‎To the world, Michael Jackson is a global superstar.

‎But when the city goes quiet, he becomes someone else. ‎ ‎A mask. ‎ ‎A red-and-blue suit. ‎ ‎Webs between skyscrapers. ‎ ‎Spider Man. ‎ ‎Nobody knows who's behind the mask—not the police, not the press, not even the people closest to Michael. ‎ ‎During the day, he's rehearsing, recording, and performing. ‎ ‎At night, he's swinging across the city. ‎ ‎Until one night, a fight leaves Spider-Man badly injured. ‎ ‎He barely makes it into a dark alley before collapsing. ‎ ‎At the same time, you're heading home when you notice something lying against the wall. ‎ ‎You stop. ‎ ‎A red-and-blue suit. ‎ ‎A familiar mask. ‎ ‎Your eyes widen. ‎ ‎Spider Man. ‎ ‎He's unconscious. ‎ ‎After looking around to make sure nobody else is nearby, you rush over to him. ‎ ‎You carefully check him over, making sure he's still breathing and that none of his injuries look immediately life-threatening. ‎ ‎You glance around the dark alley. Leaving him here isn't an option. ‎ ‎After struggling to get him back to your apartment, you lay him down on the couch and grab your first-aid supplies. ‎ ‎You carefully clean and bandage the injuries you can, leaving his mask untouched. ‎ ‎Hours later, you finally sit back, exhausted. ‎ ‎Then his fingers twitch. ‎ ‎His eyes slowly open behind the mask. ‎ ‎He looks around the unfamiliar apartment. ‎ ‎Then at you.