Reaching over and grabbing his phone, Peter swiped down, finally ceasing the annoying but necessary sound it had been emitting for the last several seconds. He put his hands to his face, letting out a heavy sigh. He'd stayed out later than he'd intended to with Mary Jane last night, finally dropping her off at her apartment at almost two in the morning. Part of him wrestled with the idea of just rolling over and sleeping for another couple of hours or so. After all, it was Saturday, and he didn't have anything concretely planned. Therefore, he could always go to the lab in the afternoon for a while if he wished.

That was when his late uncle's words came to mind; not THE words, but some of many little nuggets of wisdom he'd offered over the years:

"Remember, Peter: early to rise means early to success as well."

They were words that he'd done his best to live by, even if begrudgingly at times, but had struggled to follow through on for significant periods of his life. There was always some excuse, usually one that pertained to his primary-colored alter ego, but this was something he knew that he needed to heed Ben's advice on. The earlier he got there, the more time that he would have to make sure that he got things as prepped and ready as possible; he could troubleshoot and be ready come Monday for anything that might come his way.

Realizing he needed to make his body commit to what his mind was telling him, Peter finally threw the covers off himself, sliding his feet off and onto the floor. He then got up, went over and picked out some clothes to wear; since he wasn't likely to be around much of anyone there, he figured some basic jeans and a T-shirt would suffice, naturally fitting his Spider-Man suit underneath. Once he'd combed his hair and ensured his scent would be acceptable to the public, Peter stuffed his pockets with the basic necessities before heading out the door.

Part of him had considered swinging over and changing near the building, but the commute from his place wasn't far from his apartment, so he opted to walk. It was a gorgeous day outside, and besides, he was going in on his own time instead of trying to punch a clock, so he figured he might as well enjoy it. Also, he enjoyed occasionally slowing down enough to observe the various sights and sounds of the city; there was something about the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, seeing street vendors selling everything from food to homemade goods and seeing the many different types of individuals heading to who-knew-where that just made the place feel like home to him.

Eventually, after soaking up plenty of sights and sounds (he'd seen a man with his kid selling homemade sock puppets of all things, which he'd promptly contributed to of course), Peter finally arrived at the Fireheart Research Facility. Pulling out his badge, the light turned from red to green, allowing him to let himself in the front entrance. From there, he opted for the elevator this time as he ascended to his floor, emerging just in front of his area. Scanning himself in once more, Peter grabbed and threw on his lab coat, going around and acquiring all the equipment he needed.

From there, he was finally able to proceed.

Wiping off his hands, Peter hurried out the door, intent on getting back to his work. He'd spent the last three hours working almost exclusively on maximizing the efficiency of the device's solar intake, and he was almost at the point where he'd felt good about it when he finally decided he couldn't hold it in anymore. On top of that, his body was also starting to let him know that he hadn't eaten anything yet that day, which would be bad enough for a normal adult, much less one with his insane metabolism. Mary Jane had texted him and seemed to have deduced the same, having offered to meet him for lunch soon.

Man, seriously, what would he do without...

Peter stopped in his tracks, his train of thought interrupted when he saw what appeared to be Debra Whitman examining his work. He could only see her backside from the angle he was at, but he could tell she was pouring over his work quite intently. His spider sense wasn't giving him any indication of foul play or ill intentions though, so he allowed himself to relax a little as he opened the door back into his section of the lab.

"Deb?"

The girl spun around, her eyes widening in terror as she appeared caught red handed.

"Peter!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry; I was passing by on my way back to my station when I saw you here, and I was just curious about your work, and, you know, we're scientists, so I figured it would be okay if I..."

"Deb," Peter spoke up.

"Mm?" she questioned, pursing her lips.

"You're not in trouble," he assured her.

"Really?" she asked, her shoulders dropping a bit as she seemed to relax.

"Here," Peter said as he came back over to his station. "Let me show you what I'm working on." He then proceeded to dive into his project in full detail, from sharing the theories he had studied and experimented with to how the device would draw in solar energy and transfer the power in a more efficient manner than conventional means. As he did, the woman interjected a few times, posing interesting questions and even offering a couple of her own thoughts on the matter, which Peter admittedly found helpful as he wrapped up what he'd intended to do for the day.

