—-

Spider-Man was caught between a literal rock and a figurative hard place. The path he'd carved himself through the rubble and detritus had collapsed even as he'd made his way through it, cutting off his ability to backtrack and bringing the weight of more fragments down on him. His suit and skin had torn in too many places to keep count of, the air had been squeezed from his lung and the strength from his body. He was losing steam at an incredible pace. He'd crawled forward, coming all this way, and now it was looking more and more as though he may have finally reached his limit.

He stopped struggling for a moment, he just needed to rest, needed to regain his strength. As he did though he noticed something change. The heat of such a tightly enclosed space took on a gentler quality, the weight that pressed down on him from above became more akin to a lover's gentle embrace, the pain of his innumerable cuts and scrapes and scratches simply melted away. The law of inertia stated that an object in motion stayed in motion while an object at rest stayed at rest.

He was resting.

If I don't make it, goodbye, MJ. Goodbye, Gayle.

He was crushed, he was beaten, above him he could feel the vibrations of an impending shift in weight that would inevitably squash him like, yes, a bug. This was it.

No.

No? What other choice was there? All things considered he'd had a good run, but he'd always known that his luck would run out eventually. There comes a point where the struggle just isn't worth it anymore.

No.

There it was again. That damnable voice in the back of his head that was always pushing him on even when, logically, there was no point anymore. His breathing started to slow, the tension drained from his body, maybe it was finally time to rest. The weight still pushed down on him, squeezing tighter and tighter and maybe it was really time to give in. He'd come as far as he could, all he had to do was close his eyes and enter that deep, dreamless sleep that claims all of us…

No!

No!

NO!

His eyes snapped open, he sucked in a hot, moist lungful of air and dust. He was coughing now but that wasn't going to stop him, this was not where he was going to die. He grunted and groaned as he tried to get his arms back under him, then his legs. He was pushing forward again now but it wasn't fast enough, not when MJ's life could be on the line. Every movement caused the remains of the building beneath him and the heavy sky of stone and wood above to shift. The sinking rubble wouldn't stop him, the pain wouldn't stop him, death itself would not stop him from saving her.

He noticed as the moments that felt like years passed that the air was growing cooler, the weight above him was abating. He was almost able to stand even though every slow step forward felt like walking through the earth.

I'm on my way, Mary Jane. He had made a promise never to let anyone hurt her and he would keep it.

—

"I want the roads cleared, a fast car, and no interference from anyone." Carlyle smiled as he spoke to the negotiator on the other end of the line, he hadn't planned on this all happening but he had it well in hand now. "If I see so much as a meter maid between now and the time I'm out of state people are gonna start dying real fast and real painful. Starting with…" He swept his eyes across the room and made a decision. "America's sweetheart and some dickhead dressed as a lobster. You don't want that on your head, do you?" He listened as the person on the other end of the line tried to make his case and rolled his eyes. Covering the microphone, he leaned towards Mary Jane, "What was the tagline for that show of yours? Adorkable? Or was that something else?" He smirked, "Whatever, it's all garbage anyway." He uncovered the phone and spoke again, "I'm starting to think you're not taking me seriously, Mr. Police Man, so here's what I'm gonna do: I'll do exactly as you ask. I'm going to release my hostages." He paused dramatically, "One limb at a time." He was obviously making an effort to deepen his voice and sound more menacing, he sounded more like a haunted tour guide than a murderous criminal, but was clearly serious all the same.

Gayle positioned herself in front of MJ like she had so long ago when their father had gotten particularly drunk and angry.

"Gayle, no." MJ's voice was calm as she took her sister by the arm and gently but firmly put her back up against the wall they were all positioned against. Her sister opened her mouth to protest, to tell her little sister that as the older of the two it was her job to protect her but MJ shook her head before the words could escape.

Carlyle smiled mockingly, "Aww, look at you two! So, so adorable. You know, Hollywood gets a bad rap, some of you guys really do care about the little people. Maybe. So just this once I'm going to make an exception. Redhead, I take back what I said." He raised a hand and placed it over his chest, "I'm not gonna kill you and lobster lad over there." A pair of polished, green tentacles snaked up behind him and peered over his shoulders like curious children peeking over a fence. "I'm gonna end you and this broad! Clearly you two are close, I wouldn't want either of you to be lonely."

MJ's eyes went wide. She had come to terms with the occasional brush with danger, she knew that Peter would always be just around the corner with a cocked fist and some stupid joke. He was late today, but she still knew he'd show up just in the nick of time to save her, but Gayle… Gayle didn't have anybody to watch out for her.

"Run!" She turned and shoved her sister away, hoping it would give her a chance to escape.

It backfired spectacularly, Gayle had been leaning rigid against the wall. She was trying her best not to show it but the fear coiling in her gut had drained all of the strength, it was all she could do to keep her legs under her. Her torso moved but her legs couldn't follow, some primal part of her brain wanted nothing more than to do as her sister had commanded and run, but her feet wouldn't listen. She crashed hard to the ground and froze there in a position that resembled kneeling, but couldn't shift herself any further than that.

