This building was far less crowded than the last, a nice change of pace from the previous one he'd entered. He was out of costume this time too, much less conspicuous than the costume he'd stripped off and hidden on a roof some miles back. The last thing he felt the need to do right now was stand out from the crowd. He pulled the tall glass doors open and looked side to side on the street before entering. The worst of the tension had evaporated from him as though it had never even been there, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was out there watching him.

Waiting.

He stepped through and was hit by a blast of cooled air, it wasn't exactly warm outside but apparently they liked it cold in here. The receptionist held up a finger to silence him as he approached the desk and nodded as she spoke into the phone she had cradled between her shoulder and jaw.

"Of course, I'll be happy to direct you, Sir. Please hold a moment." Her index finger blurred across the buttons and she hung up.

"I-" He opened his mouth to speak but the phone rang and the finger of silence went back up. He snapped his mouth shut. He didn't know if she had some sort of powers or what but the woman definitely had a gift, something about the digit's commanding presence compelled quiet so effectively you could lead a prayer group in Times' Square.

"How may I help you?" A moment's pause as someone on the other end of the line spoke and then, "Of course Ma'am, I'll be happy to direct you. Please hold a moment." Her hand flew across the phone's keys once again before she hung up the receiver then she lifted her head, meeting his eyes. "How may I help you?"

"Uh, ring ring." He laughed for a moment then stopped as the edges of her lips lifted in a smile that her eyes refused to touch. Alright then, she hated him. "Yes, well… I'm here to see if a friend of mine is in today."

"Your friend's name?"

"Oh yeah, of course," He relaxed his arm on the reception desk. "Ezekiel."

She tapped a long, acrylic nail on the desk impatiently, "Ezekiel…"

"Oh, uh, Sims." The nail's tapping stopped abruptly. Her eyes dropped from his eyes to his non-pressed suit jacket, not-designer-brand hand ironed dress shirt, and crooked tie. The smile rose, finally reaching her eyes and arching an eyebrow in bemusement. At least she was finally showing some sign of genuine amusement.

"And did you have an appointment with your friend today?" Uh oh.

"No, I was hoping to kind of swing in and surprise him today."

She looked at him almost pityingly, "I also like to drop in completely unannounced to see my very well-off friends as well, unfortunately Mr. Sims doesn't see anybody without an appointment."

Oh God, now she thought he was what, some kind of door to door salesman? Some huckster posing as a long lost relative? "No, it's not like that. Look-"

"Sir, I'm going to check his appointment book, but if you don't leave after that I'm afraid I'm going to have to call security, and believe me…" She tapped away at the keyboard tucked in front of her, "We have very good-" She trailed off as she clicked her mouse. "Sir, may I ask your name?"

"Peter Parker, but I'm telling you I don't have an appointment this is supposed to be a surprise."

"Well Mr. Parker, I'm sorry to disappoint you but it looks like your surprise has been ruined. Let me call his assistant and inform him that you've arrived." Okay, this was annoying but nothing was ever easy, was it? He'd have to have a stakeout now, keep an eye out for Sims exiting and find a way to intercept him on the way home, that meant picking up some grub. He was starving and didn't know how long this would wait just a minute.

"I'm sorry, what did you-" She held up the hushing hand, the phone was already at her ear.

"Hello, this is Ana from the front desk calling to inform you that Mr. Sims' appointment has arrived." She was silent for a moment as whoever she was speaking to said their part and then nodded. "Okay I'll inform him." She dropped the phone silently in its cradle. "Mr. Sims is on his way down, please have a seat in the waiting area."

"Uh, excuse me but…"

She held a finger out to her left where there was a large cluster of chairs arranged in rows. "The seating area is located right over there. Don't worry, you're not the first person to have trouble finding it today."

"... Gotcha. Thanks." He nodded and walked over to sit down and figure out what exactly was happening. Was he another interdimensional Spider-Individual after all? Originally he'd dismissed the idea since he hadn't felt the same shock of awareness he had with the others, but then again his spider-sense was on the fritz lately. And oh yeah, he'd almost forgotten: Spider Powers. What if he couldn't get the sense of him, but could Ezekiel feel him when he was in proximity? Then again, the guy had clearly established himself pretty well, far beyond what would be possible for most people in a lifetime, let alone a year or two. So if the beeboo (As he had taken to calling Fisk's interdimensional claw machine not to be confused with the goober) had only gone operational… But wait, what about time travel? Time and space were closely intertwined so if you could reach through one-

His train of thought was interrupted by an oscillating series of notes coming from his trousers, he answered his phone almost instantly. That was Mary Jane's ringtone.

"You've reached Parker Industries, how can I help you?"

"Peter, I love you, you're my sweetheart, so you know that when I say this it comes from a place of nothing but love. You are the absolute last person who should be running a business, it's just so, so not you."

"Well thank you so much for the vote of confidence, glad to know it's not personal. So what has a big star like you calling little old me?"

