"I'm going to get you," shouted Dr. Octopus, PhD., just before Spider-Man punched him in the face, ever so very hard. They had been fighting across the New York skyline for several hours now. Peter had grown sluggish, and that was the last of his strength-and well timed, too. "Well, maybe next we meet," the doctor said with a sneer before falling unconscious. "Beat me to it, Tattoo Nightmare," Spider-Man quipped as he shot some webbing out. It cradled the mad scientist. In a daze, the doc reached up with his only free hand, a human one. There was a bright white glare. Spider-Man left him hanging.

Spider-Man-he, in that moment, could barely be called such a thing, for his spandex were a mess-tattered from head to setules. "Great, and I'm late on rent this week, " Peter mumbled and squealed. "Well," he started, curling the corners of his lips, "Harry lives nearby." Harry Osborn had been Peter's best friend since the 1960's, when they were kids. He knew Spider-Man's true identity.

RiiiiNG-A-diNG-BLING! the bell yelled. "Classy Harry," Peter said, almost actually venomous. He couldn't help it sometimes, it was part of his condition. A man dressed as a butler opened the door. "Hello, Mr...?" Peter said and questioned while squinting. "Butler," the man replied. Peter was yet to be sure if he was, in fact, a butler. "But my friends call me Pennyworth."

"Because you're worth every cent?"

"Because I have a dry sense of humor."

"What?"

"Harry is in his room. Upstairs, third floor, take a left, pass a few plants." New house (mansion), new butler. Harry's butlers are paid very well to keep secrets.

"Well, just how many do I pass?"

"They're bunched together. After you pass them turn left, twice, second door on the left."

"That all?" Peter bitched sarcastically with a wobble of his head.

"The password is 122 Liquorish." Suddenly Peter clenched his chest and began to breath heavily. Sweat dripped down his face. It was salty. "I'll get you some refreshing H20," the butler said and he vanished.
Peter hunched over grasping his chest and heaving wildly. With his free hand he leaned against the wall. His eyes looked as if tears were about to spring out, then his face grew red like anger. Finally his cheeks puffed with air, then released. Relief. When "Mr. Butler" returned, Peter was already gone.

I'm here. I'm floating up the stairs, oddly lifted by my recent experience, when I hear the butler's sighs. He must be disappointed in my manners. I don't have time for his shenanigans, though. The wallpaper is a yellow that looks ashamed of its existence, like it's in the process of running from where it clings. I hope he has yet to take care of it. On the wall is the Green Goblin, Harry's father, looking as intense as always, and posing in his best suit, one of hundreds of best suits he owned, and wearing a pink tie.

When I get to his room I hear a white noise. I say the password. Nothing happens. Not even a tear like before. That's good. The door is unlocked. I let myself in and am confused. Everywhere, splashed over his walls are pictures of me. Well, not me, but Spider-Man. I didn't know. I consider leaving, but I really need the change of clothes and fresh suit I keep with Harry. I see it, it's hanging on the wall, it seems on display. I grab it, but I still need street clothes. I consider taking some of Harry's, but they'd be too small for me. I'm very muscular, after all. I hear the white noise dissipate and Harry comes out of what I assume must be the bathroom. He's naked and holding a picture of Spider-Man, wrapped in plastic. It's wet as if he took it into the shower. "Peter!" he shouts. I look away. "What are you doing here?" he says nonchalantly. I see him getting dressed out of the corner of my eye. "Wow Pete, you look a mess."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. I, uh, didn't know you were such a big fan." Suddenly Harry looks embarrassed, or maybe I was just imagining things.

"Well, we used to be so close. Now you only hop on by to pick up things."

"Harry, your father tried to kill me several times."

"I'm not my father."

"You've tried to do me in several ways."

"In the past, Pete. In the past. You know me. You know I've changed. We should hang out sometimes."

"Ok, but right now, I need my street clothes. Then I need to get back."

"To your wife?"

"Y-yeah. My wife."

Harry smiled.