Carlyle was laughing again, slapping his knees and gasping for breath as though for him this was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time. "God you two are great! Did you- Did you rehearse this or is it improv? Because I have got to say that you've got a gift when it comes to looking like utter morons before you die." For all of his mirthful shaking the green waldos poised behind him hadn't shifted so much as an inch. "Okay, this had been great fun, really, but it's time to die now. Goodbye."

All MJ could do was close her eyes. If this was her time then she could accept it, she'd lived a better adult life then she could have ever dreamed of as a child. She'd fixed her relationship with Peter, hadn't suffered a real financial hardship in forever, was respected in her field… All things considered she had a better life than a lot of people out there did.

But she couldn't stand there and watch her sister die.

She leapt towards Gayle, hoping against hope that she'd be able to protect her from the angry steel about to shoot towards them both. Whether it would impale her or bludgeon her she didn't know, but she'd seen enough to know it would get the job done. And then…

Nothing.

Not 'nothing' from an experiential perspective. Darkness did not come to claim her vision, there were no pearly gates opening their door to her or some light at the end of a tunnel. All she saw was her sister's tear-streaked face inches away from her own, all she felt was an ache in her hands and knees from when they'd hit the ground. Her sister opened her mouth to speak again, and this time it wasn't met with a headshake.

"MJ…" Gayle was as confused as she was, by rights they should have been dead by now and they both knew it.

There was a cry of rage behind her. Mary Jane rolled around, knowing that she would see the world's one and only Spider-Man there, saving the day once again. She had to decide if he was sleeping on the couch for being so tardy or be getting the best massage she could possibly offer for making it here. What she saw instead filled her with a mixture of confusion, gratitude, and so much disappointment.

"No one dies today but you!" Doctor Octopus, a man she'd seen on TV locked in battle with her husband numerous times but had had little interaction with outside of an incidental kidnapping or two she'd freed herself from before Peter managed to get there himself, stood there restraining Caryle's attack with his own tentacular arms. He was not the savior she'd hoped for, but she'd take him over certain death, because as long as she was alive she knew she'd still see Peter again.

Carlyle whipped around, a sneer running ragged across his face. "Heroism doesn't suit you, old man!" They clashed over and over again as Mary Jane watched helplessly from the sidelines, knowing that any attempt at escape would bring attention to herself and her sister, likely followed by death. The ringing of metal on metal became rhythmic, the ticking of a clock, and she didn't know what would happen when the bell finally tolled.

"What's the ETA on that damned crane?!" Members of FDNY swarmed the area like so many ants, scurrying to and fro without much to do. They were sifting through the wreckage but supposedly everyone had managed to escape before the building came down and everything they were turning up, or rather not turning up, seemed to confirm that. The fight here had concluded close to an hour ago and given midday, midtown traffic, going through things by hand was all they'd be able to do for a while.

"Did you feel that?" One crew member asked his partner as they tried to shift a particularly large piece of wall, still intact despite a fall of what must have been dozens if not hundreds of feet. The other man nodded his head, puzzled, and surveyed the destruction around them. He was about to say they should get back to work when the ground around them started shifting and shaking. Whether it was some kind of earthquake or something else he didn't know, but he was certain that this was not the area to be standing in right that second. He grabbed his buddy by the shoulder and together they fled the area, only turning to look back when they felt they'd retreated a safe distance. What they saw both impressed and terrified them both.

What was moments before a fairly large piece of brickface, exploded into stony shrapnel as Spider-Man, lifting an i-beam above his head that must have weighed hundreds of pounds as though it were a rolled up blanket blasted upwards gasping for air. He was panting hard as he struggled to the street as a crowd of New York's everyday heroes looked on in amazement. The man was in rough shape, he'd fallen 300 feet at a guess and had almost 40 floors collapse on his head, but here he was. As he reached the closed-off road he fell to a knee, breaking the spell that his appearance had cast and snapping everyone back into action.

"Jesus! Get an EMT over here!" One firefighter said as he rushed to the superhero's side and tried to get him to lie down so someone could take a look at him but he was waved off.

"Just… Need a minute…" His gasps were ragged as he sucked in the closest thing to fresh air that was available in the middle of the city that never slept. "Gotta-" He bent double as a spasm of dry coughs overtook him, giving the firefighter tending to him a chance to get him to at least sit down for a moment. He was about to turn to call for a medic again but he could tell from the commotion that they were already headed over, he was unsure what he could do for the hero in front of him until he heard someone clear their throat behind him. A cool, condensation covered bottle of water appeared in front of him and he took it, not bothering to turn to see who had brought it.

"Here, Spidey, drink."

Spider-Man snatched it from his hand and ripped the cap off. He lifted up his mask which miraculously wasn't torn wide unlike everything else he wore. Greedily he threw his head back and drank.

"Hey! Slow it up, webhead, or else you're gonna-"

Right on cue Spidey leaned over and vomited, then went back to draining the bottle. This time he was slower about it.

