After M.J. shut the door to her house, Peter immediately turned and left, struggling to restrain himself from breaking into an all-out sprint as he searched for an isolated spot where he could change into Spider-Man. He'd hated having to cut things short again with her, but his spider sense had indicated to him that they were being watched back at the coffee shop up until they had gotten on the subway. Since whoever it was had likely seen who he was with, it made the most sense to him to get her out of danger and back home before tackling his mysterious pursuer, who he suspected was the same person/creature he'd fought the night prior.

As he traversed the blocks of the Queens neighborhood, Peter eventually spotted an old warehouse, picking up his pace as he headed over to it. Gaining entrance through a hole in the wall, he made sure there was no one inside before he began his transformation into Spider-Man again, slipping on his mask. Unfortunately, this was all he proved to have time for, as his spider sense went off sharply. He leaned back, narrowly avoiding a lunging strike from his attacker. He straightened up to see that it was indeed the puma-looking creature from the night before. How had it put the pieces together and figured out who he was?

Peter's opponent rose to its feet.

"How did you know I was following you?"

"My super sense of smell," Peter teased, removing his flannel shirt. "Also, since you can talk after all, you mind telling me why you're after me in the first place?"

"Someone simply paid me very well to kill you," the creature stated point blank.

"Glad to know Willy still cares that much," Peter replied, taking an educated guess. "While we're on the subject, how about we sit down and talk about why he's bad to do business with?"

The man, creature, thing (he still couldn't decide) simply growled and began sprinting towards him. He took several swings at Peter, his claws several times coming within less than an inch of Peter's body. He fought to stay a step ahead of his opponent this time though. Whoever this was, they knew his identity now, or had at least seen his face. Even worse, they had seen him with M.J, which meant she could now potentially end up in the crosshairs of all this. That was something Peter wasn't going to allow to happen; it didn't matter how his enemy found out, he wasn't going to let him hurt her, no matter what it took.

Finding an opportunity, he finally retaliated, striking his opponent square in his chin, causing him to stagger back. Peter then proceeded to lie into him, landing several blows to his enemy's face and body. It wasn't long before his opponent struck back however, stopping his fist and flinging him straight into some old crates, sending him crashing to the ground. Sensing his opponent already making their way towards him, Peter forced himself to his feet in a hurry, just in time to see his attacker lunging at him once more with his large claws. He leapt up into the rafters, his enemy quickly joining him.

"Look, about the groomer thing... I was just trying to make conversation," Peter quipped. "I mean, it was before I even knew for certain that you could talk!"

The man seemed to be having none of it, leaping after him again. Peter flipped into the air, webbing his opponent and pulling himself towards them, delivering a powerful driving kick with both feet that slammed his enemy into the concrete floor below them. He leapt backward, firing several webs as he landed about ten feet away, pinning his opponent. The man struggled against it, his animalistic side coming out as he roared in frustration. After a moment, however, he managed to get his claws into the webbing and began tearing apart. Peter tried to web him up again, but he managed to break away and circle around, coming after him even faster than his enhanced reflexes were ready for, resulting in him getting pinned.

"One thing about me, Spider-Man: I never fail to live up to my contract," the man said as Peter was on the verge of gasping for air.

"Well," he forced out, "there's a first time for everything!"

Managing to tuck his legs under his enemy just enough, Peter delivered another powerful kick to send him flying into the air. Springing to his feet, he fired two webs, yanking his opponent down hard into the floor, the man's quick reflexes just barely saving him from hitting the concrete floor face first. Peter wasted no time though, quickly pinning the man's feet to the ground just as he stood up before once more blitzing him with several blows. The man tried to strike back, but Peter's spider sense managed to keep him just ahead of any blows his opponent attempted to counter with. Eventually, he delivered an uppercut so powerful that it forced his enemy into the air, a chunk of the floor still webbed to each foot. He then performed a devastating spin kick that landed squarely into his opponent's midsection, sending him flying and crashing into some old machinery that had been left behind.

Hoping this would finally seal the deal, Peter webbed at the upper part of the machinery, pulling hard and bringing it down on his attacker, seemingly pinning him beneath the resulting debris. He gave it a moment, anticipating his enemy to somehow emerge from this as well. After a few moments of silence though, Peter finally allowed himself to accept his victory. He turned around, took out his phone and dialed 911 to deliver an anonymous tip. With any luck, Damage Control would be out to assist the police in apprehending this guy, and he'd go away for a long time.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'd like to report a..."

