Morning!" Normie said, as he walked into his mother's room, awkwardly bringing in a tray filled with breakfast.

Liz was already awake and on her laptop. Judging by her frown, she was likely hours into her work, freshly broken leg be damned.

"What's this?" She asked.

"Breakfast. Get off that thing," he indicated her laptop, "and have something to eat."

"I'll eat later." She resumed her typing.

"Mom. Please, for once can you stop working?"

Liz's blue eyes flashed with anger. "This is important. Put that down over there."

"No. Put the laptop away. Or I'll just stand here holding this. And it's heavy."

She rolled her eyes and shoved her laptop to the side. "Happy?"

"Yeah." He placed the tray on her lap. "You've got eggs, waffles, toast, coffee, and water. Oh, and your pain pills."

"I can see that. Thank you," she said, her tone softening. "Sit down and help me finish this."

Smiling, Normie obliged.

"I thought you left after you got me into bed."

"No, I stayed." Normie expected his mom to dismiss him, stating she was fine without any help.

"Thank you," she said instead, spearing a chunk of scrambled eggs. "It's nice having you home."

He smiled as he swiped one of the waffles. "It's nice to be home. How are you feeling?"

"God Normie, don't chew with your mouth full. I'm fine," she downed her pain killers.

"Want me to sign that?" He pointed to her white cast.

"Absolutely not! The thing is ghastly and doesn't need any more attention drawn to it." Her eyes glanced back to her computer.

"Allan Biotech can wait," he said, fighting the urge to snap the laptop closed.

"I'm not working," she sighed. "Just reviewing Oscorp files. To see if there are any other surprises."

"I should've known about those projectors."

"Don't beat yourself up. Your father was a master at keeping secrets."

"We gonna talk about last night?"

"What's there to talk about?"

Was she serious? "Um, the Hobgoblin attacking, your broken leg, dad's psychotic video-"

"Don't say that," she snapped.

"What else am I supposed to say?"

Liz just shook her head.

"Okay. Sorry. I forgot, I can't mention dad." He saw his mother's shoulders slump. He wished he felt guilty, but he was tired of all his father's secrets, and his mother's refusal to talk about him. "What was up with you and Spider-Man and his family?"

Liz glared at her son. "What does that mean?"

"They saved our lives!"

"And broke my leg. I swear Spinneret is still pissed about all that symbiote nonsense."

"You think she purposefully let your leg break? Unbelievable. They save our asses again and again despite everything this family put them through."

"Excuse me?" She squared her shoulders. "You don't even know the half of it, so you better watch it."

"You're right, I don't know the half of it. All I know is dad and my grandfather were the Green Goblin and made everyone's life a living hell."

"He wasn't always the Goblin," Liz said, her voice cracking. Normie took a breath. "He wasn't always like that."

Normie's mind went back to the video of his father. "Then what was he like?"

Liz buried her face in her hands. "In the closet. Top shelf, on the left. There's a box. Bring it here."

"What?"

"Just do it, Norman."

He went to his mother's closet and grabbed the box, as she said.

"Careful, it's heavy," she said a little too late.

"Yeah," he strained, as he carefully maneuvered it down.

He brought the card board box to the bed, and opened the top. Inside were a series of black, leather bound journals.

"They're your fathers," she murmured.

Normie's chest felt tight and his eyes stung. He grabbed one of the books, and opened it, revealing his dad's tight script. The entry he turned to was dated decades ago, probably when his father was around his own age.

"Stop." Liz's command was soft but heavy. He closed the book, wondering why she would tell him to grab the journals, and then expect him to not read them.

"After he died, I was so, I don't know, just so lost. Last night, you said he was awful. And you're right. Towards the end of the his life, he was. He made my life, and yours, a living nightmare. I'm just thankful you were so young you probably don't remember most of it."

That was only half true. He couldn't remember that time of his life, but the aftereffects certainly lingered. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the morning in a panic, a nightmare, forgotten, but haunting all the same.

"He also tormented Spider-Man, of course, and our neighbors." Her expression hardened then. "They lived right below us; were some of our dearest friends. And they would hound me, begging me, berating me to talk some sense into Harry. As if I had any say. As if I was just letting everything happen."

"MJ right? My acting teacher?" He remembered how angry she had become when he told his mom about her. He could see how that could hurt his mother.

Liz nodded. "The night he died, I almost lost you too. Did you know that?"

Normie shook his head no. And she told him about the Osborn Foundation, how his father had rigged it full of explosions and used it as a way to lure Spider-Man. Liz told him how he had detonated the bombs, forgetting that Normie himself, was inside that building.

"Spider-Man told me all of this. And that, at the very end, you dad came to his senses, and saved you. Then went back to save him before the building exploded."

Normie didn't know what to feel in that moment. So many emotions swirled inside of him, leaving him numb and exhausted.

"Spider-Man told you all of this?"

Liz nodded. "I had so many questions for him. I didn't understand why your father was so consumed by his hatred. I begged him to tell me, to explain what would cause Harry to risk your life, mine, his own. And all Spider-Man could say was 'I don't know,' or that Harry blamed him for his own father's death. Nothing he could tell me, made it make sense.

"So, when I found the journals, of course I read them. And then everything made sense. The feud between him and Spider-Man, the betrayal. The secrets, it all made sense."

"What do they say mom?"

