"Commissioner, I assure you, progress is being made at a reasonable rate."

Norman Osborn was sitting at his desk in his office, talking to his biggest clients at the moment, the United States Government. His cellphone was tugged firmly between his cheek and his shoulder, he scanned over the files on his private desktop, seeing the progress on the super soldier serum.

"Well, the prototype has remained fairly unstable, however my top scientists have assured me that they are on the verge of a breakthrough," he commented, as he updated the details of the serum since its last tests.

"Do not worry Commissioner, if there's one thing Oscorp is known for, it's quality. Goodbye," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster, hanging up. "Now then, what am I missing here?" He muttered to himself, frustrated. There was an issue with the molecular bonds, as they would break down before they even had a chance to properly form.

It was quite the predicament. He needed to get results on this, and fast, otherwise they would resolve the contract. And the company needed the money quite badly, thanks to that blasted Stark Industries and now Horizon taking most of the scientific community's interest.

He just needed this one breakthrough. This one project that's been the subject of most of his focus while that lackey Toomes tried to-

"OSBORN!" A shrill cry rang out, startling the CEO as he turned to the large window behind him, as he saw a winged man fly straight towards him.

"AH!" He recoiled, as he was knocked off of his chair, the man flying right through the glass, shattering it to pieces as he tackled Osborn, flipping over the large desk in the process. Norman looked up, to see the man standing over him, his mouth open in surprise as a small trickle of blood was starting to come off a cut on his cheek.

"Osborn..." Adrian Toomes hissed, clad in his dark flight suit, large wings boldly spread out behind him.

"Toomes!?" Norman exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this!?"

The elderly man gave a twisted scowl on his face. "Are you really that cruel, Osborn!?" He asked, walking closer to him as the CEO backed away from him, crawling on the floor. "Did you already forget how you wronged me!? Or did you just convince yourself that you did the right thing!?"

"Now Toomes, settle down, we're two reasonable men, we can-"

"WE ARE NOT TWO REASONABLE MEN!" Toomes exclaimed, slowly advancing to Norman. "I'm a man! You're a sniveling fox that desperately threw me under the bus to save his own skin!" Toomes eventually pinned Osborn against the wall, as he grabbed the CEO by the throat, the suit giving him enough strength to pick the man off the ground with one hand.

"We both know..." Osborn started, through strained breath as the hand around his throat started to clamp down on him. "That if you were in my shoes...you'd...do the same..."

Toomes went silent for a second, giving him a deep glare. "But it wasn't. And that's why you will die."

"Animal control!"

"Wha-?" Toomes jumped, before a pair of red and blue feet hit him dead in the face, making him release his grip on Osborn as he crashed into the wall of the office. Osborn fell to the ground, as he coughed violently, trying to regain his breath.

"We had a report of a flying bird that escaped from it's cage," Spider-Man quipped. "But by the looks of it, it just seems like a man wandered out of the retirement home."

Toomes' eyes widened in rage. "Insolent child!" He scolded. "I am one of the finest minds today!"

"Really?" Peter asked. "Because I don't see Reed Richards dress up like a pigeon."

Toomes gave a very annoyed growl, as he charged right towards Spidey, who was able to jump over the old man and land on his back, as the winged criminal started to fly off, going right through the window.

"Maybe a Vulture is more your style," Peter joked, as the two started struggling in the air, soaring past building after building. "That black suit just screams Vulture."

"MY NAME IS ADRIAN TOOMES!" He cried, as he avoided a punch from the teenaged hero, the suit giving him advanced reflexes.

"What is with you super villains and screaming your real names?" Peter wondered. "Have you never seen an episode of CSI? You never use your real name if you want to get away with a crime. By the haps, trying to murder a CEO of a international company in broad daylight was pretty stupid."

"I would of done it if you didn't get in the way, arachnid!" Vulture cried, as he did a barrel roll, trying to get the Web Head off his back, and failing miserably.

