Slamming the instructions against his desk, Jonah ran his hands over his head and face in frustration. He'd been at this for over an hour but had made little to no progress in his assembly of what he'd hoped to be his new home broadcast studio. Of course, he just had to spring for the best stuff he could find; part of him had told himself to just get only the basics to get himself out there faster, but he'd never been able to do something that way. If top of the line stuff was out there, he just had to have it; he hadn't even realized how accustomed he'd become to having the best of the best around him in almost everything, and now he was paying the price.

Before he could properly reconsider whether this was even a worthwhile idea or not, the familiar ring of his doorbell rang in his ears. A mix of curiosity and concern came over him as he made his way out of his office room and to the front door. Cautiously approaching, he took a peek out through the small peek spot in his door, and was surprised to find none other than Randy Robertson, Robbie's twenty-year-old son. He then swiftly unlocked and opened the door.

"Randy?"

"Yes sir," he said. "I, uh, I guess it's been a little while, hasn't it?"

"It has," Jonah concurred; there was a feeling in the air between them that, though the source was obvious, he couldn't put a name to. It seemed like a mix of awkwardness, grief and frustration, but he wasn't sure how much of any of those things was directed at him. He then recognized that a few moments had passed without a word either way, so Jonah spoke up again.

"You want to come in?"

"Thanks," Randy replied as he stepped into the home, but not before scraping his shoes off on the mat in the front. It was a little thing, but it was a reminder of how his father had raised him right.

"Listen, Randy," Jonah spoke up as he shut the door, turning back to his guest, "we both know what brought you here, so, if I may, I would like to say two things."

Randy silently nodded, prompting him to continue.

"First, I just want to say that I'm sorry," he said. "Your dad... he offered to come with me that day, but I told him that I needed him there. If I'd accepted his offer, maybe..."

"Respectfully, sir, there's plenty of blame to go around," Randy interrupted. Jonah narrowed his eyes towards him in sympathetic curiosity, causing the young man to avert his eyes for a moment before continuing: "You see, we, uh... my dad was actually planning to ask off that day, but he and I... we got into an argument. It was stupid, something I never should have gotten upset over, but I was just having a bad day, and..."

The young man then shut his eyes, clearly fighting back tears. Jonah placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, which seemed to help Randy to settle. He then turned back to his host.

"Look, Mr. Jameson, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you're probably trying to do something to bring down the people who killed my dad and everyone else. I'm here because I want to do the same."

"I can't let you do that, son," Jonah initially refuted. "The people I'm going after, they're powerful, and I don't want you..."

"Spare me the 'not ending up like my father speech', Mr. Jameson!" Randy snapped. He quickly shut his eyes, letting out a breath as he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I know what kind of people you're talking about; one thing I'll say about dad is he never sugarcoated the dangers of some of the people the Bugle went up against. But I'm tired of just sitting at home and doing nothing but missing him. Ma is struggling too, but she's trying to find something for herself to do too, something useful to others that would honor the way my dad lived his life, and she encouraged me to do the same. This is how I want to do that. Please, sir."

Jonah let out a sigh as he glanced back in the direction of his home office for a moment before turning back to his guest.

"Well, have you been learning anything at that fancy school of yours about broadcast setup?"

"Some, yes sir," Randy confirmed. "I also help my roommate with his podcast sometimes."

"Well then," Jonah replied, "it looks like you just found yourself some work. Come with me."

Landing on a building corner high above most of the city, Peter crouched down, his fingers pressed lightly against the cool concrete of the fall evening. For several moments, he just stared out into the city, scanning the area. He saw exactly what he'd seen for the last few weeks now: no Goblin at all.

Letting out a sigh, Peter tapped the earpiece in his mask, checking the police radio broadcast he'd hopped onto. There was mild chatter about basic stuff, but nothing that indicated the presence of any flying psychopaths in Halloween costumes. His phone then dinged, so he took it out to find that it was Jonah's latest podcast that had just gone live a few moments ago.

"Great," Peter thought. "I wonder what my number one fan has to say this time..."

Tapping play, he listened.

"Folks, it's been over three weeks now since the last known sighting of the figure known as the Green Goblin. My sources at the police precincts have said that finding him remains their top priority, but they have no solid leads on a location. Yet, we've seen Spider-Man almost non-stop over the last several days, with reports ranging from sunrise to well after sunset. Now, many of you are probably thinking that he's also trying to track down the monster that destroyed our city, and frankly, I'm inclined to agree."

Peter could feel his eyes widen in surprise; day after day, Jonah had been jumping on the airwaves and coming down harder on him than ever. This didn't exactly come as a surprise to him in the aftermath of the Bugle's destruction, but still, his words, though shockingly composed in tone, were as deadly and spiteful as ever. Could it be that time had changed his perception?

"Don't mishear me, folks: I DO NOT think Spider-Man is innocent in all this," Jonah continued. "Anyone of you listening by now knows this. However, whereas I once would've insisted that he simply turned himself in, I have changed my stance: he SHOULD hunt down the Goblin and bring him to justice. Why? Simple: because he OWES us that much. His rivalry with that flying lunatic has led to what can only be described as the single greatest loss of life in our beloved city in more than twenty years. Even before this, his constant egging on of these other masked monsters had caused enough damage, but now, because of this sad, pathetic contest of masculinity, many are now afraid to leave their homes and go to the store or send their kids to school. Frankly, I can't blame them."

Peter signed, his head now hanging low.

"Spider-Man, if you're listening to this, hear me now: stop that monster. Bring him to justice in whatever way you need to, then, for all our sakes, please, turn yourself in, or at least don't bother to show your masked face around this great city ever again. Haven't we suffered enough?"

