A/N 1: Oh, hey! I finally found my login! And… wow, that's a lot of support! Didn't realize this story had gotten so popular! Well, let me keep you all no longer!

Issue Fifteen: A Man of Wealth and Taste

"This is Daily Bugle News!" the announcer declared as the broadcast began, the letters 'DBN,' appearing next to a bugle on the screen. The image quickly shifted to a portrait of a brown-eyed brunette. "With Anchorwoman Betty Brant!"

"And a man who needs no introduction…" Despite the opening line, the video played a full rotating upper body shot of an older man with a flattop haircut and a toothbrush mustache with an almost reverent fanfare. "Two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and New York Times Bestselling Author of the Novel, Picking Your Mind: The Charles Xavier Story, J. Jonah Jameson as your favorite Anchorman!"

After the opening, the video switched to Betty and Jameson behind a desk with DBN in big red letters behind them. "Good evening, New York!" Jameson barked out.

"Welcome to Daily Bugle News!" Betty smiled beautifully at the camera. "I'm your anchorwoman-"

"Now, Betty," Jameson cut in. "They know who we are. We don't need to introduce ourselves. They saw the opening blurb."

"Oh, right," Betty's smile slipped from confidence into embarrassment. "Good point, Mr. Jameson."

"It's alright. Happens to the best of us. Now!" Jameson turned toward the camera. "Here's J. Jonah J. with some breaking news stories, for all you out there ready to hear the truth!"

A small window appeared next to Jameson's head with a picture of a Rager lunging out. 'Rager at the Baxter!' was the message under it. "Today, we have a follow-up on a previous headline from earlier this week," Jonah began. "For those of you who need a refresher, last month the brouhaha that started at the Baxter Building spilled out into the fine streets of Manhattan."

"Due to the increase of those afflicted," Betty picked up, "The NYPD has permitted news networks to reveal more information about those events. When police arrived on the scene of the home of the Storm Thinktank, they were assaulted by many of the party-goers, though these assailants later claimed they have no memory of what happened that night."

"Furthermore!" Jameson added. "One of these rogue young men was able to evade the police barricade of the Baxter, and make it all the way to Times Square! Now, footage was uploaded online of what happened that night, but due to rather graphic and horrifying imagery, we here at DBN feel it better to explain the scene instead of showing it."

"Upon reaching Times Square," Betty explained, "the young man bit or scratched several people, including tourists and a few police officers on the scene. While there were no fatalities, due to unusual symptoms, those caught up in the attack have been isolated for public safety until it can be confirmed if they are contagious."

"And what horrific symptoms too!" Jameson cut in. "Loss of taste, loss of skin pigmentation, and their hair slowly going white, and more pronounced blood vessels in the eyes! Whatever's got into them, I'll sleep better knowing it's not flooding the streets and causing mass panic… except that is what is happening!"

"Not entirely, Mr. Jameson," Betty countered. "However, there have been more attacks that resemble what happened at Times Square and the Baxter since that night. The NYPD released a statement this past Wednesday that explains what their plans are moving forward. The conference went viral online for an entirely different reason."

The scene cut to a video clip midway through with Captain Stacy on screen. "-we are aware of the recent attacks and the after-effects of both victims and attackers. As of last night, expert clinicians and pharmacists have concluded that all directly involved in any attacks are stable and asymptomatic. In layman's terms, the Mayor's Office is keeping the city open and sees no reason to lock down the city-"

"Liars!" A voice from off-camera interrupted Captain Stacy; reporters and eventually the camera turned toward the new speaker – a man dressed in tactical gear and a face mask, with several others marching behind in the same gear. "This isn't some common illness! It's those mutants! Infecting the One True Race with their ungodly curses! This is God's Punishment! If we are to survive, we must-!"

It wasn't clear what the man thought everyone must do because by then a wave of blue fell on him and his friends. As police began carting off the ranting men, their leader yelled, "Stand up, New York! Open your eyes! Before it's too-!" And then the feed died, once again cutting off the raving zealot.

Cutting back to the studio, Betty said, "The men in the video you just saw go by the collective title of Purifiers. If that name sounds familiar, it's because they were a popular religious group in the late 1960s, the very height of many civil rights movements, like the Mutant-Human Unity Pact led by Professor Charles Xavier-"

"A fine man, he was!" Jameson added. "Marching with him was one of the greatest moments of my life. You can read more about it in my bestseller, Picking Your Mind, and if you apply a-" Jameson looked off to the side, as he cupped the ear holding his mic. "What's that? A promo code!? Such a weird generation – Ahem! Apply promo code BRUSHHEAD on my website for a 25% markdown of the price, shipping and handling not included."

