"Wow, Tiger; you'd actually be a half-decent actor if you ever decided to try it!"

"Nah, you're just saying that," Peter asserted. "Besides, I'm pretty sure anything that was good there was just because you were pulling it out of me."

"I do like to think I help bring out the best in my castmates," M.J. replied.

"And I can't wait to see you do just that Monday night," Peter said. He then went over, grabbing his glass of water off the counter and taking a few sips.

"What is it?"

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, removing his glass from his lips.

"The look in your eyes combined with your tensed shoulders tells me that something is on your mind," his girlfriend explained. "Spill, Tiger."

Letting out a sigh through his nostrils, Peter set his drink back down.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just... I went to see Norman Osborn earlier."

"O-kay," M.J. said, her confused tone indicating he should clarify something.

"No, I mean as Spider-Man."

"Oh," M.J. said, her eyes widening a little more this time. "What for?"

"It's Oscorp that's behind some of the weapons the goons I've fought recently are using," Peter explained. "I don't technically have proof, but I've seen what his toys look like up close and personal before."

"So, what, you thought he'd just confess?" M.J. questioned. "I know I'm not the expert like you are, but isn't deny all accusations corporate overlord 101?"

"I went there to see if I could convince him to let me help," Peter clarified. "When I got there, my suspicions were all but confirmed by the nature of the phone call I found Norman handling. I tried to persuade him to let me help, but he wouldn't listen, and... there was something about the look he gave me before I left..."

"A look as in a Goblin kind of look?" M.J. asked.

"I don't know... maybe," Peter conceded. "I ducked out immediately after that; I didn't want to do any more damage to Norman's psyche than I might have already."

"Okay," M.J. said, her mind clearly trying to process all of this even as she strolled over to him. "I mean, if you really did bring the Goblin back, don't you think he would have come after you already?"

"Norman's other half may be completely insane, but he's still smart," Peter pointed out. "For all I know, maybe he's back at the mansion hatching an elaborate plan that ends in my demise."

"Or, maybe he's just back overworking himself like usual?" Mary Jane suggested. "Maybe the call you overheard, even if it was who you thought it was, just stressed Norman out a little?"

"There's that too, I guess," Peter reasoned. "It's just... the Green Goblin is the only supervillain who knows my true identity, M.J. I've been lucky ever since the last time we fought that Harry's dad lost his memory of his Halloween-inspired alter ego, but there's hardly been a day that's gone by where I've been bracing myself for him to come back."

"Well, why don't you call Harry?" Mary Jane suggested. "He's probably at least seen his dad today, maybe he could tell you?"

"How am I supposed to ask him without making him wonder why I'm asking about his dad?" Peter questioned. His girlfriend paused, seemingly contemplating her answer before her eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had just gone off over her head.

"Actually, I think I'll just call him."

"What?" Peter questioned as he observed his girlfriend grabbing her phone. "M.J, wait..."

She shushed him as she dialed Harry's number, their friend answering after a couple of rings.

"Hey, Mary Jane. What's going on?"

"I just wanted to check and see if both you and your dad were coming to the play on Monday still?"

"What?" Harry questioned. "Dad hasn't said anything to me about going."

"Huh, that's strange," M.J. said, Peter's heart pounding with anxiety as the conversation continued. "When we were all over there the other day, he said that he was planning on coming. Anyway, I need to know how many tickets to make sure and have saved, so can you ask him please?"

Peter mouthed the word no to her repeatedly, but again she waived him off as they waited for an answer. After several seconds that felt like an eternity, their friend finally spoke up again.

"He says that he doesn't think he can make it; some big business he has to take care of."

"Ah, too bad," M.J. said. "Hey, did he seem okay? From the way you talked recently, he sounded like he maybe wasn't quite himself."

Peter had to fight from palming his face as his girlfriend's straightforward probing.

"Actually, when I went in there just now, he seemed surprisingly... happy," Harry explained. "Really, he looked better than I've seen him in a long time. I guess that means business is good."

