They were all here. Every last investor, seated together at one boardroom table. Even Cassandra. Especially Cassandra. Age might have marred her skin, but her clear blue gaze was as shiver-inducing as always.
Kingsley paced towards the group, fighting to steady his trembles. Behind the group, poking through the massive penthouse windows, was the Manhattan skyline – As if Kingsley didn't feel small enough already. And standing between the table and the window was Kingsley's loyal little brother. He cleared his throat, scowling expectantly at his silent sibling.
After one last, agonizing moment of silence, Kingsley finally seated himself at the head of the table, straightened his immaculate, white penguin suit, then spoke: "Gentlemen… Ladies." He nodded to Cassandra, who replied with a roll of her eyes. "From the dawn of their existence, mankind has shared a dream. A dream that, with Tricorp leading the charge, stands to become a reality. I give you… personalized flight!"
With a dramatic hum, the overhead projector roared to life, inundating the center of the table with a holographic image of a sleek, silver jetpack ripped straight from the pages of a sci-fi dime novel.
Kingsley paused for applause.
The pause was instead filled with laughter.
"Wow, great job, Roderick!" an investor called out. "What'll you announce next, the Kingsberry?"
"W-What?" The abrupt loss of Kingsley's composure only made the laughter louder. "I don't understand."
"Then you must not be aware," spoke up Cassandra, slouching back in her seat. "Oscorp announced Tech Flight six hours ago."
Roderick's heart all but gave out. Tech Flight? But that was impossible! Tricorp had stolen Toomes' designs fair and square!
"Hey, come on, now, maybe Kingsley's version here is different?" another investor added, wiping his eyes. "Like how his ocean spray fragrance is different from his saltwater stream one." The man's next sentence sounded considerably more posh: "It's a subtle divergence in aroma. I wouldn't expect a proletarian to appreciate it."
That brought out the loudest laughter yet.
Kingsley stood alone in his penthouse office, staring unseeing at the somewhat more weathered, somewhat more battered skyline of a post-metahuman Manhattan. Laughter echoed in his ears.
The Winkler Machine was now a pile of scrap metal that Kingsley's best technicians couldn't untangle. Cassandra was in witness protection. And Kingsley had just spent the past three hours fending off allegations that his perfume factory was a front for Tricorp's under-the-table operations.
Behind Kingsley, the door opened. In the window's reflection, Kingsley spotted a stooge entering the office. If he didn't have good news to report, that stooge was getting tossed through this window.
"Mr. Kingsley, sir," the man said with a bow of his head, "construction of the chamber is complete."
Ah. Kingsley wouldn't be needing a new window today. Without turning, he said, "Take me there."
The chamber in question was, of course, one fitted to spray its occupants with Globulin Green gas, as per the instructions detailed in Norman Osborn's stolen journals. In truth, Kingsley should have ordered the thing's construction much sooner (especially before sending out brainwashed mooks with a glider and pumpkin bombs), but the Green's recipe had proved surprisingly difficult to replicate. There was also the teeny issue that, without Cassandra's telepathy on hand, Kingsley would have no real means of controlling any Globulin Green-fueled super-mercenaries, and then what good would they be as henchmen?
But then, on the other hand… Norman Osborn had never needed intermediaries.
It was weird to think that a year ago, Peter had been complaining about being lonely. Now, with the addition of a fourth resident, the place was more crowded than it'd ever been. The war for the shower had reached new heights this morning with the revelation that MJ liked to use up all the hot water and then spend hours in front of the mirror.
But, in truth, the last thing Peter wanted to do right now was complain about too many occupants. Not when one of those occupants had been so sorely missed.
"I can take it from here, Peter, dear." Aunt May gently released Peter's arm as she hobbled her way towards her bedroom.
"If you're sure…" It was only with a great deal of reluctance that Peter backed off. If there was any sign that the universe didn't completely despise him, it was that Aunt May had made a full and surprisingly quick recovery from Electro's little stunt. The woman was tougher than she looked. Not that that kept Peter from treating her like she might crumble to dust at a moment's notice.
