Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man nor any other Marvel characters that appear in this fic. All of them belong to the great Stan Lee and other various Marvel writers, who are creative enough to give us these amazing heroes who inspire millions of people worldwide. Thank you, Marvel, for giving us these incredible heroes to look up to.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know it's been a very long time since I've worked on this story. School, college, and work have all pulled me away from working on any of my fanfics, so I kinda forgot about all of these for the past almost 9 years (holy crap…). But lately, I've been getting back into Spider-Man, especially after hearing about Zeb Wells' run on Spider-Man (which is controversial to say the least), and with the new Spider-Verse movie out (which was incredible, btw) and the new PS5 game on the horizon this year. All these factors made me want to come back to this story and see my vision of Spidey through. I found my old notes and got myself refreshed on my plans for this story, and I'm ready to keep this thing going for as long as I can.

I've also updated some of the prior chapters a couple of weeks ago due to some changes I've made in the storyline since I've worked on it last, so if you're a fan from when I originally started on the story, I'd recommend rereading the whole thing to get caught up on those changes. But enough rambling on my end. I hope you guys look forward to new chapters, and without further ado, let's get going!

Norman stared at the computer screen, watching the footage of Spider-Man battling the Rhino. He sat in his private office, the dark floor and walls a contrast to the rest of the Oscorp building. The overhead lights were dimmed to provide some alleviation from the monitor. It had been a few days since the fight had occurred, and he had had to spend a considerable amount of bribery and money to retrieve the Rhino suit without the authorities questioning him. He was thankful that he had prevented any connection to Oscorp from being discovered; it would have been very difficult to explain away that type of weaponry for a biotech company.

But even if it had come to that, Norman Osborn would find a way through that challenge. He was a man born to inherit the world, and everything he did was to ensure he would survive and thrive. I always have and I always will, he thought with a smile. By whatever means necessary.

He refocused his attention on the monitor, intent on observing everything he could about the wall crawler. It was a difficult task, however; the masked hero was almost a blur as he swung through the air, dodging the machine gunfire almost effortlessly. The Rhino's HUD locked onto Spider-Man, and missiles launched from its shoulders. Spider-Man fired another a web line and almost as quickly let go, sending himself into a spin. The two missiles flew past Spider-Man, who then fired more webs and sent them flying into each other, exploding harmlessly in the air.

Incredible, Norman thought. He grabbed a pencil and began detailing his observations. His agility and reflexes have increased to the point that he can dodge bullets and missile fire. Then again, he's keeping a distance from his opponent, which aids his ability tremendously. In close quarters combat, that might not necessarily be the same case.

The Rhino charged forward toward Spider-Man, looming closer and closer as his opponent landed on top of a cab. The Rhino raised its fists and slammed them onto the cab. Norman winced as the metal crunched and squealed beneath the mechanized gauntlets. Norman knew the outcome of the fight already, so he knew Spider-Man survived the battle. But dealing such a serious injury to Peter Parker made Norman scowl. Norman Osborn didn't want the boy dead, at least not yet, and Parker's death would not be at the hands of some low-life-

"You know, I think I speak for rhinos everywhere when I say that you are an utter disgrace."

The camera whipped to the right to see Spider-Man crouched low to the ground, about ten feet away. Completely unharmed. Almost lackadaisical in his manner.

Norman paused the video. His hands shook as he rewound the last few seconds of the video. How could he have dodged that attack? There was no time for him to move. He reached the point where Spider-Man was about to land on the taxi and played it at a quarter speed. Norman frowned. The Rhino's fists were already moving downward toward Spider-Man, who still hadn't landed on the cab yet. It's impossible, Norman thought. There's no way he could have-

Spider-Man's feet landed on the cab, and then his head snapped back to look directly at the Rhino. The Rhino's fists continued downward, but Spider-Man leapt to the side, turning into a red-and-blue blur before the fists could connect. The fists hit the car and crunched the metal beneath, but Spider-Man was out of sight.

Norman paused the video and sat back, stunned. How much time had Spider-Man had to dodge? Barely a second, and yet he managed to evade the attack without so much as a scratch. He rewound the video and paused it right as Spider-Man looked back at the Rhino. Even with enhanced agility and reflexes, no one should have been able to dodge that. But the way Spider-Man looked back just as he landed on the cab…it was almost as if…

As if he had sensed the attack coming.

