"But it's Card Night. Why'd they give you a hard time?"
"I just don't know, MJ. Even they think I'm terrible at this whole hero thing."
Mary Jane's voice came from the other end of the phone line. "You know you're good, don't you?"
"Yeah, but, y'know." Spider-Man said into the pay phone.
"I know."
"I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay."
He hung up, exited the phone booth, and ignored the stares from onlooking pedestrians. As he jumped into a swing, he passed a store which had several televisions in the window. The Bugle News was on. This was another one of Jameson's wonderful ideas. The Daily Bugle, one of the least-respected papers out there, was run by J. Jonah Jameson. This guy hated Spider-Man more than anything, and he often used his authority as editor to slander the wallcrawler's reputation. He was also the head anchor of a late-night news program.
Spider-Man stopped in front of the television and listened intently.
"This evening held one of the greatest superhuman battles to date. In Times Square, Doctor Octopus nearly killed Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn't put up much of a fight, and--"
"I did too put up a fight!" Spider-Man yelled at the screen. "Or did you forget how I saved all the hostages?"
"And Spider-Man just went down, and the thing is--why do supervillains always take so long? Just kill the man already!"
"Yep. He forgot." And he stormed off in anger towards Queens, feeling the sticky webbing launch him through the city.
Who did Jameson think he was, anyway? He had no right to tell the world what a bad job Spider-Man was doing. No one did! Spider-Man groaned and suddenly, he got an idea. It was terrible, horrible idea. But he would do it all the same. Men do strange things for power, but even stranger things when they have power and they just want more.
When Peter Parker entered his home in Forrest Hills, he instantly ran upstairs, past his wife who was sitting on the couch watching the news. He went up into the attic, where he normally entered and exited the house as Spider-Man. He found a trunk that he had locked up months ago, and he swore he'd never open it again. But he wanted it...power...
The trunk was locked with a padlock, but that did not stop him. He ripped the top of it right off, and there was his black suit. He held it up. He closed his eyes and felt it, smelled it. Mary Jane was standing behind him, her face frowning. "Peter..."
"I need help proving that I'm a good guy. This...this can help."
"You said you'd never wear that alien suit again, Peter!"
"I know..."
He quickly threw the suit on, and he felt so much better. He looked at Mary Jane as he held his mask. "I know what I'm doing," he said as he threw it on and jumped out the window.
Mary Jane touched her lips, the ones that her husband had just left without kissing. "I hope you do."
A/N: forgive my shortness!