Peter turned the corner, finding the building in question: "Nelson & Murdock: Attorneys at Law." Coming right up to the door, he immediately let himself in, heading for Matt's office. Though the place was certainly larger than what his friend had described when his practice first started, it was still nowhere near what it could be, given Matt's success over the years. Even so, for a spot in Hell's Kitchen, it definitely wasn't bad.

Turning the corner, Peter found the man himself.

"I would knock, but I'm guessing you probably heard me two blocks away," he said.

"Three," Matt replied, "and I actually smelled you before I heard you. Got a date tonight or something?"

"Oh, my bad," Peter said, suddenly feeling dumb for not waiting until AFTER he'd visited the guy with the super senses before running home and putting on some new cologne. "And yeah, I guess I do."

"Well, hopefully this doesn't eat into the timing of it tonight," Matt said, coming over and handing Peter a folder. He turned and opened it, finding information regarding plans for a major weapons deal going down that night in the docs.

"Wow," Peter said. "Fisk seems to be really stepping up his game; some of the stuff in they're planning on selling is stuff you normally don't see outside the military. Who did you get this out of?"

"One of Foggy's contacts, actually," Matt said. "He's been feeding him information over the last week or two. I would take care of it myself, but I've got to get to DC tonight."

"Wow," Peter remarked, closing the folder. "What's bringing you out to the capitol?"

"Also Fisk," Matt replied. "Karen's supposedly dug up something that might point to him attempting to gain some level of power there."

"Like, he's trying to run for president or something?" Peter questioned.

"I don't think so," Matt replied, still packing his stuff. "It's a little early to know for sure, but we think it has to do with some business dealings of his."

"Makes sense," Peter said. "Probably trying to find something on them to get import licenses for stuff like this."

"That's the theory," Matt replied, finally grabbing his bag. "Can I walk you out?"

"Sure," Peter agreed. The two of them then exited the office.

"I'm sorry again for springing this on you," Matt said as they began walking after the office was locked up.

"You don't need to apologize, man," he said. "It's what friends are for, and besides, you know I'm always down for anything that gets us one step closer to putting Ol' Moby Dick behind bars."

A snort of air escaped Matt's nostrils as he smiled.

"Well, just know I appreciate it," he assured Peter, "and also know that I'll be happy to cover for you when you get back in town in case tonight goes well."

"Thanks," Peter said. "Honestly, I have no idea what to expect going into it."

"Who are you seeing, if you don't mind my asking?" Matt questioned.

"Mary Jane Watson," Peter replied.

"The girl who went to Hollywood?" Matt asked. "Wow, she must have really not been able to get over you if she came back."

Peter huffed.

"I hope you're right," Peter said. "We haven't talked in so long; I just don't know how much she's changed over the last year or so."

"Well, I hope it works out for you," Matt said.

"Thanks, but also, why are we always talking about my love life?" Peter questioned. "Anything happening with you these days?"

"That's, uh... that's complicated," Matt replied.

"Hey, you're talking to a guy who once had a thing for a cat burglar," Peter reminded him.

"And you're talking to a guy who fell in love with an assassin," Matt countered.

"Touche," Peter acknowledged. "Okay, how about we say that we both made mistakes involving morally dubious females and call it even?"

Matt didn't respond, and something about his body language caused Peter to wonder...

"Unless there's some new developments between you and Elektra...?"

"It's nothing that can't wait until later," Matt replied as they stopped at a corner.

"Alright, but I'm going to hold you to that," Peter assured him.

"Good luck tonight, on both counts," Matt said.

"You too," Peter replied. He then extended his hand for Matt to shake, which he accepted, before the two men went their separate ways.

As he approached the office, Wesley began to hear a commotion coming from within. Unperturbed, he scanned his special access card outside the main door, the click of the lock signaling he was granted permission to enter. Opening the door, he could now see the source of the noise: his boss was having his daily sparring session. While it wasn't uncommon for one such as Wilson Fisk to have a hobby involving some kind of martial arts or another kind of fighting sport, his boss took things to another level by fighting more than one opponent.

More specifically, Six.