Peter's spider sense suddenly went off, and he turned to find that his opponent had indeed escaped his trappings after all, somehow hardly making a sound too. He managed to duck just in time to avoid another lunge, his opponent in turn crashing into a large power box that was on the wall, his claws accidentally sinking into it. In seconds, a devastating surge of electricity coursed through the creature's body, causing him to roar out in pain before being blasted all the way to the other side of the room, tumbling on the ground until he stopped in a pitiful heap.

Running over to the creature, Peter slowed up as he drew near, not wanting to be fooled by his opponent playing possum. His spider sense gave him no warning though, so he dared to get down on his knees, putting his fingers to the creature's neck to check for a pulse. He was greeted with nothing, so he quickly checked his wrist as well, only to once again be met with no pulse. Peter then rolled the creature from his side to his back before putting his hands to his chest, beginning CPR. After the first thirty compressions, he checked for a pulse, but found nothing.

"Come on," he muttered, resuming compressions. No matter what he had seen or what he had done, Peter couldn't let him die if he could at all help it. That wasn't who he was.

"Come on!" he said a little louder as he continued. He checked once more for a pulse, only to yet again be met with nothing. He then resumed compressions once more, and had made it to ten when, suddenly, his opponent gasped for air before almost immediately clutching at his chest. After a moment, he looked up at Peter, confusion written all over his yellow eyes that seemed more human than they had to this point.

"You... you saved my life?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Peter replied. The man didn't look like he was planning to fight, but his body naturally tensed up anyway, just in case.

After a couple more breaths, the creature spoke up again.

"Why?"

Peter took just a moment to contemplate his answer before replying.

"Because that's not who I am."

The creature looked off to the side, still trying to regain his full bearings. Sirens could then be heard closing in on their location; Peter realized that they must have traced the 911 call he'd made to their location. He turned back around after momentarily glancing in the direction of the sound, only to find his opponent having disappeared once more.

"Seriously?" he whined. With the sirens drawing in closer, Peter realized there was nothing else he could do now, so he grabbed his flannel shirt and quickly took his leave before the cops arrived, making his way to a higher spot in the area. As the police began canvasing the building, Peter looked around but saw no sign of his attacker.

"Great," he muttered. Now that he knew who he really was, the creature could attack him at any time he desired. Granted, Peter did save the man's life, and it almost had seemed as if something in his mind had shifted, but even so, that was far from any kind of assurance to him that his opponent wouldn't come after him again.

All he could do was try and be ready if he did and hope that was enough, for Mary Jane's sake most of all.

Wilson Fisk gently set the page he was examining back on his desk before grabbing the next one. He liked to personally review any major new contract his companies were negotiating for as much as possible; though he delegated where necessary, he believed it best to see things like this for himself. He was a man who would compromise as little as possible, and he wanted his business dealings to reflect that.

He'd just gotten started on the next page when his phone rang. Seeing that it was Wesley, he tapped the answer button, setting it to speaker.

"Yes, Mr. Wesley?"

"Our client who was supposed to handle our pest control problem has backed out of his deal," the man stated directly.

"What do you mean, 'backed out'?" Fisk questioned, trying to hide his sudden frustration in his tone.

"He transferred back his down payment and spoke to me, saying that he will no longer fight Spider-Man," Wesley explained. "Apparently, he saved his life, and now he feels that he owes Spider-Man a debt. He hung up before I could get in a response, and he won't answer his phone again."

Fisk shut his eyes, his fists clenching tightly as they rested on his desk. There was nothing, NOTHING that he hated more than losing control. Who was this person to think that they could back out of a deal with him? How soft could they be if they were going to simply give up just because...

Fisk sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He'd dealt with anger issues for most of his life, and it had taken a great deal of training to get it under control, or at least something close to it. He'd recently sought to cultivate a mentality that such outbursts were beneath a man like him, as he sought to be master over everything else in his life. Yet, even now, it was proving easier said than done, but he repeated his breathing exercise, the rage and adrenaline gradually returning to their proper levels.

"Thank you for informing me, Mr. Wesley."

"Shall I begin looking for new potential contractors?" his right-hand man asked.

"Not yet," Fisk replied. "We need to shift our focus, for the moment. One of ours is getting ready to be released on probation tomorrow morning. I wish for you to greet him and bring him back into the fold."