"As a matter of fact, if you're so worried about me…" May paused her hobbling to take a steadying breath. "…then you'll be pleased to hear that I'm looking at houses in northern Pennsylvania. I want away from this terrible city. As soon as you three graduate high school, of course."
"Oh." Peter swapped glances with Gwen and MJ from their places on the living room couch, then hurried after his aunt. "W-Well, I guess me and Gwen don't mind living on ESU's campus. We don't want you in danger, either." His brow furrowed. "But I hate the thought of you moving to some weird new place all by yourself."
"Actually..." May's cheeks reddened. "Dr. Bromwell has family down in Pennsylvania. He and I were planning on making the move together."
"O-Oh." Peter blinked. "That's… That's great. I'm happy for you." Lately, the thought of his aunt with a boyfriend has become a considerable easier pill for Peter to swallow, seeing as Aunt May literally could not do any worse than last time…
"I didn't want to move too far away," May said, "in case you and Gwen ever need me."
"You guys don't have to live on campus if you don't want," spoke up MJ from inside the MJ-shaped lump she'd burrowed into the couch. "You could always rent an apartment. Less frat boys to deal with."
"Yeah, I guess we could," said Gwen, who was showing off a near-perfect posture from the other couch cushion, "if we could find a place that'd rent to a pair of seventeen-going-on-eighteen-year-olds."
"Well, if you do find one, I'd be happy to co-sign the lease," said Aunt May.
"Cool." After that, Mary Jane returned to her lump. She didn't really say anything for the rest of the conversation, but she had this look in her eyes that Peter had come to know and dread. The one that meant gears were turning.
Peter leaned over the building's railing, letting the icy wind wash over his quivering jacket. Not that apartment-hunting didn't sound fun and all, but he couldn't let himself lose track of his real responsibilities – Kingsley was still walking free, and this Kingpin guy was still in charge of the city's current crime wave, though Peter still had half a mind to think the two were one and the same. Come on. King-sley? King-pin? It was just too perfect.
"Ha! Look at that fat one over there. Bet he looks adorable when he flies." Gwen knelt over the Empire State Building's famous binocular thingies. Y'know, those round, silver ones you put quarters in to use? It was like a microtransaction had escaped your phone and was rampaging out in the real world.
Peter tried to see which pigeon Gwen was talking about, but truth be told, there were other sights vying for his attention. Such as Gwen's jeans, which were a bit too tight on her. Peter could lean over the edge and stare at the street below, and it wouldn't be nearly as dizzying a sight.
"Hey, Peter?" The binocular pay wall sprang back up, so Gwen returned her attention to her boyfriend. He glanced away, praying his cheeks weren't too crimson. "Happy one year anniversary." She smiled. God, she was pretty. Had Peter mentioned that before? Especially when she was all bundled up with matching pink gloves, a scarf, and a beanie to keep warm at this altitude. Gwen had the same kind of beauty as a flower or a snowflake. Soft. Delicate.
"I'm just sorry we couldn't go anywhere nicer." She patted his cheek with her fully-healed, cast-free hand. "But an apartment would be worth every penny we pinch. That is, assuming we ever actually find one that rents to seventeen-year-olds and won't turn us into paupers by the end of the week..."
"Yeah." And even if they could find an apartment, May was still readying the house to sell, and Peter didn't know if he wanted to leave her all alone before she moved. Well, Dr. Bromwell had been spending more time with May. Gee, though, Peter hoped the guy wasn't just her rebound from Otto.
"Can't believe it's been a year already," Gwen said. "Doesn't feel like it. That's pretty big, right?"
"Uh huh."
As happy as their anniversary made Peter, though, it also happened to be the one-year anniversary of Harry becoming the Green Goblin for real. When he shut his eyes, Peter could still see a glider sailing above the parade floats…
"Peter? You in there?"
"Huh? Wha-? I'm listening!"
Gwen's cherry lips were marred by a smirk. "Really? Then what was I saying?"
"You… saw a fat pigeon?"
She let out a sigh. "It's okay, Peter, I just said the song on that radio's kind of romantic." She gestured behind them to a rooftop radio, left there to entertain the tourists, Peter supposed.
Peter listened for the music, though it was hard to catch it over the howling wind:
"Before you landed,
I had a will
But didn't know
What it could do..."
