Peter looked at the television screen, scooping a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in his mouth and blinking as he read the news ticker at the bottom of the screen. He felt absolutely horrible. Last night's conversation with Felicia had hurt him and caused him to actually lose sleep even though he was the one that dealt the crushing blow to her spirit. Watching Felicia flee to avoid crying in front of him had truly pained Peter's heart. He didn't know how exactly he should have felt but he knew that his innate compassion for others was pushing its way through. On one hand, Peter did in fact feel proud of himself for rejecting Felicia's advances and standing up for his relationship, especially in a private setting where no one would found out.

On the other hand, he hated himself for having hurt someone who actually cared a lot about him. He didn't want Felicia or Mary Jane to be hurt and unhappy but he knew he could never straddle the fence with girls. At the end of the day, Peter felt like he made the right decision. Even so, it hurt to do it.

Peter raised the bowl of cereal to his mouth and drank the cinnamon sugar milk as the news continued.

"In this morning's breaking news, a violent car accident in Harlem early this morning has left three men dead and one in critical condition. Police are labeling this a case of vehicular manslaughter combined with a hit and run. Thus far, absolutely no witnesses have come forth with any information, however, police have been able to identify one of the bodies as Frederick Foswell, a former crime lord in the Harlem neighborhood. The other victims have yet to be identified."

Peter stared with wide eyes. Foswell had been Urich's informant leaking information to him about the Kingpin. Who would've killed him? Maybe Fisk's Enforcers had decided to strike back in revenge? Peter shook his head. It didn't seem likely. Felicia didn't report their presence in the building when played the part of Fisk Industries secretary. If they weren't even around to protect their boss, why would they track down and kill the man who ratted on him? While Peter pondered on that question, the news kept on rolling.

"In other news, the son of outed crime boss Wilson Fisk held an early conference this morning. During this conference, Richard Fisk talked at length about the future of his father's 'front' company, Fisk Industries..." the female reporter said. The scene then flashed to a clip of the press conference and Peter saw a slim, redheaded man standing at a podium. He was an amusingly stark contrast to his father.

"While I am deeply saddened by the arrest of my father and the accusations pressed against him, I am a business minded man. I believe that what started off as a front for criminal activity could be turned into something truly significant in the technological world. So, it is with a glad heart that I rebrand this organization. May i introduce you to...FiskTech." Richard Fisk said. Peter snorted and changed the channel. He didn't trust Richard Fisk. As a matter of fact, Peter didn't trust any fucking body whose last name was Fisk. Peter rubbed the sparse hairs that started to sprout on his chin and his eyes widened.

Richard Fisk's sudden appearance in New York to take over his father's company and the murder of Foswell didn't just coincidentally happen at the same time. Something was going on...and he would definitely have to pay Fisk a visit today.

Peter flipped backwards off the couch and dropped his cereal bowl into the sink. Leaping up the steps, Peter grabbed his towel and went into the bathroom to shower. After he washed himself until he looked and smelled like a bronze god, Peter rushed into his room to get dressed. Peter put on his clothes and slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out of the door.

"Peter! Where are you going?" Aunt Mae called from behind him. Peter cringed and turned around to see his aunt looking at him, quizzically. Great.

"I'm going out." Peter said. "See if I can grab some pictures of Spider-Man for the Bugle, maybe go visit Harry with MJ and go see a movie or something." Aunt Mae nodded and folded her arms.

"And how exactly are you getting there?" she asked. Peter shrugged.

"Uh, bus or subway. Walk if I have to." Peter said. Aunt Mae shook her head.

"I want you back in this house by nine, Peter." Peter's face contorted with confusion.

"Wait, what?" Peter asked. "Why?"

"One, it's a school night. And two, you start your midterms tomorrow. I want you to be prepared for it." Aunt Mae said. Peter opened his mouth, ready to protest but bit his tongue so he could think before he spoke.

Aunt Mae had a point. Even though he had a near perfect GPA, his midterms were incredibly important. He honestly couldn't afford to be too hurt or tired to make it to class in time. He hoped that he wouldn't come to blows with anyone today. But with Richard Fisk, he had no idea. Getting home earlier would keep him from making his usual patrols around the city. New York could go a day without him. Once again, he hoped.