"Er, Mr. Jameson?" Betty cleared her throat. "The headline?"

"Hm? Oh, right! Yes, the Purifiers! I remember those bible-thumping whack-jobs! Those closeted deviants are no better than the goose-steppers good ol' Captain America punched way back when! Burning crosses in front of people's houses, marching through the streets with crucified straw-men of Xavier – those nut-jobs should have been forgotten like disco and decent gas prices!"

"While the Purifiers haven't been active in some decades," Betty said, not even acknowledging Jameson's ramblings, "there are a few small sects noted in the world, like the small chapter rooted right here in New York. More of a gang than the group of great influence they once were, they have been causing more riots and property damage than anything else. City officials advise all citizens to avoid Purifiers, whether it's a single one or a large gathering of them."

"But back to our main story," Jameson picked up, "to combat what NYPD believes to be a drug-related matter, thanks to an anonymous tip, Police Commissioner Castle has appointed a Special Tactics Unit to handle these Ragers and track down all potheads that are overdosing for their pleasure, putting all of us in pain."

"Onto a story with a happy ending," Betty smiled beautifully as the graphic changed to… a sketched image of Sirius in his full Spider-Man outfit and crouched on a web. "We have new information about the destruction of Goliath National Bank's Main Street branch and the individual that eye-witnesses have begun to nickname 'The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.'"

Clips played back to back as the anchor talked over it. The first was of Spider-Man as he lifted the rubble to free the kid. The second was of the same thing from a different angle, but the third showed him handing the kid off to his parents and even caught the moment the kid waved to the teen. His glance down made him look bashful.

"Not too long after Goliath collapsed," Betty said as the first clip played, "this masked volunteer jumped past police lines and found another survivor. Some of those recording the event also overheard police calling him Spider-Man, and his assistance has not gone unnoticed as he began trending on social media." By the time of the last clip, Betty let out a little giggle at Spidey's 'shy' reaction to the kid's gesture. "Although, I think most of it's because of how funny it is for someone that strong to act so humble."

"Oh, give me a break, people!" Jameson snapped, the camera following the new focus and switching back to the brush-stache. "Humble, my smoke-clouded lungs! That masked yahoo is no good Samaritan!"

"Mr. Jameson!" Betty looked at him in surprise. "He literally helped the police find a trapped child!"

"That's just it – the New York's Finest didn't need the help!" Jameson sniffed indignantly. "They were already in the area, and they would've found the young kid under the rebar eventually! Plus! Did you see how he lifted the rubble? No crane, no safety equipment except some goggles – just who does this police-interfering menace think he is!?"

"Well," Betty frowned a little, either unprepared to doubt her boss or she had no argument when he stated nothing that wasn't entirely false. "Speaking of the police, they found and caught the culprit of the Goliath's destruction. Herman Schultz, a mid-40s male who is no stranger to criminal negligence according to his now public and reactivated rap sheet, entered the bank carrying highly volatile devices that he used to rob the bank before tearing it down."

"Calling himself the Shocker, though that might just be some sustained head trauma," Jameson muttered the last part before speaking properly, "Schultz was tracked down by officers and cornered near the alleyway by his own apartment building. Arresting officer Yuri Watanabe said, 'This arrest is for everyone at Goliath who deserved justice,' while also thanking some 'guardian angel' for leading her to Schultz. I'd much rather thank Officer Watanabe for doing such a good job and finding this masked nut-job before he could take his shtick on the road!"

"When we come back," Betty chimed in, as Sirius watched the broadcast from the couch, "Fall is coming soon, and you might want to start dressing warm! Daily Bugle Fashion Corner has you covered. Next on DBN, right after these messages."

"Sirius, are you ready to go yet?" Liv's voice called from her bedroom. She came in the next second before Sirius could answer, wearing a modest blue slip-on dress skirt just below her knees. "You're not even dressed yet! Chop chop, young man! You know how busy traffic gets this late in the day…"

"Wow, you cleaned up!" Sirius complimented, an earnest smile on his face.