Norman clasped his hands together. Spiders can generally have up to eight eyes; this, along with their ability to sense movements and prey along their webs, contributed to spiders' sensory perception to be much higher than many other animals. If this type of perception also transferred over to Peter Parker when he was bitten, along with the other abilities native to spiders, then it was perhaps feasible that he developed a much higher perception of his surroundings, to the point that Parker could sense danger in both the environment and in any potential enemies.

Which means, I won't be able to take him by surprise, Norman thought.

He jotted the observation down, then dropped the pencil and sighed. Reaching into his suit pocket, he grabbed the vial of blood Miles Warren had acquired for him and turned it in his hands. The blood swirled in the vial, his reflection barely visible in the dark red liquid. This blood would be the key to sabotaging Spider-Man. If Norman studied its properties long enough, he should be able to find a way to isolate and weaken Parker's abilities. In theory, it would certainly be easy to do. But weaken all of his physical abilities at once? Along with his ability to sense danger? It would be quite complex. And as the footage clearly showed, weaponry and technology alone would not be enough to stop Spider-Man. No, what Norman needed to do was even the playing field. If the Parker boy had powers, then he would need powers as well to match him, surpass him even.

He drummed his fingers on the desk for a few moments, then opened his drawer and pulled out some files. The first among them read, in dark bold lettering:

HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL

PROJECT: REBIRTH 2.0

Norman smiled. This project had been put to rest for quite some time, due to that blasted investigation years ago. But he still had the materials for the project stored in his personal laboratory, and now? Now was the perfect time for him to resume this project. This time, with himself as the test subject.

Peter Parker, Norman mused to himself. If my creation granted you the power of a god, then it is only fitting that I grant myself that same power.

Peter hurried down the stairs, sniffing the air. "Aunt May, am I smelling wheat cakes?" He asked. His stomach growled in response, as if begging for the sweet deliciousness of his aunt's cooking. Thankfully, he had woken up at his regular time to get ready for school, and he had plenty of time to enjoy breakfast and his aunt's presence. I haven't spent much time with her lately, he thought as he entered the kitchen.

Aunt May laughed as she prepared breakfast. She stood in front of the oven and peered through the window to inspect her baking. "Why yes, Peter. Your nose never fails when it comes to this meal, now does it? Now sit down," she added in a stern voice. "I'm not quite done yet, so you'll have to be patient."

"Yes ma'am." Peter sat down in his usual spot. He spotted some envelopes stacked on the counter, the top one from the electric company. They must be bills we haven't paid yet, he thought. The pile had only grown larger the past few weeks. He averted his eyes before Aunt May noticed him looking, and he grabbed the newspaper and flipped to the front page. He groaned as he saw the headline: SPIDER-MAN: CRIMINAL MASTERMIND AND GLORY HOUND. He skimmed through the article, once again written by J. Jonah Jameson (how does he have the time to write these? Isn't he the editor? Peter thought). He surmised that Jameson was accusing Spider-Man of setting up all the recent crimes and robberies before he swooped in and seemingly saved the day, while taking the credit away from the police and other public workers that already risk their lives every day. I'll give him some points for how elaborate this scheme is, Peter thought. But it's getting on my nerves that I'm doing so much and getting put down like this.

"Peter, you're not getting wrapped up in that Spider-Man business, are you?" Aunt May's voice brought Peter back to reality. He looked up to see her putting a plate of wheatcakes in front of him. "It's all the neighbors seem to talk about nowadays."

"Oh, uh, no Aunt May," he said. "It's just…these articles seem kind of silly. They're always accusing him of doing something criminal and menacing, but…from what I can tell, he's just been saving people's lives." He set the newspaper aside and began digging into his breakfast.

"Those articles do seem a bit extreme," she agreed. She set pots and pans into the sink and began washing them. "But The Daily Bugle tends to get far more correct than incorrect, so there must be some truth to what they're saying. There's quite a lot of good folks that work at that paper, and I think that they're dedicated to telling the truth about things."

Peter chewed his wheatcake, not trusting himself to talk. Great, now Aunt May is against me too, he thought. What a good way to start the day.