Peter sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be in by nine." Peter replied.

"And, you'll study." Aunt Mae said as she walked past him, kissing his cheek lightly as she went to her room. "You're free to go, Peter." she said, finally. With that, Peter slid down the rail on the steps and raced outside. His first stop was Mary Jane's house. Maybe she would be willing to go with him to Empire State to visit Harry.

Peter decided he'd knock on her front door instead of her bedroom window this time. His visit was actually one that he'd need clearance for. After a second round of knocking, Peter heard the click of the lock and the door opened. Behind it, Mary Jane's aunt stood, looking down on him. Peter faked a smile but struggled to maintain eye contact.

Anna Watson was a rather grotesque woman, with splotchy black and brown skin, a large nose and a lazy eye. She looked like a troll watching for billy goats to cross her bridge. Peter silently thanked God that Mary Jane had taken after her mother's side of the family appearance wise.

Anna Watson sniffed. "What do you want, Peter?" she asked.

Certainly not you. Peter thought with disgust. "Hey, Ms. Watson. How are you? Is Mary Jane home?" Peter asked, politely. Anna shrugged.

"Figure you'd know better than me. Wait right here. I'll call her." Anna said with a snort. She then turned. "Mary Jane! Your little nerd friend is here for you!" she called. Peter heard an indistinct answer and then Anna shouted back. "This little skinny boy, Peter from next door!" she screeched. Immediately, Peter saw Mary Jane emerge from the top of the steps and the welcome beauty of her face caused him to genuinely smile.

Mary Jane grinned back. "Peter." she said softly. Peter nodded and glanced at MJ's aunt. The ugly woman scoffed.

"Go on upstairs. But don't you start anything, boy." Anna said as she waddled back to the living room and sat down. Mary Jane and Peter exchanged a quick glance and went up to Mary's room. In the brightness of the day, Peter had noticed how girly the entire environment was, every corner filled with stuffed animals that all had names and backstories. Mary's tough exterior often hid the sweet little girl that was inside of her. Peter knew that most of these toys were remnants of happier days for her, when her parents were still married and not strung out on drugs. Yet another reason Peter was happy he had taken down the Kingpin.

Mary Jane sat down on her book-filled bed and looked up at Peter. "So, what's up? Why didn't you just come to my window like you normally do?" she asked. Peter shrugged.

"It's the middle of the day. Somebody would see me. Plus, I wanted to make this an official visit to see you. Wanted your aunt to know where you were going to." Peter said. Mary Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Which is?" she asked.

"To go see Harry at ESU." Peter replied. Mary Jane nodded and then gestured at the pile of open textbooks and notebooks on her bed.

"Peter, I'd love to. But as you can see, I'm kind of busy studying for our midterms. Not everyone is a genius like you." Mary said with a small giggle. Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

"So you don't wanna go?" Peter said softly. Mary Jane hit Peter's arm.

"Stop pouting. I said I'd love to go, but I'm studying. We'll see Harry soon anyway. Christmas Break is coming in a few days and Harry will be home. Might be able to squeeze in a little Christmas meet up with us and Aunt Mae. But that'll be after midterms." MJ replied. Peter nodded.

"I guess you're right." he admitted. MJ laughed.

"Of course I am. Can't believe I'm being the responsible one." she said.

"I know. That's scaring me." Peter said with a shudder. "What is the world coming to?" Mary Jane laughed.

"Haha, you're such a wise guy." she said as she softly kissed his cheek. Peter leaned in to get another kiss when he heard the sound of sirens outside. Peter went to the window and saw police cars whizzing through their neighborhood. Peter turned back to Mary Jane.

"I gotta-" Peter said. Mary Jane nodded and rushed over to him.

"I know." she then kissed him and smiled. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Manhattan, New York

Lieutenant George Stacy let out an exasperated breath as he exited his squad car and fixed his belt. It seemed that his gun was weighing more heavily on him on this morning than normal. Must've been the burden of his job. Lieutenant Stacy glanced over to his fellow officer leaning on her car. When she saw him, she placed her radio down and nodded.

"Lieutenant." she said. Lieutenant Stacy nodded.

