Miles Morales and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day
Miles Morales' body ached like hell. Every single pain-ravaged cell in his exhausted body cried out for relief as he finally pulled his bruised and battered frame over his window frame and onto the floor of his room, whereupon he let out a muffled curse as he impacted the solid floor face first. For a few minutes, he lay stationary, waiting for the throbbing to die down a little. It had been a rough night, to say the least. He'd been tracking Kingpin's shipments for weeks now; one of his front...