"And besides," she continued. "If he was truly good, why not speak to the Bugle and defend himself? Why, there's hardly any good pictures of him either. Some people think he's trying to hide from the press to cover his trail."

"Hm?" He paused in the middle of chewing and flipped back to the newspaper. The front page had a picture of a traffic-laden street, and a very blurry shot of Spider-Man's leg in the upper corner. It looked like he had just jumped off the ground to web-swing to a different part of town. Now that he thought about it, he realized that most of the pictures of Spider-Man in the Daily Bugle, let alone any newspaper, had barely caught a glimpse of him; at most, he was a blur on the photo. He hadn't realized that might give the impression that he didn't want to be found or put on camera at all. "Huh. Never noticed that before." He noticed another headline on the bottom of the front page: WANTED: PICTURES OF SPIDER-MAN, DEAD OR ALIVE (PREFERABLY ALIVE).

"Yes, well, it's a good thing you haven't run into him yet." Aunt May said. "Whoever that man is, he draws trouble to anyone near him, if you ask me." She finished the dishes and sat down across from him, drying her hands. "A cowboy group robbing a bank, a metal rhino? Why, I've even heard rumors of some devil attacking people at night recently. The city seems more dangerous now that he's around."

Peter sighed. "Well, I can't really argue with you there." Things in the city have been getting weirder and weirder after he had become Spider-Man. Doctor Connors turning into the Lizard, that Enforcers group, and the Rhino had all happened soon after he had gotten his powers. He hadn't heard about this devil thing though; he'd have to remember that and look around for whoever that was, maybe tonight.

Aunt May smiled at him. "To be fair, Peter, I don't think you've ever argued with me before."

He laughed. "That's because you're always right, Aunt May. After all, you're the smartest person in New York City." He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Oh stop, Peter," she beamed. "You're going to spoil me." She glanced at the clock, and her expression shifted to a more serious demeanor. "Alright! It's almost time for school. I'd better call for your brother." She walked over to the stairs and shouted up, "Ben! You'd better be down here within the next minute, or so help me, I will march up there and personally-"

Before she could finish whatever promise (or threat) she was saying, Ben leapt down the stairs, pulling his sweatshirt on in a rush. "I'm up! I'm up!" Ben said, almost tripping on the last step before catching himself. "See? There's nothing to worry about!" Ben grabbed a wheatcake from Peter's plate and kissed Aunt May on the cheek. "Bye beautiful! Don't win too many beauty pageants while we're at school. C'mon Pete, we're going to be late!" He rushed out the door, hopping into his shoes on his way out.

Peter stared after Ben, before shaking his head. "He might be the most frustrating person I've ever lived with."

Aunt May chuckled. "It's alright, Peter. Years from now, you'll be looking back fondly on these moments as something to cherish. Now, you better get going too now."

"Right." He finished the wheatcake he was eating, then grabbed his backpack, slipped on his shoes, and ran off after Ben. "Bye Aunt May! See you after school!" He called back as May waved from the front door and raced after Ben. After a minute, he caught up to his brother and slowed down to a walk. "You've really got to get up earlier," he said.

Ben shrugged. "Eh, this has been working pretty good for me so far." He reached over and bumped Peter's shoulder. "But enough about my life. Big night, huh? You're going over to Gwen's house for supper, right?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, which means no Spidey shenanigans tonight." Or at least, not until after supper, he thought to himself.

"What, you're not going to show up in full Spidey outfit?" Ben grinned.

Peter laughed. "Yeah, no, I don't think that's the best first impression I can make on her parents."

"You never know if you don't try," Ben countered. They reached the bus stop and stood waiting for it to arrive. Ben shifted his feet and scratched his head. "So, uh. Just out of curiosity, what do you think of Flash and Liz again?"

Peter frowned. "You mean, two of the people that have bullied me tons even though you're their best friend? Gee, what do you think?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Pete. They're not that bad. Kong is way worse than-"

"I mean, saying Kong is worse than Flash and Liz is like saying getting punched is worse than getting slapped. That's true, but I don't want to get slapped either. And Flash was doing the exact same thing as Kong up until a week or two ago."

Ben sighed and shook his head. "Look, they've been feeling bad about how everyone's acted toward you. They want to reach out and start over."