"Cellanos...what's the situation?" the grizzled officer said. Officer Cellanos sighed.

"Armed men inside are holding up the bank. Calling themselves the 'Blue Boys', whatever the hell that is. They have hostages and so far, we believe everyone's still okay." she said. Lieutenant Stacy shook his head and his shoulders fell. He looked up into the pale gray sky.

"Of all the days to rob a bank." He then looked back at Cellanos. "Have any moves been made to go inside?" Lieutenant Stacy asked. Cellanos shook her head.

"No, some of the men are covering the doors and entering from the rooftops..." Stacy nodded.

"Understandable. So what're we going to accomplish sitting out here on our asses?" he growled. "People are inside there and money is being stolen. We should make some kind of move." George said. Cellanos raised an eyebrow.

"What do you suggest? If we're too aggressive, we might risk the hostages being killed and the robbers getting away. I don't think that's an intelligent move to make." Cellanos said. Lieutenant Stacy snorted.

"And if we're too passive, these bastards might still get away with the money. I don't want that happening. Not in this city. Not now." he said. Cellanos nodded.

"I understand, Lieutenant. But we need to wait." she said. Lieutenant Stacy frowned.

"For what?" he asked. Cellanos eyes flashed upwards and widened with shock. Lieutenant Stacy turned around and raised an eyebrow. A familiar red and blue figure was swinging towards them, moving acrobatically above the city before descending downwards towards them.

"Maybe him?" Cellanos smirked. Stacy shot a glance to his officer and pursed his lips.

Spider-Man... he thought. Lieutenant Stacy had been a witness to the after effects of Spider-Man's actions. He couldn't count the amount of times he had found criminals bound in webbing and hanging on walls and light posts. He had also read the ridiculous stories in the Daily Bugle about the so-called "New York Masked Menace". Stacy had learned to ignore most of the bullshit that was printed in the Bugle. Jameson would do anything to get readers.

Stacy couldn't say that Spider-Man hadn't helped them arrest criminals and that he had a hand in bringing down the Kingpin, something he had given up on doing after he uncovered that most of the police force was under his payroll. But for some reason, Stacy couldn't find it within him to trust him. His police instincts told him that a masked vigilante wasn't to be trusted...but common sense told him that if he were out stopping criminals away from the law, he'd protect his identity as well, especially for his family's sake. Nevertheless, it seemed that now would be the time that Spider-Man would get a chance to prove himself.

-/-

Spider-Man flipped down elegantly on top of a cop car and looked from the grizzled police officer to his associate. Lieutenant George Stacy... Peter thought. He was finally seeing the cop for the first time. Casually, he waved.

"Hello officers!" he said, as good-natured as he could. "What's the situation?" The female officer glanced over to Stacy, who gave a nod and lifted his chin as he spoke.

"Bank robbery. We don't know how many thieves we've got inside but they have hostages, all at gunpoint. None of my officers can get in. We think there may be a way in through the roof..." the lieutenant said. Spidey nodded quickly.

"I've got you. Don't worry. I'll get those hostages out safely and catch the criminals." he gave a thumbs up and before the officers could respond, he leapt from the top of the car and shot a web to the side of the bank building and slung himself upwards. He curled into a ball and landed squarely on his feet. It didn't take him long to find the air duct on the roof and he whipped the covering off with his web and jumping inside.

It was cramped inside, but Spidey's flexibility easily compensated for the cramp spaces as he contorted his body to squeeze and crawl through the vent. As he neared the lobby of the bank, Spider-Man could the chatter amongst the robbers inside. Soon, he could see what was going on. He counted at least seven men inside, all of them wearing blue headbands and ski masks with dark colored jackets. They looked like a dollar store Crip gang and Spidey had dealt with one of those before. Before he made a move, Spider-Man listened.

"5's outside an' shit. Yo, we need to get the fuck outta here, cuz." one man said worriedly.

"Hold up, young. If this bitch would cooperate with this transaction, we could get outta here." another voice called back. Spidey heard a sigh and the sound of a gun cocking.

