Author's Notes: Welcome my friends, to the highly awaited sequel to "We're Best Friends." This is the story I've been waiting to write for a long time now, and I'm so glad I got We're Best Friends finished so I can finally start the sequel!

Full of unique Spider-Gwen and Spider-Peter fluff, lots of well written action (My fans words, not mine!) and a plot a lot better developed than We're Best Friends.

So, Mysterio is the main villain for this story, and I wanted to take a real-world spin to him, since he doesn't actually have super powers, he's just incredibly smart and a genius when it comes to special effects and pyrotechnics, so hopefully I do this rendition justice!

I do not own Spiderman, Marvel does, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the start of "You're My Path!" -Dave

...

A clap of thunder roared high above the street, a singular puddle at the curb, rippling like a flexing mirror as heavy droplets of salty water fell from high above. As the Maelstrom enveloped Manhattan in a suffocating quilt of rain, disturbing the surface of the puddle, an unfolded copy of the Daily Bugle splashed into the water, headlines fading as wet ink leaked out of the once crisp lines. The photo of Spider-Man on the front page began to warp and blur as rain water soaked the paper, turning the Newspaper to a mushy paste, the red cross through the Hero leaking outwards into a feather-edged, bloody 'X'. The ink leaking headline simply read: "MANHATTAN'S MENACES OUT OF TIME. CITY AGREES, BRING SPIDERMAN AND SPIDERWOMAN TO JUSTICE!"

"Mayor! Mister Mayor! I have an important question to ask you!" A blonde haired woman asked above the rest of the crowd, stepping on the puddle soaked Newspaper, holding her microphone out desperately towards the towering stage at the steps of the Daily Bugle. Towards the Reporters under a writhing sea of black umbrellas, the Mayor nodded and held his hands out to try and suppress the other uproarious questions being hurled at him.

"Settle down everyone, one at a time! Yes young lady, your question?" The Mayor asked as he gripped the speaker's podium, rain falling to patter loudly and heavily across the umbrellas before him. The Reporter cleared her throat and looked up with bright blue eyes, a pleasant color in the otherwise dull and solemn mood that encased the grey city.

"It's been a year since the Green Goblin's Terrorist attack on Manhattan, where over thirteen hundred people lost their lives across New York to an airborne pathogen. The Goblin was killed at the close of the event, and the disgraced Dr Curtis Connors who was involved in engineering the "Cure"..." She formed sarcastic quote marks with her wagging fingers. "...was captured and locked back in Ravencroft where he belongs, but nothing seems to be being done in the operation to bring Spiderman and his female ally, Spiderwoman, to justice! Can you tell Channel Five News, exclusively, what's being done a year after the event, in finally unmasking and bringing the webslingers to justice?" she held out her microphone eagerly.

The Mayor smiled sadly and nodded to the podium, licking his lips and clearing his throat.

"Miss, I can assure you, I can assure everyone in Manhattan, that everything is being done to tackle and capture the wanted fugitives."

"They used to protect us!" A man roared from the somber crowd, followed by a bellow of agreeing cheers. The Mayor eased his palm to the man with a soft smile.

"I know, I know they did. There was a time where we believed him framed for working with the Goblin, after the photos surfaced of him...ahem, "negotiating" with the villain..." The Mayor scoffed, shuddering at a bang of thunder and crackle of lightning. "...But after the terrorist attack on Manhattan, where he and this new ally of his launched a second pathogen into the air we breathe? H-How can we not believe them a threat?" The Mayor scoffed as the crowd erupted in cheers.

"Superhumans aren't natural! They're more powerful than us, we don't feel safe with them running around out there!" A female voice cried from the umbrella covered crowd at the foot of the Daily Bugle building. The Mayor nodded somberly.

"I agree. These Vigilantes need to stand down and turn themselves in, and everyday they do not, they simply make it more obvious that they have plenty to hide!" The Mayor slammed his fist into the podium with passion. "The question we now need to ask ourselves is this: Do we need two of them? Do we need any of them?"

"None of em! Let the cops do their jobs like they did long before these freaks turned up!" The angry male crowd goer roared, once again followed by supporting whoops and cheers. "No more Spiderman! No more Spiderwoman!"

