Peter had been on edge all day, waiting for the moment that was coming closer and closer.
His ears were practically ringing with anticipation.
The moment that could change his life.
A job interview.
He sat on the edge of a stiff couch waiting for his name to be called. The waiting room was somewhat small compared to the reputation of the company that owned it. There was a glass door entrance to the building, the small waiting room occupied by two couches and a coffee table, and a door at the other end of the room, with a receptionist's window to the side, now closed.
The only sounds in the room were the buzzing of the too bright lights overhead, and the occasional turning of a magazine page by the only other occupant of the room, a petite red haired woman who had sauntered into the room only a few minutes after he had sat down.
He heard rustling behind the office door and hoped that it was the receptionist moving to finally call him in. He gazed at the door, willing it to open. But, it quieted down and again, he was left with the buzzing and the turning. He sighed inwardly and adjusted his grip on his portfolio. His waiting room companion seemed completely at ease; she lounged gracefully on the couch across from him, slowly flipping through the pages of her magazine. Thoughtfully chewing a piece of gum as her eyes slipped back and forth on the pages.
Her eyes looked up over the glasses that had slid down her nose and gazed directly at Peter, who realized awkwardly that he had been staring. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat, mumbling an unintelligible apology.
As he berated himself for being a poor mannered buffoon and silently prayed that the door would open now, the woman straightened herself, putdown her magazine and recrossed her legs so that she was now directly facing Peter.
The corners of her mouth lifted in a surprisingly sympathetic smile, twirling a piece of her long, curly, red hair in her fingers.
"Nervous for the interview?"
Peter paused for a moment, surprised that she had decided to talk to him, breaking their previous 10 minutes of silence.
"Yeah," he said, meeting her eyes again, "this job is the opportunity of a life time."
That, and he needed the steady income badly. Aunt May was in an assisted living home; somewhere where she could have the proper care that she needed, and to have people looking out for her; an environment that Peter wasn't present enough to give. But that also meant he had to pay for that care, and taking pictures for the Bugle just wasn't cutting it.
Science was Peter's passion, besides his slightly unmentionable hobby, and working for M.I.X. Inc. was probably the closest thing to a dream come true as he was going to get, the actual dream being finding out that his great-grandfather was actually a pirate and left him billions of dollars of gold. M.I.X.'s offer of a job for him right out of high school, while also paying for a college education, was way too good to pass up. And also, it was his only other option. Because, these days, solo vigilante crime fighting wasn't paying so good. And by 'not so good' he meant 'at all'. It all hinged on this interview.
If they ever got around to actually interviewing him, that is.
He glanced back at the door, noting that it still remained, as ever, closed.
"So they say," she acknowledged. Peter glanced back as the woman leaned forward and extended her hand "Natalie Rushman."
Peter also stretched forward, grasping her hand. "Peter Parker."
"You have much experience in the field of Bio- Genetics, Mr. Parker?" she asked as they both leaned back into their seats.
She had a slight accent when she spoke, Peter noticed. Was it Czech? Maybe Russian?
"Uh, I thought the position was more for computer sciences." He replied somewhat nervously. He had been a computer whiz his whole life, and had taken a lot of classes in that area throughout high school. Though he could work a job with it, his expertise on bio genetics would be harder to explain, especially considering his personal experience in that field and his specialty on the archnae side of genetics.
"It is," she acknowledged, "I was just wondering." She raised an eyebrow in question.
"Oh. Well," Peter readjusted himself, finding that that was a somewhat odd question to make idle conversation with. "I, uh, I dabble. A little."
"Ah, I see. You work on it in your spare time?"
Peter thought back to an inner conversation that he'd been having with himself a few days earlier. As he'd been getting repeatedly punched by the Vulture. He'd told himself that he really needed to consider a new, less painful pastime.
He gave a pained smile.
'Uh, yeah. You could say that."
"Ah."
He thought they were going to lapse into their previous silence when Natalie pulled out her magazine and gestured to it.
"They say that Spider-Man might join the Avengers soon, that it is only inevitable."
Peter was surprised that the news still had the ability to write about him in a non-derogatory manner. Not that he put much stock in their opinion; after all, they're the ones who call him a menace. Which he is not. Obviously.
"Oh really?"
"Yes. Though I think he is too much of a wild man to join an organization like that. What do you think?"
Peter was slightly offended. Bold, original, daring, self-sufficient, yes. Wild? What was he, a monkey?
"I wouldn't say he's 'wild'. Not any more than any other superhero. He just does what needs to be done."
"So you think that he would join on with a group; like the Avengers, or the Fantastic Four?"
Peter thought for a minute. Would he? He internally shuddered at the thought of having to work with the Human Torch on any sort of daily basis; occasionally seeing him every couple of months was bad enough.
But the Avengers…
The prestige of being associated with Earth's Mightiest heroes. No more bad press. The honor of working with some of the greatest modern minds: Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Hank Pym. Plus, the paycheck probably wasn't too shabby either.
"I think, given the proper circumstances, he would join. Spider-Man just hasn't been given the right opportunity yet."
"Interesting thought." Natalie conceded. She rolled up her magazine and stuck it in her purse. Just then, the door opened and a gray haired receptionist stuck her head out the door. She looked quizzically at Natalie before finally turning her eyes onto Peter.
"Mr. Parker, Mr. Sherman will see you now."
As Peter stood up, so did Natalie. She reached out and shook his hand.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parker."
"Yeah, you too."
Natalie turned and walked out the glass doors, her heals clicking loudly on the sidewalk before the door finally shut behind her.
As Peter turned and began walking toward the receptionist, a curious thought formed in his mind.
Natalie hadn't been interviewed, hadn't even signed in. So why had she been waiting in the waiting room with him?
