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Harry Osborne rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time in twenty minutes. He had stayed awake all night, encoding the program that would hand the city over to him. He yawned widely and stretched, tipping his desk chair back onto two legs. He considered taking a break since he hadn't slept for 36 hours straight, but he shook his head vigorously.

"No, stay awake Harry. Only a few more lines, and this program is done." he convinced himself, scooting close to his desk and positioning his hands over the keyboard. His fingers flew over the keyboard, click click click.

As he reached the end of his coding, he slammed his index finger down on the enter key, saving all of the code on his... business USB drive. He sat back and relaxed, putting his arms behind his head.

"Well Harry," he said to himself, "you've really outdone yourself this time. That idiotic excuse for a superhero isn't going to stand a chance."

The evil smile that he had come to know so well had crept onto his face, and he embraced it as he stood and headed for his bedroom, ready to put Project Parker into effect first thing in the morning.

Peter Parker approached the meatball joint on 5th avenue that Gwen had told him about when he had first been introduced to Electro. Peter still felt sick to his stomach when he thought about Max Dillon, the awkward, kind-hearted guy that could do no wrong turning into that...monster. It hurt his heart.

However, Peter sent those thoughts to the back of his head. He was supposed to be meeting a higher power of The Daily Bugle for lunch to discuss a promotion in the photography department.

As the waitress led him to a secluded table in the back, he noticed an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. But Peter's "spidey sense" felt different than this, so he just filed it away as nothing more than nervousness.

The menu held nothing that caught his interest. His eyes scanned the laminated fold out for meatballs, but he couldn't locate any.

"Excuse me?" he asked a passing waiter, a young man in his twenties with black shaggy hair.

"Yes sir, how can I help you?"

"Do you have meatballs? I can't seem to find them on the menu, but one of my...close friends referred me to this place for them," Peter said, and the waiter furrowed his eyebrows.

"No sir, I can't say that we do. Is there anything else that you want?" the waiter asked, pulling out a pad and a pen. Peter shook his head, earning an apologetic look from the waiter before he turned and hurried back into the kitchen.

"Peter Parker!" a voice called from the door, and Peter's head jerked towards the sound of his name. He stood up and waved at the woman who had called his name, and she nodded at him before coming and joining him.

She extended her hand to him, which he graciously took.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs...?"

"Watson. But you may call me Mary Jane," she said with a smile. She wasn't much older than him. In fact, she looked to be of his age or slightly older. She had medium-length red hair that hung in loose curls on her shoulders, and they bounced when she walked.

"Well, it's a pleasure, Mary Jane," he said, returning her smile. She reached into her briefcase, fishing for a piece of paper.

Once she had surfaced with her paper, she slid it across the table to Peter.

"Let's cut to the chase, Parker," she began, "we both know you're the best photographer for the Bugle. We also both know that you're going to get this job. So if you'll sign that paper, your life will be much better financially."

Her bluntness caused his eyebrows to shoot up, and he had to bite the interior of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at how serious she was.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a sarcastic salute, which resulted in a small smile. He grabbed a pen from his coat pocket, and he signed the paper. She took the paper back and returned it to her briefcase, picking up the menu once she did so.

The waiter that had informed him of their lack of meatballs returned, and the girl turned to him.

"Can I have meatballs please?" she asked nicely, and Peter's eyebrows furrowed. He looked back and forth from the waiter to Bugle girl, and the waiter put on the same apologetic look that he had given Peter.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Your friend asked for those as well," he gestured to Peter, "but I'm afraid we don't have any meatballs."

"What? That's impossible. One of my greatest friends referred me to this place before she passed. She wouldn't just lie!" the girl explained to the waiter, and Peter's face went pale. Her friend that passed told her about this place? Could it have been...?

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I wish I could help," the waiter said, but instead of trying to help, he walked straight into the kitchen.

The girl sighed exasperatedly and her eyes found Peter, who she noticed was staring at his water intently.

She snapped her fingers a couple of inches from his face, and he jumped, awaking from his trance.

"Oh, sorry, I just..." Peter began, but he stopped. She gestured for him to continue. "Do you know Gwen Stacey? Or, did you?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard, and it changed her entire demeanor. The glint in her eye turned very serious, and her whole body seemed to slump in her booth.

"Well, yeah. We were very close. Best friends since elementary school. Since before that. We were inseparable. But ever since I got this job at the Bugle, I've had so much work, and Gwen and I kinda fell out of touch. And then she died... I never got to say goodbye," she explained, and Peter nodded, knowing exactly how she felt.

"Yeah, she was my girlfriend when she died. It was so unexpected. I still don't believe it sometimes," Peter said, and Mary Jane nodded. "You know, tomorrow will be a year to the day of her death. It'll probably be hard," Peter added, and she put her head down on the table.

After a couple of moments of comfortable silence, Mary Jane raised her head back up.

"So you loved Gwen too, huh?" she asked, and he nodded, sighing afterward. "Well," she continued, grabbing her coat and briefcase, "let's ditch this joint and go get some real food. You like thai?" she asked, and he smiled slightly.

"Only if you like the runs!" he retorted, showing his comfortable humorous side, and she laughed.

"Oh, I love them!" she snapped back, causing him to laugh as well. They grabbed their things and headed out into a busy 5th avenue.

Their waiter came back to an empty table, and he sighed.

"No tip?"

MARY JANE?! WHAAAAT?! Don't worry. You'll see. ;) Review, favorite, and follow! :)