"Hey, you're the first person to get that right!" Peter complimented, as he threw another punch, landing it in the back of Vulture's head, making him swerve slightly. "Maybe you do have smarticle particles!"

"I'll kill you!" Toomes threated, furious. "And Osborn!"

"Yeah, yeah," Peter waved off, before shooting some webs at the old man's wings. "Here's to ya."

It gummed up the steel feathers for a second, before they sliced through it by themselves. "Fool!" Toomes gloated.

"Uh, that's a new one," Peter lamely mumbled.

"These feathers are hooked up to my nervous system!" Vulture bragged. "Meaning I have complete and total control over what they do...or where they go!"

Without warning, a few of the metal feathers popped off both of his wings, before pointing themselves right at Spider-Man. The feathers shot right at him at alarming speed, as Peter did his best to dodge them, over to get cut by a few on the torso, ripping his costume.

"Hey!" He complained, as he jumped off Vulture's back, swinging right behind him. "Do you have any idea how much red and blue thread costs? Or how long it takes to make that little web design on the costume? No one ever seems to appreciate that."

"Cease your chattering!" Toomes ordered.

"You talk funny," Peter observed.

"GAH!" The former governemt agent growled in annoyance, as he turned around, flying backwards, as he threw even more steel feathers at Peter. Peter noticed that whenever he threw the daggers, they would instantly be replaced. The nerd in him tried his best to wrap his brain around it, but could only deduce that the suit had some very advanced technology.

That, and that it was also freakin' deadly.

Peter dodged in mid air, flipping gracefully around the weapons, before swinging back after the soaring menace. "Come on, is that the best you can-" Peter's spider sense cut him off. "Do?" He asked himself, as he quickly turned around to see them flying right towards him.

With no time to react, they pierced through different parts of his costume, without tearing all the way. He was dragged off his rope by the force, before being impaled on a rooftop billboard. He struggled a bit, but found that he couldn't tear the costume in his flailed out pose on the billboard, and that the steel was too strong for him to break.

Vulture flew down right in front of him, hovering while giving him an icy stare. "Uh, if I take back those mean but totally genius observations I made, would you help me down?" Spidey asked, not able to move an inch.

"If I had more time, I would kill you now!" Toomes told him. "But this scrap through town has put too many eyes on me at the moment. Mark my words though, you will not be able to protect Osborn forever, and when his guard is down, I will end him!" He declared, before flying off, leaving Peter alone.

"Great..." he muttered to himself, frustrated. He struggled for a few more moments, before realizing that there was no real way he could get himself down in this condition. "Come on Spidey," he tried to motivate himself. "Hurry up, before someone puts you on Snapchat."

He then got an idea. He did his best to get his figure tips into his costume, and after a good amount of stretching, was able to grab his cell phone. He had most of the Avengers phone numbers inside, to be called for emergencies only.

"Ok, Tony," he said to himself, as he carefully typed in the numbers, and pressed the speakerphone button. After a few rings, his voicemail picked up.

"This is Tony Stark's personal number. If you're lucky enough to have this, you should know that I'm with the Fantastic Four underground, and that I don't get great reception. Leave a message."

"Ugh," Peter groaned. "Don't have Steve's number. Or Daredevil's. Or Wolverine's. Or Ant-Bro. Why don't I have Scott's number? Oh, right, secret identity. Hawkeye's out of town, so that leaves..."

Peter froze in realization. "No. No no no no no. I'd rather call the Punisher first. Or even Deadpool. Just please God, anyone, and I mean anyone, else. I'll never hear the end of it."

He looked around for a second, before sighing. "It's either make the call, or hang here forever. Hmmmm..."

He went silent for a good five minutes, mulling the decision over in his head.

With reluctance, he entered in the phone number, and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. Which they did.

"Parker," a curt answer came from the other end.

"Hi, Natasha," Peter nervously greeted. "Any chance you could help me out?"