"We all feel the same way, young man." The Mayor sighed. "So, after much deliberation, the NYPD has forged a deal with Oscorp Industries, to provide Manhattan a safe and secure society!" The Mayor listened to the excited and confused murmurs within the umbrella covered crowd. He turned and gestured to the man stood to the left of the podium, huddled under a white Oscorp labelled umbrella. Dressed smartly in a black suit, slick and neatly trimmed hair and a rounded pair of glasses, He smiled across his square chin.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you mister Alistair Smythe!" The Mayor clapped, as the crowd slowly began to applaud. The Mayor shook Smythe's hand and stepped aside of the podium, under the umbrella his security held for him. Smythe collapsed his umbrella as he stepped up to the podium, gripping the stand and tapping the microphone. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you mister Mayor, much appreciated." Smythe smiled as he turned back to the crowd, flinching at a loud rumble of thunder. "Oscorp will be with you all one hundred percent of the way in tackling the crime in our city. I agree, the time and place for Vigilantes is no more! It's time to upgrade with the times, with the technology we now have at our disposal!"

"Mister Smythe, you work as the head of the mechanics and technology division at Oscorp, correct?" the same blonde haired Reporter spoke up with her curt tones. Alistair nodded. "What can Oscorp offer to the police department to help quell these vigilantes?"

Alistair chuckled and nodded over his shoulder. "I'm glad you asked that, Madam."

The crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps and murmurs as two humanoid chrome figures walked up with heavy mechanized steps, standing either side of Smythe, each shouldering Oscorp grade rifles to their titanium chest plates. Across their silver faceless faces, a long stripe of red light slid back and forth, scanning the crowd.

"These are my latest inventions, funded by Oscorp and given to the people to help bring peace and stability back to our precious city! We all want the Spider's gone, right?" Smythe asked with open arms to the crowd as they all nodded. "Mm, well these are my Spider-Slayers, a series of Drones manufactured to patrol the streets, not only for Spiderman and Spiderwoman, but to help people like the police would! Working alongside the NYPD, I can see this being the bright future for New York City." Smythe nodded proudly, patting the chrome shoulder of his emotionless robot. "Say hello to the first robotic police force!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and flashes of camera shutters. Smythe smiled and waved to the crowd as the cameras flashed, brightening the dull rainy day.

Stood on the nearby bright silver Chrysler Building, Red boots pressed atop one of the stone chiseled Eagle sculptures protruding from each corner, gloved fists curling and uncurling at his sides, Spiderman himself eavesdropped the conversation via his phone. As he listened to the radio broadcast of the event, His masked face tightened in exasperation. Rain doused his red and blue body, water running down the contours of his chest, dripping over the silver sculpted webbing patterns. He sighed and lowered his wide reflective lenses as his phone thrummed in his grip, interrupting the broadcast.

Gwen Xxx:

Hey, Bugboy. Chin up, OK? You're not alone, remember. I'll see u at noon. We've got a rough day ahead. :( X

Spiderman sighed and pressed his gloved fist to his temple, groaning beneath the cold and soaked Spandex. He nodded to himself with a heavy sigh, tapping a response into the rain drop splattered screen.

Yeah. No more funerals after today. Please. X

His phone vibrated in his grip straight away. His wide masked lenses looked down at the screen, thumb wiping the rain specks off of the now blurry words.

Gwen Xxx:

No more funerals, babe. I promise you that. Love you. Xxx

He shut his phone and tucked it into his pocket, leaping off of the tower and diving down towards the city silently, not a single cheer of adrenaline or screaming whoop. Spiderman wasn't in the mood.

He swung over the Mayor's event outside of the Daily Bugle, just out of sight as both of the Spider-Slayers looked up at the sky with scanning red lasers. Smythe clapped and stepped aside to shake the Mayor's hand as he took control of the podium again, the chrome Spider-Slayers dwarfing the man.

"These droids will patrol the streets every night! They will be by the NYPD every step of the way and unhackable under Alistair Smythe's control at Oscorp Tower! Forget the face of Spiderman as a savior, remove the graffiti of Spiders from our walls, stop looking to the sky for hope, when hope stands right here, at our doorstep!" The Mayor declared. The crowd cheered in agreement. "Welcome the world's first robotic police force to Manhattan as we tackle the problem of Spiderman and Spiderwoman together!"

The two Spider-Slayers slowly turned their heads to the crowds, emotionless steel faces scanning the crowd.

"It's time to ask the important question about superheroes! Do we need two of them? Do we need any of them?!"

...

THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN: YOU'RE MY PATH

Chapter One: Prologue: The Legend Ends

...

Guantanamo Bay: Inmate report:

Housing of World's extraordinarily dangerous persons:

Name: Q*****n B**k: Alternative Alias: Mysterio

Height: 5 ft, 11 in.

Weight: 175 lbs (79 kg)

Place of Birth: Riverside, California.