"Fuck this." a third voice said. He heard glass smash and a woman shriek. The third voice was now shouting angrily. "GET THE MOTHERFUCKING MONEY IN THIS BAG BEFORE I BLOW YOUR NAPPY ASS HEAD OFF, BITCH!" Alarmed, Spider-Man made his move.

Crashing through the ceiling vent, the red and blue, arachnid themed hero sprayed webs throughout the lobby, entangling the criminals where they stood. With another quick zip of his web, Spider-Man snatched the firearm from the man who threatened the teller and whipped it back towards his face, knocking him down. Spidey's head vibrated loudly and he turned out of instinct. More men had rushed in and one held a pistol at point blank range.

"Too slow, hero." he said with a grin. Spidey breathed softly and then struck. Before the man's trigger finger could slide back, Spider-Man crushed his hand between his and felt his finger bones shatter. The man cried out in pain before Spidey silenced him with a kick to the head. Spider-Man quickly surveyed his surroundings.

Two subdued, two knocked out, three more to go. He thought as he gathered himself and tried to assemble some form of plan for attack. It was of the upmost importance that he draw the gunfire away from the hostages. He definitely didn't want anyone killed in the crossfire. So, Spider-Man circled the room, avoiding every gunshot that flew his way. Next, he'd need to take them out quickly, which wouldn't too difficult. Not with these idiots that couldn't even bother to bring more than one clip of ammunition. Instead, they called up at Spider-Man with jeers.

"Get your bitch ass down here, Spider-Man!" one man shouted.

"Pfft, yeah, so we can fight like real men and your face can get acquainted with my pimp hand!" Spider-Man yelled as he leapt down. The man tried to flail his gun as a weapon but Spidey easily dodged the blow and whirled around the man's head before slamming down on his body, flattening him against the ground.

Two more... Spider-Man thought as he turned his head and saw the two "Blue Boys" left fleeing the building. Spider-Man smirked as he heard the police officers yell freeze. Spidey started to walk outside then turned back to one of the subdued men in blue. The man stared at him with contempt. Spider-Man smiled underneath his mask he made his way outside to see the two men who attempted to escape getting arrested and round up by the police. Spider-Man glanced over to Lieutenant Stacy and his female partner and leapt over towards.

"Building is all clear." he said after he had settled on top of a police car. "You'll find the others either knocked out or webbed up." Spidey said. The female officer, Cellanos, smiled but Lieutenant Stacy gave only a curt nod.

"Good." he said, walking forward into the building. Spider-Man watched him go and sagged his shoulders a bit. The least he could've gotten was a "thank you" for his efforts. He sighed inwardly. Perhaps the only reward he'd ever get was the satisfaction that he had saved lives. Spidey turned to swing away.

"Hey!" Cellanos called from behind Spidey. The teen hero turned around and saw the woman smiling. "Good job. New York's safer because of you." she said. Instantly, Spider-Man's heart warmed and he smiled before shooting out a web and swinging off into the city. He was doing this for something. He was appreciated.

Meanwhile, Empire State University

Harry Osborn was more than a tad bit upset as he stepped off the bus that made its rounds through the ESU campus. He had awakened to find himself keeled over in the bathroom in his house and not in his campus bed. He didn't even know how long he had been laid in there or why his father or Bernard, their butler, didn't even come to get him. When he actually made it outside in the sunlight to see what damage he had done to his car while driving, it wasn't even there. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. Eddie Brock had taken it out for a joyride after dropping Harry off. That was Harry's car, the first thing he had actually bought with his own money. He wanted it back.

"Any of you seen Eddie?" Harry asked as he approached a group of people on the promenade. One, a broad-shouldered young black man shrugged.

"Yeah, he's in the main gym." he then looked Harry up and down. "You aight, cuz? You look a little heated." the man said. Harry frowned.

"Oh, yeah, Randy. You could say that." Harry said as he walked forward towards the Romita Gym. Harry tracked Eddie down like a starving lone wolf. When he found him, the blonde man in the weight room, lifting a giant barbell with relative ease, grinning as if he was getting pleasure from every rep he took. When Harry approached him, Eddie's face retained the same grin.

"Osborn." he said. "How ya feeling?" Eddie said as he lifted the weight, puffing his cheeks with exertion.