Moving over to the wall, Wesley simply stood there, his right hand resting over his left in front of him as he patiently waited to speak to his boss. He watched as the man moved with incredible speed and agility for one as large as he, taking down a man in front of him before immediately spinning around and striking one behind him, then to the side. The men he was pitting himself against were no slouches either, frequently getting back up and coming back despite clearly still feeling the impact of Fisk's blows. Wesley's boss didn't just pick people off the street; he liked to go against the best, because he wanted to BE the best.

Eventually, the timer for the session went off, with Fisk and his opponents both immediately ceasing the fight.

"Thank you, gentleman," Fisk spoke up. "My secretary will make sure you get your regular pay on the way out."

The men then gathered their things, some of them moving much slower than others, with many struggling to walk without looking as though they might collapse at any second. Meanwhile, Wesley's boss appeared hardly out of breath as he approached him.

"Another good sparring match, sir?" he asked.

"Productive, yes," as Fisk grabbed his drink, taking several sips. "I trust you have news?"

"I wanted to say that everything is in order for tonight," the man dutifully replied.

"Would that happen to include our contractor to deal with our pest control problem?" Fisk questioned as he wiped the sweat from his face with a towel.

"Yes sir," Wesley assured him. "I just got off the phone with him; he is in town and ready."

"Good," Fisk replied, throwing the towel over his shoulders. "Spider-Man and Daredevil are the greatest threats to our operation; in fact, they have been working overtime to bring me down the last couple of years. We need to meet them with equal ferocity."

"If our new contractor lives up to his reputation, I'm sure that we have nothing to worry about," Wesley replied before turning away to take his leave.

"Mr. Wesley."

The man paused, turning back around to face his boss.

"You seemed surprisingly dismissive, just now," Fisk said. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No sir," he replied.

"Come now, James," Fisk spoke up, walking over to the man. "I've always appreciated you because you are one who speaks your mind, but respectfully so. Do not stop now."

Wesley looked his boss straight in the eye; he knew Fisk was right.

"I'm simply confused on why we are bringing in outside help to handle this problem instead of dealing with it in house," he explained.

"Oh?" Fisk questioned. "And why is that?"

"Let us say, for instance, that he succeeds in neutralizing our problem," Wesley proposed. "Our operations begin running better than ever before without their interference... until someone else rises up to take their place. We then will just have to hire them or someone else again and again, when, if we have someone already in house to handle it, we can tackle matters such as these more efficiently."

Fisk glanced to the side for a moment, appearing to consider his argument.

"You bring up fair points, Mr. Wesley," the man finally replied, "and, while I do believe nature abhors a vacuum, I also believe that no one else like our current opposition will rise to challenge us. Do you know why I say this?"

"No sir," Wesley admitted.

Fisk then turned towards the side window of the office, walking over towards it.

"Look," he commanded, "look out into the city. Look to the ground below us, for instance, and tell me what you see."

Wesley obliged his boss, walking over and staring down at the ground several stories below them. While it was difficult to see things in much detail, there was one thing that stood out like a sore thumb.

"I see busyness."

"Exactly," Fisk replied, "but, more than that, most people tend to desire nothing more than to acquire what they believe to be theirs. That is why they are so busy, Mr. Wesley: because they are chasing something. Money, power, the very things we are after as well. Even those I have met through various charity events are not the kind of people who would give if it didn't mean a tax write-off and good PR for them."

Fisk then glanced back out into the city, his face scrunching slightly as his gaze narrowed in anger.

"But Spider-Man, Daredevil... they are a different breed entirely," he continued, "especially Spider-Man. He fights, he protects this city from those who would destroy it, yet he is slandered by the media and gains not a cent for his troubles. Instead of basking in the spotlight, he hides his true identity; I couldn't understand why at first, but over time, I've come to realize what is likely the reason: to protect those closest to him."

Fisk then turned and looked back at Wesley.

"That is why I am not concerned about others rising up such as them, Mr. Wesley. Our opposition is the rarest breed of human: the one that seeks neither fame nor fortune, but the good of all people, even those who would despise them. Most of the others of their kind are too busy tackling much larger threats to our planet, and therefore cannot be preoccupied with us. As such, given the rarity and the incredible ability our opponents possess to survive, I believe that it is worth paying more in the short term for what will likely be long term benefit. Does this make sense, Mr. Wesley?"

All the man could do was nod and reply:

"Yes sir."