"Feeling any better?"

After a moment Spider-Man emptied the bottle, swishing the last of the water around in his mouth before spitting it out to the side. "Oh yeah." He stood shakily against the protests of his caretaker and examined himself, making sure that everything was in place. It was not, but at least there were no bones sticking out of him. "Never felt better."

He turned to thank the firefighter who'd helped him out and saw, to his surprise, an old man standing right behind him. "If you've got reservations I'm sorry, but I think the hotel is closed for renovations." The old man stared at him and took a sip from his own water bottle, ignoring the hint that he should probably not be in an active disaster zone.

"I'm here for a good reason, you probably have somewhere else you should be."

And all at once the thought that had been on the edge of his mind came front and center: Carlyle was still out there and Mary Jane was in danger.

The EMT finally arrived just in time to see Spider-Man raise his hand and shoot a string of web upwards and use it to pull himself into the sky. They called out their protest but he was gone before the words had even left their mouths.

The old man watched as the wallcrawler slung himself around a corner and shook his head before walking away. The surrounding emergency workers hardly even seemed to notice that he was there.

"What a meshuggeneh."

The battle between the two villains, one established and one trying to make a name for himself, raged on. Few of the onlookers had managed to escape, only those near a wall that had been damaged in the fight were lucky enough to have a way out, everyone else was left to find cover where they could and hope that they wouldn't be hit by flying debris.

Doctor Octopus' eyes were bright with rage as he rained down blow after blow trying to get through his foes defenses, only to have them each deflected by the less organic, but faster movements of Carlyle's own arms. "You lied to me! You lured me in with a route to legitimacy and used my trust to steal my arms! For that you're going to die!"

"Yeah, see? There it is! That is what I'm talking about!" The mechanical octopi had been engaged in battle for minutes, but neither was willing to give up while the other stood. "The face of a killer! You wanted to go straight, but after feeling like this how could you? You want to go from being this to being another rank and file test tube tugger? Get outta here! I can tell from the look on your face that this right here is where you-" Carlyle yelped as Otto caught him by the leg and dragged him along the floor, slamming him hard against it once his mechanical waldo reached its maximum length. The only thing that saved him from third-degree rug burn was the tough metallic carapace covering his body, his connection to his own extra limbs. He stood and smiled, "But I've got bad news for you, old timer: I'm younger, I'm stronger, and I am undeniably better looking. You're obsolete," His own tentacle, which had plowed itself into the wall, ostensibly for support, made a sudden reappearance as it slammed through the wall it had been covertly maneuvering behind and wrapped around Otto's neck. It next threw him upwards and into the ceiling, "And where does obsolete technology belong? That's right, in the garbage."

Otto struggled to his feet once more, clearly dazed from the last blow to the head. He tried to step forward, to rush into battle once more, but his legs didn't seem to want to follow his directions. He stumbled and fell, barely managing to avoid ending up on his knees by securing himself to the same ceiling he'd just been intimate with. Carlyle spread his arms wide inviting an attack, but none came. Seeing that he smiled wickedly. He knew there could be only one and it was him.

"Before I snap your neck like a cheap hanger, I'm going to let you in on a little secret that you should have caught onto a long time ago: You're a loser. You've lost to the webhead, and now for the last time you've lost to me. But don't be too down, you will never lose anything again." He stepped forth, ready to take the name that was rightfully his. Now and forever he would be the superior octopus.

Unfortunately for him the world had other ideas, which he learned as something hit him in the back and yanked him backwards and into a wall with the force of a '57 Chevy running full throttle.

"Listen, chief. I'm going to let you in on a little secret: Your zingers are terrible."

Mary Jane looked upwards and, all of a sudden realized that she was crying. She hadn't thought Peter was gone, she'd known that he would show up at the last second just like he always did. So why was her face so wet?

"I mean look, I don't get a lot of perks with this job, the benefits are terrible and the pay is non-existent." Spider-Man leapt off of the demolished chunk of wall and ceiling he'd crouched on, managing a surprisingly graceful flip forwards for someone built closer to a linebacker than a gymnast. "Seriously, I don't get paid for this, it's ridiculous. The least you could do is make things interesting with a bit of banter. Instead you just… You're like the kid on the playground whose uncle owned Nintendo, you talk a lot of crap and everyone's been too nice to tell you they know you're full of it."

He turned and appeared to be appraising the original Doctor Octopus while surreptitiously checking for any sign of Mary Jane. When he saw her tear-stained face, mascara running down either cheek something inside him changed. Once Otto had waved him off, shouting that he just needed a moment, Spider-Man turned back to Carlyle. His body might have been protected by the strong, light armor he wore over his clothes, but his head was unprotected and it looked like he'd taken a knock.