"I had some free time so I figured I'd check in, I'm honestly shocked you had time to answer a call from little old me. I figured you'd be doing spider stuff."

"I'll have you know that I've answered your calls jumping from some of the highest buildings in this city."

There was a moment of silence on the line. "I understand what you're saying, but you probably could have found a more romantic way to say that." He took a moment to think about what he'd said and chuckled when he realized what she meant, the implication of it.

"Okay, that's fair, but you know I don't stop to think before opening my big mouth."

"I know, it's one of the things I like about you."

"MJ, everything about me is something to like, you couldn't name something bad if you had all the time in the world."

"Oh, really?" Her voice was amused, "How much time do you have? Because I've got this list saved on my phone, and-"

He clutched a hand to his chest and leaned over, wounded to the core. Even though Mary Jane couldn't see him a well-dressed man a couple of seats over could, shooting him a contemptuously confused stare before turning back to his phone. "As much as I'd love to debate you on the desirableness of leaving the toilet seat up I do not have all the time in the world to hear you out. I'm actually waiting to meet a millionaire. He could be a billionaire. I dunno, I don't handle his finances."

"Alright, I guess we'll make this quick then" Apparently she was just rolling with his rubbing elbows with the rich now, but was that dejection he heard in her voice? Over cutting a conversation short with him? God he loved this woman.

"No rush, no rush, how was your day?"

"Well most of the chaos is over, I'm just relaxing with a Perrier now. How was your day?"

"Well, I almost got escorted off the premises of two separate office buildings today. That was neat." He debated mentioning the feeling of being hunted, the panic attack that had left him stuck to the side of the building like a fly on a web, but decided not to. It would only worry her. "I met some spiders, that was also neat. They weren't the greatest conversationalists but I don't want to ask for too much."

"Yeah, about that… Gayle mentioned something about an infestation. Care to enlighten me?"

"Uh…" Peter wasn't entirely certain how to explain what had happened, wasn't certain he understood what had happened. "Okay, you know how when a dog is misbehaving and you tell it to 'Git!'? It was kind of like that only with spiders. A whole lot of spiders."

"Are you telling me that they were there to see you? Some kind of Spider-Man convention for arachnid kind? Or are you going into the sideshow business with a trained spider circus?" She was laughing softly, just rolling with the fact that her long time best friend and sometimes husband was some kind of spider whisperer now.

"I'm not so sure there's much room in the sideshow business, it's a pretty full market from what I've seen. I don't imagine they'd want me musclin in on their territory and the last thing I need is a cabal of angry carnies showing up with torches and pitchforks."

"Well do you think that you could at least train them to stay off the kitchen counters? Spiders are useful little guys but the idea of them skittering all over the same surface I make my dinner is a little much." She was joking, but he could tell the request was genuine. He couldn't blame her.

"Yeah, I think we can all come to an understanding about that." The sharp ding of an arriving elevator drew his attention, he looked up to see the man from the other night, the enigmatic 'Zeke' himself step off. "But it looks like that's gonna have to wait, honey. I've got to go meet Mr. Moneybags."

"Okay then, I'll talk to you later, maybe I'll see if there are any friendly spiders hanging around me today." There was a long pause and then, "I love you."

Man oh man he loved hearing her say that. "I love you too, have fun with the spiders." The line went dead as she hung up, he pocketed his phone and stood to face the approaching man.

"Heya, Pete! I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place." He smiled reservedly. "I'll be honest though, you're here earlier than I'd have thought."

Peter grimaced, he still wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. Was he a threat? An ally? Or something else entirely? "Well I guess I was in a bit of a rush to thank you for the kind gift you left right outside my front door. Let's just say I was motivated."

"Oh yes, curiosity can be very motivational, can't it?"

"Yeah. Curious." Pissed was more like it, the guy was messing with him and he knew it. "Do you have somewhere we can have a little chat? Private like?"

His escort, a bulky man in a well-cut suit with a suspicious bulge under his arm stiffened, staring Peter down. He stared right back. There was a time for subtlety, but if Sims knew this much about him then he was dangerous and Peter had to find out just how dangerous he was.

"Now now boys, get along with each other. Trent, please head upstairs, my friend and I are going out for a little meal." The large man, Trent, looked as though he were about to protest but Ezekiel held up a hand. "It's okay, Peter and I have a lot in common, we're just going to have a friendly little chat. Nothing too scary." He turned to Peter, smiling. "Right, Pete?"

Peter nodded. "Yep, sounds about right." Honestly he wouldn't have minded having security along, even if it were some kind of trap it wasn't as though he didn't have to deal with gun-toting meat slabs all the time. The stuff they were going to be talking about though… It was sensitive. It didn't seem as though Sims had let anyone else in on Peter's secret and he wanted to keep it that way.