"And how would you like me to proceed should he refuse our offer?" the man asked.

"Remind him of his predicament," Fisk ordered. "If he still refuses, we will take him to mean that he doesn't believe us, and we will show him."

"Very good, Mr. Fisk," Wesley replied.

Hobie looked skyward, shut his eyes and took a deep sniff of the air around him. It had been a little over two years, but the day had finally come: he was soon to be a free man once again. He then strolled over to the exit gate, stopping as he waited for the processing aspect to be completed. He glanced across the gate where, sure enough, there was his girlfriend, Mindy, eagerly waiting for him. She was the one person who hadn't tossed him to the side when he'd been busted and thrown in jail; she'd visited him regularly, and frankly, if it weren't for her, he likely wouldn't feel as positive as he did despite his forthcoming freedom.

Finally, the buzzing sound occurred, and the gate slid open. The boundary between him and the rest of the world now removed, he stepped forward, strolling across the way. Mindy came over to meet him, and he dropped his things to take her in his arms, the woman returning the gesture. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to take in her sweet scent and the warmth of her embrace.

"Thank you," he said as they finally separated, though they were still in each other's arms.

"You did all the hard work to get off for good behavior," he said. "I am so proud of you."

"And I intend for you to stay that way," he said as they began walking together. "I'm going to get a real job, Mindy. I'm going to make real, earnest money, and I'm going to earn a life for us the right way, even if I have to start from the bottom! I know it won't be easy, but I'm going to do it for us."

"Any ideas where you intend to start your search?" Mindy asked.

"Not yet," Hobie replied, "but, first thing in the morning, I'm going to look at every business I can find for engineering jobs. I got hands that are ready to work, babe!"

The two then made it out to Mindy's car, got in and began the drive downtown.

"Also, thanks for helping me get set up with a place," he said gratefully.

"It's not much," she replied.

"I'll take it an extended closet space over a jail cell any day of the week!" he assured her. "It'll be nice just to have a place to call my own again."

"It took some real convincing," Mindy informed him.

"Good thing you're the persuasive type who doesn't take no for an answer," Hobie pointed out. They then enjoyed some lighter, pleasant conversation before they finally arrived at the place. Mindy led him inside, where he signed the lease and got the keys to the apartment. They then went up to it, where he inserted the key, turned it and pushed open the door. Stepping inside, he took a big whiff of it.

"You smell that, babe?" he asked. "It smells like a new beginning!"

"I would agree."

Hobie's head turned sharply in the direction of the voice, finding an all too familiar man leaning against the wall. He then came up to him.

"Happy to see that freedom agrees with you so far, Mr. Brown."

"Hobie, who is this?" Mindy asked.

"I'm simply an old friend," the man replied.

"You're no friend of mine, Wesley," Hobie remarked. "Now, how about you take a hike and leave me in peace?"

"What, a man can't offer to help another man who needs it?" Wesley asked.

"Offer?" Hobie questioned, not liking where this seemed to be going. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll surely need work," Wesley pointed out, "especially if you are to marry this fine young woman here."

"I would sooner salt the fries at McDonald's than work for you," Hobie replied. "No, I'm going to make my own way in this world from now on, Wesley, and I'm going to do it right!"

"I admire your resolve, young man," Wesley seemingly commended him, "but may I remind you how difficult it is for one in your position to acquire a job? You are a gifted young man, but when they look at you, they won't see your talent or your potential; they will only see your record, and that's all that will matter to them."

"I don't expect anything to be given to me," Hobie replied. "I know that I will have to work for everything I will get, but make no mistake, I will succeed in this life, and it won't be by siding with trash like you. Now, I've just signed this nice piece of paper called a lease, which means that this is now my apartment, Mr. Wesley. Therefore, I decide who comes and goes, and I say that you are no longer welcome here, so if you can just take your offer with you out that door there, it would save us a lot of trouble."

Wesley just smirked; it was something that had always bothered Hobie in his interactions with the man. He always seemed like he knew best, and nothing appeared to faze him.

"Just know that, should you change your mind, my invitation still stands," Wesley replied. "In the meantime, good luck on your job hunt, Mr. Brown."

The man then strolled to the door, grabbing the handle but turning back to him one more time.

"You're going to need it."

Hope you're still enjoying it!

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

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Matthew 5:43-44