"I mean, your tentacles are both longer and girthier so you could have gone with "Mine's bigger than yours!' or "The bigger stick always wins!" There was a sharp 'thwip' to punctuate his point as he shot out a glob of webbing, blinding the dazed criminal. "Surely you know all about 'big stick energy', right?" Spider-Man stroked his chin thoughtfully, "On second thought, no. You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

He leapt forward as the younger man clawed at his eyes, shrieking in rage that his vision had been stolen from him for the third time that day. Taking advantage of his momentary blindness the wallcrawler leapt forward. Timing it so he threaded neatly through the angrily thrashing tentacles of his foe, he did a handspring off of his shoulders, throwing himself up to twist neatly before landing on his back and driving him to the ground. From here he could see the sheen of Carlyle's metallic armor up close and the control box he had mounted to his back. He examined it with a critical eye.

"Oh, very impressive, Doctor Fauxtopus, look at this shiny new tech. Hey, Otto! Come here and look at this!" He shouted towards the older man, who had apparently caught his breath again and was watching as Peter manhandled the pretender to his name. "Why isn't your stuff this nice? I mean this guy stole your tech, but this is way cleaner than what you've got!" Spider-Man reached forth to grab one of the flailing arms and yanked, tearing it free of the harness with a shriek of tortured metal. He lightly tapped the man on the top of his head with it. "Not very well secured though.

Rick Turk stuck his head out from beneath the table he was sheltering under and pumped a fist in the air, "Yeah! Go Spidey!" He was greatly enjoying seeing the superhero in action up close.

"No! It's not ending this way! I will not be mocked by the likes of you!" Although Carlyle was pinned for the moment, he still maintained control of the armor that was linked directly to his mind, and it had more to offer than mere blunt instruments. Two squared containers on either side of his hips slid open, firing a volley of micro-missiles which twisted in the air as they sought out their targets. Spider-Man was twisting to assess this new threat when a wildly swaying arm caught him from the side. If his ribs hadn't been broken in the building collapse they certainly were now, they ground together as he flew through the air, the sudden shock of pain making it difficult to get his legs underneath him and he landed in a heap, rolling some distance before sliding to a stop. He seriously had to find out what was going on with his spider-sense, this was starting to get dangerous.

Before he'd even finished rolling he'd fired off a series of webs, hitting each of the flying explosives and detonating them far enough away from their targets that nobody was hurt. While he'd been pirouetting through the air, the genuine, certified, real-life Doctor Octopus had jumped back into the fray. He was still having trouble keeping his feet under him, but Carlyle was in a similar state even though he'd managed to climb back to his feet. Even though he was down an extraneous arm, he still managed to block every one of the older man's blows.

"Spider-Man! The control unit! The metal's strong but I managed to tear an opening!"

No more needed to be said. Spider-Man jumped forward, twisting a somersault in the air and landing on the armored man's back. This time he stayed upright, digging a tentacle into the floor to stop himself from falling. This had to end and it had to end now, he plunged a hand into the control unit and emptied what was left of his web cartridge into the densely packed wiring. All it had to do now was gum up the electrical works and this guy would be harmless. Instead of that happening though, a green waldo twisted its way around his neck and yanked him towards the ground, bouncing his head off of the floor.

"Where's that famous spider sense, old man? I was a fan of yours when I was a kid, kept thinking you'd come kill my old man but you never did." The metal arm tightened around his neck, cutting off his air supply. "Guess it's true what they say: Never meet your superheroes!"

"I-" Spider-Man tried to croak out a reply, "I-" But nothing came out. The grip on his throat eased up a bit, just enough to let him speak, "I told you…" He sucked in as much air as he could, not much given the circumstances. "I grew up… In... The nineties!"

As if on cue Mary Jane, who'd been sneaking up on the distracted Carlyle as he was distracted by his two opponents, jammed the leg of a chair into the exposed control unit. Whatever she'd torn loose was obviously important. There was a bright flash of light, the loud crack of an electrical short, and the smell of burnt ozone in the air, and suddenly Carlyle was engulfed as the webbing Peter emptied expanded around him.

Not for the first time Peter was happy he'd chosen her to be his partner in life. He raised his arms over his head and beamed at her although she likely couldn't see it. "Teamwork! Yes!"

Carlyle screamed in impotent rage as he rolled around on the floor struggling futilely to escape the solidifying cocoon of what looked to be gray cotton candy, leaving a sticky trail in his wake.

Spider-Man turned to see where Otto was, they might have had a common enemy here and been relatively… Was friendly the right word? Lately, at least, but he was still a very dangerous man for as much as he'd aged. All around him though were nothing but onlookers crawling out from their cover, cheering for one of their rescuers who was left. He wasn't certain whether or not to be angry about that, on the one hand Otto was a wanted man but on the other he had been keeping to himself and even trying to go straight if he'd understood the situation correctly. It didn't matter anyway, he was entirely sapped of strength. There hadn't been a day like this in what felt like forever.

Why had he been so protective of Otto? Why had he come up to bat so fervently against some young gun running around with stolen tech? Obviously people's lives had been on the line, that was one thing, but it was almost as though he'd taken things with Carlyle personally. He'd always held a fair amount of respect for Otto, both as a scientist and as a foe, but lately it had turned into something else. Was he actually fond of him?

