Mary Jane Watson woke up to a knock on her door, she glanced over at the
clock, which read 10:30am. She hadn't made it to bed, sleeping in her
clothes on her couch. She had been stood up by Peter Parker last night.
She wasn't mad though. She saw on the 11 o'clock news where a gang had
stolen a truckload of explosives and led police on a sensitive high-speed
chase. Spider-Man had to intervene, because the police couldn't take any
measures to disable the vehicle. One stray bullet or sudden impact might
have wiped out six blocks. What does Spider-Man do to stop that? Well
after catching up to them and waiting for them to turn onto a barren
street, he fires enough webbing into their back tires that eventually it
sticks. Whoever was at her door knocked again, and MJ called out, "Just a
minute." She took a quick look in a nearby mirror. Her hair was a mess,
but she didn't have time for that, she pulled it back in a pony tail and
looked through the peephole. She smiled broadly, it was Peter. She
unlocked the door and opened it, to find him standing in the hall with
coffee and doughnuts.
"I kinda got held up for dinner," he began, "so I thought I'd bring breakfast instead."
"How sweet," she said. "What happened?"
"The bus I was on got held up because of the big chase last night," he explained. "Several streets were closed. Once I heard Spider-Man was involved, I went on foot to try and track it down."
"So you could get some pictures," MJ asked.
"Yeah," Peter replied.
"And did you," she inquired. Peter handed her the carrier tray with the coffee on it, and pulled a rolled-up copy of the Daily Bugle from his back pocket. He unrolled it and held it up for her to see a picture of the truck, webbed into place, and five gang members webbed to the side of it, with Spider-Man standing front and center, in a "thumbs up" pose. "Wow. Hey, why don't you come in and wait for a second. I just woke up, I need to freshen up and change clothes."
"If you let me take pictures of it, it will save the Playboy guys some time," he joked.
"How did you hear about that," she asked, half-shocked, half-laughing.
"The Internet," was his simple reply.
"Well I turned them down thank you very much," she stated, matter-of- factly.
"I know," he said, laughing, "I read that part too."
Otto Octavious sat in his spacious apartment on Central Park West. He was thrilled. Yesterday he had gotten a job with Oscorp, a company he believed to be progressing in the right direction. He would now be a part of that progress, and for his first assignment all he had to do was come up with a way to incarcerate Spider-Man. It was Friday morning, and he didn't officially start until the following Monday, but he was already thinking about the design. On his laptop he was playing with the idea of a nanorobotic exoskeleton. Not like the one the Green Goblin had worn. This one was different. When he was at MIT, working on his third Ph.D. Otto developed a harness with four robotic arms which he had used for handling hazardous materials safely. It was brilliant, if not awkward, earning him the nickname "Doctor Octopus". He was coming back to the idea now, because he thought that a modification on the previous design was the solution he was looking for. The arms would be long enough to keep the Wall Crawler at a safe distance, and if they were given enough power, they could be strong enough to compete with Spider-Man's own impressive strength. The problem he was having was coming up with a way to power it. He was thinking of using a small nuclear fuel cell. In fact, it was probably the best way to go, but he had all weekend to ponder the details.
Mary Jane emerged from her boudoir, after showering, doing her hair, and changing into some new clothes. She found Peter sitting on her couch, with his feet on the table. He held the Daily Bugle in one hand, folded open, and a red Sharpie pen in the other. MJ cleared her throat, and Pete looked up. "Oh, you're done," he noted. "I took the liberty of making some more coffee in your Mr. Coffee, the stuff I brought had gotten cold."
"Ok," she saw him start to get up. "Don't get up, stay there, I'll get us some."
"Oh, alright." Peter turned his attention back to the paper. Soon after MJ came into the room with two steaming cups. Peter set down his paper on the table and took one from MJ. She sat on the other end of the couch next to him.
"So what are you reading," she asked, nodding towards the paper.
"Want ads," Peter confessed. "Harry moved out. I need to find another room mate by February. Well, that or I need to find a new place. I was thinking about maybe moving on campus."