Tony Stark was looking at the underground lab, in slight awe. Not that he'd outwardly show it, of course. Deep underneath the Baxter Building lied some of Reed's more experimental technology. It was pristine, with advanced tech merging itself to the stone walls surrounding it, wires and stalagmites high above them.

"I just can't believe it," the billionaire uttered in disbelief.

Reed, who was completely focused on his work, didn't even look away as he screw two parts together. "What can't you believe?"

"That you made an entire room for irresponsible experiments," he said. "I wish I had that opportunity."

"I was thinking about making one in the Negative Zone," Reed said, as he stretched his arm to the other side of the table to grab a tool he needed. "But since we haven't fully explored it, it seemed too risky."

Tony nodded his head, as he picked up the various pieces of tech scattered on the tables around him. A lot of them had flashing lights and buttons, but Tony wasn't too sure what it did, and since he didn't feel like destroying the dimension, he carefully placed it down. "How often do you go down here?" He asked, noticing how cluttered the place was.

"At least once a day," Reed stated, not thinking anything of it.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the scientific hero. "Don't you have your own lab upstairs?"

"Yes, but I find that I work better when I'm not distracted by the others. Ben and Johnny are almost always bickering, and Susan is always trying to take me out to dinner and activities like that."

Tony scoffed. "Oh man. A beautiful woman is trying to take you on a date. How terrible."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated," Reed bluntly stated, as he continued to work.

"Just an observation," Tony shrugged. "I mean, you should probably give her some more attention. A woman like that, you don't want her to go off. She'll find another scientist that will give her all the love she needs. Like me."

Reed stopped working, as he looked up at the billionaire, who was giving him an arrogant smirk. Reed gave a little chuckled, as Tony joined in, a little frustrated that his rib didn't really work.

"So..." Tony said, as Reed went back to work. "What is this, exactly?"

"What do you mean? You know what it is, it's a collaboration that you've worked on," Mister Fantastic absently stated.

"I know that," Tony rolled his eyes. "What I don't know is what it's turned into. This use to just be a secured communication device. Then you started working on it."

Reed went quiet. "They didn't tell you?" He asked, looking at his partner.

Tony furrowed his brow. "They? Who's they?" He asked.

Reed was silent, considering why the information was kept from the billionaire. "If you don't know, then why did you agree to this?"

"We might not get along that well, but you are still one of the greatest scientific minds in history, and I'd be an idiot not to grab the chance to work with you."

Mister Fantastic nodded his head, as he took a deep sigh. "Fury hired me."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "Fury? Why did SHIELD hire you?"

"They needed this technology," Reed stated, completely engaged with the man now. "I don't know why, they wouldn't say, but I have a theory, and if its true, we need to keep working."

Tony looked at him, considering this for a moment. He definitely wasn't happy, but he wasn't about to put the safety of the world to the side because of a petty feud. "Fine, but Fury is going to hear about this," he agreed, as the two went back to work.

What was SHIELD doing? Was there something that the Avengers should know about? Either way, Tony didn't have a good feeling about this.

"You're an idiot."

Peter was back at Avenger's Tower, back in his civilian clothes as he looked at the holes on his costume, putting his hand right through. Black Widow had come down to the billboard, took him down, and started to give him the coldest sass that he had ever received. He was currently sitting on the couch, as she stood over him, arms crossed.

"Yes, I'm an idiot, I know, you've said it four hundred times," Peter said, a bit bummed out.

"Well, I'm going to keep saying it until it isn't true anymore," Natasha stated.

"So, forever?"

"Looks like it."

"Oy vey," Peter muttered, as he put the costume down on the coffee table in front of him.

"So, who was the enhanced?" Natasha asked, as she held one of the feathers that Vulture threw, inspecting it. Just her super spy training in action.

"Man named Adrian Toomes," Peter told her. "Or as I like to call him, the Vulture."