There was no real reason for him to be, during his first escapades in the suit, Ock had been responsible for introducing him to the sound of his arm snapping, definitely not something he had been happy to learn. But maybe he'd come to look at Otto as not just a villain, but some sort of family. A physically abusive family member with a temper that could go off at any second, but family he'd learned a lot from. And just like an aging family member, as the good doctor had grown older and less volatile, Spider-Man had been more willing to sweep the past under the rug. Let bygones be bygones.

It was an interesting thought, one that hadn't occurred to him before. Before he could chase it further, apply it to others he'd met in his career and heap more guilt on himself with the weight of those he had been unable to save, his train of thought was neatly derailed.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we, Spidey?" Mary Jane was smiling coyly, surprising given that she had moments ago rescued him from the jaws- Tentacles, of death. Peter was glad that enough of his mask remained to cover his warming cheeks, they had been together for how many years now? And she could still make him blush like a schoolboy.

"Mary Jane Watson," He pointed a pair of finger pistols at her and slammed his thumbs down like hammers."That was a heck of a job you did there, saving my butt, are you an Avenger or do you run solo too?" Now it was her turn to blush, and she didn't have a mask on to hide it. He liked that. "Either way, we have got to team up again soon. It'll be great, we can make it a monthly thing, have your people call my people and we'll figure it out." He leaned in, mock-whispering, "That's what you Hollywood types say, right?" He turned to make his way out, home, where he could lay down in a tub of hot water and epsom salt and just drown himself but his way was blocked. Most of the hostages had made a run for it the moment Fauxtopus went down but a few had stuck around, and now they were crowding in, asking him of all people for an autograph. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but every time it did it felt weird that anyone wanted some kid from Queens to sign anything.

Spider-Man made his way through the crowd, swiping a pen here and there across cocktail napkins, notepads, and, in one case, a terrifyingly hairy chest, until finally there was one person left. He was short, round, and smiling like the cat who had gotten to the canary.

"And what would you like me to sign for you little boy? I'm open to most things but legal documents and, after that teamster back there, torsos."

"Well, Spidey, ya might wanna reconsider that first part, because I have got one hell of an opportunity right here."

A lightbulb clicked on in the attic of Peter's brain, Mary Jane had mentioned this to him before he'd had to run off. Before the short guy in the expensive suit could expand on this offer of his, someone cleared their throat behind Spider-Man, he turned to see Mary Jane again. She'd stepped back to let him work the crowd, but now that business was on the table she was right there where he needed her.

"Spider-Man, I'd like to introduce you to Bo Devereaux, he's an executive with Spny Pictures and a producer on my latest movie. We both have something we'd like to discuss with you." Mary Jane presented the producer who smiled widely, showing off very pricey dental work. "We were-"

"We were discussing our current project and I decided, 'Hey! Why tell the story of some fake guy when we've got the genuine article right here in New York?', so we've got a proposition we'd like to discuss with ya."

Spider-Man pointedly turned away from the producer and towards Mary Jane. "Does this proposition of yours include a new craft table? Because everything here is wrecked and I'm moments away from making a bad decision about that sandwich with a footprint in it." He pointed to a sad pastrami sandwich on the floor a few feet away from them.

"Oh, I'm sure we can sort something out as we talk things over together," She stared pointedly at Devereux, "Right, Bo?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Together, like one big, happy family." Bo was visibly unhappy he wouldn't be able to take sole credit for being the mind behind the first officially sanctioned movie about NYC's favorite superhero to bash in the papers. You just couldn't buy publicity like that, this was gonna be a big one. "Hey, can somebody get the hero here a meal?! Somethin' good, not just a sandwich off the line!" As he shouted, they realized that few people were around, and more were flooding out as the police arrived to direct people away from the active crime scene.

"Shall we find somewhere else to discuss this?" Mary Jane realized that they couldn't just sit here and talk licensing while the police had to get in here to start taking pictures. Spidey was on board with the idea.

"Lead the way, beautiful. I'll go anywhere if you're the one taking me there." That elicited an almost girlish giggle from her, which in turn earned a disapproving stare from Gayle as she walked up. She'd checked around to make sure there was nothing she could do in the area, it had been apparent that nothing much in terms of assistance needed to be offered. In spite of the carnage that had taken place there were no casualties.

"Okay, Mrs. Parker, I'll go along with you guys. Although maybe you should be looking for Peter, your husband. We could start in the remains of one of the toilet stalls." Not knowing that he was right there in front of her, she was shocked that her sister wasn't showing more concern for him.

Devereux made a noise in protest but the starlet reminded him that she was part of her staff and personal assistant. "I need Gayle for note taking, Bo. We don't want Spider-Man going back on his word although I'm sure he wouldn't."

The producer rubbed his chin as if to acknowledge that was actually a pretty good idea. She was sure the producer hated her but she really couldn't care less. Mary Jane decided she would broach the subject of cluing Gayle in with Peter again tonight, if only to avoid a situation like this again in the future. Hopefully there wouldn't be more situations like this, but with Spider-Man in the picture things could get crazy.