"Oh, wow! That's so inspiring!" The bus pulled up to the curb, opening its door, and they stepped inside. "What, are you going to tell me that they're starting a charity next?"

"Pete, come on. They're good people, I wouldn't be friends with them if-"

"-If you weren't obsessed with being the most popular person in the school."

Ben scowled. "Okay, seriously? You can afford to stop being so petty."

"Petty? I'm petty?!" Peter couldn't help but raise his voice. The chatter around them died down as people turned to look at them. "They made me feel like dirt for years! They made me hate the idea of going to school! And you're just going to call me petty for not going along with them wanting to be buddy-buddy now?!"

Ben glared at Peter. An odd silence fell over the bus as the other students pretended not to listen in to the conversation. Finally, Ben said, "Forget it. I don't know why I even tried. It's obvious you think you're so much better than them. And me."

Peter opened his mouth and closed it. "That's not- I-" He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Ben." He turned to face the window and rested his head on his hand. I'm not better than anyone, he thought. But if you expect me to get along with people who treated me like dirt as if it never happened, you better get a reality check, Ben.

They sat in silence for the rest of the bus ride.

Matt Murdock slid his finger across the Braille, reading the facts of the latest case on his desk. It was a textbook case against a landlord for negligence and damages for intolerable living conditions (mold, fleas). Assuming everything goes well in court, their client would be able to win the case and receive compensation for the damage done. It wasn't much; Matt knew that Miss Rodriguez would still have to find a new apartment, and that would take most of the money she'd get from this case.

But in Hell's Kitchen, you had to take the victories where you could get them.

Setting the file aside, he leaned back in his chair. The sounds of the city around him came in waves of chaos and clarity, like a cacophony of sirens and engines and voices. But another overlooked aspect of the city was the variety of smells: gasoline, grime, sewage, sweat, alcohol, blood. It had taken many years of training for him to acclimate to his enhanced senses and keep himself from being overwhelmed by the sounds and smells of the city. But now? Now he had improved his control of those senses that he could almost see his surroundings, and a bit further than that as well. He could hear two people coming up the stairs, heading in the direction of his office – likely his two coworkers, Foggy Nelson (his fellow partner of the firm), and Karen Paige (a secretary they had just hired, after helping prove her innocence in a case). He could hear the front door of the building, where a young woman stepped outside. She seemed to have an injured ankle – her right foot hit the ground with more force than the other. And-

-and he could hear two men talking in the alleyway outside. They were speaking in close to normal volume; likely feeling safe in the crowded noises of the city to cover for any eavesdroppers. Matt leaned further back in his chair.

"Hey, we doing this tonight, right?"

"Yeah, that's what the boss was saying. Paying ol' Gargan a visit, he's been ignoring his debts a little too long. You'll be there?"

The sound of a jacket rustling. A metallic clink of a gun being shown off. "Yeah, I'll be there, ready with-"

"Hey, keep that hidden!" An intense whisper. "Are you stupid? Don't do that again, dingus. We don't need any attention drawn to us."

"Relax, man. No one's paying attention to us."

Matt frowned. Whoever this Gargan person was, it seemed these guys had it out for him, or at least their bosses did. If only these guys had said an address, he thought to himself. I could intercept them on the way there and-

The door to the office opened, and Foggy's voice boomed out, "Matt, my man! Get a load of this!"

Matt jumped a little. He had been so focused on the men's conversation that he had forgotten about Foggy and Karen coming in. Putting on a smile, he said, "Hey Foggy. Whatever it is, I hope it's edible, cause I am starving."

"Ask, and you shall receive, my esteemed friend." Foggy's footsteps approached Matt's desk and Foggy placed a bagged object in front of him.

Matt felt for the opening of the bag and pulled out the plastic dish from the bag. He felt for the lid opening, removed it, and took a deep sniff of the air. Spices, sauces, sesame seeds, and steamed vegetables. "Is this Chinese?" He asked, already knowing what the answer was. He had smelled the food earlier when Foggy and Karen were walking up the stairs.

"Yes!" Karen clapped her hands together. "It's from that new Chinese place just down the street. I hadn't been there before, sooo I thought maybe we could try it out for lunch, see how it is?"

Matt smiled in Karen's direction. Even with his enhanced senses, he couldn't make eye contact with people, or read their expressions. But he could tell that doing this had meant a lot to her. "Well, just judging from the smell, it's the best thing I'll have all week."