"Yeah, yeah," Peter said. "It's cool."
The two of them stood there at the railing, listening.
"You make me drop things,
Like all the plans
I had for a
Life without you..."
"Sorry for spacing out on you."
"It's alright." Gwen gave another smile. "Can't blame you for having your heads in the clouds. Even the top of the Empire State Building must be pretty mundane for you."
"I'm drunk when sober.
The room is spin-
-ning. You are what
I hold on to..."
"Mundane? How could it be mundane when you're standing on top of it?" Suddenly, Peter's hand was in hers. "Look, I know it's hard for me to focus sometimes, but that doesn't mean I'll ever get tired of you." His hand caressed her headband. "You're half of my life, Gwen. Peter Parker and Spider-Man are only a fourth each."
Her eyes gazed into his. Hers were so big and blue and wistful. Peter could've stood there forever, studying them.
"You're taking over.
I find that giv-
ing in is the
best I can do..."
"Gwen… I can't even put to words how important you are to-"
It turned out Peter didn't have to – His voice was drowned out by sirens. Boyfriend and girlfriend lowered their heads to find a handful of police cars and an ambulance barreling down the street below.
"You should go," said Gwen.
Peter found himself wincing. "Gwen, you've been looking forward to our anniversary for weeks. It was bad enough I missed your band recital. Can't we let the police do their own jobs for just one-?"
"Peter." Gwen's face tightened. "Someone's life could be in danger. You should at least go check. I'm not gonna fall to pieces-"
"You're right, you're right…" Slowly, Peter drew away. He skimmed the rooftop. "No one's watching. Hold my clothes." He tossed a jacket at her head.
Gwen let it fall to the floor. "I'll guard them with my life."
They shared a laugh.
"Love you." And with that, Peter slipped on his mask and flipped over the side of the railing, leaving a pile of clothing at Gwen's feet.
"You, too," Gwen called out after him. "I'll be here when you get back…"
She was left alone, the song's chorus washing over her.
Ah, Gwen. MJ could've written a list on all that girl's positive qualities, but then she'd be here all day. The one that stood out at the moment, though, was Gwen's ability to, like, actually listen to what you were saying. MJ had spoken more words to Gwen in one sitting than she had in all the time she'd lived with Mark.
"You can really get one?" Gwen said as she screwed and unscrewed the cap of her water bottle.
"Yeah, it's covered by my insurance." Mary Jane nodded, then took a bite of her abnormally thick sandwich – peanut butter, jelly, and honey on three slices of bread.
"Rent would be a lot cheaper with three people..." Gwen glanced up at the stage, where Kong was somehow managing to chew the scenery as King Duncan.
"And I can actually room with someone cool for once!" MJ beamed at her. "And Pete's aunt can move away from the crazy supervillain action. Everyone wins."
"Yeah… I can't blame her for that." Finally, Gwen took a sip of water. "I mean, after the Kraven thing, I guess I chose to stick with Peter through thick and thin, but… what about you? Don't you want to move somewhere safer?"
"Move? From the coolest city on Earth?" MJ merely laughed, leaning back in her seat.
Something about that gave Gwen pause. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was Mary Jane's tone – It'd seemed almost hollow.
"Everything okay?" MJ's voice yanked Gwen back to the surface.
"Yeah, it's fine," said Gwen. "It's just… you don't think it'd be weird for Peter to- to room with another girl, do you?"
"Depends on how much you trust him."
"You're right. Sorry. I mean, you are bi, so I guess I should be asking myself the same question…"
"Depends on how much you trust me."
"And then there's…" Suddenly, Gwen was brushing her bangs over her eyes, hiding them from sight. "I mean, we literally haven't mentioned it again since it happened, but… I did ask you out that one time." Her voice was something resembling a stage whisper. "You wouldn't be uncomfortable rooming with me, would you?"
"Depends on how much you trust yourself."
At this remark, Gwen return to screwing and unscrewing her bottle cap.
