Shutting the door to her aunt's home, Mary Jane worked her way down the steps before making the short stroll over to the Parker home next door. As she came to the door, she raised her hand to knock, but wasn't allowed the opportunity as the door suddenly opened. Peter then stepped out, seemingly in a hurry before he stopped as he saw her, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh," M.J. said, caught off guard as well. "Hey! Listen, could we..."

"Sorry, M.J; I'm kind of in a hurry," he explained as he made his way past her. He then took off, indeed appearing in a rush as he broke into a run down the street. Mary Jane could only shake her head, letting out a light sigh. What was going on with him?

"Mary Jane?"

M.J. spun around, observing Peter's Aunt May was now at the door.

"Hey, May," she said. "Glad to see at least one of you isn't in a rush to get somewhere."

"I'm sorry about that," the older woman apologized. "He's been off this morning for some reason; I don't know what's gotten into him. He stopped by to get something really quick, but barely even said hi."

"He did seem kind of paranoid last night too," M.J. explained. "He was looking around as he was getting me home, like he thought someone was after him. Also, I didn't know that he'd moved out?"

"Yep, not long after you both graduated, actually," the older woman replied. "Anyway, the sooner he gets a job where he doesn't have to take pictures of Spider-Man anymore, the better. Oh, where are my manners; would you like to come in?"

"Oh, I really wouldn't want to intrude," M.J. explained.

"Nonsense," May replied dismissively. "You obviously came over here to see someone here, and it looks like I'll have to do!"

May walked back into the house before M.J. could protest, so she decided to take the woman up on her offer, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.

"Would you like something to drink, Mary Jane?"

"Some coffee would be nice, if you have any," Mary Jane replied as she strolled into the kitchen.

"I think there's still some of the batch Peter made before he left," May remarked. M.J. then took a seat at the table as May got out a mug, pouring in some coffee and handing it to her.

"Thank you," Mary Jane said gratefully as she took the warm mug.

"My pleasure," May said as she down with her own drink in hand. If M.J. knew the woman at all, she likely had some hot tea in hand. She took a sip of her coffee, the warm liquid running down her throat and seemingly perking her up a little almost instantly.

"That really does hit the spot sometimes," she said.

"I never did care for it much, but Ben lived on this stuff," the older woman said. "I still blame him for Peter's dependence on it."

M.J. chuckled at the older woman's words. She wished she could have seen more of what May's relationship was like with her late husband. Between her comments and what Peter had told her, it had always sounded like they had a loving but fun dynamic.

"So, what brought you over here today, if I may ask?" May questioned.

"I was hoping to catch up with Peter some more, but apparently he's busy," M.J. said.

"You know, he talked very highly about seeing you at the park the other day," May assured her. "That is, for the few minutes I could get him on the phone in between the Bugle and job hunting."

"Yeah, it was nice," M.J. said, glancing down at her mug for a moment.

"Dear," May spoke up, "I don't want to overstep, but is everything okay?"

Part of M.J. almost automatically responded with a "yeah, fine," but the words held back in her mouth. Here was the person closest to Peter in this world, the one who knew him better than anyone. Should she try and take advantage of that, or was that a way out of bounds idea?

"I... can I ask you something, May?" she ultimately asked, leaning in a little.

"Of course, dear," the older woman assured her.

"Peter..." she began, the words struggling to come out of her mouth. "When he talks about me... does he still think that I'm... you know... shallow?"

"I'm pretty certain that I can say no to that," May replied. "What would make you think that?"

"It's just that I seem to be getting really mixed signals from him since I got back," Mary Jane explained. "One moment, he's happy to see me, but as soon as we really try and get into things, something keeps coming up. Everything he's said to me about wanting to figure things out seems genuine, but I... it just seems that almost everything else seems to say otherwise."

May glanced down for a moment, seemingly contemplating what her reply should be.

"Mary Jane," the woman finally began, "for all of Peter's life, he's lost people he loved to tragic circumstances: his parents, his uncle, even almost me at one point. It didn't help that after he graduated college, a lot of people left his life for one reason or another. Flash, Harry..."