Trent spent another few seconds sizing him up before he smirked, nodded, and turned back to the elevator. Whatever, he could deal with being underestimated. He liked being underestimated.

"Well then, now that that's settled and you and I have a bit of privacy, how about a little meal? If you're anything like me I'm assuming you're famished." He arched an eyebrow, still smiling gently. "Unless you've already eaten of course. I'm sure I can hold out a bit longer without fainting."

At the mere mention of food Peter could feel his stomach gurgle restlessly. Yes, he could do with a meal right about now. "Food would be good right about now."

At that Ezekiel clapped his hands together sharply and let out a soft laugh. "Excellent, I just knew you and I would be on the same wavelength about that. I'll have my driver come around, there's a lovely little pizzeria not far off that I just know you're going to love."

Wait a second, a pizzeria? While he certainly loved himself a New York slice Peter didn't exactly relish the thought of having this discussion in a crowded restaurant. As though he could read his thoughts Ezekiel reached out a hand and clapped it on Peter's shoulder.

"Don't you worry, you'll love this place, I talk business there all the time, have it intermittently swept for… Bugs…" He laughed at his little joke that nobody aside from them would have understood. "And I have a little understanding with the owners that I get a nice little area to myself regardless of how packed it is. Trust me Pete, everything will be just fine."

Famous last words, but all the same Peter found himself following the older man outside to a waiting SUV.

—

The spacious interior of the SUV had been reconfigured from stock, the center seats had been removed and in their place was a fully stocked minibar so cleanly installed that it looked as though it could have come from the factory. Minibar wasn't really the word though, was it? The word tended to conjure images of tiny bottles of cheap, if familiar sounding, booze that ran your hotel bill up way too high. Here there were only thick-walled crystal decanters, filled with golden liquids that sloshed inside with every bump they went over and slowly pooled again at the bottom. Peter wasn't a boozer, he drank now and then but it wasn't something he made a habit out of, but even he knew that the liquor in those bottles belonged on a far higher shelf than the stuff that usually went into his rum and cokes. Ezekiel, noticing his eyeing of the bottles took the opportunity to break the silence.

"Care for a drink, Pete? Trust me, there's a 60-year old single malt here whose bottle ran me a cool 2-million. It's not the kind of thing you get a shot at twice." He laughed at his joke, "But please don't do a shot, it's something to be savored."

Peter pursed his lips to keep an exclamation of shock from escaping between them and ripped his eyes away, that stuff was too expensive for him to even look at. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Peter could tell from his smile that the older man was enjoying his obvious discomfort, if he was trying to make nice then he was doing an awful job of it. As if sensing the frustration in the air Ezekiel let the smile drift away as his face took on a more serious expression.

"We may not be enjoying the finest slice in the city just yet but I assume you have some questions you'd like to ask."

Oh he did, did he? How very perceptive of him. "I guess I have a few, but I don't really feel like asking them with an audience." At that Ezekiel's face took an a look of confusion and to answer Peter pointed at the opaquely tinted partition separating them from the driver in front. At that the amused smile returned once again to annoy Peter, and he was still grinning ear to ear when he started shouting for help.

"Driver! Help me! This man has a knife! He's going to kill me!"

Peter's eyes shot wide as he looked around, waiting for some kind of attack to come. This had been a trap after all. Suddenly-

Suddenly nothing happened at all. The SUV rolled on down the bumpy street of New York, apparently unconcerned at the rich old billionaire shouting blue murder in the passenger compartment. Peter looked left, then right, and finally, confusedly back to Ezekiel whose mouth broke into an even wider smile and started laughing uncontrollably.

"Dear God, Pete!" He tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath. "If you could see the look on your face right now." His face was red from laughter so hard that his breathing had been reduced to ragged breaths. "Sorry, sorry, I'm sure that wasn't very funny for you, I just wanted you to understand just how soundproof this cabin is. I want you to understand that one of the very few things in my life that I take seriously is my privacy, and I understand your yearning for it as well."

For Peter there was no humor in any of this at all, only a wave of frustration that was threatening to break any moment, and when it did he worried that there might be at least one casualty in the flood. This crap had to end and it had to end right now.

"Okay then, Zeke. You want my questions then here they are: Why did you track me down, why did you send the basket, is there anything that you don't know about me, and most importantly what the hell do you want from me?" His fists were clenched into hard balls of anger, digging into his thigh as he did his best to keep them down instead of buried in this creep's face where he so desperately wanted to lodge them. The grey-haired trickster lounging comfortably in front of him had a way of digging under his skin that nobody had managed to find before and he hated it.

First the spider powers and now the bottomless frustration to keep his opponent off-balance, this guy was just stealing all of his schtick, wasn't he?

"Dear boy, I hope you understand that none of this has been meant to make you angry, quite the opposite in fact. I'm not sure how familiar you are with partnerships, but gift baskets are typically used as a token of one's admiration, a way to butter you up if you will."