"I shouldn't have kept these from you. You had a right to know. But Jesus, Normie, I was so scared. I see so much of him in you. And you were so angry when you younger. So alone. I could see the writing on the walls. I was afraid these journals would send you down your father's path." She was in tears.

Normally, Normie would become angry at the assumption he would end up like his father. But his mom was right, he had been so angry. Without the journals, and at only 10 years old, he had gotten pretty damn close to following Harry Osborn's footsteps.

Normie grabbed his mother's hands. "I swear, I'm not like that anymore. I just want to know. I promise you, mom."

Liz nodded, and wiped her eyes. "Everything's there, Normie and some of it is really hard to read. Including Spider-Man's secret identity." Normie froze. If that was revealed, he could figure out Spiderling's. And he knew she wouldn't want that. Of course he wouldn't do anything nefarious with that information, but finding out without her consent? That felt wrong. But this was his father. This was the closest he'd ever get to being able to know him. It would answer so many questions. And he would never do anything to hurt Spider-Man or his family. Hell, maybe he could even use the knowledge to help them in some way.

"Promise me," his mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. "You'll reach out for help if it's too much? Please. Come to me, okay?"

"I promise." He squeezed her hand.

Amanda's eyes searched the Bar with No Name, desperate for a glimpse of her mother.

She was dressed in her costume, her face covered by her black helmet. The visor made the dim lighting even dimmer, however, she didn't want anyone to see her face. She walked towards the bar, bracing herself for someone to harass her in some way shape or form. After all, she was stepping into a den of supervillains, but to her delight, no one paid her any mind. Except the bartender.

The wizened woman looked her up and down. "ID."

"Forgot it," she said, trying to sound older. She wasn't planning on drinking, just on blending in, hoping to see her mom or hear any word on her. She placed some cash on the bar. "Gin and tonic," Amanda said, saying the first thing that popped into her mind.

The bartender laughed. "What part of ID did you not understand?"

"She's with me, I can vouch for her," a tall, lithe woman said, sitting down on the stool next to her.

The bartender chuckled. "The Avian. I'm happy to see left your birds at home."

The Avian shrugged. "Make that two."

"Two gin and tonics? You can vouch she's 21?"

"I sure can." She added more cash, and pushed the pile towards the older woman.

The bartender regarded her. "If you cross me one more time, I'm banning both your asses." She grabbed the pile, and counted. "I'm keeping the change."

"Wouldn't expect anything different."

The woman turned away to take other orders. "Bitch is gonna leave us for last."

"Why?" Amanda asked.

"She's still pissed about my last visit. My pigeons came in with me, and made quite the mess."

Amanda wrinkled her nose. That sounded pretty gross.

"What's your name?" The woman asked.

"Um, Glass."

"Alrightie, I knew that. But if you are the secretive sort. Fine by me."

"You're the Avian?"

"Yep. And you're part of Triple Threat? I've seen the work you guys do. Pretty impressive."

Amanda smiled, then realized Avian, (or The Avian?) couldn't see her expression under her helmet. "Thanks."

"You and your team squared up against the Spider-Fam. I've had a run in with them myself, but didn't exactly get the right news coverage."

"Okay?" Amanda wasn't sure why she was telling her this.

"News coverage is the real deal. Can do wonders for your reputation. Now you guys going after Jameson? That was brilliant. Even retired, he still did his thing and blew you guys up."

Amanda just shrugged. "We didn't go after Jameson to win a popularity contest."

"Tell me more," she said, leaning in, a hungry smile on her face.

"It doesn't matter. We lost, and now out of a job. And that's all I'm saying."

The Avian raised her hands. "Hey chill out. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Two gin and tonics," the bartender said. And with a glare at The Avian, she placed them on the bar.

"Thanks Hun," The Avian grabbed her glass and took a greedy sip. The bartender rolled her eyes. Amanda smiled her thanks but then realized, after the woman had turned away, no one could see her facial expression. She could hear her mother's voice chastising her to remember her manners.

She missed her mom.

"Anyways. I'm between jobs myself. So. I'm about to create one. You interested?" This was lucky. Maybe if this job made enough noise, it could get her and her father back in good graces with their Benefactor. They could be reunited with her mom again.

"I'm listening," she said, trying to sound older, wiser, and stronger than her almost 17 years.

The Avian leaned in close. "You know Tombstone? I've reason to believe he faked his own death to get out of the mob game. Been stalking his family." She smiled proudly.

To be honest, Amanda had no idea who Tombstone was. The name sounded vaguely familiar. His was likely covered in the supervillain class she was in. One major takeaway from that class though; most of these villains didn't stay dead, if they had even died to begin with.

The Avian continued. "I've got a plan that will lure him out of hiding. Which will get me some serious cred in the mob scene."

"What are you gonna do when he is out of hiding?"

She shrugged. "Maybe some blackmail to force a team up. Or maybe I'll deliver him to his enemies. Not sure. Options are endless."

This sounded like a terrible plan. But it was bold. Maybe she could get this Tombstone guy for her Benefactor?

"I'm in," Amanda said.

The Avian raised her glass and downed her drink. "You gonna finish that?"

Amanda shook her head no. Despite their fledging partnership, Amanda didn't trust her enough to remove her helmet to take a sip. Also, Amanda was not 21, and that showed without her mask. The drink had just been a way to blend in.

"Suit yourself," she said, and grabbed Amanda's drink. "This is gonna be a wonderful partnership."