"Oh, cool," M.J. said. "Hopefully that means you guys can finally work things out!"

"We'll see," Harry said. "I'm still trying not to get my hopes up."

"You never know," M.J. replied. "Thanks, Harry; see you Monday!"

She then hung up.

"See?" she said as she looked Peter straight in the eyes. "I can improv a little. Anyway, Norman Osborn is supposedly HAPPY for a change. What do you make of that?"

"I don't know," Peter replied. "Maybe I'm just overthinking this whole thing."

"Maybe," M.J. said. "I understand where you're coming from, and I would never want to stop you from doing your due diligence, but don't be afraid to consider the idea that maybe not every scary look or stressful moment is leading to some doomsday scenario."

"Wow, do you even know me at all?" Peter questioned half-jokingly.

"No, I know you too well," M.J. said. "You've got a lot on your mind already, Tiger, between dealing with this Kingpin guy and trying to save the world in other ways. I guess I'm just saying to make sure that you really have something to worry about before adding one more thing to that busy mind of yours, okay?"

Peter sighed.

"Yes ma'am. You're probably right anyway."

"I usually am," M.J. playfully assured him.

"You know," Peter spoke up, changing the subject, "I forgot to mention at lunch that I think I might have accidentally friend zoned one of my coworkers."

M.J.'s eyes REALLY widened this time, her mouth dropping.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, her body seemingly holding back a burst of laughter.

"Hey, come on now!" Peter said. "I know that I can be a little... aloof when it comes to your half of the species sometimes, but... I don't know, there was just something about the way Deb reacted when I told her the picture on my desk was of my girlfriend, not my sister."

"Well, that's too bad for her," M.J. said, rubbing Peter's arm.

"Yeah, but I still walked out of the building feeling like I just kicked a lost puppy or something," Peter replied.

"Aww, so she's like a female version of you!" M.J. teased, prompting Peter to narrow his gaze at her. "I'm messing with you, Tiger... mostly."

Peter just shook his head, letting out a huff.

"I haven't interacted with Deb much, but she seems really sweet," Peter said. "I don't think you have anything to worry about with her now that she knows about you."

"She better not, or she's going to face the wrath of Mary Jane Watson!" his girlfriend assured him.

"Man, I hope I'm never the one on the other end of that," Peter teased.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Tiger," M.J. replied. "You're doing just fine so far. Now, how about we go back over the first page again; I want to make sure I get that monologue just right."

"You got it," Peter agreed.

As building after building passed him by, Wesley's mind wandered as he gazed out into the city. He kept questioning how he'd fallen so far from where he used to be; he'd once been the Kingpin's right-hand man, the one who enacted the will of the most powerful person in New York City. Whenever Fisk had given a command, he'd usually been the one to ensure it was carried out. Wesley had been the most trusted man in Fisk's inner circle, if not the ONLY man in Fisk's inner circle.

Now, after everything that had happened with Hobie Brown and, of course, Spider-Man, he was a far cry from any of that. Sure, he'd technically been cleared of wrongdoing, but he was now being watched by multiple government agencies that were just waiting for any opportunity to pounce and perhaps even bring more serious charges on him. As a result, Fisk had all but exiled him from his criminal enterprise, even ceasing his payments indefinitely to ensure no money trails were left to find. As a result, he was cut off from the only means of taking care of himself that he'd known for many years. He had enough to manage for the time being, but it was only a matter of time before that ran out.

Indeed, how the mighty could fall.

His taxi pulling over at the street of his apartment building, he paid the man for his service before getting out of the vehicle and heading up the building and coming to his apartment. Turning the key and opening the door, he removed his jacket, gently setting it on the rack to his right. Going over his selection of drinks, he chose his favorite wine, pouring himself about three quarters of a glass. Wesley was not an avid drinker, only allowing himself the occasional drink either to celebrate something or to cheer himself up, but never more than a full glass if even that. The man prided himself on controlling as much in his life as possible, whether it was his emotions, his finances, and most certainly what he allowed into his body.