"Look, girlfriend, it's not as big a deal as you think." With her sandwich no more, Mary Jane moved on to licking the salad dressing off a baby carrot. "You guys know I'm a free agent again, and you and Tiger are, like, the purest couple in all history. Our life's not gonna become a soap opera overnight. And, c'mon, you only asked me out cuz you were desperate to get over Peter, and we all know how that turned out. Our date could've gone off without a hitch and it'd never have amounted to anything because, y'know, I'm not Peter Parker."
"Well… do you think we should at least tell Peter about our almost-date?" With a bit of effort, Gwen managed to meet MJ's eyes again. "Just for total transparency?"
MJ shrugged. "Your call."
A moment passed.
"Why trouble him with it?" Gwen let out a titter. "You're right, it was never gonna amount to anything." Another moment passed. "H-Hey, MJ?"
"Yeah?"
"If- If Peter and I do get an apartment… um…" The words were addressed to Gwen's water bottle. "…how… might one… obtain…" The last words were barely a breath. "…birth control?"
Yet another moment passed.
Then came the laughter. "You've been living with him for months and you haven't-?"
"Nothing that would need birth control, no." Gwen's head was one smart remark away from exploding. "We're trying to respect his aunt about it-"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." MJ wiped her eyes, then patted Gwen's shoulder. "God, you two are cute. It's fine, I got a clinic I can take you to."
"Okay. Okay, thanks." Gwen took another sip – despite the bottle being totally empty by now. "So, um, once that- that first step is done… how exactly would one… go about…?" She trailed off.
"Go about what?" asked a voice from behind her.
Gwen made a sound that'd fit in a jump scare video, then spun to find – Who else? – Peter coming towards them down the aisle.
"Sorry I'm late." He held up a Starbucks cup as an explanation. "What're we talking about?"
"Oh, nothing that'd interest you," said Mary Jane, examining her nails.
"Did I miss your audition?"
"Not yet, Tiger." MJ looked to Gwen. They gave a mutual nod. "Actually, me and Gwen had a little proposition for you."
"Proposition?" The cup nearly slipped from Peter's hand, but he managed to catch it. "W-What kind of proposition?" His eyes did that thing male eyes do where they dart to the far wall so you don't think they were checking out your rack.
"Peter..." Gwen sat up so she could hold his hand. "How you'd like to have Mary Jane as our roommate?"
"Oh. Yeah. Roommate." Peter blinked. "That- That's an idea. But I thought we wanted it to be just the two of-?"
Just then, Devereaux's deep voice rang out: "You're up, Miss Watson!"
"Oop, forgot." MJ sprang out her seat. "Wish me luck."
"Yeah…" Peter watched her go. "Luck."
"Did I hear you say 'luck,' Miss Watson?" As MJ drew near, an evil grin crossed Devereaux's face. "I'm afraid this is the wrong play for that."
MU laughed. "Really? Why?"
"Oh, I've heard about that," spoke up Gwen. "They say you'll doom yourself if you say 'Macbeth' in a theater-"
Boom. The entrance doors flew open, and into the theater stepped a body that made Mary Jane's blood run cold.
"Guys! I'm back from Europe!" He'd gotten a lot less scrawny, but his stripey orange hair was the same as ever. But that paled in comparison to the sleazy look on his face. That could never change.
"What?" Gwen sprang out of her seat. "Harry!"
"Bro?" Peter followed suit. "We haven't heard from you in-"
"-a year. I know." Harry gave an apologetic smile. "It's been a pretty hectic one."
Back onstage, Flash had frozen. "The Osbrat returns? Great. I was this close to graduating and never seeing him again."
"Flash, be nice," murmured Sha Shan from behind him. "He probably just got out of rehab."
Back below the stage, Harry was nearing Devereaux. "Hey, I know I'm not a student here anymore, but, well, I thought it'd be cool if I could do one more play at Midtown before all my friends graduate." He glanced away. "Y'know, make up for the last one I missed."
"Of course, young Osborn!" Devereaux's face lit up. "In fact, that works out perfectly. Our acting talent has been stretched regretfully thin as of late. Hobie Brown, possibly the brightest among us, quit the drama club for reasons beyond my comprehension. We don't even have Mr. Allan here to work the lights anymore..." He hung his head, but Devereaux never could stay depressed for long. "And so I've been looking for someone to fill our play's lead role."