"NO," she shouted, wide-eyed. She froze as Peter stared at her, probably curious about her over-reaction. She didn't want him to move on-campus at Empire State University. He already lived far enough away as it is. However she needed a cover for her present situation, so she explained, "you don't want to live on-campus. The food is horrible, the dorms are noisy, and the rooms are cramped."
"You're right," he granted her. "Besides I wouldn't have any room for my hobby." It was difficult to change in to Spider-Man with someone in the room with you. "All things being equal, I'd like to keep the loft. I turned one of the closets into a dark room."
"Exactly," it hadn't been the smoothest save, but Peter went for it. Suddenly, MJ had an epiphany: "What about me," she asked.
"Huh?"
"I could be your new room mate," she contended.
Peter was taking a drink of coffee at the time, and he had to spit it back into his cup at that one. "No," he said, "I don't think that would be a good idea." Twelve years of living next door to Mary Jane, and thinking she didn't want him was bad enough. Living under the same roof with her, knowing she loved him and he couldn't have her would be too much for Peter.
"Why not," she began, "I have to move anyway."
"Why?"
"I need to be closer to downtown," MJ told him. "With everything that's happening to me, I need to have better access to Manhattan. Brooklyn is close, but you live right there! I mean I could walk to most of the places I need to go from your place."
"I don't know..." Peter sounded tentative. Mary Jane could hear his resolve weakening.
"Come on, we've lived around each other for all of our lives," she argued. "Besides, who would you rather have move in with you; someone you know, or some faceless ad that might be an axe-wielding nut job?"
"I can take care of myself, " Peter rebutted.
"Okay," she began, "who would you rather I moved in with? You..."
Peter laughed, completing the sentence for her, "...or an axe-wielding nut job?"
She smiled, melting Peter's resistance like a hot knife through butter. "Exactly. I'm going to be getting contracted here soon. I've become the most sought-after pet project. They're going to pay for me to get acting lessons and all that. It's not like I'd ditch on the rent or anything."
"That wasn't it," Peter tried to summon one final defense, even though he knew he had already lost. "It wouldn't be...appropriate."
"Peter Parker," she snapped, "who are you kidding? I saw your little eyes through my bedroom window more than once." MJ smiled as Peter turned bright red. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
"Maybe once or twice," Peter admitted. MJ glared at him, setting down her cup of coffee and folding her arms over her chest. "Okay, just about every night since Junior High."
"Uh-huh..."
Peter looked away, accepting defeat. "Do you need any help moving?"
Peter and MJ had spent most of this Saturday carrying boxes upstairs to the loft. This was their third trip. The first trip they moved her bedroom, the bed, the dressers, her clothes. The second trip was devoted to her kitchen. She didn't take the stove or the fridge, and she didn't have a dishwasher. But they took the pots and pans and such, and the contents of MJ's fridge and cabinets, which were then placed into Peter's fridge and cabinets. Now they were taking the rest of her things, which consisted of her couch, her coffee table, and a dozen or so more boxes. Having access to a cargo elevator made it slightly easier, but it was still a chore. They had borrowed Aunt May's new Ford Taurus, the one she had bought with the insurance money from the old car being totaled by the carjacker who shot Uncle Ben. They also had borrowed a trailer from a man who lived down the street from their old houses. Finally, Peter had enough. He turned to MJ, "Hey, I have a great idea."
"What's that," she asked.
"There's this great Chinese restaurant about four blocks that way," Peter said, pointing down the street. "Why don't you go pick us up some take- out, and when you get back we'll take a break."
"Okay, that sounds good to me," she reached in the car for her purse. "It's on me this time, you got breakfast yesterday."
"Okay," Peter watched as she walked away. Then he went to work, unloading boxes and tossing them into the lobby. He finished unloading the car, and the trailer, piling boxes into the lobby. All that was left was a MJ's big couch, and her coffee table in the trailer. Peter took these one at a time, even though he could have taken the whole load at once: car, trailer and all. However, he didn't want to explain himself to a few dozen New Yorkers passing by. Once he had everything inside, he closed the front door.
