouting filled the air as cops wrestled Tombstone's gang into submission.
"You think Spider-Man can take down Tombstone?" one officer asked, panting slightly. "We should be the ones to take him down, once and for all. He's done nothing but cause trouble and property damage," another officer replied, frustration lacing his voice. "You need to stop watching the Daily Bugle," the first officer retorted, rolling his eyes.
Just then, Kiran came hurtling through the wall, impacting a parked car with a sickening crunch. He blacked out, then back in, struggling to focus. Tombstone emerged from the wreckage, casually popping his dislocated arm back into place. He wiped blood from his split lip, his left eye swollen shut, bruises already blooming across his face.
"Nice left hook, kid," he grunted, his voice a gravelly rasp. "This is new." He began to lumber slowly toward the dazed Spider-Man. "Uhhhh," Kiran groaned, trying to push himself up. Every muscle screamed in protest. He was exhausted, bone-weary from the relentless fighting all night.
"This was fun, kid, but sometimes it has to end," Tombstone said, breathing heavily as he closed the distance. "Couldn't have said it any better. Lonnie Lincoln, put your hands up," Captain Stacy's voice boomed, cutting through the night. A shotgun was leveled directly at Tombstone's chest.
Tombstone's laughter was a harsh, guttural sound. "That won't work." "Would you like to test that theory right now? Because you're looking a little vulnerable," Captain Stacy replied, his voice cold. The rest of the police force quickly surrounded Tombstone, weapons drawn.
A flicker of something that might have been respect crossed Tombstone's battered face. "Seems like I've met an interesting opponent. I'll be waiting for the next fight." He raised his hands in surrender. "Let's hope it doesn't come soon," Kiran said weakly, finally managing to stand. "You too, Spider-Man, put your hands up!" Captain Stacy barked, turning his attention to the web-slinger.
"Sorry, I don't do that. But you can have this." Kiran webbed a small, folded piece of paper toward Stacy before launching himself into the night, disappearing into the shadows. On the paper was the formula for the counter-drug. A few minutes later, Kiran was carefully climbing through his bedroom window, peeling off his torn and dirtied Spider-Man suit.
He winced, revealing his bruised and battered face. He flicked on the light and froze. Gwen Stacy was asleep on his bed. A soft smile spread across Kiran's face. He knelt beside her, his voice a whisper. "You really snuck out to see if I was okay... But how did you even get in?" He gently poked her cheek. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead before collapsing onto the floor, exhaustion claiming him.
One week passed. "Kiran! Come on, it's time for school, mister!" Aunt May's voice echoed from downstairs, laced with exasperated affection. Kiran groaned and pushed himself up, stretching his aching muscles. "Mornings suck," he mumbled, yawning. Soon, he was downstairs, shoving toast into his mouth.
His eyes fell on a stack of past-due bills on the coffee table. A shadow crossed his face. "Looks like the bills are past due. I need to find a way to help Aunt May out." "Kiran, the school called. The coach asked if you would join the soccer team?" Aunt May said, bustling around the kitchen, packing his lunch. "Yeah, but I don't think I'm gonna join," Kiran replied, picking up his lunch bag.
"Okay, if you say so. Have a good day," Aunt May said, smiling. Kiran waved goodbye and headed out the door. As he walked, his phone crackled to life. "Good morning, New Yorkers! It has been remarkably peaceful since Lonnie Lincoln, a.k.a. Tombstone, was put behind bars. And it's all thanks to our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"
The news lady's voice rang out, and Kiran couldn't help but smile. A few minutes later, Kiran arrived at school. "Sup, Kiran?" Michael said, slinging an arm around Kiran's neck from behind. "Sup, Michael," Kiran replied, falling into step with his friend. "Hey, you gonna come over tonight? It's game night. At my dad's place," Michael asked. "I'll be there," Kiran said.
"You sure? You missed the last three nights," Michael pressed, a hint of concern in his voice. "Yeah, sorry about that. My aunt needed help," Kiran said, avoiding eye contact. "It's cool, just keep me updated." They continued their conversation as they walked through the crowded hallways. Suddenly, Kiran saw Gwen talking with her friends. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes locked on her. She caught his gaze, offering a small, shy wave before heading to class.