Unable to take anymore, Peter shut his phone off.

"I'm not sure why you're listening to that."

Putting his phone away, Peter didn't even bother to look back at Matt as he responded.

"Is he wrong though?"

His horn headed ally then came up to his side.

"Look at this place, Matt," Peter continued, gesturing out towards the city. "People ARE afraid. If a high-end building in the heart of one of the busiest places in this city could go down, a place that most people would have considered safe, what's to stop anywhere else from receiving the same treatment?"

"Look at yourself, Peter," Matt spoke up. "You're running yourself ragged, swinging around from sunup to sundown, tearing apart the underworld chasing any lead you can. I can hear your heartbeat; the difference is faint, but it's not as strong as it was even ten days ago. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep, or at least had a proper meal?"

"Believe me, once this is all over, I'm going to sleep long enough to give a hibernating bear a run for its money," Peter assured him, "but not before then. Even if Jonah is wrong, I haven't heard from M.J. in weeks, which means that the Goblin likely has her, probably May too. They're counting on me, Matt."

"And you'll be no good to them if you continue to run around like this," Matt insisted. "You're playing right into the Goblin's hands, and I have a feeling you know that already."

Peter sighed, glancing out into the city. His friend wasn't wrong; he'd had a seemingly constant hunger in the pit of his stomach making itself known for several days, and it was only getting worse. A couple of times in the night the last two days, he'd caught himself nearly drifting off mid web swing, so he'd pulled over and taken a power nap on the roof or crevice of the nearest building. He'd never felt this worn down before, and his body was letting him know it.

"What am I supposed to do?" he questioned as he stood to his feet. "Every second that I waste doing literally anything else could be when he finally decides he's going to kill someone else I love, maybe everyone."

"He's playing a game with you," Matt said, "and something tells me that he wants you to see whatever it is he has in mind for them, or maybe vice versa."

Peter really hoped Matt was right; it made good, logical sense from what he knew of the Goblin, but after what had happened to the Bugle and Harry, he felt like he didn't really know anything anymore.

"Have you managed to get ahold of Johnny yet?" Matt questioned.

"No; they're all still in Latveria trying to help in some 'international crisis,' which basically means they're trying to keep Doom from frying some pour souls out of existence or something."

"Then that just means it's up to us," Matt replied. "Well, us and Fireheart. I still can't believe what you told me about him being your boss after trying to kill you."

"Me neither," Peter concurred, "but he's been doing everything he can too, but hasn't seen any sight of the Goblin either. I don't get it; the three of us have checked EVERYWHERE in this city. What are we missing?"

"Maybe he's moving around to keep himself from being discovered until he wants to be," Matt replied. "But Peter, it's almost dark. Go home, grab some food, and get some sleep."

"No way," Peter said. "I'll..."

"You'll only get yourself killed otherwise," Matt countered. "Seriously, go. I'll keep a look out for any sightings or clues."

Peter sighed; he detested the thought of abandoning the search, but maybe at least a little rest wouldn't hurt.

"Call me if you find anything," he said. "I'll be back out here before sunrise."

"I will," Matt said. "Promise."

Sighing, Peter hesitated a moment before finally letting himself drop off the side of the roof, firing a web and swinging off.

"Alright," he thought to himself, "get some food, set an alarm to get up after four hours. Set ten of them if you have to, but you're getting back out there as soon as possible, and you're going to find them."

"This is J. Jonah Jameson, signing off for..."

He was cut off before the phone rang. It was a special phone he'd gotten that was specifically for the podcast itself for people to call in and share their thoughts. Randy had actually suggested it as a means of helping him truly connect to the city during this difficult time. Speaking of the younger Robertson, Jonah glanced at him and then back at the phone. He wasn't accustomed to answering this late in his broadcasts, but he figured there was no harm in answering before signing off.

"Pardon me, folks, it seems we have one last caller for the evening," Jonah replied. He then tapped the answer button, enabling it to speak directly to his audience as well.

"Hello, Jonah," came the voice of the Goblin. Jonah's hair stood up on end and his blood grew hot as he apprehensively locked eyes with Randy. "My my, I must say that I expected you would do something like this, but you have certainly exceeded my expectations, my friend!"

"Listen, you flying psychopath," Jonah spoke up, fighting to settle his rapid heartbeat as he continued, "this is your one warning: turn yourself in before you're finally caught by the authorities. After what you've done to this city, you're public enemy number one now, and there's no telling what will happen when they find you."

"HAHAHAHA!" the Goblin laughed loudly. "The authorities? My friend, soon, I will be the only authority in this city! But don't worry, I actually called because I have a story for you, Jonah, one that is guaranteed to blow your socks off, as they say!"

"I'm not interested in any story you have to offer accept your arrest and death sentence," Jonah insisted.

"Oh, but I think you will be interested in this one," the Goblin assured him. "It's something you've been after for a long time."

"What?" Jonah questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry, all your questions will be answered soon," the Goblin assured him. "Oh, and don't worry, I intend to make sure your faithful listeners are tuned in as well. As for you, some of my, well, representatives should be there in any second to escort you to the story of your life..."

Suddenly, the sound of the front door slamming open could be heard, and within seconds, several men in goblin masks entered the room, immediately grabbing both Jonah and Randy.

"No!" Jonah shouted. "It's me you want; leave him out of this!"

"You should have thought of that before you involved him, old man!" replied the thug gripping him from behind by his shoulders. "Now, move it!"

Hope you're still enjoying it! The next two chapters are huge, so be ready!

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

"Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring." Proverbs 27:1