"Butter me up? You've given me nothing but agida and you're trying to butter me up?" Peter had dealt with some real deranged people in the past, but this guy was something else.

"Did the butter cookies disagree with you? I've usually had good luck with the brand but I'll have to look into a new boutique if they're giving you indigestion."

"That's not-" Okay, this was on purpose, Ezekiel wanted him angry for some reason and he was onto his little game. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves he started talking again, this time in a much more measured tone.

"Ezekiel, you know exactly what I mean so please, just answer the godd-" Deep, cleansing breath in. Hold. Breathe out. "So please be so kind as to answer my question."

Ezekiel looked at him appraisingly, trying to figure out if there was more fun to be had in the wild pressing of buttons here, but he knew his little game was over. A broken toy is no fun.

"Okay Pete, okay. We'll start with some of the small stuff first then." He reached forward and, after careful consideration, selected a bottle of warm amber liquid. "You're sure I can't tempt you?" Peter shook his head, assuring the older man that he could not. Ezekiel sighed and pulled a tumbler and poured two fingers worth of liquor into it. "Suit yourself." He leaned back again in the seat, surveying his drink as he swirled it in the glass before he lifted it to his lips and pouring a small measure into his mouth and sighed contentedly. "But if you don't believe anything else I say today believe this: You are missing out. But enough about missed opportunities, you have questions." He took another sip. "As for the gift basket, the reason is two-fold. One: I guess I wanted to give you a chance to play this little game with me. I left you a little breadcrumb to follow and here we are, you found me! Very impressive."

Peter rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "You could have just left me a business card."

Ezekiel smiled broadly at the suggestion. "Peter, Peter, Peter… Of course I could have, but where's the fun in that? The sense of accomplishment? It would be so… Pedestrian. I've done enough business in Japan to be exhausted of exchanging business cards, I don't even have them anymore."

Most of the people in Peter's life with a flair for the dramatic weren't exactly on the best terms with him, he wondered how things would end up with this man who knew his name. "Fine. Whatever. What's reason two?"

"Reason two?" Ezekiel thought for a moment then clicked his tongue when he realized what his guest meant. "Right, the gift basket. Peter, dear boy, I was concerned. I saw what happened, two Doctor Octopus'... Octopi? Either way, that's a lot of arms to have to maneuver around."

"And you planned to what? Fix my wounds with cheese and crackers?"

Ezekiel laughed. "I do love your sense of humor, Peter, a good sense of humor is important in times of struggle." He peered closer, the bruising on Peter's face had already begun to fade but splotches of purple were still visible. "Oh they really did a number on you, didn't they? But no, it's a great selection of snacks but it's no mystical panacea. It was just an ostentatious 'Get Well Soon' card if I'm honest."

"Okay, fine. Balloons would have been nice too but I don't want to get greedy here." Peter gently rubbed his temples, his head had been throbbing with a dull pressure since his panic attack ten stories in the sky. "So how did you know where to send it?"

"You mean how did I find out who you are? I'm afraid that's a trade secret."

"Okay, have this boat pull over, I'm out." Peter reached for the door handle but a hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

"It's a joke, Pete. No need for a temper tantrum. Finding you wasn't as difficult as you might have hoped, all it took was money and that is something I have in spades. I hired private investigators, a lot of them, nobody local or linked to the superhero community. Each one of them investigated something specifically related to Spider-Man and from each one I got a small piece of raw data, nothing on its own told much of a story, but when I put the pieces of the puzzle together? A very clear picture began to emerge." He nodded appreciatively. "You've obviously taken precautions where you could, very admirable. I found you in the end but you made it difficult."

The younger of the pair snorted dismissively. "Oh. Okay. That's not creepy at all. I obviously didn't make things difficult enough."

"Come on, Peter, you're being naive. If you have enough money, connections, and determination there's really no such thing as a secret. Try as you might you can't just punch all of your problems away, some things need more finesse or a different type of brute force. Not to pat myself on the back too hard but I'm very skilled at applying both of those."

"So what now? Is this a blackmail thing? I do what you say or my secret slips out?"

That of all things caused Ezekiel to draw back, a look of distaste on his face. "Don't be so mundane, you're better than that. Besides, what could you have that I could possibly want? Rest assured that any evidence of who you are is gone, reduced to atoms of carbon and scattered magnetic pulses on thoroughly wiped hard drives."

"Then what was the point? To show that you could? Is this something you just do for fun? Screw with people?"

"God, Pete, I'm not some kind of sadist. The point of all of this is to help you."

Exasperated, Peter threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes so hard that his head lolled back. "Come on. This is some kind of sidekick application? I already dealt with this last year, I'm not taking on an apprentice."

"You should know by now that I don't play second fiddle to anyone, and besides that we all know that there can really only ever be one Spider-Man. No, I tracked you down so that I could warn you."