Olivia laughed at his blunt honesty. "Thanks for the compliment! Frankly, I'm surprised this still fits," she muttered more to herself. "Anyway, hurry up! We need to get going, we're late enough as is!"

Sirius nodded as he hurried to get dressed. It'd been a few days since his takedown of Shocker, and with Friday night hanging overhead, so too was Osborn's memorial dinner for Uncle Ben. Sirius had been mulling over Harry's request to talk to Norman all week and had gotten no closer to an answer or even an idea on how to broach the subject at a memorial dinner. As he re-tied his black tie for the seventh time ("Stupid-! Who invented these things!? Medieval torturers?"), Sirius once more thought on his attempts to come to an answer. Hanging upside down hadn't done anything, nor had doodling spider insignias for his costume jogged any juices.

Gwen had been busy all week – dress shopping, which Sirius hadn't believed at first, but after bending his arm behind his back was very convincing to how feminine Gwen could be – and Peter had been pouring over the blueprints of Shocker's gauntlet. Getting words out of him only earned a few hums and vague noises. 'I guess we're flying by the seat of our pants today, Sirius.' The teen inspected his recent tie job and just shrugged at how it was only a little lopsided. 'No closer to stopping the zombie apocalypse, or figuring out exactly why my mom and uncle hate each other – but hey! Let's also talk New York's biggest businessman out of an idea. A man known for never changing his mind and always getting what he wants. This is… this is fine.'

Stepping out of his room fully dressed in a black suit and tie, Sirius walked out into the living room where Liv gave him a once-over. "No lint, no wrinkles – great! Except… what happened to that tie?"

"It's a new fashion statement," Sirius joked. "In France, one side's supposed to be slightly bigger than the other."

Olivia laughed again. "Well, in the USA, we try to keep bow ties even. Try to fix it before we get to Osborn's party."

Sirius sighed theatrically as they left the apartment. "My mom can cut open a man in five seconds, but can't help her only son tie his tie."

In response, his parent gave him a critical eye, mischief in her expression. "What a coincidence. My son is quite the sketch artist, but his nimble fingers just don't have any dexterity to them." The pair laughed at each other's ribbing as they left the building.

One taxi ride (and five more failed attempts to retie that stupid accessory) later and the Moores found themselves on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in front of the swanky and very ritzy Atlas Towers. As they entered the lobby, they were welcomed with a "Liv, Sirius! Over here!"

"Evening, George. Hi, May." Olivia greeted the other two adults, their wards right next to them. Peter looked just as uncomfortable as Sirius felt, though he had on a dark blue tie instead of black, while Gwen… was wearing a peach-colored dress, and had even let her hair down, unconstrained from its usual hairband. However, Sirius had not noticed all of her outfit that second, as he was too busy trying to get over Gwen… without glasses. It changed her look completely, making her face look softer-

"Hello? Earth to Sirius?"

Sirius blinked at the expectant expression on Gwen's face. He tried to recall what had happened, but it seemed his heart and brain had both stopped working at the same time. 'Jesus freaking Christ, what the hell is wrong with me!? Gawking like a goober – she's gonna think I'm a dweeb! …And why do I care about that!?'

Gwen sighed, scrunching her nose up in a cute pout. ('What was that!? Did her nose always do that!? God, what is wrong with you, heart!? Chill the eff out!') "Yeah, yeah – I get it. I look weird without my glasses. It's Dad's chin – totally throws off my face, right?"

"No, I think you look great-!" There was an audible click as Sirius forced his mouth closed. 'Why did I say that!? I was thinking it, yeah… but that wasn't what I was going to say!' Sirius' face heated up as he scrambled to recover, looking everywhere but at Gwen. Laughing nervously, he said, "I-I mean you probably couldn't even tell, I bet! Being as blind as Peter, and all!"

Finally looking back at his best friend, he found she was glaring at him, ears as red as roses. "Urgh, you sticky gremlin…" Punching his shoulder with a little heat, she marched toward the elevator ahead of the group.

"Heh, was it something I said?" Sirius joked awkwardly, looking around at everyone's expressions.

Peter gave him a bemused look, while both George and May seemed stuck between stoic and amused. As for Olivia, she was outright laughing. "Oh, man! I – snort – I really need to have a talk with you about timing, Sirius!"

"Huh?" Sirius blinked, wondering if he'd missed something.

"Sirius," George piped up, "What happened to your tie?"