Strolling over to the window, Wesley gazed out into the city, taking a sip of his wine. As he had every night since he'd been dismissed from the court room, he began to ponder how he might be able to get himself back into the Kingpin's good graces. Many nights had passed him by without any results thus far, but he was a patient man who believed in the value of persistence. To him, there was nothing that could outrun or defeat time, which he believed to be in his favor rather than the feds.

However, he became distracted from his thoughts when he heard a beeping noise. It sounded almost like the ticking of an electronic clock, but not quite the same. He tried to follow the noise, glancing around the room as he sought the source of the sound. Just when he thought he was closing in on wherever the noise was coming from, the beeping stopped, causing Wesley to do the same. He was now holding his breath, the sudden silence seemingly deafening him as his heart rate began to speed up in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. Suddenly, purple gas shot into the room all around him. The man covered his mouth as he began to cough. Wesley tried to force his way through the mist that was rapidly filling up the apartment and to his door, but quickly collapsed to the ground, his will and consciousness slowly vanishing from him until darkness overtook his eyes.

When consciousness had finally returned to him, the environment around him was much darker than before. He tried to stir but was unable to do so, discovering his arms and legs to be bound by chains. He glanced around still more, searching for any sign of who had taken him captive.

"Oh good, look who's finally awake!"

Wesley's eyes shot to the right, where out of the shadows emerged a man dressed in what appeared to be half Halloween costume and half military grade armor, the individual sporting a horrifying mask that somehow was just as expressive as if it were a real face. Then, it clicked.

"You're... you're the Green Goblin," he stammered out as the figure approached him.

"My my, how perceptive you are!" the Goblin expressed with an almost disturbing amount of glee. "That's good; perhaps that can save us a lot of time here, as well as you your life."

"What are you talking about?" Wesley questioned. "Why am I here?"

Instead of answering right away, the Goblin licked his gloved pointer finger on his left hand, holding it up as if he were a golfer feeling the direction of the wind.

"Do you feel that, James?" the man finally asked. "The winds of the underworld are changing. Indeed, this city will soon belong to me, and guess what? YOU get to be the lucky one to kick it off!"

As the fog in his brain continued to clear, Wesley came to understand exactly the answer he was looking for.

"Not going to happen, freak."

"Oh, Jamie boy, that's hurtful!" the Goblin lamented, though Wesley wasn't convinced he was even the faintest bit insulted. "And besides, I'd hoped we'd be able to use tonight as the start of a beautiful working relationship!"

"You really think I would betray you to the Kingpin so easily?" Wesley questioned.

"Don't you mean Wilson Fisk?" the Goblin questioned. "See, I already know the face of the man behind the curtain if you will, James. All I need from you is something, shall we say, concrete, that can begin the end of the reign of the Kingpin of Crime and usher in a new era in the New York underworld."

"Let me make something very clear to you: you're wasting your time," Wesley insisted. "I am loyal to the Kingpin, and even if I wasn't, whatever you could think to do to me, he would do a thousand times worse to anyone who turned on him. Besides, you really think the criminals of this city are going to respect a man dressed like some Halloween freak?"

Again, the Goblin didn't answer right away, instead offering Wesley a smile that made even him suddenly feel a little queasy, though he made a point not to show it on the outside. His captor then raised his hand, gesturing with his finger in their direction. In response, several men emerged from the shadows, all in Goblin-style masks. Soon, ten total men had surrounded him, coming alongside their apparent leader.

"You'd be surprised how many criminals in this town recognize opportunity, my friend," the Goblin spoke up, leaning down closer to Wesley. "And as for what I can do to you, well..."

The Goblin then came around to where Wesley's hands were tied, taking hold of his middle finger on his right hand, gripping it tight enough to make the man grimace.

"Let's have a small demonstration, shall we?"

Hope you're enjoying it!

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

"For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it." Matthew 16:25