Peter arrived back in Queens later that afternoon by taking the bus. The last thing he wanted for his aunt was to arouse her suspicion by showing up in the backyard or coming through his bedroom window; it would put him at risk for being discovered as Spider-Man. As he strolled down the street of the Queens neighborhood, Peter reflected on his time with his friends and how it made him seriously consider finding a job. Even if he didn't know where to start, he knew Aunt May would come up with some sort of wisdom to help him get started. She was his guide no matter what.

As of the night he lost Uncle Ben, however, she was his only guide. The months he spent wishing Ben were still around to guide him as well were hard to deal with. He spent days and nights wondering, wishing he could have done something better to prevent that burglar from taking Ben's life. No matter what though, Peter had to deal with the consequences of his actions and accept responsibility for saving other people. Not only that, but he had to keep the secret from Aunt May for the time being.

Pushing all the details of Uncle Ben's demise aside, Peter strolled up to the door of his home and entered the dwelling to find Aunt May at the dining room table sorting through mortgage bills. Mortgage bills on a Saturday? Peter thought.

"Hey, Aunt May, I'm back!" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "How are you?"

Aunt May sighed as she shuffled through the bills. "I'm fine, Peter."

"That's cool. Whatcha got there?"

"It's just… I have all these bills to worry about and hardly anything to pay them off. Have you been looking at any jobs lately?"

"Well, I promised I would look for one after homecoming and sent an application to an appliance store…"

"And…?"

Peter paused and stared at the ground. "They turned me down. The email back said I didn't have enough experience to work there. They didn't even give me an interview! Is it worth trying after that?"

Aunt May set her bills aside and stood up to approach her nephew. "Oh, Peter," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Bless you for trying, but remember much of the world isn't fair as is. If it doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to be. Face it, you can't control everything; the trick is to never stop trying."

Peter smiled, feeling the warmth of her touch as well as her words. "Thanks, Aunt May," he said as her hand dropped. "I know full well you didn't raise me to be a quitter. I just… Sometimes I get doubtful when things don't work out. It helps to have your wisdom."

"And what a pleasure it is!"

"Thanks! It's funny you should ask because Gwen, Harry, MJ, and I were just in the Halloween costume store at the mall and… Well, Liz Allan was working there, and… She basically told me to get on it as well."

"Liz Allan, the girl from the homecoming committee?" Aunt May asked.

"The very same."

"I'm surprised, she's turning out much better than I had anticipated! I worried that Flash Thompson's girlfriend would also be a nuisance to your life."

"Thankfully, she's hardly like Flash, but she tolerates him anyway. Besides, she came to mine and Gwen's defense when Flash showed up to the committee that one time."

"I'm glad you have friends to keep you and others in your life in line, Peter. It helps to have many people guide you."

"I'm glad your one of them, May! Speaking of which, I felt the need to ask what sort of companies or establishments you might recommend? Figured if I'm to get suggestions, they'd be from you."

Aunt May put a finger up to her lip and turned away to pace around the dining room. She was so knee-deep in her mortgage bills it looked as though she hardly had much free space to think for herself and her nephew.

"Do you remember the place Ben worked before?" she asked, turning to Peter.

"Remind me again what that was?" Peter inquired.

"Fisk Industries," she answered. "It's a big business that deals with spice imports and real estate. Ben worked there as a security guard before he… Oh, but he always said he enjoyed it and it helped him get by. Still, it hardly left us much money and he wasn't yet prepared to leave us a will behind. I suppose if you could find a better position there, it could help us out of this financial rut."

Peter nodded, contemplating his options on what he could do. "I suppose I could look into something like that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the idea of carrying on in Ben's place, but I think I like photography and science better. I don't know, big business may or may not be my style."

"Whatever you end up choosing, dear, just know that you have my support!" Aunt May affirmed.

"Whatever you say, Aunt May! Now what do you say about watching a movie or something? Think that might help us clear our heads?"

"I could use a good flick to decompress. Got any suggestions?"

"I think I got something you might like."

For the next few minutes, Peter kept Aunt May waiting in suspense as she popped the popcorn while he got out the DVD of the recent movie The Social Network. Aunt May had never seen that movie, but Peter introduced her to it as a movie about "an exaggerated version of how Facebook came to be". Peter enjoyed it so much as it had one of his favorite actors, Andrew Garfield, in it playing Eduardo Severin, the second-in-command to Jesse Eisenberg's Mark Zuckerberg. While Aunt May felt a little put off by the film's portrayal of such a significant figure like Zuckerberg, Peter reassured her that he was hardly like that in real life. During one of their many pauses to go to the bathroom, Peter got the idea to ask Aunt May what her plans were on getting a job.

"Say, Aunt May, I was wondering, do you think it would be possible for you to get a job as well?" Peter asked. "I get why you want me to get one so bad, but do you think you could also help us financially?"