The teen looked at the knotted mess in frustration. "I have no idea what I'm even doing with this."

"Here, let me," May offered, fixing the dressing disaster easily. "First Ben, then Peter, now you. I swear, if you men are going to keep wearing these things, you could at least learn to tie them. Liv, why didn't you help him?"

"Don't know how," she shrugged. "Ask George. His tie looks fine."

"Actually," he scratched his cheek sheepishly, "This is my… work tie."

"A clip-on? Really?"

"Had to help Gwen with her hair. Didn't have enough time to tie one."

"Her hair?" Peter murmured as the group began walking over to the elevators. "Captain Stacy, you help Gwen with her hair?"

"Have been for years," the larger man chuckled. "She couldn't do a ponytail until she was 12."

"That's five years after we met!"

"I'm still here, ya know," Gwen scoffed from her position near the lift, arms still crossed even though she looked less offended. "And please no more stories, Dad."

"10-4," George smiled, earning some laughter and one daughter's small groan. After a quick elevator ride ("Norman Osborn hates wasting time so much, he had the elevators replaced with Stark Tech. Which is funny, because of how much he hates Tony Stark because-!" "Peter, dear. Please no rambling." "Sorry, Aunt May."), the group stepped out into the foyer of Osborn's private residence. Dressed in his own very expensive tuxedo, Harry was leaning on the wall; the minute Sirius and the others came out, he jumped off the wall and greeted them. His position coincidentally cut them off from going to the front door of the penthouse. "H-hey! Hi! Hello… everyone. So, welcome to… my home, yeah. Though, I guess… Pete and Gwen's been here before. And Mr. Stacy, that one time…"

"Good evening, dear," May said, a warm smile on her face. "It's so good to see you again."

"O-oh. Hey… Mrs. Parker-"

"No, none of that!" May softly scolded, hugging the antsy teen. "I know it's been a while, but you can still call me Aunt May, Harry."

"Um…" Harry's brain seemed to stall as the older woman hugged him. He looked like an abused puppy who had just been adopted.

May stepped back, smiling at the stunned teen. "I want to thank you and your father for this memorial dinner in Ben's name. Now, I know we never saw eye-to-eye with him usually, but this goes a long way to making amends."

"Yeah, the memorial…" Harry winced, "Actually, about that-"

"Welcome, everyone!" The door swung open, revealing the official host of tonight: Norman Osborn, with the exact million-watt smile Sirius had seen on the news. Coming over, he began shaking hands and greeting everyone. "Captain George Stacy, a pillar of our community, as if there was ever another."

"Hm," George responded, shaking firm enough that Sirius felt it. Norman didn't even seem to notice.

As Osborn got through everyone, Peter offering a quiet hum as greeting, he finally reached Olivia and Sirius. If the charismatic man was put off by Liv's appearance, like most people when meeting her for the first time, he covered it well as he shook her hand. "Dr. Olivia Moore, New York's very own Chief Medical Examiner! I've heard great things about you. It's a pleasure to meet someone so lovely and educated."

In response, Olivia smiled in a way that almost reminded Sirius of her first reaction to Ezekiel. "I've heard some things about you too," she said in clipped politeness. "Will Mrs. Osborn be joining us for dinner?"

"Unfortunately, Emily's not feeling well," Norman answered. "She's always been a sickly sort. But the show must go on." Finally, he turned his attention to Sirius, glancing him up and down as if he were an experiment on a lab table. It was quick, but Sirius' senses were sharper than a human's, and he caught it. Flashing that bright smile again, he offered his hand. "And you must be Sirius Moore, Harry's friend."

"Thank you for inviting us, sir." Trying to be polite about things, Sirius shook the man's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"The honor's mine, Sirius," Norman conceded. "Harry's a bit of a wallflower, despite my best efforts. Any friends he makes relieves this old heart of mine." Out of Norman's sight, but not Sirius' and maybe everyone else's, Harry flinched at the comment before stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking dejected. "But what are we all standing out here for? Come on! Everyone inside!"

As Norman walked over to the door, Harry saddled up to Sirius and the other teens. "Guys, I really need to warn you…"

"About what?" Peter whispered back. "Your dad seems fine tonight."

"More like his usual 'nice guy' persona for the cameras," Gwen pointed out.

"No, it's not him!" Harry tried to explain. "Well, actually it is him – it's always about him. But, no! What I mean is-!"