"...me?" M.J. finished for her. The older woman looked a little embarrassed at being caught in such an obvious meaning, but she quickly pressed on.

"He understood why you did what you did, just like he knew Flash felt a calling to join the army and Harry needed to get help, but all of it happening at once wasn't easy for him, even if he'd accepted that sometimes, life is just like that and people go their separate ways. Now that you're back, it might just take him some time before he really accepts that you're not leaving again. I don't say that to excuse his behavior; I just want you to understand where he's coming from. Let me reassure you though, dear, that he thinks only the highest of you."

M.J. nodded, taking a moment to contemplate May's words. What she said certainly made sense; after all, she knew a thing or two about losing people that she loved in one form or another. Maybe she really did need to be more sensitive to that in Peter's case?

"Thank you, May," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. "You know, I wish I had made a point to get to know you a little more one-on-one like this before I left. I feel like I would have really enjoyed it."

"You will always have an open invitation here, my dear," the older woman replied. "You know that my door is always open to you."

"Thanks," she replied, taking one more good sip of her coffee. "Well, I better get going; I need to get ready for what I'm hoping will be my final callback before I learn for sure whether I get one of the parts I'm after or not."

"Let me know when you do," the older woman said. "Peter and I want to be the first ones in line for your performance!"

"I will," she said, getting up. The older woman stood up as well, and, seemingly out of the blue, M.J. reached out and hugged her. Peter's aunt reciprocated the gesture, putting her at ease regarding whether she had overstepped or not.

"I'll be in touch," she said before taking her leave.

Releasing his web, Peter flew through the air, flipping backwards before eventually landing at the corner of one of the taller buildings in the area. He let out a sigh as he shifted his balance slightly, resting his left arm over his knee.

"Great," he muttered, "just great."

Frankly, it was hard not to feel like the first half of his day thus far had been a complete waste of time. From the moment he'd risen that day, there had only been one thing occupying Peter's mind: tracking down his mysterious adversary. After grabbing a piece of equipment that he'd realized he'd left in his old room, Peter had paid a visit to the warehouse they'd fought in the night prior, hoping if nothing else to come up with a stray hair from the creature's body that he could use to trace its genetic signature. When he'd had no luck there, he'd gone back and revisited the spot from their first encounter, hoping to find any clues, only to have had no luck there either. Ever since, he'd been scouring the city, searching for any oddball place where a creature like that could perhaps hide during the daytime, but every stone he'd turned over only revealed the same thing: nothing.

Remaining atop his perch, Peter scoured his mind, wracking it for any more thoughts regarding possibilities of how to track down this creature. He had to track him down and put him, it, whatever it was, away. He'd seen his face beneath the mask, but more importantly, he had likely seen Mary Jane too. The fact that he'd seen her and she was okay that morning had been at least a little reassuring, but Peter knew he wouldn't have true peace of mind until he'd dealt with the source of the problem.

Unfortunately, he couldn't come up with any more ideas, leading him to clench his fist and frustration before firing a web and swinging off. He hated to wait for the thing to attack again, but right now, it was looking as though he had no other choice. At the same time, the look the creature had given him after he'd saved his life came back to Peter's mind. It was a look of shock, as if Peter had done the most insane thing... which, considering his predicament, he probably had, but he still just couldn't let the guy die. That look though, plus his disappearance... perhaps he would call the whole thing off? No, that was ridiculous... or was it?

"Tell you what, Parker," he said to himself as he kept swinging along, "if you don't run into him tonight, how about you let yourself relax just a teeny tiny bit. Sound fair?"

Yeah, that sounded fair enough.

"Thank you for the update; I'll make the necessary arrangements soon."

Norman then hung up, putting his phone back in his jacket pocket as the elevator doors opened, allowing him to stroll out towards his office. As he did, his secretary got his attention.

"Mr. Osborn, you're one o' clock is waiting for you inside your office."

"I don't have a one o' clock," he explained, halting in his steps. "And why did you let someone in my office without my being there?"

"T-they said you would be okay with it," the woman explained nervously.

