A few weeks had passed without something bad happening to Peter Parker, which he believed was a new record. No major chriminals had given Spider-Man any trouble, he was still keeping up with classes, he even managed to hang out with Harry on a consistant basis. Well, what time he wasn't practically attached to his new girlfriend's face enough to notice he was there.

*Not that I can blame him*, Peter thought with a smirk. *Mary Jane Watson is...interesting.*

The vivacious redhead had added a whole new dynamic to Harry's social life, and, by extension, Peter's. She seemed to know anyone who was anyone in town; club owners, DJs, the works. He'd been to more parties lately than he'd been to in his entire life. He wondered how she kept up with it all. He'd been worried she'd be mad after he gave her the cold shoulder at Harry's party, but she seemed as eager as ever to see to it he has a good time.

He'd also been making progress on the finances. Getting Aunt May to let him help again had been like pulling teeth, but she finally relented on the condition that Peter only give her half his earnings. He wasn't crazy about the idea, but he did like having a little extra spending money. Jamison was just as willing as ever to use his pictures to smear Spidey's good name, but Peter didn't care. People were going to believe what they wanted to. Besides, he wasn't doing this for the fame. He was doing it because it was the right thing to do.

Now Halloween was right around the corner. Peter hadn't given it much thought until recieving a text from Harry.

'We're all meeting at Time's Square on Halloween night. Bring a costume!'

Peter gazed down at the text, sitting at his bedroom desk. He glanced at the callender hanging on the cork board nearby.

'Maybe give me more than a week's worth of notice next time?'

'Yeah, sorry about that, MJ didn't know if she'd be in town until today.'

'All good. Just got a paycheck from JJJ, I'll swing by a costume shop sometime.'

'How's that going btw? That hot Brant woman still there?'

'Goodnight, Harry.'

Peter chuckled as he tossed the phone on his bed and leaned back in his chair, returning his gaze to the computer screen. He was researching new components he could add to his web shooters now that he had a little bit of cash. He'd built up all sorts ideas over the years; web nets, concussive web balls, webs with extra tensile strength. And not just web related stuff. He had rough designs for tracking devices, drones, a phone intagrated directly into his mask. His little nerd heart had never been so happy!

Adrianne Tombs walked down one of the many hallways at Osborne Industries, up to a set of particularly large, impressive doors. He knocked and entered.

"You, um, wanted to see me, Mr. Osborne?"

Norman Osborne was an imposing man. At or near six feet tall, with a broad, solid chest, bulging arms and a load, booming voice.

"Ah, Adrianne!" he says, looking up from his phone. "Come in, my friend, come in, have some wine!"

This emmediately put Tombs on edge. Norman Osborne had never offered him anything, besides his job.

"Um, no thank you. What exactly is all this about?"

"You know what I like about you, Tombs?" he says, wrapping a massive arm around the older man's shoulder. "Your a straight shooter. You tell it like it is!"

Adrianne really didn't think so, but he wasn't about to argue. "Um...thank you?"

"That's why," Norman continues, having returned to behind his desk, "I'm going to do the service of being the same."

"What do you mean?"

"The board aren't happy with the progress of the flight suit," Norman cuts the chase. "Their saying if you don't show marked progress at the next demonstration on Halloween night, their going to shut down the project."

"Wh...what?", Adrianne sways as if knocked off balance by Norman's sheer words. "But...but that's only a week!"

"I tried to talk them out of it," Norman says, holding up his hands. "But it's ultimately their decision. Just wow them, Tombs, and you wont have anythhing to worry about!"

Adrianne stands there a moment longer, opening and closing his mouth, before closing it with a tight set to his jaw and leaving the room. Once the door closed, Norman reached into his pocket, pulling out a device that looked like an inhaler. He put the nozel in his mouth and squeezed down on the button, breathing in the neon green steam.

Harry Osborne reclined easily in a plush chair, hungrily kissing his girlfriend sat on his lap. He'd met Mary Jane a mere few weeks ago. She'd been the lead in a play his father had taken him to. He normally had little interest in plays, but he now practically knew every word of that one, having been so enraptured by her beauty, and the passion and fire with which she'd delivered her lines. The second they'd left the theatre, he had his phone in his hand, ordering the biggest boquette he could to be sent to her dressing room.

"Hhmm," she cooed as she pulled away, Harry's lips still practically tingling with electricity. "Whatchya thinking about?"

"You," he said, lifting a hand and running it through her thick, fiery hair. "How lucky I am to have you."

She smiled and leaned in again, pressing a passionate, intimate kiss to his lips.