"Welcome to the top, my guests!" Opening the door, Norman led the group inside the penthouse… to see it was filled with way more people than anyone was expecting for a small affair. "Refreshments are over at the table," Norman said, either unaware or ignoring everyone's shocked and confused reactions. "It's an open bar, so order whatever you like! If you need me, I'll be around."

With that, Norman left the group to look around at the party, with only Harry to explain the situation. "I-I'm really sorry about all this! Dad… said it would be a memorial dinner! He said – or, I thought he said-!"

"Harry, you don't have to explain anything," May said, her pleasant tone contradicted by the icy stare following Norman's departure.

"This is what I expected of Osborn," George huffed, not looking even slightly surprised.

"I take it this is what we're usually expecting from Norman Osborn?" Liv ventured, earning both adults' attention. "I've never met the guy until tonight, so I would love some context."

George opened his mouth but May elbowed him; surprising even Peter, the swift hit was enough to earn a gasp from the hardened officer. "Children, why don't you go and enjoy yourselves? Us fuddy-duddies don't want to slow you down."

"Um, sure," Peter muttered, trading looks with the others before stepping away.

"Harry, what the hell?" Gwen asked heatedly, though said emotion wasn't directed at Harry. After leaving their respective guardians, the four traversed the crowd for the snack table. After grabbing some sodas and tiny sandwiches, Harry led his peers to a corner he assured them would remove the chance of eavesdropping. "How did a memorial dinner turn into a dinner party for a bunch of old rich guys?"

"And really small food?" Sirius said through a mouthful of egg salad. "I mean, it's good, but I was hoping for… what would do rich people eat?"

"Pheasant under glass, cavier, salmon sorbet, probably paired with some dry white wine from an Italian vineyard," Peter answered automatically. At everyone's questioning expressions, he added, "Aunt May watches a lot of soap operas."

"I have no idea what's going on, but it is big," Harry supplied. "I mean, look at all the guys around you."

"Why?" Sirius took a swig of his Coke before swallowing his meal. "Who are all these-"

"Oh my god," Peter gaped as he pointed to a well-groomed man with an olive complexion and slicked-back black hair. "That's Dario Agger! CEO of Roxxon!"

"Who?"

"They're one of the biggest oil companies in the world!" Peter explained. "But what's way more interesting is they have several dealings and contracts with Tony Stark! He's, like, the smartest guy in the world!"

"Bit of a man crush on Tony Stark, Pete?" Harry teased.

Blushing, Peter pushed at his nose as if readjusting glasses that were no longer there. "O-of course not! He's just number two on my idols list. I mean, he's found a way to turn electromagnetic energy into a power source and cracked A.I. when he was just sixteen!"

"He's also the biggest weapons dealer for the U.S. Military, and has been dubbed the 'Merchant of Death' by Time Magazine," Gwen muttered, earning a small flinch from Peter. Gwen looked ready to say more but paused when her eyes landed on a tall man with a square jaw and a hard look in his eye. "Holy crap, that's Castle!"

"Again, who?" Sirius piped up. "I don't know who these people are…"

"Frances Castle? He's the police commissioner of the NYPD," Gwen explained. "Dad's boss."

"He's… he looks pretty intense," Peter glanced at the unamused man, even as some young wife of one of the many guests seemed to flirt with him. He didn't even blink as she kept trying and failing to get a rise out of him.

"He should," Gwen adjusted her hairband as she continued. "I heard through other cop kids – that's what we call ourselves – that he did two tours in the Middle East. Got a Presidential Medal for Valor, or something like that. And instead of retiring, he comes back to Manhattan and joins the Police! Pretty sure that guy doesn't even sleep."

"And if you look out on the balcony," Harry pointed over through the glass doors on the other side of the large living room. "There's Max Modell, newer to the group of business moguls, but on the rise."

"I remember reading something about him," Peter mentioned. "A new company called… Horizon Labs, right?"

"And standing next to him is not as old, but not as new, is Alchemax's CEO-"

"Liz Allan!?" Gwen choked on her soda, coughing as she tried to recover. Sure enough, next to Max was another gentleman, and next to him was Liz Allan in a dark violet dress that looked expensive but conservative.

"Huh. So it is. But, no," Harry explained. "I meant the guy next to her. Wilson Allan. Guess that's Liz's dad…"

"How did we not know that Liz is related to the Alchemax CEO?" Peter gaped.