"I'll admit, I've always relied on Ben to take care of this family for us…" she said with a sigh. "But now that he's gone, I, too, am looking for a decent job to support us. Being a stay-at-home widow isn't quite enough to cut it."

"That's the spirit, Aunt May! I know you're not a hypocrite, but I wanted to make sure you weren't gonna turn into one by asking me to get a job without getting one yourself."

The two laughed together at Peter's somewhat snide comment.

"Oh, Peter. You always know how to brighten the mood with humor and a good flick," she said. "I think I'll keep you for as long as you're able to stay here."

"Oh, believe me, I kinda like it here."

She smiled as they continued to play the movie.

Later that evening, MJ arrived back at her place with Harry in tail since today was the ideal day for them to be together for an extended period of time. Between meeting at the Manhattan Mall with Peter and Gwen and the little time they had spent since the homecoming dance last week, Saturday was the best day for them to spend quality time together. Given that Peter was likely busy with whatever activities he was involved with and Gwen had to go in for an interview that evening, MJ and Harry were very much alone for the rest of the day. The only other person accompanying them in MJ's house was her Aunt Anna who took care of her the way Peter's Aunt May did for Peter. As Harry and MJ worked on homework together for much of the evening, Aunt Anna would occasionally stop in and ask questions as well as for assistance on things.

As they sat there working in MJ's pink walled room decked out with black décor and rock band posters, they listened in to the distant creaking of the floorboards indicating that Aunt Anna was approaching. She opened the door and poked her 50 year old aging face of wrinkles into the room.

"Harry, could you come move the couch for me?" Aunt Anna asked. She brushed a strand of gray hair out of her bright blue eyes as she leaned in. "I accidentally dropped my remote behind it and now I can't reach it!"

"Yes, Ms. Watson," Harry affirmed. He stood up and turned to face MJ. "Wait for me to come back to answer the next question, okay?"

"Okay," said MJ.

She watched as Harry strode out of the room to help her Aunt Anna. She smiled, amazed that this amazing boyfriend of her's would be willing to help not only her with her homework, but also her Aunt Anna. As MJ sat there waiting, she twiddled her pencil around her thumbs, staring at the work she and Harry had left to do. English was by far their most relaxed subject as much of it did not involve complex thinking and problem solving skills that Peter and Gwen perfected in math and science.

With the decent amount of English skills combined with her passion for photography, MJ was more than certain she could be a photojournalist someday.

I wonder what Harry's dream job could be? she thought to herself. We've been dating since summer started and I still haven't asked him. Maybe I'll ask him when he gets back.

"There, got it!" Harry's voice resounded from the living room.

"Thank you so much, Harry!" her aunt responded.

"Not a problem. Enjoy your show!"

She resumed her writing position as Harry re-entered the room, ready to conquer homework.

"Oh, man! Not to be rude, but your aunt seems like a bit of a clutz when it comes to the remote," Harry joked.

"You're not being rude, it's kind of true," MJ agreed, much to his surprise. "She always leaves it up on top of the couch where it's likely to fall down behind it. Sometimes, she can't even rotate it the right direction."

"I'm glad you let me come over to meet her at least," Harry complimented. "I've been meaning to do that after all you've told me about her." He sat down next to her on the bed.

"She's a nice person and so are you, so I figured, 'why not?'"

Harry blushed. "Aw, thanks, MJ," he said. "Say, now that I've met your aunt, how would you feel about meeting my dad sometime?"

MJ, taken aback by his question, almost gasped audibly because she wasn't sure where this conversation was going. She had planned to ask him what his dream job was and now this? Maybe she could still steer it back at some point.

"S-sure, I mean, why not?" she asked with a slight stutter, harping on her previous statement. "I mean, your dad is a bit of a high profile figure in the city so meeting him would be a pleasure - if not a bit nerve-wracking."

"Nerve-wracking how?" Harry inquired.

"Well… It would be almost like meeting a celebrity. I've never met any of the great investors of this world like Tony Stark or Wilson Fisk so meeting your dad would almost be like meeting one of those two."

"I'll tell him you say that," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "I try to compliment him as much as I can, but it's sure as hell hard to tell what he likes best. He hardly even tells me much about himself as is."

MJ shifted her position from legs on the floor to feet criss crossed on the bed. "From what I've heard, Norman's a hard worker so it would be nice to know where he gets his inspiration from.

"It's probably not me," Harry stated glumly while staring down at the floor.

Hearing this, MJ leaned in closer. "Hey, don't say that," she reassured him. "He might have things he's not telling you about. The best you can do is pry it out of him if need be."

Harry looked up. "I suppose I could, but I don't know how it'll work," he said.

"Harr-bear, you never know if you don't try," she said, putting an arm around him. "Just ask and see how it goes."