"So," he said as she pulled back again. "I was thinking after the Times Square thing, we could borrow my dad's private jet and go to Paris for the weekend."

MJ looked down at him, her green eyes wide. "Harry-"

"O-Oh," he stammered, turning red. "Sorry, is that too much?"

"No," she cooed, caressing his cheek. "Your the sweetest. It's just...my parents."

"Oh," Harry said, deflating somewhat. "I guess things...aren't better?"

She shrugs, trying to look non-schalant. "No. But, this is the second time their getting divorced, so I expected it." She smiled, leaning down to wrap her arms around his neck. "We'll go somewhere soon, I promise."

Just then, the door opened. Harry and MJ look up to see Norman striding into the room.

"Dad!" Harry said, jumping up so fast he nearly spilled his girlfriend.

"Harry," he said casually. "Miss Watson."

"It's good to see you again, sir." she replied, trying for her best charming smile. When he just gives a non-commital grunt, Harry grabs her hand.

"Well, we'll be in my room if you-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Norman cut in.

Harry is about to respond, But MJ squeezes his hand.

"No, no. It's okay, Harry. I'll just grab a cab."

"No, MJ, just-"

"Great idea, dear," Norman said, opening the door again.

"It's okay. I'll text you later, okay?"

Once she was gone, Harry gaped at his father.

"What was that about?"

"I told you, Harry, that women are a distraction, and right now all your energy needs to be going towards your studies."

"Oh, yeah," he replied, throwing his hands up. "Cause you've always cared SO MUCH about my grades. Guess those four private schools I failed out of didn't count."

"That was primary education," Norman said. "This buissiness course is about your future."

"My future?" Harry seethed, storming across the small space between them. "My future?! You wanna talk about my future when you won't even invest in a cure for our condition?"

"I told you," Norman said, raising his own voice now. "I wasted millions trying! Now my focus is on ensuring Oscorp Industries can keep going!"

"Oh, that explains it," Harry said, on the verge of tears. "All you care about is your precious 'Osborne family legacy', and your damned company!"

Norman started to retort, but Harry didn't hear, storming up to his room, slamming the door behind him and crumpling onto the floor as the tears finally start to flow.

New York glittered all around him as Peter swung, flinging himself through the air, twisting, spinning; in the air, in this costume, he was free. He'd been spending the night like he usually did, snapping pictures of himself stopping various crimes. A mugging, a couple of B&Es, the threat of a gang shootout that dissapated once the wallcawler showed up. It seemed like a perfectly routine night, until...

Peter's spider sense alerted him to a nearby bank. He swung gracefully over, attaching his camera to the skylight as he went by. Inside the tellers and a few customers cowered before a very strangely dressed man. He was in some kind of red and yellow full body suit, with large devices of some kind on his hands.

"Hey, mister!" Peter called. "I'm gonna have to ask you to stop pointing your little bracelets at the tellers and give yourself up!"

"Ah, there you are!" said the man in earily familiar voice. "I was begining to wonder if you took the night off!"

Peter was going to retort when his spider sense exploded. White-hot pain exploded over his head, like his skull was full of water to the point of bursting. Moments later he was hit by a powerful, concussive force, like getting hit by a truck. He was sent flying back into a pillar, which he felt crack on impact. *At least I hope it was the pillar.*

A groan escaped him as he struggled onto his hands and knees.

"Nice party trick," he pants.

"Isn't it?" he says, waving his hands. "Anyway, I'd love to chat, but someone's paying me good money to use these things to off you, so..."

He raises the gauntlets again, but Peter had already raised a hand, shooting his eyes with web.

"Aagg! You little-"

But Peter was on the move already, vaulting over the man's head, grabbing a handful of his suit and throwing him through a window. *Gotta get him away from all these people...*

By the time he jumped out the broken window, the man had already torn off the webs. He raised the gauntlets again, but Peter was ready this time, leaping with all his might out of the way so the blast slammed into the back of some poor smuck's car, smashing it in.

"So," Peter calls from his perch atop a street light. "Who's this you were talking about hired you to kill me?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you!" he barks, blasting again. Peter leaps out of the way, using a web and turn and watch as the light he'd just been standing on wasreduced to scrap metal.

*Those things are crazy dangerous. Gotta get them away from him before he hurts somebody. But how do I do that without him hurting ME?*

They dance like this for a while before Peter gets an idea. Leaping forward to suprise him, Peter slips under the man's guard and sweeps his legs. As quick as the fight had started, it was over. Peter webbed him to the ground, taking off as the sounds of sirens approached, wondering who on earth wanted to get rid of the friendly neighborhood wall-crawler so bad?