"Great! I'll give it an audition." They shook hands. "Thanks a lot, sir."
("At least there's no drug to help cheat at that..." muttered Flash.
"Maybe methamphetamine," muttered Sha Shan.)
And with that, Harry turned his attention elsewhere. "Guys?" His eyes met Peter's and Gwen's. "I know this doesn't excuse anything, but the things I did… I had a psychotic episode. Total break with reality."
"W-We get it," Peter stammered. MJ could guess what was going through his head. Something like, Well, if he thinks he was crazy before, then he doesn't think I'm Spider-Man anymore, right? Right?
"And Gwen?" said Harry. "I'd like to talk to you later."
"O-Okay," said Gwen.
"Nuh uh."
"Hey-!"
The next thing she knew, MJ was dragging Gwen out the theater by the hand.
"Wait, Miss Watson!" Devereaux called after her. "Your audition-"
"Rain check, teach."
MJ didn't release Gwen until they were in the outside hallway. The poor girl barely even resisted. And, as MJ had predicted, Peter emerged after them a moment later.
"Mary Jane..." Gwen sighed. "I get why you're freaking out. I promise you I do. But what happened… It wasn't Harry's fault. He was on the Green-"
"He tried to murder you, Gwen!" MJ's voice caused a few stray students to turn their heads.
Gwen bowed her head. "I know, Mary Jane, but he's spent a whole year in rehab, and- and it's not like his mom's gonna hook him up with more Green and another glider, right?" She was fiddling with her glasses again. "Can't we at least give him the chance to apologize?"
"He hit you. He shouldn't be coming anywhere near you. He shouldn't-" Mary Jane touched her cheek. It stained her fingertip with mascara. For a moment, the three of them stood there. Then MJ swore under her breath and bolted for it.
She didn't stop running until she'd found a secluded locker to throw herself against. MJ knelt down, hurriedly rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Get it together, Watson. This wasn't in character for a cool party girl at all.
Then, the moment MJ had been dreading – Peter rounded the corner. "Mary Jane?"
Slowly, MJ raised her head. "Hey, Tiger, promise me something? If Harry or- or any other creep touches Gwen again… give 'em hell for me."
"I promise." Peter offered a hand, helping her to her feet. "Y'know what, MJ? The more I think about you rooming with us… the more I like it."
While Peter ran off to console MJ, Gwen found herself staying behind by the theater entrance. She couldn't help but feel that allowing herself to get dragged out the room by her hand had been a bit too pathetic even for her.
Gwen was about to re-enter the theater, but then the door swung open on its own.
"Oh, G-Gwen." Harry drew back. He may have put on some muscle mass, but he was flightier than Gwen had ever seen him. "I thought you were- I- I was just leaving-"
"Harry, wait." Okay, Gwen, deep breath. "I want to hear what you have to say."
"It's not much, really." Harry sighed. "Just that I know what I did to you was unforgivable, and I'm sorry. When I was trying to get over the Green before, you were more supportive than anyone else in the world… and I took advantage of that. I took advantage of you." He started to walk past her. "If you never want to see me again, I understand."
But then he paused and turned his head back to her, expectant.
"I'm… glad you understand," said Gwen.
Liz had meant to go straight home after cheerleading practice, but she ended up stopping by the one person in the whole school who looked as miserable as she felt.
"Harry?" He'd been sitting on the rim of entrance yard's fountain, staring off into space, but Liz's words pulled him back to Earth.
"Liz? And here I thought I was too nerdy for your standa-" Harry did a double take. "Whoa, what's eating you?"
"Oh, it's just…" Guess Liz looked as miserable as she felt, too. "I can't stop thinking about Mark. When someone you love gets addicted to whatever, and- and something horrible happens to them because of it… it's hard not to blame yourself, y'know?" She trailed off. "And I- I want to make peace with Petey and Gwen and MJ, but it's not easy when I'm still, like, ninety-nine percent sure Gwen and MJ conspired to break me and Petey up."
Harry stared at her a moment. "I'm sorry. That- That really sucks."