Spider-Man, for his part, hadn't noticed anything amiss. "I tell you, Red, it must have been a decade since I, Spider-Man, have seen you in person. But somehow you just keep getting more beautiful every time I lay eyes on you." Peter, in his concussed state, hadn't thought about the optics of a masked vigilante openly flirting with a married woman. Of course with how unassuming he was and how MJ did her best to protect him from the limelight, most people weren't even aware she'd tied the knot years ago. But Gayle most certainly knew it.

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're not looking too bad yourself for having had a hotel dropped on you." Her gaze became suddenly more concerned, "Are you sure you're up to this right now? You really do look like you're in rough shape."

Bo interjected, "Ah, nonsense, he don't need nothin' of the sort. This is Spidey! The guy shrugs off trains and stuff!" He was not about to let a little something like someone's blunt force trauma get in the way of brokering a deal.

"Yeah, you heard the man. I'm pretty much-" He winced and groaned as he rubbed his aching back. "Invincible." The last word was mostly a polysyllabic grunt.

"Well," She leaned in close enough that he was able to get a whiff of her perfume, still effective after everything that had happened, and jabbed him in the chest with a pointed finger. "Don't go saying I didn't make the offer. Okay, Webhead?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, "I wouldn't dream of it, but I sure hope there's some kind of…" He dropped his hands, reaching one out to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Reward for going through all of this."

Gayle looked like she was about to say something else, but was interrupted when a large crustacean ran up to them as they exited the building, dropping to his knees as tears streamed down his face. "Oh my god! Spider-Man! This is… This is just…" He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Spider-Man's thick, spandex-clad thigh. "Oh, man, I thought we were gonna die! And then you showed up, and I'm-" Rick Turk sniffled hard and pulled a claw away from Spidey's leg long enough to wipe his hand across his sticky face, coated in snot and tears, before he returned to his desperate hug. Spider-Man grimaced as he felt the viscous mixture reach his bare skin through the torn costume. How was it possible that this felt like the worst thing that had happened to him today?

He gently pried the sobbing musician turned actor off of his leg, trying to keep his hands away from his sticky face which was pressing tight against his thigh and turned to the producer. "Lead the way, Bo." Finally Rick released his grip and stood up, lurching in for a quick hug before excusing himself to get cleaned up. Devereaux gestured towards a car parked a distance away. It was a late model four-door Lexus, black with tan interior.

"It's uh, not the kinda place I usually like to do business, but with what's going on in the building…"

Almost two hours later, Spider-Man was ready to get out of the now cramped-feeling sedan. They'd gone over a lot of legal talk about licensing, merchandising, distribution rights, and a whole host of subjects that, quite frankly, had gone in one ear and out the other. Now they were getting to the good part.

"So all of this boils down to you making a movie about little old me?" Spidey more or less had a grasp on things, but wanted to make sure he had it all straight.

"That's exactly what we're doin'." Devereaux paused, "Assuming we have your blessin' of course." He coughed uncomfortably, "I can't go sayin' what we can offer in the way of residuals or anything of course, unless you have some kind of professional representation that is?" Bo arched an eyebrow.

Now it was Spider-Man's turn to sound uncomfortable, "Well, I mean, I don't exactly have any kind of agent or anything. Secret identity and all, you know how it is." Bo did not know how it was. "I just- Look, I get a bad rap, okay? Just… Just make me look good, man. That's all I'm asking for." He took a small, somehow sad, bite of his sandwich.

"And, of course the donations, right?" Mary Jane chimed in, she was sat in the front passenger seat next to Devereaux, who, at the mention of donations, grimaced before quickly hiding it with a tight smile.

"Oh yes. The donations." He had clearly been hoping nobody would bring it up.

"I love the idea. Really." Spider-Man finished his pastrami on rye, the fourth one that had been delivered to the window, and sighed contentedly. "And you've got the Mary Jane Watson asking me to give my okay? How could I not?" He looked at her, "Have I mentioned that I'm a fan?" He had, a number of times. "Because believe me, I am a huge fan. I might just be in love with you." He grunted as Gayle, seated next to him in the back seat, shifted in such a way that she managed to dig an elbow into his ribs.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Spider-Man. I guess I'm just a little antsy wondering where my sister's husband could have gotten off to. I'd have thought she'd be a little more worried in the situation."

Spidey laughed uncomfortably, "Oh, I'm sure he's fine, the police confirmed that there were zero casualties aside from a couple of scrapes and bruises. Just you watch, he'll turn up." He switched focus back to the producer. "I'll be honest with you, I'm a bit star struck having my favorite actress inviting me on board, but I think I'm of sound enough mind to give the go ahead for all of this. As long as you don't villainize me and donate a portion to… Let's say, St. Jude's Children's Hospital, I'll sign off."

Mary Jane chimed in again, much to Bo's chagrin, "I think the numbers being thrown around were 10 percent of gross, right?" Devereaux flinched as though he'd been struck then returned to smiling.