"…Do any of us talk to her?" Sirius pointed out.

"Right. Good point," Peter conceded before looking around at the party. "Geez, everyone here is some big mover and shaker in New York. This is… so crazy."

"Yeah," Harry huffed sourly as he sipped some sort kind of cinnamon-flavored soda. "If someone blew up the building right now, they'd do the entire city a service."

"Harry," Gwen began only to be stopped as several people gasped or stopped talking altogether as another guest came in. A big guest, standing way over six feet and built like a bomb shelter. Despite his width, it was evident to Sirius that he wasn't fat. He walked and held himself similarly to Ezekiel; with purpose and presence.

The domineering man looked around the room, an ornate wooden cane clutched in his huge hands, before smiling amenably. "Good evening, everyone. I hoped I haven't come too late to enjoy pleasant company and conversation."

As Norman began heading over, Harry sighed. "Welp, that's my cue. See you around, guys. Enjoy the party."

"Wait, where are you going?" Gwen asked.

"To be the perfect son," Harry spat out. "Or as near as I can get for Norman's tastes."

Heading over to the entryway, Harry fell in step with Norman, who greeted the large man with a handshake. "You've missed nothing, Mr. Fisk! The evening couldn't even start unless you're here!"

"How kind of you to say, Osborn," Fisk smiled, handing his coat to a servant. "But I don't want any special accommodations. I like to eat and drink the same food as everyone else."

"I suppose, then, I should tell the staff to re-cork that French port I had chilling for you?"

Fisk laughed at that, a booming sound that could have been a cannon shot. "As persuasive as ever, I see! Well, I would hate to impose after you went through the trouble. A few glasses wouldn't be turned away…" Seemingly losing interest, the party started again, no longer worried about the huge VIP Osborn had invited.

"Um, Peter?"

"Yes, Gwen?"

"Was that…?"

"Yep."

"So, that's Wilson Fisk?" Sirius said casually, earning him surprised looks. "Um, what?"

"Well, it's just…" Peter scratched his head. "You didn't know anyone we saw, we had to explain every time…"

"I've… took up a recent interest in learning about charities," Sirius half-admitted. After meeting his 'uncle,' he decided to look up F.E.A.S.T., and while they kept the identities of their workers secret, which was odd, everything Ezekiel said had been true. They had been based in Africa, and they had been locked in Europe when a war broke out. But beyond that… he only had his uncle's word to go on about his absence. From there, thinking about how little he knew or remembered about Major's community work, he began looking up all the other charities he could, especially any that would be in New York.

Snapping back to the present discussion, Sirius said, "Fisk Industries isn't primarily a charity, but they do have a work-study program for disenfranchised youth. Fisk owns the largest shipping company in the world. He's got his hands in everything coming in or going out of the city."

"With hands that big," Gwen retorted as she finished her soda, "I'd have them in everything, too." Putting her empty cup on a wooden table nearby, she grabbed Peter. "Alright, let's go!"

"Huh!?" Peter traded looks from Gwen to Sirius, who looked equally confused. "Go? Where!? Where are we going?"

"To talk to that Max Modell guy," Gwen smiled. "Peter, you're going to get your inventions patented, and I bet an up-and-starter can give you tips or help us out."

"But-but-but we don't know anything about him!"

"Oh, I will soon~" Gwen's smile didn't even shrink. "If I get a good read off of him, then we'll ask for more help. Maybe Osborn's little soiree can work in our favor after all. Sirius, you coming?"

"Oh! Well…" Sirius glanced over towards Osborn and Fisk as they entered what looked like Norman's office at a glance. Norman seemed to shoo Harry away, who looked both relieved and crestfallen. "I'll catch up with you guys later! I… need to use the bathroom."

"Try not to destroy this one," Gwen snarked, already dragging away a still-protesting Peter.

"That was one time!" Sirius sighed.

A/N 2: Yep, you get two notes. Groovy, yeah? So, yes, I'm still here- real life's been happening and I've been hanging on for dear life as it does. Apologies for the overdue chapter, I will try to not make it so a long wait next time. Easier done than said because this chapter had to be cut in half. In a few parallel timelines ahead of us, our hero and Osborn have already tangoed. In this timeline, I still need to edit that. Also, see if you can spot all the cameos! Fingers crossed a few of these guys might become relevant later. Until then, have a great day!