He took a careful look around, to make sure nobody else was in the area. Once he was satisfied, he set about piling the boxes onto the couch, he would rely on his Spider-Sense to alert him now, as he webbed the boxes in place on the sofa. He didn't sense anyone else present, so he picked up the coffee table and webbed it in place on top of the whole mess. He walked down to the end of the hall, just a few feet away and stepped in the elevator. He turned and shot a webline at the couch, and quickly drug it into the elevator. The elevator arrived on Peter's floor. He stepped out, less cautious now, since he was the only one who lived on this floor at the moment. That made him all the more anxious when his Spider-Sense went off. He listened carefully, it sounded like someone was in his loft. Indeed he heard two voices. Peter crept up to the door, which was left open, but was shut now. He listened in.
"Man, this guy don't got nothin," a voice announced.
"Yeah, just some women's underwear and boxes and shit," another concurred. "Let's wait until he comes back and stick him up for his wallet," the second voice continued.
Peter had made it to the roof before he pulled off his clothes to reveal his costume. Now he was crawling down the side of his apartment building and onto the balcony of his room. Quietly he moved across the floor to the hall. He knew just where to step to avoid the creaky parts of the floor. The would-be burglars sat on either of Peter's recliners by the window. Spider-Man ascended onto the ceiling, making his way over the tow young men. One was a Latino kid in his early 20's, the other was a white-boy, probably had Irish blood in him, judging from his red hair and freckles. Both young men wore gang colors. Spidey cleared his throat and the two of them looked up. "Oh shit," the Latino kid said.
"Hello boys," Spidey said, "I'm here to collect for the Human Society." The two kids jumped up and ran towards the door. "Don't tell me you already gave at the office!" Spider-Man shot a pair of web lines at their feet, tripping them inches short of the door. He lunged across the room, glancing off the door and landing in front of them.
"Hey man," one of them asked, "what are you doing here? Is this your crib or something."
"Way to go Carlo," the white kid chimed in. "You gotta go and pick Spider- Man's crib to rob. SPIDER-MAN'S CRIB!"
"MAN, SHUT UP MICKEY," Carlo shot back. Both men had made it to their feet and were backing away from Spidey, towards the window. "Hey Spidey, you want some money?"
Spider-Man caught one of Mary Jane's pictures on the floor. He picked it up, it was her Rolling Stone cover, framed. "Boys, this place happens to belong to a very close friend of mine," he said, showing them the picture, before tossing it onto a pile of MJ's clothes.
"Oh man, I seen that girl," Mickey recalled. "She's like your lady or something, ain't she?"
"We didn't know this was your girls' house. We'll leave and never come back," Carlo pleaded.
Spider-Man was about to come back with some more witty repartee, but his Spider-Sense went off. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Jane, two and a half blocks away, returning with two plastic bags. He grabbed the boys, one in each arm and lunged out the window, passing over the street un- noticed and landing on top of another apartment building across the street. He shoved them both down, and webbed them in place. Both of them were screaming bloody murder, so Spidey gagged them each with a quick shot. The webbing would hold them in place for a couple hours, and they would eventually get away, but Peter had more pressing concerns. He shot a web line out and swung across the street, around his building to the back.
Mary Jane glanced up just in time to see Spider-Man swing across the sky. She knew exactly where he was going. She was a block and a half away, she needed to hurry. This may be her chance to catch Peter and confront him. If she caught him in-costume there would be no way he could deny his dual identity. She sprinted up the street, skillfully darting around pedestrians and dodging traffic at the street crossings.
Meanwhile, Peter had grabbed his clothes and ducked inside his loft. He ripped the Spider-Man mask off, shed the bodysuit and stashed them in the closet. He pulled his socks on, and tossed his shirt and his shoes down by the door. Then he lunged across the loft in his boxers, pulling his Levi's on in one deft motion, just in time to land in his shoes. Peter tied his shoelaces and slipped into his shirt as he heard the elevator rumble towards the ground floor. He threw open the door, shot a webline to the couch, which still had all the boxes and the coffee table webbed in place. In a matter of milliseconds he had the couch into the loft and he closed the door. He frantically went around the couch, peeling off the strands of Spider-Web he had used on it earlier. He heard the elevator arrive, and Mary Jane came sprinting down the hall. She threw the door open, half a second after Peter had balled the webbing up and thrown it out the window. MJ stood there, huffing and puffing, and cursing herself. She was too late. "Mary Jane," Peter gasped, "are you alright?"