"If you say so," he finalized. "But enough of me. I've been talking to you a lot since we started dating this summer and I don't think I've found out much about your family. I know your Aunt Anna's in the picture, but what about your parents? Any siblings?"

Once again, MJ was taken aback by Harry's question. She hadn't thought about her upsetting family history for some time after Aunt Anna had been so loving and caring for her the last eight years. A cat gripped her tongue as she struggled to figure out how to respond to this. Whether she divulged the info, or she risked losing his trust was up to her.

"I'm not sure I can really talk about that right now," she finally said. "Family's not really a happy topic for me."

Surprised, Harry's face folded from curiosity to shock. "Well, I guess I understand, but if not now, maybe later?" he asked.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't really want to think about it," she insisted.

"That's fine," he agreed shyly. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah, there was," she said, remembering her previous question. "You know I want to be a photojournalist so I have to ask, what's your dream job?"

"My dream job?" he asked, scrunching his face. "Well, I feel like I could easily take over for my dad's company whether he retires or dies at some point."

"Really? Why's that?"

"There are times where it seems like he's not treating his employees fairly. Like recently he told me the reason for the Vulture attack last week was because he had previously fired an employee who swore revenge on him. He didn't take it seriously, but he almost got killed when the Vulture and his accomplices attacked the showcasing. He says he doesn't want anything like that to happen again, but I don't see him changing any time soon."

MJ's face folded from curiosity to concern. "That's too bad. If nothing else, I think you'd make for a great CEO of Oscorp."

"You really mean that?"

"Sure, Harr-bear! I'd love to see you suited up while managing people around the tower. I can see it now…" she said with the wave of her hand. "Harry Osborn, Oscorp CEO. 'Realizing the future one day at a time'!"

Harry laughed at hearing her present his title and dad's company mantra so extravagantly. "I like it, MJ!" he complimented. "I'll have to remember that when I graduate!"

"Keep trying and maybe it'll come true someday!"

Harry and MJ smiled at each other before resuming their English work. It was great for her to have Harry's back when he was uncertain of himself so long as he was willing to have her's in some way. Whether that would involve her telling him about her family history or not, she had to at least maintain her sense of dignity around him as best as possible. Her secrets could not be exposed as long as someone was going to judge her.

Exhaust burned within the rehab transport vehicle as Dennis Carradine sat in the back, similarly burning with thoughts and passions about his newfound freedom. It had only been a week since Wilson Fisk instituted his parole and already he was glad to be out of the hellhole that was Rikers' Island Prison. No longer did he have to deal with some of the more screwed up inmates, bland food, and low quality service provided to him. He was free to relish the freedom he so longed for - at least for the time being.

The transport rolled along the streets of Manhattan, the clarion call of the nighttime lights displayed overhead throughout the concrete canyons. It had been a while since Carradine had experienced the sights of the city. After being incarcerated in March for finally giving into his killer instinct, he never expected to ever walk free for whatever reason ever. On top of that, he never thought he would get to experience this scenery ever again. Whatever Fisk had done to get him on this parole had to have been tough for him to finagle, though it was an experience he relished while he could.

Eventually, the transport pulled up to the edge of the sidewalk near a building that had Fisk's name lit up in big letters:

FISK INDUSTRIES REHABILITATION CENTER

An eerie silence settled as the guards standing near the vehicle approached the door, the vehicle's driver signaling Carradine as he maneuvered to exit.

"Here's your stop," the chauffeur said. "Be sure to behave yourself and enjoy your stay!"

Carradine nodded, silently thanking the chauffeur as the guards outside opened the vehicle door. The guards led him into the front entrance where he was pleasantly greeted at the desk by the receptionist. He was then given the key to his rehab room while the guards continued to escort him to where he would be staying. Despite the demeanor of everyone else around him, Carradine maintained his signature stoic expression because, despite his newfound circumstances, he was not, nor would he be a changed man. He was only in this for the fact that he got to walk free. Whatever was going on, he sure as hell would enjoy this place over prison.

After the guards left him in his rehab room, Carradine audibly thanked them for their assistance. As much as he was considered a dangerous man by the general public, there was no denying that he needed the escort in the first place. At the very least, he was glad it was over and he could enjoy some freedom in his newfound rehab room.

He scanned the area to take in the comforting sights of what the room beheld. A bed sat there in the middle of the room, the sheets inviting him to sit and sleep comfortably. A lamp sat in the corner of the room, with a switch in reach - as opposed to the guards around the area being the one to turn off the lights for him. On the far side of the room also sat a bathroom with a proper counter, light source, and functioning toilet. This was what he had longed for: a room with proper furniture and appliances that he could operate. Everything about this place was a far cry from the prison cell he had to share with an annoying cellmate at Rikers.

He applied the clothes provided to him and took his first sleep in the rehab room about an hour later. For the first time in months, he had never slept better.

