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[sup][@Bounce][/sup][/center]
[b]M A N H A T T A N,   N E W   Y O R K[/b]

The kid was right. Central Park was usually bustling with people by now, and yet there was no one there but them. All was eerily silent, with no sound but the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The whine of sirens had long passed. Miles looked around, trying to spot anyone who might be hiding behind the trees or shrubbery; a quick glance at the boy saw that he was doing the same. 

A bush rustled behind him, and the back of Miles’ head flared with warning. He ducked to his left in time to see red goo fly past his head, falling to the path with a squelch. He squinted his eyes, focusing on it. [i]Wait…[/i] he thought, [i]Is that… [b]ketchup[/b]?[/i] 

Another squirt of goo, this time yellow, flew towards him, and he flipped over it, twisting in the air to land facing where it came from. “Oh, god…” he groaned, pinching his forehead as he laid his eyes on their attacker. “It’s you.”

“Surprise, Spider-Dweeb,” said the Condiment King, “Betcha thought you’d seen the last of me.” 

“Ugh. Mayo. What do you want?”

“There’s a bounty on your head,” he explained, “And I intend to collect.”

Under normal circumstances, Miles might have felt threatened. Flattered. Scared, even. But this… this was not a normal circumstance. This was idiocy. This was lunacy. 

This was [i]insanity[/i]. 

“Hey, uh, ninja kid,” Miles said, trying to rub away the migraine that began throbbing in his head, “Feel free to hit that guy. He’s an idiot.”

“Hey, who’re you calling an id– ”



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