Age: 45

Crime: Convicted mastermind behind the Twelve million dollar Heist on Pacific Standard Bank. Worked in Special Effects and as a stunt man, mental disorders and troubled working life led to breakdown in Hollywood, killing over fifty cast and crew in Filming Lot Nineteen. Fled to Rio De Janeiro and sold his own crafted Hallucinogenic gas, under the Alias "Mysterio"

Took part in the massacre of Five hundred members of rival gang Comando Vermelho, taking their narcotic and weapons dealings.

Final analysis of Character: Mentally unstable. Unfit for real world. Q*****n B**k will never leave Guantanamo Bay.

Signed By General Thaddeus Ross.

"Thank you for signing the report, General Ross." The plucky and bright eyed receptionist smiled at the silver mustached man of his almost sixties. The square chinned man nodded curtly and adjusted his array of medals, before setting the pen down and turning from the counter, walking away with his General Cap tucked under his arm. He adjusted his tie with a pinch of his finger and thumb, clearing his throat.

Ross poked his thumb to a scanner on the door and let the machine thrum.

"General Ross approved. Have a good day, sir." The automated female voice announced across the room in an omnipotent voice. Ross cleared his throat into his fist and pressed the creases out of his green suit, readjusting his glimmering medal pins.

"Corporal Jones, What'd you find on him?" Ross asked loudly, startling the young man sat at the desk. He quickly spun the desk chair around and clambered to his feet, picking up messy stacks of creased paper. The chair spun across the room as the young soldier panted to the calm and collected General.

"N-Nothing sir." The young man's voice lifted in pitch as he cleared his throat with an audible click and swallow. Ross narrowed his eyes, firming his mustached upper lip.

"Nothing?"

"Well...Nothing of interest. All he had on him was smoke bombs." The young man - Jones - ran a trembling hand over his buzz cut blonde hair.

"Smoke bombs? You didn't think that was of interest?" Ross sighed, slapping his hat down and undoing his tight and choking collar's top button, tugging his tie down. Corporal Jones laughed nervously.

"Well sir, th-they were kid's smoke bombs, you know, the-the little ones you'd get from a toy store, or a kid's party."

"Alright. What d'we know about him?" Ross crossed his arms, looking through the thick bullet proof glass at the man in question, sat silently in his cell, staring at his own open tongued boots. Corporal Jones studied the calm and collected General, before gaping his lips.

"Name's Quentin Beck, used to be a special effects wizard and stunt man in Hollywood-"

"I know that, son. I read his report, damn well signed him off..." Ross paced up to the glass. "No. No, I want to know what sort of man he's become, not what he was."

Umm, well, h-he got into this life cos he preferred it, sir." Jones spoke, freezing under General Ross's confused and hard stare. Jones quickly licked his finger and thumb and rifled through the papers. "H-His psych evaluation only provides more evidence to back up the fact he had a mental breakdown a few years back, got sick of his dead end job and destroyed the film set, before vanishing."

"I know, I know, mid life crisis gone overboard. He's a monster without a face, just a glass mask mirroring your reflection back at you. No, I want to know who lies under that damn Dome. Why we can't take the damn thing off." Ross rubbed his chin and rested his arm across the glass, stone chiseled forehead resting on his sleeve. "I want to know what he's hiding, not what he gave up to us so willingly."

"Sir, i-if you want, you can talk with him. There's a speaker to the cell right here." Jones gestured to the panel. Ross stepped closer with a bemused expression, licking his lips, looking through the thick glass to the black tinted dome over the inmate's head.

"I'm sure a conversation couldn't hurt. Give him the old Ross "bad cop-bad cop" routine." The General depressed the button on the panel...

...

Rain fell from the grey sky in torrential downpours, the Manhattan horizon flashing bright white as a sharp vein of electricity carved down from the abyss above. A rumble of thunder broke the mourning silence, only a few sobs filling the air.

"Today, we finally gather to say goodbye to a loving Man. Harry Osborn sadly lost his life during the tragic events of the Goblin's reign over Manhattan. Can't believe it's been a year since." The gruff and gravelly voice of the Osborn family's loyal Butler, Bernard, filled the dank and grim air around the Manor.

Overlooking the distant city atop green hills of dewy grass, the turf that had been repaired since Harry's Limousine had torn up the grass in shreds, during his decline in mental health almost a year ago, the funeral for a lost friend was finally taking place. After Norman's...After Gwen's Uncle Danny's...After so many funerals, now Harry's was taking place.