"Peachy. Where's my car?" Harry's voice was a growl and when Eddie heard his tone, he chuckled softly

"Whoa there, rich boy. I'm going to need you to watch your tone with me." Eddie replied. Harry's angry sigh sounded like a snake hissing.

"Fuck you, Brock, where's my car!" Harry shouted.

Eddie Brock dropped the weights and leapt to his feet, looming over Harry. Eddie's muscles rippled under his skin, veins popping through his neck and biceps. For a brief moment, Harry had a brief thought of backing away and apologizing but his anger kept him from thinking rationally.

"Where's my fucking car?" Harry said, standing flatfooted. He was bracing himself in case Eddie decided that this was the last time Harry would get a chance to talk to him like that again. Eddie puffed his chest and balled up his fist. But he didn't let loose any blows.

"Your Camaro is on the residence parking lot. You should thank me, you conceited shit. I drove you home." Eddie growled. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, home. Not here. To my father's house. Do you have any idea what would've happened if he found out I was too shit-faced to drive?" Harry said, quieting his tone now that the weight room's occupants seemed to have been drawn in by their conversation. "Don't take my car again." Harry brushed past Eddie and started to make his way towards the exit. Eddie's strong hand grabbed his shoulder and gripped him hard. Eddie's fingers bore into his skin and pulled Harry close.

"I saved your little ass. If you would've come back to campus drunk, you would've been expelled which is much worse than what your old man could've done. You owe me thanks for keeping you in school." Eddie said. Harry stared back at the blonde.

Eddie had a point. School policy did dictate that alcohol was illegal on campus and he could be expelled whether he was legal drinking age or not, which he wasn't anyway. His Resident Assistant would've definitely spotted him and smelled the liquor on his breath and as drunk as he had been, he would've been completely unable to feign sobriety.

"That's all great. Really, thanks. But stealing my car?" Harry said. Eddie chuckled.

"How else did you expect me to get from your house back here? No buses go to or from your neighborhood. Cabs, either." Eddie said. Harry sighed.

"I would've rather you crash at my house than steal my car..."

"Borrowed. Now stop crying like a bitch and go get your car off the parking lot. It's in Lot H. For Harry." Eddie said with a laugh as he went back to lifting his weights.

"Ha ha fucking ha." Harry grumbled as he walked towards the exit to the weight room and found his way outside to the parking lots. Harry crossed through parking lots E-G, noticing a group of people writing, "Clean Me, You Asshole" on the rear windshield of a particularly dirty car. Harry fully agreed that it needed to be washed of its iniquities. Finally, Harry approached his Camaro in Lot H and was thrilled and surprised to see it in perfect condition. He circled around his vehicle, his baby and smiled. Maybe he would have to thank Eddie after all. No...to hell with him. Harry fell on his car's hood and rubbed it with a wide smile.

"Nice to see you making out with your car." an amused voice said. Harry looked up to see a beautiful girl with caramel brown skin and wavy dark blonde and brown hair giggling at him. Harry squinted his eyes. He had seen this girl before. He stood up and leaned coolly against his car.

"Well, hello. We've met before, haven't we?" Harry asked. The young woman nodded fractionally and moved forward.

"We did. Couple of nights ago at the club party. You were a little drunk with Eddie Brock and asked for a dance from me..." she said. Her words joggled Harry's memory and he grinned.

"Oh yeah. I don't remember much from that night but I couldn't find it within myself to forget your beautiful face or that dance. I had no idea you went here." Harry said smoothly. The girl nodded and sauntered over towards him. Harry grinned and looked down at his car. He had an idea. "How about you join me for lunch or something. I'll drive." he said.

The young woman smiled. "Of course." she said.

Harry paused. "My name's Harry Osborn, if you didn't already know. I didn't get yours..." the girl cocked her head to side, her smile widening and brightening.

"Lilly...Lilly Hollister."

Manhattan, New York, Hours Later...