"Yeah," she panted.
"Did you run all the way here from Ming Dynasty," he asked.
"Uh-huh," her answer came between heavy breaths.
"Why?"
"I...didn't want the food to get cold," MJ explained, hiding her true intent.
"I kinda got held up for dinner," he began, "so I thought I'd bring breakfast instead."
"How sweet," she said. "What happened?"
"The bus I was on got held up because of the big chase last night," he explained. "Several streets were closed. Once I heard Spider-Man was involved, I went on foot to try and track it down."
"So you could get some pictures," MJ asked.
"Yeah," Peter replied.
"And did you," she inquired. Peter handed her the carrier tray with the coffee on it, and pulled a rolled-up copy of the Daily Bugle from his back pocket. He unrolled it and held it up for her to see a picture of the truck, webbed into place, and five gang members webbed to the side of it, with Spider-Man standing front and center, in a "thumbs up" pose. "Wow. Hey, why don't you come in and wait for a second. I just woke up, I need to freshen up and change clothes."
"If you let me take pictures of it, it will save the Playboy guys some time," he joked.
"How did you hear about that," she asked, half-shocked, half-laughing.
"The Internet," was his simple reply.
"Well I turned them down thank you very much," she stated, matter-of- factly.
"I know," he said, laughing, "I read that part too."
Otto Octavious sat in his spacious apartment on Central Park West. He was thrilled. Yesterday he had gotten a job with Oscorp, a company he believed to be progressing in the right direction. He would now be a part of that progress, and for his first assignment all he had to do was come up with a way to incarcerate Spider-Man. It was Friday morning, and he didn't officially start until the following Monday, but he was already thinking about the design. On his laptop he was playing with the idea of a nanorobotic exoskeleton. Not like the one the Green Goblin had worn. This one was different. When he was at MIT, working on his third Ph.D. Otto developed a harness with four robotic arms which he had used for handling hazardous materials safely. It was brilliant, if not awkward, earning him the nickname "Doctor Octopus". He was coming back to the idea now, because he thought that a modification on the previous design was the solution he was looking for. The arms would be long enough to keep the Wall Crawler at a safe distance, and if they were given enough power, they could be strong enough to compete with Spider-Man's own impressive strength. The problem he was having was coming up with a way to power it. He was thinking of using a small nuclear fuel cell. In fact, it was probably the best way to go, but he had all weekend to ponder the details.
Mary Jane emerged from her boudoir, after showering, doing her hair, and changing into some new clothes. She found Peter sitting on her couch, with his feet on the table. He held the Daily Bugle in one hand, folded open, and a red Sharpie pen in the other. MJ cleared her throat, and Pete looked up. "Oh, you're done," he noted. "I took the liberty of making some more coffee in your Mr. Coffee, the stuff I brought had gotten cold."
"Ok," she saw him start to get up. "Don't get up, stay there, I'll get us some."
"Oh, alright." Peter turned his attention back to the paper. Soon after MJ came into the room with two steaming cups. Peter set down his paper on the table and took one from MJ. She sat on the other end of the couch next to him.
"So what are you reading," she asked, nodding towards the paper.
"Want ads," Peter confessed. "Harry moved out. I need to find another room mate by February. Well, that or I need to find a new place. I was thinking about maybe moving on campus."
"NO," she shouted, wide-eyed. She froze as Peter stared at her, probably curious about her over-reaction. She didn't want him to move on-campus at Empire State University. He already lived far enough away as it is. However she needed a cover for her present situation, so she explained, "you don't want to live on-campus. The food is horrible, the dorms are noisy, and the rooms are cramped."
"You're right," he granted her. "Besides I wouldn't have any room for my hobby." It was difficult to change in to Spider-Man with someone in the room with you. "All things being equal, I'd like to keep the loft. I turned one of the closets into a dark room."