"Good," he said, "but know this: though they are indeed our greatest threats, they are not our ONLY threats, and many of them will work with your idea. But those two..."

Wesley observed as his boss's fist clenched tightly.

"...those two pieces must be removed from the board, by any means necessary."

Arriving at the entrance to Central Park, Peter immediately proceeded onto the trail. Though he and M.J. hadn't set a specific meeting point, if history was any indication, he had a pretty good idea of where she might be. As he neared the likely meeting spot, he could feel his heartbeat pick up. He was equally excited and terrified of actually having a legitimate date with Mary Jane again. She'd seemed happy to see him when they'd run into each other earlier that day, but how would a much more extended time together play out? Would she still be the same person after over a year in Hollywood? Was HE even the same person over a year later? Was he wearing too much cologne?

Pausing his walking, Peter took a moment to compose himself, taking in a breath of the spring air and letting it back out.

"Easy, Parker," he thought to himself. "Don't overthink it; just try and enjoy the evening."

Granted, he knew he was 100% still going to overthink it, but whatever.

Proceeding further, he finally came to his destination: a bench not too deep into the park. However, to his surprise, he saw no sign of Mary Jane, his heart sinking somewhat as a result. Was she somewhere else, or had she skipped out on him? No, that couldn't be it... could it?

"I'm sorry!"

Peter spun around, seeing Mary Jane running up towards him.

"I'm sorry; I know, I'm a little late; my audition ran longer than expected, and I still had to get home and get ready, but I made it!"

"Hey, it happens," Peter assured her, his mind at least settling back down now that he knew she hadn't flaked on him.

"I suppose you would know, given how chronically late you've been to our past little meet ups," she pointed out.

"That's fair," Peter conceded. "I guess I'm still owed at least a few. You look great, by the way!"

"Oh, thanks!" Mary Jane replied, glancing down at her newer looking shirt, pants and jacket. "Most of this is new, actually."

"Glad to see Hollywood hasn't changed your sense of style," Peter said.

"Never!" M.J. assured him as she gestured towards the park. "Shall we?"

"Sure," Peter said, the two of them setting out further into the park side by side. "So, tell me about your last year or so."

"Believe it or not, it wasn't as eventful as it sounds," M.J. replied. "The filming days were especially long, sometimes over fourteen hours, so I definitely kept busy."

"I managed to catch at least a few episodes," Peter replied.

"Oh, and what did you think?" M.J. questioned. "I know medical dramas weren't exactly a big thing in the Parker household."

"...You want my honest thoughts?" Peter asked after a brief hesitation.

"Was I terrible? M.J. asked.

"No, you were great!" Peter assured her. "Your castmates... let's just say they were hit or miss, at least for me. Like you said, it might just be that it's not my style. It just kind of got annoying how everyone always seemed at each other's throats, but I guess that's why they call it a drama."

"Hey, you gave it a chance!" M.J. replied. "It did help that I felt like they gave me probably the most likeable character on the show."

"The episode where you guys lost the older patient was especially good," Peter conceded. "The scene with you and the woman right before she died actually made me tear up a little bit."

"That was all her," Mary Jane said. "None of those tears I cried were fake; that woman practically convinced me that everything she was saying was real. She was so great to work with!"

"Sounds like you at least had a good time," Peter replied. "What about the rest of it? Did you find any popular spots that all the young up and coming actors hang out at?"

"Yeah," M.J. replied. "It was fun for a while, but... I don't know. It just wasn't for me."

"I see," Peter said, admittedly a bit surprised at her answer. "So... when are you going back?"

M.J. glanced down, appearing to consider her reply before finally speaking up.

"I'm not."

Peter abruptly stopped.

"What?" he questioned. "Why not?"

"I... I might have had a little disagreement with the producers," Mary Jane replied.

"What kind of disagreement?" Peter asked.

"They told me that I looked too 'fit'," M.J. replied, using air quotes with the last word. "They wanted me to lose some weight and look a little slimmer.

"What?" Peter said; he could feel his eyes seemingly doubling in size. "Are you serious? That's ridiculous!"

"I know, right?" Mary Jane concurred. "I'd heard a lot of stories about that kind of thing happening, but I guess I just thought that, since I'd made it onto the show, it must not have been a problem, but apparently I was wrong."