Karen laughed. He could hear her heartbeat quicken as she looked in his direction.

"Well, nothing like a good meal to bring people together," Foggy said. "Come on Karen, let's grab some chairs and eat with Matt here."

As Foggy and Karen left the room to grab some chairs, Matt's focus returned to the alleyway. But the two men seemed to have already left. He scratched his chin, feeling the bit of stubble that had grown from the lack of consistent shaving. Becoming a lawyer had been something important to him; being able to help people in a meaningful way, finding justice for those who had been wronged by others, that was something he felt a calling for. Years of going to church and becoming a dedicated Catholic made him believe that this was part of God's plan for him: to help the people of Hell's Kitchen.

But sometimes, being a lawyer wasn't enough. For Gargan, no number of legal procedures or judicial speeches were going to stop the men coming for him tonight. No, the courtroom wasn't going to protect this man from whatever attack was being coordinated against him. Sometimes, the only clear solution to the ugliness and sickness of this world was violence.

Matt tightened his hand into a fist. He could hear Foggy and Karen coming back, each with a chair. Forgive me, Lord, he thought to himself. One day, if I find a better answer to these issues, I'll commit myself to my work as a lawyer and to repent for violence I've dealt out in this world.

But until that day, I'll let the Devil come out and take care of them.

Ben slammed his lunch tray down on the table as he sat down. Flash and Liz flinched and looked at Ben as he dug into his food. "You, uh, you good, Ben?" Flash asked.

"Yeah, I'm just peachy." Ben glanced to his left, where Peter and Gwen ate together at their usual table. He scowled and went back to his meal.

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Did you and Peter get into an argument?"

"Yeah, you could call it that."

"What happened?"

Ben sighed. He finished chewing the sandwich, and said, "I tried telling him about you guys wanting to hang out, and he wasn't…too keen on the idea. So we got into it a little bit."

"Oh." Liz looked down at her tray. "I mean, I get why he wouldn't be a fan of us."

Flash looked over at Peter, frowning. "Well…it could be that he thinks we're kind of being cowards by having you talk to him for us. I can try talking to him tomorrow, maybe that'll do...something to make him think about it?"

Ben stared at Flash. "Man, when did you become such an optimist?"

Flash grinned. "Hey man, I picked it up from you." He took a bite out of his hamburger. "Mmm, school burgers. I love the bland aftertaste it has."

Ben rolled his eyes while Liz laughed. Flash was always up for making fun of the school meals, even though he ate it every day like a starving lion. Most of the time, Ben would join in on the fun, but he just wasn't in the mood today. "You can go ahead and try, Flash, but I have a feeling that's not going to work out too well for you."

Flash swallowed the food he was eating. "Well, we'll find out tomorrow, huh?"

After a few minutes of eating, Liz looked up at Ben. "By the way, do you know why – her name's Gwen, right? – why she only hangs out with Peter? She never talks much to anyone except for answering questions in class and talking to him or you."

Ben shrugged. "I know she was homeschooled for a while, and then she took online classes for a bit. Not sure why she transferred here though."

Liz looked over at Gwen. "She just…doesn't seem to have many friends here. I thought if we could become friends with her, then Peter might be more open to hanging out with us."

Ben chewed his food. That was an option he hadn't considered. He knew Peter well enough that he wouldn't expect his brother to hang out with them, but Gwen? She seemed way more social than Peter, to the point that he had thought she would have been one of the more popular kids in their grade. It is weird that she doesn't hang out with anyone outside of me and Peter, he thought. "Yeah, maybe," he said. "She might be more open to it than Peter would."

"Hey, what do you think of them being together?" Flash said. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"What? No!" Ben said. When Flash and Liz both raised their eyebrows at him, he shook his head. "I'm not jealous of them," he said. "I'm actually happy Pete found someone who's interested in him. I think she'll help him get out of his shell."

"Ben, it's okay if you are," Liz said. "I know it's probably weird for you, but-"

Ben threw his hands up in the air. "I'm. Not. Jealous. I just- you wouldn't get it."