"Wow," she finally said after he'd laid it out there for her. "This could be a really, really huge thing!"

"That's the hope," Peter said. "The big thing I'm still trying to figure out is what kind of materials I could use in order to make it lower in cost, so that it doesn't only go on to power buildings like this. I want this to end up in as many homes, hospitals, schools, and community centers as possible, because it could save places so much money than what the current cost for electricity!"

"I'll bet!" Deb said, seemingly sharing in his enthusiasm. "I have to say, this is really incredible, you know, what you're doing here. It's... it's nice to meet someone who wants to use science for other people, not just themselves."

"Same here," Peter assured her. "Most people I know are total psycho... they just want to exploit what they know for their own gain."

Woo, that was a close one!

"Yeah," Deb said, nodding. She then glanced over, her gaze falling in a particular direction. Peter followed where it was, observing that it had landed on the pictures he'd set at his work station of him and his loved ones.

"I didn't know we were allowed to have personal stuff like this here?" she questioned.

"I mean, I never heard or read anything that said we couldn't," Peter replied with a shrug as he strolled over next to her. "Anyway, this one is of me and my Aunt May. Her and my Uncle Ben basically raised me after my parents died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Deb replied sincerely.

"Me too," Peter said. "I'm just grateful that I still had them. The guy next to it is my best friend from college, Harry."

"Wait, like, Harry Osborn?" Deb questioned.

"Yep," Peter replied.

"Wow," Deb said. "You don't seem like the type to end up friends with... I just mean..."

"I know what you mean," Peter said, gracefully reassuring her. "Harry's different than most."

Deb nodded before turning to the last picture.

"Oh... who's this?" she asked. "A sister, maybe?"

"Hardly," Peter said, taking the picture of him and M.J. in his hand. "This is my girlfriend, Mary Jane. She's the best."

"I see," Deb said, her tone seemingly a little fallen. "That's nice."

An awkward feeling came over Peter; had he just accidentally friendzoned this girl without realizing it? I mean, if he did, it would have had to happen at some point he supposed but he still felt kind of bad, like he'd just kicked a puppy or something. The feeling growing rapidly, he quickly spoke up.

"You know, I think I'm going to close up shop here."

"Right, me too!" Deb said. "So... I'll see you Monday, I guess?"

"That's the plan," Peter replied. "Wish me luck!"

"Oh yeah, good luck!" she assured him.

Flipping and dodging out of the way, Peter managed to stay just ahead of the halo of gunfire coming his way.

"Seriously, why are you guys taking this out on me?" he quipped. "Blame the guy who mailed the party invitations to the wrong address!"

Sensing his opportunity, Peter seized the moment, leaping directly above the fray. Maintaining his narrow lead over the gunfire, he fired a few webs, managing to snag most of the guns away from the hands of the criminal gang, tossing them aside.

"Alright, now that those are out of the way..."

Peter then lunged forward, closing in on the group before any of them could react and began to take them down one at a time, staying in between people so as not to allow an opportunity for the few who did still have their guns to use them for fear of accidentally hitting one of their own. Though some of them managed to at least come at him with crowbars and other such weapons, he ultimately dispatched them all without hardly breaking a sweat, soon wrapping them up to leave for the police. However, before he could finish the job, his spider sense went off, and he flipped sideways, narrowly avoiding the ensuing explosion.

Turning around, Peter saw his new enemy: a large brute of a man that sported a heavy-looking armor and a large mini-gun, a rocket launcher having been discarded on the side.

"Sorry pal, I'm afraid there's only room for one party crasher!"

The man simply aimed his large gun towards him, the center beginning to spin rapidly. Working quickly, Peter took off, running along the side of a wall as more gunfire was unloaded right behind him. Leaping into the air, he fired a web that stuck to the man's upper face, blinding him. His enemy now having ceased his firing in favor of trying pointlessly to remove the sticky substance from his face, Peter then landed in front of him. Pulling the mini gun away with a web, he then reared his leg back, kicking the large metal object and driving it square into the man's face hard enough to send him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

"Man," Peter thought to himself, "I need to remember to thank M.J. for making sure I ate, because I needed tha..."

His thought process was interrupted when his eyes fell to the armor his latest opponent had been wearing.

"Wait a minute..."