"Well, I'd have to run it all by the bean counters and legal team, but I think we can make it work. How can I get in touch with you once the documents are drawn up?"

"Oh yeah, I've got a cell phone." He rattled off the number. "I tried to give it a cool name, but somehow 'The Arachno-Line' never caught on. People have no taste. Speaking of which," He leaned back in the plush leather seat and sighed, "Can I just say this is a really nice change of pace? I've spent years getting smeared by the media, it's nice to have the chance to have my good side portrayed. Did you know that they tried to blame me for traffic? What do I have to do with traffic? I swing over traffic, not through it. It doesn't even make any sense."

Talk of business was now concluded for the moment, Devereaux clearly wanted the filth-covered superhero out of his car, and Spider-Man was only too happy to oblige. He just wanted to go home and sleep. The producer pulled away, his mind dancing happily with images of box-office numbers, leaving Spider-Man, Mary Jane, and Gayle stood on the sidewalk watching the clean up crew surveying the damage to the building now that the police had taken care of their part of business. Carlyle, the webbing stripped from his back and the control unit removed, had been driven away in a reinforced transport van as he swore revenge on the wallcrawler and hollywood. Nobody had paid him much attention.

"So, you doing anything? Because I know this great coffee place a few blocks away that has the most amazing pastries and-"

"I'd love to, Spider-Man, but I'm afraid I'm seeing someone."

Spider-Man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "Well whoever he is, he's a very lucky man, and I guarantee he knows it. If that's all I guess I'm gonna hit the road, there's always a mugger who needs punching or a cat in a tree somewhere. Ms. Watson, it was a pleasure as always, Ms… Gayle… It was nice to meet you." Gayle rolled her eyes in response and turned away, giving them a moment of privacy. Sensing a chance, Spider-Man leaned in close to touch Mary Jane's face before he fired a web into the sky and leapt away.

"I thought he'd never leave." Gayle sighed, and grabbed her sister's hand, pulling her in the direction of the flashing lights of the various emergency vehicles. "Now can we go and make sure that Peter is still among the living? Assuming that you care, that is."

Mary Jane pulled up short, "Why would you say something like that? I love Peter!"

Gayle turned on her heel and levelled an accusatory finger, "Because you've spent the last two hours flirting with Spider-Man while you played his PR manager! While your hus- While Peter is god knows where in who knows what shape! How can you do that to him?!"

Mary Jane was somewhat taken aback, Gayle had always liked Peter, but they had never been what you would call close. To see her show this kind of concern for him was surprising, although on reflection maybe it shouldn't have been. Mary Jane knew that Peter was the one she'd just been flirting with, but for all Gayle knew he was laid up in the hospital this entire time.

"I know he's fine, because I got a text from him while the costume crew was fighting. He managed to get out when things first started, he's actually waiting outside right now."

Gayle released a sigh of relief then came to a stop, prompting Mary Jane to do the same and turn to look questioningly. Her sister looked her in the eye not quite accusingly, but with seeming genuine concern. "Mary Jane, do you and Spider-Man have some kind of history? I know you two have…" She trailed off as she searched for the right word, "Met before, but the way you two were palling around back there was very familiar. If I didn't know any better I'd call it flirting."

MJ pulled away in shock, "I absolutely was not! I told him I was seeing someone!"

"That didn't stop you from getting real comfy in the car with him though. Don't get me wrong, I'm jealous if anything, I just wonder how Peter would have felt about it."

"Gayle, I love Peter."

"I know you do, it just felt like there was some history between you two. And sorry, but ohmigod you were so flirting with him."

Mary Jane gave up trying to deny it, this hadn't been the most impressive role she'd ever played and she knew it. What could she say? She always got typecast as the love interest, it's what people expected. "Look, the producer wanted a contract agreed on, I just played nice. That's it, okay?"

Gayle held her gaze a moment before speaking, "And you two don't have some kind of history? I'm not going to find out about some kind of secret, spidery lovechild?" Mary Jane shook her head no and, hesitantly, her sister shrugged. "Okay. I'll take your word for it." She gestured for them to continue walking again. "And here I was worried about Peter's feelings." They rounded a corner and Mary Jane took off running without warning as she spotted Peter sitting at an outside table of a coffee shop. Gayle had let the topic go for the moment, but she knew that this wasn't the last time she'd be having this conversation.

His head snapped up at the rapid click-clack of someone jogging in high heels on the sidewalk and his face broke into a wide smile as he stood up for Mary Jane's tight embrace. "I know it wasn't that long ago but I swear it feels like forever since the last time I saw you two!" He rocked back and forth with the woman in his arms. "Is everyone okay?" He asked as he pulled out of the long hug for a quicker one with Gayle. He certainly didn't look okay himself, his face was scuffed up, with more than a few bruises and nicks to match. There was one especially noticeable gash near his chin. Both sisters nodded, affirming their relative okayness for having been at ground zero for a super-powered punch up.

"What happened to you? Mary Jane said you managed to get clear when things went down." Gayle asked.