The next day followed with the usual rehab activities before Carradine had secretly had enough. Before long, however, a doctor entered his room to deliver him news.

"Mr. Carradine," the female doctor addressed as she entered the room.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently in his gruff voice.

"You have a visitor here by the name of Nicholas Lewis. Shall we send him up here?"

That name was definitely someone Carradine recognized from his time as a criminal. No doubt he would want to visit to discuss the business of why he was here in rehab of all places.

"Alright, send him in," said Carradine plainly.

The doctor exited and left Carradine to tend to his usual business of thinking and turning over his life decisions in his head. It was growing up poor and being unable to take care of his daughter that turned him over to a life of crime; too often he wondered how he could sink so low the older he got. He had reached his late thirties, almost forties and still nothing about his experience in jail told him that the time for change was now. Whatever was happening that provided him with this undeserved rehab was almost baffling, but if Mr. Lewis was about to inform him of his circumstances, surely he would have some clarity as to what was going on.

Maybe then he would find some reason to make a change in his lifestyle.

Minutes passed and eventually Nicholas Lewis opened the door and entered the room. He stood in front of the hallway lights, his fedora silhouette shading the carpet below. Carradine recognized his signature business suit appearance as he strolled into the room, shuffling his fingers like the scheming man he knew Lewis was. A wave of uncertainty enveloped the room as Lewis shut the door and approached his former accomplice like a prison guard to a prisoner.

"Dennis Carradine," Lewis said, his face shaded by the fedora's shadow. "I trust you're enjoying your stay at Fisk's rehab center so far?"

Carradine surveyed the room to give it a proper look. "It's much nicer than prison, I'll say," he said. "Curious why he put me here of all places. Is there something the prison guards didn't tell me about my parole?"

Lewis chuckled under his breath. "I was sent here to tell you exactly what's happening, but I couldn't risk being heard or seen with you in prison or on the drive over here. I hope you can understand."

"I already don't understand this! I've done such batshit crazy things that no one, not even Fisk, would forgive. And now all of the sudden I've done something to deserve this?" Carradine asked impatiently.

Lewis sat down on the bed, his face still shaded by the room's shadows. "Bear with me, I know you're confused, but it's all for good reason," Lewis reassured. "First and foremost, Fisk wanted me to tell you one thing: you cannot use your newfound freedom to kill anyone at random. Not in this place, not even secretly at night. Do you understand?"

Carradine was almost taken aback by Lewis's ground rule. He had killed no one besides Ben Parker in his years as a criminal that giving him this rule almost sounded like an unnecessary handicap for him.

Whatever the case though, it sounded like Carradine had no other choice, but to comply.

"...I understand. Now hurry up and tell me why I'm here!" Carradine demanded.

"Slow down, Carradine!" Lewis suggested, holding up his hand. "We don't want the rehab guards to suspect your unstableness."

Carradine lowered his head in shame. "You're probably right," he said uncaringly. "I apologize."

"Good. Now…" Lewis continued, standing up. "There have been increased sightings and support for the vigilante Spider-Man in the last few weeks. The cops have officially declared him legal and are now letting him operate with him on a regular basis. Spider-Man was the same masked vigilante who put you away back in March, was he not?"

"Do I look like I've forgotten? Of course, I haven't!" Carradine spat. "He cornered me in that warehouse and almost killed me when he had the chance, but when I least expected it, he let me go!"

"I see now… So your time at Rikers has not driven you to forget that day now has it?"

"Do you mistake me for someone who doesn't remember his own past? I never forgot! It's the whole reason I wound up there in the first place! Are we done playing 20 Questions yet?"

"Stay patient with me, Dennis! I was merely just teasing you… For old times sake!"

Carradine folded his arms, grumbling.

"Anyways, there have been numerous reports of Spider-Man working with the police to take down my men in the last week. It's only a matter of time before he reaches us and we cannot let that happen. So I must ask, are you willing to make a comeback and get back at him?"

Carradine folded his fists in an excited manner, clenching them with white hot fury. "More than anything!" he exclaimed.

"In order to do that, you must follow strict rules from me and Fisk at all times. One is the no killing rule I established - except, of course, killing Spider-Man - and two is that you must swear to keep the whole thing under wraps at all times. We don't want word getting out of our involvement in the criminal underworld."

"More than anything else, I swear to follow all the rules!"

"Most excellent… As you know, Fisk is a masterfully elusive man. Whatever we do outside of his commands, he'll easily deny any involvement to cover his tracks. Are you willing to accept that as a potential consequence of your actions?"

Carradine thought long and hard about the decisions he was faced with. As much as he wanted to get back at the vigilante who put him away, he didn't want to have to put up with Fisk covering his tracks just to deny his association with their criminal acts. Whatever the case, he was ready to face the world once more.

"I accept!" the former burglar affirmed.

Under his hat, Lewis scowled. "Good…"

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