But Liz soon shook herself out of it. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm just in a weird mood. Anyways, what's eating you?"
No response.
"Harry?"
Harry pointed behind her, mouth agape, the words caught in his throat.
"It'll be my new acidic Gobwebs in a second!" bellowed a voice from above.
"What the-?" Before Liz even had time to process the fact that a guy in an orange cloak and rubber goblin mask had just swooped down from the sky on a gargoyle-themed glider, let alone the fact that said glider was equipped with a canon shooting burning green goop right at the two of them, she found herself being pushed to the pavement. It was only after a frenzied second that she realized Harry had done the pushing, sending the two of them tumbling narrowly out of the acid's path mere seconds before it ate through the fountain to send water spewing every which way.
"Not here! Not again!" Harry stumbled back, eyes bulging.
"Seriously? Another supervillain attacking our school?" But Liz was too paralyzed to even stumble.
Her remark, though, sent a curious twitch through the grimy rubber mask. "I apologize for the lack of originality," the Hobgoblin said tightly. "But since you're so concerned, I'll be sure to find a nice and creative way to murder y-"
Thwip. The remark was ended by a web to the mouth. Hey, the classics were classic for a reason.
"Here's an original idea – a pacifist supervillain." Across the courtyard, the heads of countless students were turning to find a big old bundle of red-and-blue spandex towards Liz and Harry. The sight alone was enough to replace most screams with cheers. "That's a freebie. You can have that one."
While the goblin was busy freeing his mouth, Spider-Man snatched up Liz and Harry, then shot a web-line to the nearby flagpole so he could swing around to the opposite side of the school buildings. Now that they were a safe enough distance from Hobgoblin, Spidey let the two loose onto the front lawn.
"This still doesn't change anything," Harry said with a scowl.
"Can we not right now?" Without another word, their rescuer sprinted up the side of the building and vanished from sight in the Hobgoblin's general direction.
Now alone, a breathless Liz said, "That- That acid. Harry, you saved my life."
"Oh." At this, Harry shrank. "Yeah. Guess I did." And then Liz's arms were around him, and he couldn't come even close to a coherent sentence.
Small mercies, it seemed Hobby wasn't interested in attacking random students. By the time Spider-Man released his web and landed back in the courtyard, it was virtually empty – save, of course, for the massive glider swooping his way.
"Oh no, it's Hobgoblin, the baddie I can take out in one hit." Despite his spider-sense's protests, Spider-Man pounced and went for the face-punch. "In your face, Saitama- Gah!" Unfortunately, that only managed to send Spidey skidding across the pavement, nursing his knuckles.
Told you so, said his spider-sense.
Okay, fine, so this wasn't another run-of-the-mill mook Kingsley had dressed up in a goblin suit. Lesson learned.
"What do you want with Harry?" Spidey ducked the glider's next swoop, then used a hastily-spun web-line to keep it tethered before it could fly off in Harry's direction.
"Mostly just the warm fuzzy feeling I get from seeing Osborn blood spilled." Unfortunately, Hobgoblin had the bright idea to break the tether via pumpkin bomb.
Spider-Man stopped mid-battle to give his chin a scratch. "Didn't, like, two other Hobgoblins already pull that shtick?" Granted, those were both brainwashed mooks no doubt working for Kingsley, so it made sense they'd all have the same goal. Though with Madame Web safe now, Spidey could only assume Kingsley was having to spring for non-brainwashed mercenaries.
"Oh, don't worry, Spider-Man, I've got a little something to break up the monotony." With a cackle, Hobgoblin pressed a button on his gauntlet. "Unrelated question, how do you feel about heat-seeking missiles?"
"Well, I don't think I've ever- Hey!" The next instant, Spider-Man was sprinting up a wall for dear life. "That's not an unrelated question at all!"
"We're almost to the safe house, Master Harry." Bernard's voice was stoic as ever, even when he was driving the limo at mach speeds.
In the spacious passenger seats, the looming threat of the Hobgoblin was the last thing on the passengers' minds.
"Petey and Gwen stabbed you in the back, too?" Liz gawked at Harry, amazed. "I never knew we had so much in common!"