Natasha gave him an emotionless stare. Peter really hated it when the two were alone. He got the feeling that she didn't fully trust him yet, and she often shut herself off when it was just him and her in a room. He silently prayed for Clint to come back and make everything fun again. Or Steve. Or Tony. Or Kingpin.

"Another one. This time with a vendetta against Osborn," she observed, as she placed the feather back down on the table. "Any idea what the connection is there?"

"Why do I feel like I'm being interrogated?" Peter asked. "You do know we're on the same side, right?"

"Answer the question," she said, impatient. "Osborn's your best friend's dad."

Peter looked sullen for a second. "Former best friend."

Natasha paused for a second, still not showing emotion, as the gears grinded inside her head. "Right..." she quietly said, as she walked towards the bar in the room. She opened up the fridge connected to the wall, grabbing herself a water. Before she closed it, she silently looked at it for a solid moment, thinking. Finally, she turned her head towards the brunette on the couch. "Would you like anything?" She asked, emotionless.

Peter perked up, a bit surprised by the gesture. "Uh, sure. Um, a root beer, please."

She nodded, grabbing a can of the soda, and tossing it to the teenager, who grabbed it. "You really do like that stuff."

"Eh, sue me," he joked, as he opened it up, and took a sip. "So, does this make us best friends now?" He sarcastically asked, earning a small smirk from the red headed Avenger, who walked back over to him. She took a seat on the couch next to him, as he looked wearily at her.

"I know I don't show it," she said. "But I actually do like you. A smart, brave kid. A little annoying, but so is Clint. It just takes a while for me to trust someone. I hope you realize that."

Peter thought about it, and understood it. She was a former assassin. Espionage didn't exactly leave a lot of room for trust, and from what he's heard, no one was as deep in the world of spying as the Black Widow.

"I get it," he told her. "It just feels weird, is all."

She nodded, as she was deep in thought. She then turned towards Peter. "So, how did it go with Gwen?"

Peter just about spat out his root beer. "How did you know about-?"

"Stark was so proud of you," she said, a playful smirk on her face. "His little protégé all grown up."

"Ugh, remind me to kill him later," Peter said.

"I'll help. I know how to make a body disappear."

"Again with the scary jokes. You should do stand up, you'd kill. Probably literally," Peter quipped, as he put his root beer down, slightly uncomfortable.

Natasha rolled her eyes, amused at watching the teenager squirm. "So, what are you planning to do for the dance?"

Peter rubbed the back of his head. "I, uh, didn't really plan that far ahead yet."

Natasha looked at him, with a furrowed brow. "You didn't think about it?"

"I don't usually get this far with a girl!" He defended. "They usually say no!"

"Who else have you asked out?" Natasha asked, slightly amused.

"Uh, Liz Allen, that one time. I'm pretty sure she would of said yes if it didn't screw up her popularity."

"Pfft," Natasha said, taking a sip of her water. "Vanity. What a stupid concept."

"...uh huh..." Peter agreed, not quite knowing what to say about that.

"Well, you must have some idea of what you're going to do," Romanoff stated.

"I guess I'd just meet her there, dance with her a little, and then that'd be it."

Peter actually felt pretty confident in his answer, until he looked at the Black Widow, who gave him probably the most serious glare he had ever seen. If looks could kill, he'd be evaporated.

"This is your first date with a girl that really seems to like you, and you're just going to half-ass it?" She asked, ice dripping from her voice.

"Uh, well, I mean..." Peter stammered, scared.

"You don't know anything about women, do you?" She asked.

"Outside of what I learned in Health class, no," he admitted. In response, Natasha grabbed him by the ear, pinching the lobe hard. "Ow ow ow! What're you doing!?" He asked, in pain.

"You're coming with me," she said, as she dragged him off the couch, ear still firmly in her grasp. "I'm going to teach you how to treat a woman right, because what you've just said, is unacceptable."

"Please don't kill me," he whispered.

"If you mess this up, you'll wish you were dead," she calmly stated, as the duo made their way out of Stark Tower, with Peter scared out of his ever loving mind.