And just like that Peter's attention was snagged. He was the fish on the end of the line and Ezekiel was about to reel him in. "Warn me?" He was no longer staring up at the quality upholstery above him but staring the other man straight in the eye. "You said something about that when we were playing rooftop tag."

"I did. I was being truthful then and I'm being truthful now: You're in danger."

Peter tilted his head to one side and gave a sardonic smile "Oh, well, I wouldn't want to find myself in any danger." He chuckled, "You want me not to interfere with something? To stay away from something."

Ezekiel's face creased as he leaned in. "Damn it, Peter!" Peter recoiled at the seemingly genuine anger his previously laconic host was displaying. "I understand that you have every reason to be suspicious but what will it take for you to understand that I am trying to help you?!" He leaned back and ran a self-conscious hand through his iron-colored hair and sighed, for a few tense moments silence reigned in the cabin of the SUV and then the older man started to speak again. "I'm sorry I lost my composure. I admit it was wrong of me but I need you to understand that this isn't some black-hearted skullduggery on my part." He gestured out the window, the slow-rolling landscape of red brick buildings and concrete sidewalks teeming with people. "I admire you, what you do for this city, the world even. You do your best to help, and in return you get nothing more than the insults and accusations of the public that you protect so diligently. Something is coming for you, Peter. Something that even you, as strong as you are, can not face alone." He drained the last of his drink, visibly relaxing as he did so. "Can you accept that? Can you accept my help?"

That wasn't not what Peter had expected to hear. Threats, intimidation, blackmail, those he was used to, but a seemingly earnest offer of help? That was… New. To tell the truth it was a nice change of pace. Whether it was genuine or some kind of trap though was an entirely separate question. Sims clearly had his fingers in a lot of pies, you don't get to buy into Manhattan real estate if you didn't. How much of it was illicit?

"I don't know if I will, there are a lot of unknowns here, Mr. Sims. But I can at least hear you out."

Ezekiel smiled, "That's all I ask of you right now, that and to please never call me 'Mr. Sims'. We're both grown men, it makes you sound like some kind of lackey." He looked out the window and pointed to a doorway, a crowded pizza joint that looked like any other in the area as the SUV slowed to a stop. "Perfect timing, we'll continue this inside. Trust me, Pete. You're going to love this place." A pause. "What I have to tell you you won't enjoy nearly as much."

"I've gotta hand it to you, Zeke..." Peter wiped a bit of grease from his chin with his thumb and sucked the digit clean. "This place makes one hell of a pie, might even give Joe's a run for its money."

Ezekiel laughed, "I'd have to say it's better. At least it's not chicago style, just upside down pizza in a bread bowl."

They were seated in a small back room of the pizza place, Peter hadn't gotten a chance to read the sign on the way in but he made a mental note to do so on the way out. It was worthy of getting into his meal rotation. The short woman running the counter nodded in acknowledgement when Sims walked in and gestured towards the door in back. On the walk back he could feel the angry glare of hungry customers waiting in line, certain that the cashiers recognition meant it would take longer for them to get their food.

Oh well.

Ezekiel took a delicate sip of water from his glass and cleared his throat. "If you can take my pizza recommendation seriously then hopefully you trust what I have to say next."

Peter paused, a slice of cheese and sauce and bread and gastronomic magic held aloft. Oh yeah, the warning thing. He wasn't taking it too seriously right now but hearing the guy out couldn't actually hurt could it? He finished taking his bite and washed it down with a large swig of cola. "Right, right, the ominous warning of impending doom. Okay Zeke, I'm listening. Warn me."

"First I'd like you to know that in addition to the admiration I hold for your costumed activities I also admire that you're a teacher." Peter bristled at the mention of 'costume'. Sims' driver/bodyguard had walked the room with a small device, Peter recognized it as an EMF detector, checking for listening devices and had given it the all-clear. The room was obviously sound-proofed as the droning crowd noise had been silenced the moment the door had closed. Still, Peter didn't exactly like discussing his escapades with someone he didn't know so well, even if the cat was already out of the bag. "Teachers are important, the ones who prepare the younger generations for the future ahead of them. I don't mind telling you that they are quite the inspiration."

Unsure of where this was going, Peter just nodded. "Uh yeah, thanks."

"I'm an old man, P. I can't run the rooftops every night punching out evil-doers and rescuing cats from trees, so I try to help the world in ways that only I can, and if they also happen to be tax-deductible then so much the better. Regardless of what comes of our conversation today I want you to know that I've made a donation to your school of $250,000, earmarked specifically for the sciences and technology departments. I'm aware that the computers your students are using are quite old and that some of your equipment is not in the best shape." This was true, he'd heard other teachers complaining that half of their class time was spent getting the students onto the desktop so they could actually do their jobs. The lab equipment he used wasn't so great either, a graduated cylinder wasn't very useful when there was a thin crack running its length "I'm hoping this will remedy that."