The sky was an odd mixture of orange, gray and purple as the sun set over the wintery landscape of New York. The chill in the air was finally starting to get to Peter but he wouldn't outside too much longer. After foiling the bank heist, Peter had swung around the city on patrol. All he was intending to do was kill time, however. He had a much bigger plan in mind. He was going to visit Richard Fisk. When he had entered the FiskTech Headquarters building on his first go around, Peter had noticed that there were ceilings entry ways available and thus, he thought it was only perfect to get the drop on Fisk that way, mostly to show him just how accessible he really was.

Peter slowly descended from the ceiling into the FiskTech head office, shooting a web line as he hung upside down in front of the desk. He thought his approach was stealthy enough and he knew that Richard Fisk was sitting in the chair, rocking back and forth. If he wanted to strike now, he could. But he didn't. Richard Fisk slowly turned in his chair with his hands clamped together and a smug grin on his face.

"Ah, Spider-Man. I've been expecting you." he said. The man's voice was smooth and cool. Peter blinked under his mask.

"Expecting me?" Peter repeated. Richard smirked.

"Indeed. A new face in New York City, especially one directly related to the big crime boss, Wilson Fisk, would warrant attention from the resident hero. At least, I'd hope you'd be that attentive." Richard said. Peter frowned.

"I am...to be frank with you, I don't trust you. At all." Peter said with a low growl in his voice. Richard simply chuckled.

"You don't trust me? What have I done to warrant your suspicion?" Richard asked.

"Frederick Foswell was killed early this morning in a hit and run. Then, you just happen to arrive in New York and take over your father's company the same day. We both know Foswell had a hand in Wilson Fisk's arrest. I'm betting you wanted to pay him back." Peter said. Richard Fisk smiled and stood from his chair to walk around the office.

"Well, aren't you the little detective?" he said coolly. "This Frederick Foswell, what do you know about him? Was he just an average joe? The people in his car? Were they just normal American citizens?" Richard Fisk asked. Peter kept still.

"I don't know." he replied. Richard nodded, raising a finger.

"Ah, well, let me enlighten you, Spider-Man. Frederick Foswell was a Harlem crack cocaine and heroine dealer in the mid-eighties. Over the course of his life, he rose to power as a little kingpin in his own right. Although not convicted of murder, he has killed before. Innocent children born to cracked out parents and given up due to the habit and power struggles over trafficking grounds. He and his inner circle, the men inside the car with him, were gangsters. Killers. Thieves. Not innocent men." Richard Fisk said. Peter frowned.

"What are you saying? That you killed them because they deserved to die?" Richard chuckled.

"All I'm saying is that Foswell was not a good man. He was selfish, arrogant and a murderer. Whoever took him out gave him what was coming to him. 'An eye for an eye.' That's the Bible." Richard said. Peter shook his head.

"That doesn't make it right." Peter said.

"I'm assuming you're rather young to be so obsessed with idealism. Why else would you do the things you do for a city that thinks you're a menace." Richard replied. His eyes bore holes into Peter. "One day, someone is going to push you to pay unto evil the same in return. Maybe then you'll realize that the world isn't merely black and white. It's-"

"Fifty shades of gray, I know. I get it. Foswell was a bad guy and eventually, someone would've probably got to him. Doesn't mean you should have. The law needs to have a say in these things." Peter said. Richard Fisk looked amused.

"Coming from the masked vigilante taking matters into his own hands, that's quite the revelation." Richard said. Peter nodded slightly and Richard laughed airily. "Look, Spider-Man...I don't want to be enemies with you. In fact, I'd like for us to be partners." Richard said. Peter cocked his head to one side.

"You cannot be frickin' serious." he said. Richard shrugged.

"I could use someone with your particular skill set to help ensure the security of my business. Of course, this a paid partnership." Richard said, putting a briefcase onto his desk. Peter lifted a hand.

"That's okay, I'm-"

"No, no...I want you to see this." Richard said as he opened the case. Peter gawked as he looked at the contents. There were rows and rows of hundred dollar bills and the briefcase had great depth. Peter couldn't even calculate how much he thought was inside. "That's fifty thousand dollars. And that's just your starter pay for the week." Richard said. Peter's jaw dropped.

Holy shit...Peter thought before shaking his head.

"No?" Richard Fisk asked.

"No, I was...well, no, I can't accept this job from you. Like I said before, I don't trust you. I'm just here to tell you that I'm definitely keeping an eye on you." Peter said, finally, as he jumped upwards into the ceiling. Richard Fisk chuckled.