"Angela, I am never okay with someone coming into my office unless I am already there waiting for them!" Norman shouted as he hurried towards his office, eager to see who had the audacity to barge into the room as if it were their own home. The doors opening automatically before him, the first thing he saw was a large figure that he knew all too well, seemingly examining one of the pictures on his desk.

"Family... it's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" the man observed as he set the photo back down. "The opportunity to pass a legacy on from one generation to the next."

"What do you want, Wilson?" Norman questioned as he made his way to his desk, setting his briefcase down.

"Always straight to the point, like any good businessman," Fisk replied. "That's good, because business is exactly what I came here to discuss."

"Except you and I have no business to discuss," Norman stated as he took his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Wilson; I'm a very busy man."

"Indeed, you are," Fisk observed. "But I thought you would be keen on hearing my proposal for a renewed partnership between us."

"I will hear nothing of the sort," Norman stated, still doing his best to ignore his guest as he activated his office computer.

"Oh come now, Norman," Fisk replied. "I think you'll find the terms of my proposal much more favorable this time around."

"With you, Wilson, there is no such thing as favorable for the other party," Norman said. "I learned that the hard way last time, and it is a position I never intend to find myself in again. Now, leave before I call security to have you escorted out."

"I'm sorry that you feel this way, Norman," Fisk replied. "I'd looked forward to working together again."

He then turned to walk away, and Norman had just begun to open a file to resume his work when the man spoke up again.

"By the way, how is your son doing these days? I understand he went through a traumatic ordeal?"

Norman's eyes shot up from his computer as he glared at his rival.

"He's doing quite well, actually," he said, managing to keep his composure. "He's nearing the end of his rehab, actually, and will be coming home soon."

"That's great to hear," Fisk replied. "As I said, family is truly a wonderful thing. Almost losing him must have been hard on you, especially after losing your wife all those years ago. It'd be a shame if you had to deal with something else happening to pour young Harry..."

Norman's blood began to boil, his fist clenching tightly in anger. The very insinuation of a threat against his son's life... but before he could continue down this line of thought, his brain concocted a way to turn the tables, so he rose up, coming towards his rival.

"You know, Wilson, it's funny that you keep mentioning family," he spoke up as he came up to Fisk. "Because I seem to recall that you had one once too. A wife and... one child, was it? Oh yes, a son, I believe. Tell me... where are they now?"

Norman observed as Fisk's face contorted into one of anger, a rage clearly building up inside of him as his own fists now began to clench.

"You see, Wilson, I may have lost some of my family, but yours... they CHOSE to leave you. Why would I do business with someone who can't even hold on to their own family?"

"AAAAAH!" Fisk yelled as he lunged for Norman, placing both hands on his throat. The man's eyes looked as though they could kill him themselves, but despite this, Norman could still feel the smirk on his face. It didn't take long for Fisk to apparently notice it either, quickly releasing him from his grip.

"You'd better reel in that temper, Wilson," he said. "After all, I'm sure other prospective business partners of yours have security cameras like mine..."

He gestured towards the corner of the ceiling, with Fisk following his gaze to the camera that was indeed over head of them.

"Now," Norman spoke up again. "You stay away from my company, from me, and especially my son, and this little incident will remain our little secret. You've been under public scrutiny before, Wilson, and you never know which scandal might be the last straw in the eyes of the public."

Fisk glared at him for a moment, but soon a thin smile crept over his face as he turned to leave. As the doors opened, however, the man turned back, taking one last look at Norman.

"Be careful, Norman. Never wound what you can't kill."

The man then took his leave as the doors shut, leaving Norman to process the encounter. He'd gotten the feeling that he'd successfully diverted Fisk's threats for the short term, but on the other hand, something about that look and the tone of his words just now...

Norman could suddenly start to feel a profuse batch of sweat form on his forehead, causing him to wipe it off. How had that come on in the middle of a cool day like today? Had Fisk made him that anxious? If so, he needed to toughen up in a hurry. He was a businessman, one of the best in the world.

He was an Osborn, and that meant he wasn't afraid of, nor would he be bested by, anyone.

Hope you're still enjoying it!

Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!

"For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." Matthew 23:12