Peter shrugged noncommittally, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well I went with the flow of the crowd when things started, but when I realized you two were still in there I couldn't just leave you there. I hung around the area hoping there would be something I could do, maybe try and lead them away like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park or something, but then the wall exploded. It was… It was a whole thing." He suddenly looked apologetic, "Sorry I couldn't help out."

Mary Jane punched him playfully in the shoulder, "Come on, Tiger, even the biggest jungle cats can't always play hero. Spider-Man was there though, he made sure we were alright."

"I heard you did a pretty good job yourself taking down that Carlyle guy, I may just be a humble teacher but let me tell you that that is impressive."

She blushed and gazed down at the ground, "No it wasn't, I was just in the right place at the right time with the right blunt object, Spider-Man was the impressive one. He had that huge old hotel up the street come down on him and he still showed up for little, old us. That man is definitely..." She leaned in, close to Peter. "My hero." Gayle started to wonder if she wasn't being a third wheel here. Maybe she should run in and grab herself something to drink. Something chocolatey, with as much steamed milk as they could cram into the cup.

Before she could turn to place her order though, the couple's locked lips broke apart. Mary Jane leaned back looking satisfied while Peter sat there, blank faced and burning red. He must not be used to such obvious displays of public affection.

Once Peter's complexion had returned to its usual paleness he took a noisy slurp from his drink, a frozen, dark brown blended drink covered in a thick layer of whip cream and turned to the ladies standing next to him. "So did you wanna sit down for a bit or should we head out? I figure you've had enough excitement for one day."

Gayle could have killed for an iced latte, but left it to her sister to decide. MJ shrugged, "I suppose I'd like a nice hot tea right about now."

Once they'd sat through the line and gotten their drinks they sat at the table with Peter, who was now surreptitiously shovelling globs of sweet whip cream into his mouth with a wooden drink stirrer. Gayle daintily sipped her drink and opened the conversation up. "So I just got to sit in on Spider-Man negotiating his film rights. That was an experience." An incredibly boring experience, but it would still make an interesting story.

"Yeah, what a trip, huh? That Deveraeux guy seemed like a bit of a leech though, guess that's Hollywood for you."

That wasn't right. Peter shouldn't know anything about that, they'd been the ones sat in the car while Peter had been nursing his very bruised face. She arched an eyebrow at him quizzically. "How'd you know about the movie deal? Or how much of a creep Devereaux is for that matter."

Peter's face froze, a light grin sat unmoving on his face as he looked off to the side. "Ah…" This one syllable was long, drawn out, the kind of sound an old computer might make when it was crashing. What was he even doing right now?

Before Gayle could press further Mary Jane poked his lips, ceasing the endless 'Ah...'. "Tiger, you must have taken a harder knock to the head than you thought. Why is it taking you so long just to say I was texting you?" Her giggle was girlish and soon Peter was laughing along with her.

"Yeah, guess I might be feeling a bit woozy. Kind of weird that they didn't have us checked out by paramedics after all that craziness." He shrugged, "Budget cuts, I guess."

Gayle leaned back and sipped her cold espresso drink, eyeing them suspiciously as they talked back and forth about what happened, Mary Jane often throwing in some enthusiastic praise for Spider-Man. There was something going on here, she didn't know what yet, but she definitely wanted to find out.

When Peter finally got home to his own apartment, no mean feat given the chaos of rush hour and the boost it had gotten from a super villain attack, he was ready to collapse into his uncovered mattress and nap for three, maybe four days. He unlocked the door, did the lifting-jiggling handshake the door required in order to open, and went to step in. Before he'd passed the threshold though, something caught his eye: A small basket and a box, both addressed to him. He picked them up and brought them in with him, putting them on the kitchen counter, he had intended to open them later once he'd gotten some rest but decided to crack them open now. Mary Jane's praises of his alter-ego had been nice, really nice, to hear, but it had been a rough day and he was in serious need of a pick me up. Mary Jane would be in Toronto for weeks, followed by reshoots. It was great that she was living that rockstar, jetsetter life, she definitely deserved it. It would be lonely with her gone though. What better to soften the blow of impending isolation than free stuff?

He grabbed a serrated knife from the drawer and cut a line down the tape securing the top flaps of the box, inside there was a selection of fancy looking assortment of cookies and teas, and not just any teas, loose leaf teas. No sign of who it was from though. Confused, he tore the clear cellophane free of the wicker gift basket and idly rooted around in it. Amongst the selection of dried meats, cheeses, jams and crackers there was a small card.

P,

Saw the news today, hope you're doing well. Enjoy the food with my compliments, I assure you that the darjeeling is absolutely divine.

-Zekes

Peter stared at the card for a few moments, before sweeping his arm across the counter and guiding the box and basket into the garbage bin. The card followed directly after. That done, he headed towards his bed, he didn't have the time or will to deal with the guy's crap right now.

A few moments later he popped back into the kitchen and stuck his hand in the garbage, it emerged holding a small tin labelled 'Darjeeling' and a box labelled 'Butter Biscuits'.

He really did like darjeeling.