"Exactly," it hadn't been the smoothest save, but Peter went for it. Suddenly, MJ had an epiphany: "What about me," she asked.
"Huh?"
"I could be your new room mate," she contended.
Peter was taking a drink of coffee at the time, and he had to spit it back into his cup at that one. "No," he said, "I don't think that would be a good idea." Twelve years of living next door to Mary Jane, and thinking she didn't want him was bad enough. Living under the same roof with her, knowing she loved him and he couldn't have her would be too much for Peter.
"Why not," she began, "I have to move anyway."
"Why?"
"I need to be closer to downtown," MJ told him. "With everything that's happening to me, I need to have better access to Manhattan. Brooklyn is close, but you live right there! I mean I could walk to most of the places I need to go from your place."
"I don't know..." Peter sounded tentative. Mary Jane could hear his resolve weakening.
"Come on, we've lived around each other for all of our lives," she argued. "Besides, who would you rather have move in with you; someone you know, or some faceless ad that might be an axe-wielding nut job?"
"I can take care of myself, " Peter rebutted.
"Okay," she began, "who would you rather I moved in with? You..."
Peter laughed, completing the sentence for her, "...or an axe-wielding nut job?"
She smiled, melting Peter's resistance like a hot knife through butter. "Exactly. I'm going to be getting contracted here soon. I've become the most sought-after pet project. They're going to pay for me to get acting lessons and all that. It's not like I'd ditch on the rent or anything."
"That wasn't it," Peter tried to summon one final defense, even though he knew he had already lost. "It wouldn't be...appropriate."
"Peter Parker," she snapped, "who are you kidding? I saw your little eyes through my bedroom window more than once." MJ smiled as Peter turned bright red. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
"Maybe once or twice," Peter admitted. MJ glared at him, setting down her cup of coffee and folding her arms over her chest. "Okay, just about every night since Junior High."
"Uh-huh..."
Peter looked away, accepting defeat. "Do you need any help moving?"
Peter and MJ had spent most of this Saturday carrying boxes upstairs to the loft. This was their third trip. The first trip they moved her bedroom, the bed, the dressers, her clothes. The second trip was devoted to her kitchen. She didn't take the stove or the fridge, and she didn't have a dishwasher. But they took the pots and pans and such, and the contents of MJ's fridge and cabinets, which were then placed into Peter's fridge and cabinets. Now they were taking the rest of her things, which consisted of her couch, her coffee table, and a dozen or so more boxes. Having access to a cargo elevator made it slightly easier, but it was still a chore. They had borrowed Aunt May's new Ford Taurus, the one she had bought with the insurance money from the old car being totaled by the carjacker who shot Uncle Ben. They also had borrowed a trailer from a man who lived down the street from their old houses. Finally, Peter had enough. He turned to MJ, "Hey, I have a great idea."
"What's that," she asked.
"There's this great Chinese restaurant about four blocks that way," Peter said, pointing down the street. "Why don't you go pick us up some take- out, and when you get back we'll take a break."
"Okay, that sounds good to me," she reached in the car for her purse. "It's on me this time, you got breakfast yesterday."
"Okay," Peter watched as she walked away. Then he went to work, unloading boxes and tossing them into the lobby. He finished unloading the car, and the trailer, piling boxes into the lobby. All that was left was a MJ's big couch, and her coffee table in the trailer. Peter took these one at a time, even though he could have taken the whole load at once: car, trailer and all. However, he didn't want to explain himself to a few dozen New Yorkers passing by. Once he had everything inside, he closed the front door.
He took a careful look around, to make sure nobody else was in the area. Once he was satisfied, he set about piling the boxes onto the couch, he would rely on his Spider-Sense to alert him now, as he webbed the boxes in place on the sofa. He didn't sense anyone else present, so he picked up the coffee table and webbed it in place on top of the whole mess. He walked down to the end of the hall, just a few feet away and stepped in the elevator. He turned and shot a webline at the couch, and quickly drug it into the elevator. The elevator arrived on Peter's floor. He stepped out, less cautious now, since he was the only one who lived on this floor at the moment. That made him all the more anxious when his Spider-Sense went off. He listened carefully, it sounded like someone was in his loft. Indeed he heard two voices. Peter crept up to the door, which was left open, but was shut now. He listened in.