Taken aback, the younger man wasn't entirely certain how to view this. It was clear that Sims wasn't hurting for money, a quarter of a million dollars would be pocket change for him, but what it meant for the school could be huge. So what was the angle on this little investment of his?

"Is this the carrot?"

Ezekiel rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Peter, this is no carrot. Your identity is no stick. You already agreed to at least try to believe the next things I told you so please try to hold up your end of the bargain. A small way for me to help society at large and a man in particular whom I hold in high regard, that's all that this is." He took a dainty bite of his slice, closing his eyes and smiling as he chewed. Swallowing, he continued, "I don't expect you to believe me, either that I've made my donation or that there are no strings to be found, but I do believe that in time you'll come around." A sip of water, something Parker could not understand having with pizza. "If you had a hard time understanding that then I should warn you that the rest of what I have to say might just make your head explode."

Peter's shoulders went slack in defeat, the guy had a point. "Sorry. I just have trouble trusting this whole situation right now, you're holding all the cards and if I'm honest? I don't even like playing the game."

"Understandable. I suppose some of the blame is mine, I could perhaps have introduced myself a little bit more… Properly. I don't get many chances to cut loose though, so when the opportunity presented itself, well, suffice to say I very rarely turn down an opportunity." He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand around the small room they dined in. "Take this place for instance, I could have taken us anywhere today. I discovered this little place on a day that I could have gone anywhere to eat, Eleven Madison Park, The Downton, Per Se, but one day I decided I was tired of all of it. I was tired of plating and over-priced ingredients you couldn't detect on the palette, I just wanted a damned good slice of pizza. One of the many things people all seem to take for granted here in the city. I asked the people in my building where I could find the best." He leaned in, eyes intently focused on Peter's. "They all had an answer of course, but they were all taking an opportunity of their own. Trying to impress me with their fine taste, recommending restaurants that had a reputation or appeared on television, then I passed a breakroom. Inside there was a member of custodial enjoying his lunch of, go figure, pizza. So I ask him where he'd gotten it from, what he thought of it. He had no idea who I was, why I was asking, none of it. He just answered honestly, and he told me he thought it was the best slice in the city." He sat back and again took a bite, savoring every chew. "And he was right. So now he eats here for free for the rest of his life because the owner said he does." He smiled cockily and pointed to himself.

"You bought the place because you liked the food here?" Peter could not even imagine being in that kind of position. "You're right, that really does blow my mind."

"Oh we haven't even gotten to that little morsel just yet, I'm just telling you a little bit about how I view opportunity. The purchase wasn't solely on a whim of course, every opportunity calls for due diligence which is why I understand your hesitation to trust. We approached the owner, examined the books, and ensured that he would stay on in at least an advisory role to ensure that the standard of quality remains what it is. And now I own the best pizza place in town that's right down the street, never wait in line, and I turn a nice little profit each month on top of it. If I'm honest it's one of the better investments versus returns I've seen: Relatively low operating costs and I'm sure you know how much people here like their pizza."

"Yeah, sure, maybe they can make a sitcom about you and your wacky italian food hijinx. It'll be great, I'm sure you'll make a killing on the licensing."

"I'm sorry, P, what was that?" Ezekiel had been on his phone, typing out a text message, he now slipped it back into his breast pocket and returned his attention to Peter."

"Forget it, not important. I wanna rip the band-aid off already so what's this bombshell you're gonna drop on me? Can I talk to spiders? If it has to do with alternate dimensions then you can save your breath, I already know."

"Well P. I don't know," He arched an eyebrow, "Can you talk to spiders?"

"Why would I talk to spiders?"

"Why would you indeed? After all, you only named yourself after the things."

"I…" Peter trailed off, he hated this little dance that the old man was doing. Why couldn't he just offer a straight answer? "Do they follow you around too? Can you… Speak to them?"

"Can't you?"

"I asked if you could." In response Ezekiel offered only a noncommittal shrug. Peter pursed his lips in frustration. "But they're not exactly known for their high intelligence like crows or apes or dolphins, aren't they kind of…"

"Stupid? Oh yes, individually a spider will not offer much in the way of a meaningful exchange of ideas, that much is very clear. But as a whole? They're quite different from humans who are individually capable of solid reasoning but a teeming mass of nonsense as a mob, instead they form a single, coherent thought. But who, I wonder, would be capable of understanding it?"

Given the exchange he'd had with his eight-legged guest this morning he was intrigued, "So how do I do it? How do I talk to this spider omnimind of yours?"

Sims shook his head disappointedly, "Pete, you're asking me to explain how to use your powers but it isn't that simple. You may as well ask me to describe the sound of your inner voice."

"So this is a waste of time then?"