Osborn Manor stood tall in the silver fog behind the Funeral, overlooking it with stone and brick eyes. Boarded up windows and a "For Sale" sign outside made the funeral feel almost bitter in it's conclusion, but at least Harry was with his family.

Coddled underneath a black umbrella, both dressed in jet black too, Gwen rested her curled and flowing golden tresses on Peter's shoulder, sinking into his side as he sniffed, eyes bloodshot and streaming as he watched the Coffin lower into the Osborn dirt.

"No more Funerals. Please, no more funerals." Gwen whispered hoarsely. Peter sniffed and wrapped his arm around Gwen, holding her underneath the Umbrella. He kissed her hair softly and sighed as Bernard wrapped up his heart wrenching speech.

"...Goodbye young Master Harry. I-I failed you, I did." Bernard sobbed as his silver haired wife stepped up the wooden blocks to gently embrace him. The few other people that had bothered to turn up nodded curtly and dabbed their eyes with tissues. "Your Father died, and I wasn't there for you! And now I have to bury another Osborn at this house, the last of the family's tree!"

Gwen looked up at Peter as his shoulders bobbed, tears wracking his wobbly glass eyes. He cupped his mouth and sobbed quietly into it. All Gwen could do was hug him tighter. There was such a heavy cloud of guilt swirling around them both, for they were the reason Harry lay in the ground right now.

"N-Nobody can know, Gwen. Nobody can know what Harry and Norman became. It'd destroy the Osborn's legacy...i-i-it'd destroy their legacy. Everything the Osborn's worked so hard to achieve would be undone." Peter cried. Gwen hugged him beneath the umbrella as rain fell heavily around them, only dampening the sorrowful mood further.

"Nobody'll know." Gwen whispered into Peter's ear. He wrapped his arm's around her and cried his heart out, letting the Umbrella drop to his side as the House servants rolled up their sleeves and begun to shovel the dirt onto the oak coffin. The initials H.O carved into the wood were soon lost under soil and wet earth.

"N-No more Funerals." Peter sobbed. "P-Please."

...

...Your alias? Mysterio?" Ross confronted through the speaker. The Dome of black tinted glass lifted from the thin collar bones of pale skin, disappearing under a crew neck black top. "What does it mean?"

A deep guttural breath resonated from within the dark black helmet as it tilted to peer at Ross with unseen eyes.

"...Mystery." The gravelly voice spoke from within. Ross's eyes widened slightly, and everyone else in the office fell deathly silent, staring at the glass to the cell. The man within had stirred, sitting forward and resting his leather coat sleeves across his knees, staring at his open tongued and untied boots. "...A name the locals in Brazil gave me."

"You were convicted of the murder of over a hundred people, all within the space of a year and a half...after your little mental breakdown of course." Ross hissed. Mysterio chuckled under his breath and the swirls of smoke inside his domed mask reflected that, almost dancing to the rhythm like a heartbeat monitor. "You think that's funny?" Ross sneered.

"I think it's funny, that you're convicting me of murdering one hundred and fifty three people to be exact, and not yourselves for the millions you slaughter every year in places like Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, the list goes on..." Mysterio waved a black gloved hand from the sleeve of his long, jet black, leather trench coat. He slapped the gloved hand down on his baggy cargo trousers, the Dome's smoky aura dissipating as his voice ceased, returning back to blackness. Ross licked his lips and scoffed.

"Soldiers? Armies? Right and wrong? Two sides of a coin that are no longer currency." Mysterio chuckled hoarsely, sitting back in his cell, faceless dome looking through Ross.

"Quentin, you can flip this on us as much as you want, it's not getting you out of here." Ross depressed the button of the intercom.

"No. But I'll be getting out soon." Quentin chuckled, tugging the tall collar of his Leather jacket up around his Dome's paneled jawline. Ross laughed outright and Mysterio tilted his black tinted dome.

"How'd you figure? Good behavior? Doesn't work like that here, Beck." Ross laughed, wiping spittle from his lip.

"Money buys a lot of things, Ross. Especially people." Mysterio rolled a coin along the tops of his fingers, back and forth. He flicked it up in the air with his thumb and caught it in his gloved palm. Mysterio opened said palm and within was nothing but the creaking leather of his glove. Ross raised an eyebrow.

"Quite the Magician." Ross grinned. "Now unless you can get the rest of your body into that palm and magic yourself away, you better sit back and tell me everything I want to know about you, Beck."

Mysterio sighed and slumped back heavily, his Jacket opening and revealing what appeared to be an engine block strapped to his chest, ripped black T-shirt fabric hanging in shreds around the edges. Metal pipes and tubes ran up his shoulders and under his coat, vanishing into ports beneath his helmet. The Dome looked down at his gloved fingers, the swirls of smoke filling the black faceless mask again as his voice gargled.