Squatting down, Peter took hold of the armor and removed one of the sections of it, holding it up and examining it closer. He then made a fist, giving a couple gentle but firm taps, the impacts producing a light echo noise each time. This meant that it was a titanium alloy, a kind particularly fashioned to be as light as possible for flexibility while maintaining its protective, bulletproof capabilities. While many weapons and tech conglomerates could fashion such armor, there was one in particular that Peter knew for sure had done so before; it was the one he'd suspected, but the last one he hoped it would be.

Discarding the armor, Peter fired a web, heading for a place he hoped he wouldn't regret: the Osborn mansion. He hated the thought of confronting Norman as Spider-Man, but right now, he didn't see another choice, even as his mind kept coming up with reasons he should turn back and find another course of action. If what he suspected was true though, the elder Osborn could perhaps be the key to helping ensure Fisk finally got what was coming to him. He just hoped that he could have a nice, easy discussion with the man without bringing out his more... troublesome side.

Finally coming upon the Osborn estate, Peter landed above the window to where Norman's home office was. Even before he crawled down to look inside, he could hear yelling going on, and when he did peak inside, he found Norman on the phone with someone, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. Sliding the window open gently, Peter let himself in, the man inside seemingly too distracted to notice.

"I SAID I'LL FIX IT, ALRIGHT? NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Norman then ended the call, slamming the phone down on the table. Peter tried to give the man a chance to at least compose himself before finally deciding to introduce himself.

"I presume I don't need five guesses to know who that was."

The man shot up, clearly having been greatly startled by the intrusion. Peter dropped to the floor, holding his hands out.

"Don't worry: I come in peace," he tried to assure the man.

"What are you doing here?" Norman questioned, still seeming incredibly agitated and nervous.

"I know Oscorp is behind some of the weapons and armor I've been seeing out on the streets recently," Peter explained, "and I'm guessing you're not just having a gangland giveaway of the stuff just for fun, either."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Norman explained. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"I know Fisk is involved," Peter persisted, causing Norman to stop, the man's back now to him.

"I'm not here to turn you in," Peter clarified. "I just want to help you."

"I can take care of myself," Norman insisted, still not looking his way. "Now get out!"

"Norman..."

"I SAID GET OUT!" Norman yelled, spinning around. He had a wide-eyed, almost crazed look in his eyes that caused Peter to take a step back. Deciding enough was enough, he leapt back onto the window, firing a web and swinging off before he could make things any worse than they already were.

Staring out the window Spider-Man had just left, Norman then reached up, wiping off a sudden barrage of sweat from his forehead. His breathing had become incredibly labored, so he left his office, making his way down the hall until he ended up in the master bedroom. Heading straight for the bathroom, he turned on the cool water, holding his hands out and splashing it onto his face repeatedly. Once he felt sufficiently cooled down and at least a little more relaxed, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face off.

Then he looked in the mirror... and saw HIM.

Norman staggered back, dropping the towel at the sight of the Goblin before him.

"You..."

"That's right, it's me, Norman," the Goblin replied from seemingly the other side of the mirror... or was it in his own head? He couldn't seem to tell.

"Please, leave me alone!" Norman said. "Why must you torment me like this!?"

"I am not the one you should be worried about, Norman!" the Goblin explained. "It's THEM you should be worried about: Kingpin, Spider-Man..."

"No!" Norman said. "I... I remember now... you made us fight him, when all he wanted to do, all he still wants to do is help us!"

"Did he help you by dressing up in spandex, parading in the streets while your son was FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE!?" the Goblin replied harshly.

"No," Norman said. "Please, my son, Harry..."

"Harry needs a father who's willing to stand up to the likes of Kingpin and Spider-Man!" the Goblin reasoned. "Who won't be afraid to take matters into his own hands and actually USE the resources at his disposal! I can do that for you, Norman; I can make all your enemies go away... if you'll just let me out..."

"No..." Norman said, turning away from the mirror. He shut his eyes, clutching his head. "Leave me alone!" Instead of doing so, the voice grew louder, seemingly coming at him from everywhere. It grew louder, the voice mixing more and more with a growing laughter. Soon, it felt as though Norman was cornered, the world seemingly caving in around him... until there was nothing left...

... except a man replaced by a Goblin.

Hope you enjoy it!

Continuing to pray for you; stay safe and healthy!

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." Psalm 91:1