"That's fine...but this job offer is still open." Richard said. Peter scoffed and continued on his way. After he made his way to the outside of the FiskTech building and swung from the top. The chill of the air pierced through Peter's wetsuit and into his skin and he shivered as he dove down towards the street. His web line caught the side of a building and he sailed upwards into the air, corkscrewing and landing elegantly on the roof. Peter pulled his sleeve up and checked his watch. It was nearing eight-thirty. If he swung home now, he'd get there in a little under five minutes. It was safer to not upset Aunt Mae especially when her reasons for giving him his curfew were actually ones he agreed with.

Having decided on what he was going to do in that regard, Peter had more questions as he swung straight towards the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. How had he managed to turn down fifty thousand dollars in front of his face? Granted, it may have been drug money or something else dirty, but fifty thousand dollars?! That alone could pay Empire State tuition for his freshman year, free up Aunt Mae from the stress of having to pay...and he turned it down. For what?

Because great power required great responsibility. Peter hadn't grown disillusioned by this ideal at all. It had actually greatly benefitted him in his run so far as Spider-Man. His dedication to responsibility had helped him find the drive to take down the Kingpin, besides the fact that he was a giant dick that sold drugs to children...even if that "child" had been Flash. There were more lives at stake than his. It was big picture for Peter.

But even if it was, he had never received any form of thanks or gratitude for his actions. A few fans here and there but most of the public had been influenced by Jameson and his lies in the Daily Bugle. Mindless morons were so blindly following lies that they couldn't see what was in front of them. Peter had saved so many lives being Spider-Man. Maybe that should be payment enough. That he could keep at least a few people from losing loved ones like he had. A small consolation in compared to fifty grand, but a big one.

Peter landed in front of his house and checked his watch again. He smiled. He had made it home in record time. Peter changed out of his costume and into his street clothes and walked into the house. Aunt Mae looked up at him as if she was startled to see him so soon.

"I'm home." Peter grinned, but his aunt didn't meet his smiled. Peter's face then shifted to worry and he crossed the living room to his aunt. Peter's eyes widened as he saw what was in front of her. Bills. "Aunt Mae..." Peter said softly.

"It's nothing. Just...some things I have to take care of." Aunt Mae said as she glanced down at the envelopes in front of her. Peter sighed.

"How much is it?" he asked. Aunt Mae shot him a glare.

"I'm not telling you. You're just a chi-" she said.

"No, I'm not. And even if I am, you need me to help you, Aunt Mae. You have to let me help you." Peter said. Aunt Mae shook her head with some tears forming in her eyes.

"No, I'm supposed to take care of you. You were given to us then Ben died...now..." Aunt Mae took in a deep breath and shook her head. "Now, I can't even afford to pay the bills." she said as she cried. Peter squeezed his eyes tightly closed when he heard his aunt's first sob. He didn't want to hear this right now. The last time he had ever heard his aunt cry was when Uncle Ben was killed and that was the longest three hours of his life. He didn't want this now. If only he could find some way to comfort her and reassure her that everything would be fine.

If only you had accepted Fisk's offer... a voice spoke in Peter's mind. Instinctively, Peter knew that it wasn't his own voice speaking even if it did sound like it. The very thought confused him. What had spoken inside of his mind?

Peter cleared his mind with a with a quick blink and reached out for his aunt, wrapping her into his arms. Aunt Mae began to sob and for the first time in a while, Peter saw the stress and age on her face. Aunt Mae's hair had grown grayer with time, wrinkles had started to come in on her once beautiful and youthful face. It was almost a nightmare for Peter to behold. Had he not seen what his aunt was going through? Peter held his aunt for what seemed like an eternity before his aunt looked up at him. The sorrow in her eyes was extremely clear.

Peter wanted more than anything to console her and he tried to. "We'll be alright." he whispered. "We'll make it." Empty promises. With the little scrap of money he made at the Bugle, there was no way they'd be able to live off of that. Aunt Mae might have to get a job or Peter would have to go to the Bugle everyday with something. Either that or no longer work freelance. Working for Richard Fisk was not an option he'd consider...but what could he possibly be doing for the man?