Spider-Man was ashamed to admit it, but the battle had quickly swapped focus from defeating Hobgoblin to outrunning a heat-seaking missile. At least he finally had an excuse to bust out his parkour skills…
But no matter how efficiently Spidey flipped over hand rails and bounded up stairways, the missile remained hot on his tail. Hard to think straight when his spider-sense was tingling so bad, but Spider-Man at least knew he had to get this thing away from as many civilians as possible. He'd guided it out of the school and into the surrounding Midtown area.
Then, as luck would have it, Spider-Man stumbled across a fire hydrant right at the mouth of an abandoned alleyway. In a split-second decision, Spidey sprinted down the alley, then spun in place to web-yank the hydrant free of the cement right as the missile passed overhead. The resulting geyser detonated the missile early. Spider-Man wasn't totally unsinged, but the important thing was that he could now return to fighting the…
…Hobgoblin.
Spider-Man spent the next few hours searching the school and surrounding Midtown area, but there was no sign of the goblin. And cackling evil maniacs on goblin gliders didn't tend to be inconspicuous.
Actually, at one point, Spider-Man swore he saw a shadow darting out from another alleyway, but a further examination turned up nothing. Must've been a trick of the light.
"So he just ran away?" Gwen asked with a frown.
"Yeah." Peter nodded. "I guess once Harry got to safety, Hobby decided to call it quits for the day."
The last several days of Peter's and Gwen's internship had been spent organizing files. There were three whole drawers stuffed full of them, and frankly the sight of it all was making Gwen bug-eyed.
Peter knelt over their table, muttering the alphabet song as he skimmed a handful of papers. When he got to H, he trailed off.
"Can't help but feel bad for Harry now," Peter said with a sigh. "He can't even show his face in public without having these maniacs try to blow him up…" He paused. "So what'd he talk to you about?"
Okay, Gwen had officially lost her place. "I think he just wanted closure. We won't be seeing him again."
"Yeah." They continued their work in silence for a minute. "I mean, I want to believe he's gotten better, but we already went through this with Otto. I trusted him, and he hurt you. I don't want to give Harry the same chance."
"Can't say I blame you."
After that, the silence wasn't marred again until Peter's phone went off. "Hello?" He held it to his ear. Gwen could hear Jameson's screams from the other side of the table. "I, uh-" Peter hung up. "I gotta go take some pictures. There's a twenty car pile up on Third Avenue, and, err, the rescue workers could probably use a hand."
"That's horrible." Gwen shook her head. "Be safe out there."
"Love you."
"You, too."
Peter knelt over for a goodbye kiss… but then a voice called out, "No schmoozing during work hours, Mr. Parker."
"Right, sorry, Dr. Warren..." Peter rolled his eyes as he exited the lab.
Now it was just Gwen and Dr. Warren. Well, there was also Debra Whitman, but she'd seated herself three tables away from Gwen.
"You have done a remarkable job, little lady." Warren inspected Gwen's work with a growing smile. "You're going places in the world, Miss Stacy. I promise you that."
"Yes, it was obviously Oscorp tech." Emily gave the phone's receiver a scowl. "You really think Kingsley could come up with that arsenal by himself?" She paused for a reply. "Yes, it does seem my husband was careless with where he stashed his toys. But Kingsley will be dealt with, I assure y-"
"Mom?" Just then, a head of stripey orange hair poked its way into her office.
"I'll call you back, Spencer." Emily hung up. The moment the phone was down, her face was flowers and sunshine. "Harry! How are you feeling?"
"W-Well, if it's any consolation for the, y'know, near-death experience, I think I might have a new girlfriend." Harry gave a shaky smile, then held up a small booklet. "Oh yeah, and the drama teacher said I could audition for the last play of the year, and I was, I don't know, hoping you could help me practice my lines."
"Of course, dear." She beamed at him.
Harry handed her the script and showed her the lines, and then the two of them set to work reciting:
"My dearest love," said Harry, "Duncan comes here tonight."
"And when goes hence?" asked Emily. Though she was merely reading, she gave a commendable performance.
"Tomorrow, as he purposes."
"O, never shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters. To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue. Look like th' innocent flower… but be the serpent under 't."