Before Flash or Liz could say anything, the bell rang for the end of lunch. Ben got up immediately and walked to the garbage cans to dump his milk carton and napkins, then headed to drop off his tray. Jealous of Peter because Gwen was interested in him instead of me? That's so stupid, he thought. He placed the tray in the drop off bucket and turned to go to class.

"Ben?"

He looked to see Gwen approaching him from the drop off buckets. He could see Peter already heading to class at the other end of the cafeteria. "Oh, hey," he said as she came up to him. "Surprised you're talking to me."

She blinked, then frowned at him. "What? Why? You're Pete's brother. It'd be kinda hard to not talk to you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you weren't really a fan of me."

"Oh, cause you're a flirt?" She rolled her eyes. "I'll admit, I thought you were a bit shallow the first time I met you-"

"Wow, that's so nice to hear!" Ben said with fake enthusiasm.

Gwen glared at him, but continued, "-but after what you did at Oscorp to help Peter, and from everything I've seen from you, I can tell that you're a good guy. And you care a ton about Peter."

He stared at her. "Okay…so did you want to talk to me just to say that?"

She shook her head. "Pete told me that you and he got into an argument this morning. He wouldn't really say what it was about, but I get the feeling it was about something he didn't want to admit to. Could you just talk to him and try to sort it out with him?"

Oh, so now he's starting to realize he's being petty, huh? Ben thought. "If Pete wants to sort it out with me, he can start that talk himself." The other students dropping off their trays had dissipated around them, and another group of students came into the cafeteria for the second stage of lunches. "Look, I'd love to keep talking about your favorite Parker twin, but I need to go to class."

She looked at him, a mixture of frustration and resignation on her face. "Fine." Gwen said. She patted her backpack, checking she had everything in it. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you." He turned and started to head towards class. He shook his head as he walked. I'm not jealous of him and Gwen being together, he thought. I'm not.

…right?

Mac Gargan scowled as he closed the door behind him with his foot. He had just gotten back to his apartment – a studio, with dirty walls and creaky floorboards. Normally, he'd be heading to the office space he rented out a few blocks from here, working as a private investigator. One of the best in New York City, he thought. But times had been hard the past few months; cases had been slower and slower to come by, and he couldn't afford to keep the office space and pay for protection in Hell's Kitchen at the same time. And now? He couldn't exactly advertise his work from home; he had worked hard to make sure he lived in anonymity and didn't bring anything, or anyone, related to his work back home with him. Not to mention the debt he had accumulated from no longer being able to pay for protection.

He was about to dig in on a sandwich when his cell phone buzzed. "I can't catch a break, can I?" He grumbled as he fished out his cell. Unknown number, meaning someone was contacting him anonymously. Most definitely for a job. He answered it and held it up to his ear. "Gargan," he said. He took a bite of his sandwich and let out a sigh. At least the sandwich is damn good.

"Hello? Hello?" a voice said on the other side of the line. "Is this Mac Gargan that I'm speaking with?"

Gargan rolled his eyes. "You heard me say Gargan, right?"

"Yes yes, I just wanted to-"

"Listen, I'm a busy man," Gargan interrupted. "Either you tell me you have a job for me, or you stop wasting my time. Understand?" He kept his voice hard, hoping that it would convince the man that he had important things currently going on.

The man remained silent for a moment. Gargan was about to hang up when the man replied, "Hmph! Fine then. I'm calling to hire you for a job."

"Go on, make it snappy." Gargan scarfed down another large bite of his sandwich.

"I assume you have heard of the masked menace known as Spider-Man? Surely from the numerous stories published by-"

Gargan snorted. "What, that guy that can crawl on walls? You can't be serious, right? No way that guy's real."

The man chuckled. "Oh, I assure you, he is very much real, and very much a danger to this city. That's why I'm calling you: to aid the city and protect it against-"

"Spare the speeches and tell me who you are and what the job is."

Gargan could hear the man grumbling on the other end of the line. "Unprofessional son of a…" Then the man cleared his throat. "Very well! My name is J. Jonah Jameson, editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle. I want you to find out Spider-Man's secret identity. I'll reward you in $200,000."

Gargan nearly dropped his sandwich. $200,000?! For finding out some guy's name?! He grinned. This guy's a real obsessive lunatic, huh. "Eh, seems to me that type of info is worth more than that." He hummed, pretending to mull it over. "$800,000."

