Lying on the ceiling, Ashok suddenly had an idea.
He pressed his palms against the surface, channeling strength into his arms. Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight, bending his knees, adjusting his balance—until, with deliberate effort, he rose to his feet.
Now, Ashok was standing upside down on the ceiling.
A slow grin spread across his face.
'Now I am Spider-Man. Though, I don't give a shit about saving the world.'
The thought amused him. He wasn't here to play hero.
Then, another realization struck him—one that made his smirk widen.
'Wait! Now that I think about it… Isn't my power the strongest?'
He could fly. He could stick to surfaces. He could stay out of reach while chaos unfolded below.
'I can simply soar high into the sky, watching the so-called main characters get beaten to shit or outright killed—while I enjoy popcorn.'
Even the mental imagination was delicious.