"That's insane," Peter replied, shaking his head. "Seriously, those people need to get their eyes checked, because they must not be seeing what I'm seeing!"

M.J. blushed a little, and Peter's heart briefly filled with pride, as the woman didn't do so often, if hardly at all.

"Thanks, Tiger," she said. "I think it all worked out for the best anyway; besides, I really missed the stage. Enough about me though; that's all we've been talking about since we got here! What's new in the life of my favorite nerd?"

Wow, her FAVORITE nerd?

"Oh, uh... not much, to be honest," Peter conceded as they resumed walking, his moment of pride dying down immediately at this realization. "Just, you know, trying to find a job still."

"I can't believe no one has hired you yet!" M.J. said. "I mean, you're the smartest person I know by A LOT, especially if the amount of fancy science words you use that I don't understand is any indication."

"Maybe I should put you down as a reference," Peter replied with a huff.

"Hey, never underestimate how persuasive I can be, Tiger!" M.J. encouraged him. "I'm sure you don't need me though; someone will find you out soon enough!"

"You sound like May," Peter replied.

"Well, she IS a pretty smart lady," Mary Jane pointed out.

"No arguments there!" Peter concurred. He glanced her way, her gaze meeting his after a moment.

"What?"

"It's just... it's nice to have you back," he said. "It's been hard, having you gone, Flash, Harry..."

"How is Harry doing anyway?" she questioned.

"He's doing a lot better," Peter replied. "It's taken him a long time, but if his letters are any indication, I think he might be finally turning a corner."

"I know you must miss him," Mary Jane replied. "I know that you two were really close; you were the last people I expected to be friends when I first met you both, but after a while I would have believed you if you told me that you two were long lost brothers."

"I do look forward to seeing him again," Peter said. "I'm just glad that Norman let me in on where he was staying so I could write to him."

"Norman Osborn is... something else, but he has his moments, I guess," M.J. said.

"Yeah," Peter concurred. "I guess so."

The two continued talking for the better part of the next couple of hours as they wandered through the park, stopping and getting some snacks from a vendor at one point. As the evening wore on, Peter found himself getting more relaxed around her. To think, he'd been so nervous that Hollywood had changed her, or at least made some of her tendencies Mary Jane had finally started to grow out of before she left return with a vengeance. Instead, she seemed as down to earth as ever, though still with the same energy and liveliness that had been her staple since the day they met.

After a while, they came over by a tree, opting to take a break from walking.

"Peter..." M.J. spoke up at one point. She looked down for a moment though, seemingly struggling to continue.

"Hey, what is it?" Peter asked her.

M.J. looked back up at him, smiling.

"About what you said earlier... I missed you too."

"Really?" Peter questioned, his tone both surprised and somewhat playful. "You missed little, boring old me?"

M.J. let out a light, closed-lipped chuckle.

"Yep, boring old you."

"I won't lie," Peter said, glancing down for a moment, "I thought about reaching out to you, but I... I think I'd just made up my mind that you were moving on with life, and you'd probably just end up forgetting about me anyway."

"Trust me, Tiger: you're not as forgettable as you seem to believe," Mary Jane assured him.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Peter replied. Their gaze met, neither one seemingly pulling away from the other one. His face slowly moved towards hers, and it almost seemed like she was coming closer as well. Peter's heart began to beat faster than it had all evening, time seemingly slowing to a crawl as they drew closer...

...until his phone went off, that is.

Peter pulled it out, seeing that it was a reminder about the deal Matt had tipped him off to. He only had ten minutes left until it was supposed to go down, and it was halfway across the city.

"Everything okay?" M.J. questioned.

"Oh!" Peter replied. "Um, it's a Bugle assignment that I forgotI had. Thank goodness for smartphones and calendar apps!"

"Oh, okay," M.J. replied, the dejection in her tone not escaping Peter's observation.

"Listen, I had a great time tonight though," he assured her. "Any chance we can meet again tomorrow?"

"I think I can squeeze you in," M.J. assured him. "Be careful out there."

"Okay, thanks M.J!" he replied as he turned and began jogging off. "See you soon!"

Hope you're enjoying it!

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

"Without wood a fire goes out; without a gossip a quarrel dies down." Proverbs 26:20