Jameson coughed and sputtered on the other end. "You want- that's ridiculous! You're just extorting me out of-"

"Hey, you want results? You gotta pay for them, especially for talent like this." Gargan jabbed his thumb to his chest, as though the man he was talking with could see the gesture.

"Tch…fine. $350,000."

"No can do," Gargan said. He placed his feet on the armrest of his couch. "$700,000."

"$500,000! Try to haggle again and I'm hanging up!" Jameson shouted. Gargan winced and held the phone a bit away from his ear. The man sounded like several blood vessels were about to burst. Gargan knew that he wouldn't get away with pushing the man any further.

"Alright, Jameson. You're a tough cookie, but you got yourself a deal. I'll start working today and get back to you at the end of the week with any progress I've made." He hung up before Jameson could respond. Tossing his phone onto the couch, he scarfed down the rest of his sandwich and smiled. $500,000, huh? Enough to pay off my debts and buy me a well-earned vacation. He pulled out a box from underneath his couch and grabbed a camera and voice recorder from it. His phone would've been able to act as both things, but Gargan was a man of tradition. He had used these on his first case, and they had been his lucky charms ever since. He kissed the camera, slung it over his neck, and pocketed the recorder.

Now, he thought as he exited his apartment, time to figure out the best way to catch a spider.

Peter knocked on the door. He stood in front of Gwen's house, a smaller home only a few blocks away from Midtown High, painted a solid green color. A small tree in the yard broke the flat landscape of the yard. He held a flower in his hand, which shook to the point that he was worried the petals would fall off the flower. Just relax Pete, he told himself. He tugged at his shirt collar; he wore his best button up shirt along with khakis, along with his Spider-Man costume below that. This isn't anything out of the ordinary, you've done weirder stuff as Spider-Man.

The door opened, and Gwen opened it. She wore a blue top and a nice skirt, and her hair was tied back into a ponytail. Her expression lit up when she saw him. "Hi!" She said.

"Hi!" Peter said a little too loudly. He winced at his own voice and held out the flower. "I, uh, I brought this for you and your family. Well, mostly for you since there's only one flower. Maybe I should have brought more." Oh God, I wish I was fighting criminals right now. "Uh, you look really nice."

She blushed and took the flower from him. "Thank you! And don't worry, my dad and I can share this. You look really nice too, by the way." She smiled and opened the door wider for him. "Come in! My dad's almost done cooking. Dad! Peter's here!"

He smiled and walked in. The entryway was a bit bigger compared to his home, with dark wooden floors beneath a few rugs. To his left, modern couches and cupboards filled the living room, while to his right, a wooden table covered in a white dining cloth stood in the middle of the room. Four chairs surrounded the table, each with a unique design carved into the back of the chair. Peter could make out an eagle on one and a dolphin on another. "Wow," he said, looking around. "Your house is super nice. And clean."

Gwen snorted. "Yeah, it didn't look like this two hours ago. Buuut we can pretend it always does." She gestured to the table, where plates and silverware were already set up. "Come on, sit down! You came at the perfect time, my dad just finished cooking."

"It's nice to be mostly on time for once." Peter grinned. He slipped off his shoes and walked into the dining room. Alright, Pete, he thought. This is going good so far. You just need to make a good impression on her parents. Should be pretty easy.

Gwen smiled at that. "To be honest, I was a little worried you were going to be late. Hang on a second." She dashed to the other side of the room and leaned her head through the doorway. "Dad! Aren't you going to say hi to Peter?"

"I was just about to, honey," a man's voice said. Peter furrowed his brow. Why did that voice sound so familiar? He shook his head. Just relax, Peter. You're overthinking things.

Then the man stepped into the entryway, and Peter felt his stomach sink.

The man wore a blue button-up shirt with dark pants, with an apron labeled NYC's Best Cook. He had blonde hair with grey streaks scattered in it, and he had blue eyes identical to Gwen's. His expression wore a relaxed smile. "You must be Peter," the man said, walking over to Peter and holding out his hand. "My name's George Stacy. It's nice to finally meet you. Gwen has talked about you quite a bit."

But Peter recognized him. He was the police captain that Peter had run into as Spider-Man a few times already. "Y-yep, that's me." Peter forced a smile. Oh crap, he thought. This is not going to go well.