WHO: Peter & Galen WHAT: The worst first impression ever WHERE: Galen's House WHEN: Plot week RATING: T for teenage swearing
At this point, Peter's starting to wonder if the universe just likes laughing at his pain.
He's minding his own damn business; he'd gotten up early to test his new web fluid recipe out in town, without an audience. It was less about preserving the non-existent secret identity and more about not wanting anybody to see him, should he fall flat on his face. Turns out, his caution was unnecessary, because the new formula works great. Peter makes several wide loops, back and forth across the main courtyard buildings, leaving wispy white strong in his wake, and he can't help but let out a delighted laugh. It's always a rush, when an experiment works, unlike anything else. Peter spins the web cartridge on his wrist, grinning to himself in the early morning light. Piece of cake. He shoots another web, jumping off the rooftop and letting gravity do most of the work: fall, snag, lift, legs positioned for the upswing -
Which is about when everything goes to shit, actually.
The way in front of him is suddenly, abruptly, inexplicably no longer open sky. He didn't even blink, and yet, like some cosmic clock has ticked to the next second, Peter's not in the courtyard. He crashes into an open pantry with force, and the shelves collapse on him, raining foodstuffs down on his head. Peter groans and doesn't even try to move for a second, dazed from the impact of literally slamming full-force into a wall. Nice.