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He selected a specific tone: the from his recent battles.
The glowing screen of the cell phone was the only thing illuminating Peter Parker’s cramped bedroom. It was past midnight, and the silence of the apartment was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of Queens traffic. He selected a specific tone: the from his recent battles
As the first few notes played—a sharp, synth-driven pulse that mimicked the rhythmic thrum of a power grid—Peter closed his eyes. To anyone else, it was just a catchy bit of audio from a movie or a game. To him, it was the sound of the clock tower. It was the sound of the wind whipping past his ears as he swung through Times Square, the air ionized and smelling of ozone. He selected a specific tone: the from his recent battles