"Man, this guy don't got nothin," a voice announced.
"Yeah, just some women's underwear and boxes and shit," another concurred. "Let's wait until he comes back and stick him up for his wallet," the second voice continued.
Peter had made it to the roof before he pulled off his clothes to reveal his costume. Now he was crawling down the side of his apartment building and onto the balcony of his room. Quietly he moved across the floor to the hall. He knew just where to step to avoid the creaky parts of the floor. The would-be burglars sat on either of Peter's recliners by the window. Spider-Man ascended onto the ceiling, making his way over the tow young men. One was a Latino kid in his early 20's, the other was a white-boy, probably had Irish blood in him, judging from his red hair and freckles. Both young men wore gang colors. Spidey cleared his throat and the two of them looked up. "Oh shit," the Latino kid said.
"Hello boys," Spidey said, "I'm here to collect for the Human Society." The two kids jumped up and ran towards the door. "Don't tell me you already gave at the office!" Spider-Man shot a pair of web lines at their feet, tripping them inches short of the door. He lunged across the room, glancing off the door and landing in front of them.
"Hey man," one of them asked, "what are you doing here? Is this your crib or something."
"Way to go Carlo," the white kid chimed in. "You gotta go and pick Spider- Man's crib to rob. SPIDER-MAN'S CRIB!"
"MAN, SHUT UP MICKEY," Carlo shot back. Both men had made it to their feet and were backing away from Spidey, towards the window. "Hey Spidey, you want some money?"
Spider-Man caught one of Mary Jane's pictures on the floor. He picked it up, it was her Rolling Stone cover, framed. "Boys, this place happens to belong to a very close friend of mine," he said, showing them the picture, before tossing it onto a pile of MJ's clothes.
"Oh man, I seen that girl," Mickey recalled. "She's like your lady or something, ain't she?"
"We didn't know this was your girls' house. We'll leave and never come back," Carlo pleaded.
Spider-Man was about to come back with some more witty repartee, but his Spider-Sense went off. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Jane, two and a half blocks away, returning with two plastic bags. He grabbed the boys, one in each arm and lunged out the window, passing over the street un- noticed and landing on top of another apartment building across the street. He shoved them both down, and webbed them in place. Both of them were screaming bloody murder, so Spidey gagged them each with a quick shot. The webbing would hold them in place for a couple hours, and they would eventually get away, but Peter had more pressing concerns. He shot a web line out and swung across the street, around his building to the back.
Mary Jane glanced up just in time to see Spider-Man swing across the sky. She knew exactly where he was going. She was a block and a half away, she needed to hurry. This may be her chance to catch Peter and confront him. If she caught him in-costume there would be no way he could deny his dual identity. She sprinted up the street, skillfully darting around pedestrians and dodging traffic at the street crossings.
Meanwhile, Peter had grabbed his clothes and ducked inside his loft. He ripped the Spider-Man mask off, shed the bodysuit and stashed them in the closet. He pulled his socks on, and tossed his shirt and his shoes down by the door. Then he lunged across the loft in his boxers, pulling his Levi's on in one deft motion, just in time to land in his shoes. Peter tied his shoelaces and slipped into his shirt as he heard the elevator rumble towards the ground floor. He threw open the door, shot a webline to the couch, which still had all the boxes and the coffee table webbed in place. In a matter of milliseconds he had the couch into the loft and he closed the door. He frantically went around the couch, peeling off the strands of Spider-Web he had used on it earlier. He heard the elevator arrive, and Mary Jane came sprinting down the hall. She threw the door open, half a second after Peter had balled the webbing up and thrown it out the window. MJ stood there, huffing and puffing, and cursing herself. She was too late. "Mary Jane," Peter gasped, "are you alright?"
"Yeah," she panted.
"Did you run all the way here from Ming Dynasty," he asked.
"Uh-huh," her answer came between heavy breaths.
"Why?"
"I...didn't want the food to get cold," MJ explained, hiding her true intent.