"This is what you make of it, P. Things usually are. You're a college professor, I'm sure that you're busy but I doubt that you've nearly as many sleepless nights as your students do. Yes, yes, I know you've got your side gig but you can't tell me that you don't have any time to practice a little bit of introspection." The younger of the two opened his mouth to protest but Ezekiel continued on. "You bridge the gap between two entirely separate species, two entirely separate worlds: The Spider and The Man. You are the avatar of a being that long predates man but you are neither the first nor are you the last to be so, the road has always been open to you but you've never shown an interest in walking it. I wonder: Did you feel it was unnecessary? Or were you frightened of what you might learn?"

Silence settled over the room again, a heavy blanket, damp and claustrophobic. There was the occasional shout of an order that managed to break through the soundproofing of the room but otherwise the two of them were isolated from the world, alone with their thoughts. Was Peter afraid? Yes.

It wasn't something he was comfortable admitting to, fear was his anathema. If he'd let fear rule his world there would have been so many things he'd have failed to accomplish, so many people he wouldn't have saved, so little to him as a person. But he had to face facts, his genetic makeup had been forever altered by the bite of a radioactive spider in ways he'd never have been able to foresee. Was it possible that the only changes he'd experienced were all positives? Strength, agility, the ability to bounce back from incredible levels of damage, these were great things for him that enabled him to give more to the world than he'd have ever thought possible. But what if there were more to come? He'd been bitten while going through puberty, a big change but not the last he'd experience. As he aged what else would happen? His spider-sense was already on the fritz what if…

What if?

His biggest fear, one that sounded mad to him every time it crossed his mind, was becoming a monster. Losing his sense of self, his body, control, losing what made him who he was made for many sleepless nights, regardless of what Zeke had said. All this totem nonsense aside, his life had been forever altered. How much control did he have left over his life? Over himself?

"Yeah, I have things that scare me. Who doesn't?"

"Oh, everybody has things they're afraid of, Peter. Even I do. But I've never let them stop me from exploring either the world or myself. But you? I think you've let your fear stop you from advancing, from learning. Quite the disappointment considering you're a man of science."

Peter slammed his hands on the table, not very hard just enough to express his frustration, but it was enough to leave shallow dents in the dark, polished wood in the shape of his palms. "Come on! What does this stuff about totems have to do with me?! Am I supposed to do a rain dance now?"

Ezekiel shook his head disappointedly, "You're missing the forest for the trees here, P. You're getting hung up on a word and not finding the meaning behind it. I admit though that you're not terribly far off with the rainmaking comment, except that you are the rain dance. The rainmaking ritual was a way of sending a message to nature and asking for rainfall, and you are, in a roundabout way, exactly that."

"I'm a what now?"

"A rainmaking ritual was a way to forge a connection to spiritual entities greater than man, to communicate. That, Peter, is exactly what you are: A connection to something bigger than any one man. You are the window through which The Spider of All Spiders views the mundane world. And as I said before, you're not the first, the concept goes back to the very dawn of man. Our ancestors would have shamans wearing masks representative of that which they were petitioning, perhaps Bear for strength or Fox for cunning, who would speak on their behalf. If a group of hunter-gatherers wanted to know where to move to find the largest grouping of prey they might ask a bird spirit to guide them to the right location, through the medium of their shaman." He chuckled. "The medium of a medium."

Peter couldn't believe a word of this nonsense, it was the stuff of fantasy. Madness. There was no way that something like that was possible, shamanistic religions had been left by the wayside forever ago where they belonged. Big talk for someone who had been slingshotted across dimensions, but easily enough disproven with the application of science. Using deductive reasoning then… Okay, fair enough, if we operated under the hypothesis that he had formed some kind of connection to this Over-Spider then the powers he had gained in the wake of the spider bite could potentially follow, this was actually shored up by his newfound ability to seemingly communicate with spiders in ways that would otherwise be impossible. It was potentially evidence in favor of it, it was so simple as to just dismiss it as a result of a radioactive spider bite. The lab his class was touring had done some weird things to it, but spider venom and radiation did not typically result in the ability to climb walls and inexplicably instinctive precognizance.

"No, that's…"

Failing that the application of inductive reasoning would lead one to link his gaining of powers to the bite of the spider, but again, what had they done to it that would alter him so drastically at a genetic level that he was able to do the things he did? Times like this he wished he'd been able to find more information about the experiments they'd been running but the damned thing had been slapped so hard off his hand and it landed a crumpled mess beneath him, probably ending up on the wrong side of a shoe or being given a short funeral in a trash can. From what he'd managed to gather it was a simple experiment testing the effects of radiation on different species, but if that were so then how had he come to be the way that he was? How were spiders, animals incapable of higher thought, able to understand him the way the little orbweaver had?

"I mean it's just…"

Something was missing, there was some vital component that he lacked that would help him to understand everything that had happened. This was where abductive reasoning came in, when you were lacking certain necessary observations you took what you had and proceeded to the likeliest available explanation for them.