Meanwhile, FiskTech Headquarters, Head Office

Richard Fisk rubbed his temples as he sat at the desk that his father had once sat behind. He had asked that he get another chair even though his father's old one was quite comfortable, it didn't exactly pleasure him to sink into the cushions every time he sat down. The desk was also immensely large, crafted out of some giant rare tree from Europe or something like that. Richard's father had told him about it, but he hadn't really ever paid him any attention. Not when it came to his purchases. More so when it came to acquiring power.

Of his own admittance, Richard Fisk had grown to become obsessed with power and the very concept of it. Throughout the last year alone, he had completely devoured The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli, The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene and Sun Tzu's Art of War over hundred times over. Richard wanted to be the very best at what he did and nothing would deter him from gaining more and more power. Not even Spider-Man. Although, he did present a sort of hindrance.

Richard had not expected Spider-Man to turn down his offer. He thought that $50,000 was definitely a high enough price to offer the hero, however he had found it within himself to reject it. If money wasn't going to be enough to sway him, what would be? Richard needed to find out what exactly made the hero tick, what made him who he was. In order to do that, he'd have to find out who the man under the mask was. And that itself would take an enormous effort that Fisk didn't really have time for.

Richard Fisk glanced over to his digital clock on his desk and sighed. Azuma Gōda was extremely late. He had beckoned for him to come at an earlier time. Fisk didn't want to have to track down the leader of the Hand. It was hard enough contacting him when he didn't have money to offer him. It was even worse when Richard intended to be at least partially repaid for the failures of the Hand.

Almost on cue, Richard noticed a small trio of shadows creep into the office and form into human beings garbed in black and red. The man that stood in the middle wore a black suit, white shirt and red necktie. The arrogant ambiance of the man annoyed Richard greatly, mostly because it almost reminded him of a only slightly younger version of himself. Richard assumed that Azuma had a reason to be arrogant. He was the leader of one of the wealthiest assassin's guilds in the world.

"Azuma, it's about time you showed." Richard said calmly. Gōda shrugged.

"Got distracted. I took a tour around the city. It's quite nice." Azuma said. Richard nodded and rested his hand against his chin.

"I'd say it would look nicer if a certain red and blue hero had been taken care of. And that brings me to my reason for calling you here. You owe me payment, at least partway, for your failure to complete your assignment." Richard Fisk said. Azuma Gōda stared forward and frowned.

"We were paid by Wilson Fisk." he said. Richard Fisk's expression stayed the same.

"Yes, but the key word there is 'Fisk'. Wilson Fisk's money is my money and his problems have fallen into my lap, problems that could have been avoided. Hand operatives always guarantee success or has the quality of your organization fallen to such desperate lows under your 'leadership'." Richard said. Azuma curled his lip back into a snarl.

"How dare you!?" Azuma shouted. He feigned a rush towards Richard's desk, intending for him to leap up in terror, but Richard remained motionless. His patience with this spoiled child was wearing dangerously thin but he had to maintain his emotions.

"Gōda, I don't wish to fight with you. All I desire is a refund for your failure." Richard said. Azuma's nostrils flared.

"And you won't get it." he spat back. Richard raised an eyebrow and Azuma continued. "Your father was too weak to take care of his own problems. It is because of his own insolence that Spider-Man still lives, not ours. If he was truly kingpin, he would not have had to call on us." Azuma said. Richard Fisk sighed deeply and glared upwards.

"So what are you saying, Azuma?" he asked, although he had a basic gist. The young Japanese man turned his head to look out over the darkening New York skyline.

"As I was saying, this city is quite nice and rife with crime. One could find brilliant recruits for the Hand here." Azuma then turned his age to Richard and grinned. "But I cannot afford to have you here in the way." Richard was unfazed. He waved his hand dismissively.

"In the way of what? I've retired from criminal activity. What are you planning, Gōda?" Richard asked. Azuma Gōda's grin widened and he leaned over Fisk's desk and stared him in the eyes.

"Simple. I'm establishing a division of The Hand in New York...and I'm taking over this city."

Next, Gang Wars, Part 3