He'd been bitten by an irradiated spider

His genetic blueprint had been so drastically altered that he had gained new abilities so numerous, sharp, and resilient that they allowed him to support his weight on sheer, even acute, surfaces, in addition to some limited psychic ability that allowed him to sense and react to incoming danger, as well as giving him physical abilities that were so far outside the norm that he was considered superhuman.

Now he was talking to spiders.

These were not the typical results of poisoning, either from radiation or from a venomous spider. But what if the missing component wasn't the specific process the spider that bit him had undergone, but instead divine? The ultimate unknowable.

"No, the whole concept is crazy!"

Ezekiel smiled, halfway between pitying and annoyed, all the way condescending. "As crazy as jumping roof to roof, ten stories in the air? As crazy as an ordinary man being able to lift a car above his head? Maybe as crazy as a tiny little spider, slowly dying, choosing one specific person out of a crowd and then simply disappearing? There are many who would call all of those contemptuously mad, and yet…" He gestured towards himself then to Peter. "Would you look at that?"

"Yeah, I'm looking, but there's one thing I'm not seeing: I know where my powers came from, where did yours come from? You spend a lot of time hanging around high school field trips?"

Ezekiel 'tut-tutted', waving a finger. "No, I don't think I'm going to tell you. Not only is it irrelevant to you right now, but I think engaging in a little bit of self-exploration will lead you to the answer anyway, consider it a little bit of motivation. Unless you're okay with never knowing the answer." He shrugged, smirking. "But will you be satisfied with that?"

Peter shook his head and glowered at the man sitting across the table from him. "No. I'm very much not satisfied with that answer so why don't you go ahead and keep going."

"You're not?" The old man laid a dramatic hand on his chest, looking taken aback. "If I'm being honest that's surprising, this kind of thing has never bothered you in the past."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? There's so little that really separates man from beast, it really boils down to opposable thumbs and pattern recognition, and primates have been horning in on our thumb territory for millenia so that really just leaves us with our minds. Yet you fail to see the repeating patterns in your own life." Ezekiel took a quick sip from his glass. "Tell me Peter, how many foes of yours are themed after various animals? Does it not strike you as odd that you, Spider-Man, have so many enemies from the animal kingdom. And yet you still have trouble with the idea of some primal force influencing your own path in life, won't even consider it for a moment? That's just lazy science, Pete."

"I know who I've tussled with, but I can't think of anyone off the top of my head that's been a religious zealot."

"Of course not, a pawn that knows it's a pawn will inevitably rebel, especially when what it's looking for is power. No, better to let the Hunter, the Octopus, the Vulture, the Lizard, and the Scorpion all let themselves believe that they are kings. That they are the true masters of their own destinies. No strings to be seen here. But tell me, does Thor fight off illnesses or does he fight gods? Does Tony Stark clash with the IRS or does he typically end up in altercations with those who have a certain scientific advantage? They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep, so what would that tell me about you?"

"That I'm a crazy person in an animal-themed costume who likes to fight other crazy people in animal-themed costumes. Which, okay, is odd, but like I said: Crazy."

"Animal-themed costumes though? Really? And with the traits of those animals? None of this sounds just a little bit like the shamanism I mentioned?"

"A coincidence doesn't require a correlation. Besides," Peter looked at the table, the fresh dents, the pizza pie not even half-finished. He was tempted to go for another slice, but knew he'd be eating for the sake of eating. The conversation at hand had miraculously caused him to lose his appetite, a rarity. "Then you're getting into chicken or egg territory, isn't it more likely that they simply themed themselves after animals because of the powers they ended up with?"

"That would be the easy way, wouldn't it? But it's making a choice to completely discard the repeating pattern, and that's a choice based in ignorance. If you're certain that a spider bite explains your latent psychic abilities though, so be it. That's not a trait of arachnids that I'm familiar with though."

"Sure there are questions, but that doesn't mean that you can just attribute things to some mythical spider-god."

"As opposed to attributing it to nothing at all?"

"You have to present some kind of verifiable evidence, dammit! Who's supposed to take this stuff seriously?!"

"You're getting angry at me for pushing a theory that you can't disprove-"

"I'm frustrated because there's no way to prove or disprove it! It's just crazytalk!"

"Well of course you can't, you're refusing to so much as look into it, but let's move on. You're not seeing these people for what they are: Pretenders. They're children playing with a loaded gun, no comprehension of what could result from their game of pretend."

"So that's what I've been doing all this time? Just playing make-believe? Great. Glad to hear it, I'll make sure to let everyone know they can stop throwing things at me."

Ezekiel gave a shake of his iron-gray head. "You're not understanding me, Pete. You're the genuine article, you're a certified godhead."

Thoroughly unimpressed with the proclamation of divinity it was Peter's turn to smirk. "And just what makes you so sure of that?"

"There's a little bit of context needed for that. Tell me, have you ever been to Ghana?" Peter shook his head negative, "Well I've been to a lot of places my friend, including Ghana. There's a story from there that is very relevant to your- Our situation. Let me share the story of Anansi."