"Fine. I learned a lot in Special Effects in Hollywood. But after a while, I realized my talents were being taken advantage of. I knew I could make so much more of myself, for myself through crime. Stealing millions, then vanishing in a puff of smoke and pyrotechnics was child's play." Beck sat forward with a groan, nodding his finger at Ross. "Getting caught by you, though. Nah, that was a lot harder than I thought. I was almost too good."

"Wait, you planned to get caught?" Ross raised a silver eyebrow.

"Of course." Beck scoffed in an offended tone.

...

"Fourth week in a row we've come down here." Gwen sighed, standing at the foot of her Father's grave stone, shivering as gusts of cold icy wind whipped around her bare legs. She tugged the hem of her black skirt down to her lower thighs, but trembled and chattered her teeth. Peter smiled sadly with raw eyes and took off his black suit jacket, wrapping it around Gwen's shoulders. She hummed and smiled her pink lips, reaching to paw for his hands. He smiled and stood beside her, gracefully clutching her hands, smoothing his thumb over her cold paws.

"I know. But sometimes it's nice, you know? Bit of peace and quiet. A few friendly names around us." Peter looked down the length of graves to Uncle Ben's. Gwen hummed and coddled into his side, looking up at Manhattan in the distance. "No angry mobs calling for the arrests and deportation of Spiderman and Spider-Gwen." Peter rubbed his jaw.

"Oh really? Spider-Gwen, is that a thing now, is it?" Gwen humored, tilting her head with a playful smirk on her full lips. Peter grinned lopsidedly and flashed his pearly white teeth at her, chestnut brown eyes adoring her bright emerald gaze. "Oh Yeah? umm, I - I thought it was you in particular who told me that Superheroes can't use their names? Hmm?" she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him.

"My little nickname for you." He whispered to himself, fiddling with his long fingers. Gwen smiled at him sweetly and sighed to herself, shoulders lowering.

"I know what you mean though. I-It's umm...yeah, it's been rough. We go out in mask and suit for five minutes, trying to do good deeds..." Gwen shrugged and looked up at Manhattan across the harbor, secluded in grey rolling fog. "...and now Oscorp's damn drones are trying to kill us."

"I know. Since Fiers took control of Oscorp...since he cured the city..." Peter rubbed his face with his palm. "...The city wants us dead." Peter laugh incredulously, arms gesticulating wildly "I-I mean, they want us dead, they literally are calling for Spider Man's head!"

"And mine..." Gwen dryly retorted. "They kinda want my head too, ya know. I am the one who launched the damn pathogen." Gwen looked down guiltily at her Dad's tomb stone. She sighed heavily, hugging Peter's coat around her shoulders. "Mmm. What would Dad say to all this?"

"Oh that...that's easy, Gwen." Peter wrapped his arms around Gwen from behind, gently swaying them to and fro. Gwen hummed and smiled. "He'd say something along the lines of..." Peter cleared his throat to mimic George. "...He'd say, Oh Peter, I warned you to leave her out of it, never mind how big headed she is and how she'd throw herself into danger if it meant saving you're stupid lanky ass."

Gwen laughed and slapped Peter's hand playfully. "Oh shut up, you'd so be dead if it weren't for me, and you know it!" Gwen laughed. Peter cackled and kissed Gwen's cheek. "You got the stupid Lanky part right though."

"Oh yeah?" Peter grinned as Gwen spun around in his arms to face him, nose to nose.

"Oh hellz yeah!" Gwen nodded brightly. They both shared a brief and warm kiss, Peter lifting a hand to cradle Gwen's heart shaped jaw. Her blonde hair ruffled against his cheek and pushed up between their closing faces. They both laughed silently before sobering, turning to look down at George's grave. "Oh...I wish you were here, Dad. You'd know what to do. You'd know how to help cheer up Mom ."

"Oh, You reminded me, Aunt May made your Mom some soup. Hoping she gets better." Peter rubbed Gwen's shoulders beneath his jacket.

"Aw, sweet old May-May." Gwen smiled. "Tell her thank you."

"Tell her yourself, you're staying round mine tonight." Peter spoke boldly. Gwen raised her eyebrows.

"Ooh, Peter Parker, so stoic and bold." she fluttered her eyelashes. "What'd you have planned?" she asked with a bitten bottom lip, pinched between pearly teeth.

"Nothing I can say in front of your Dad, he'd beat me within an inch of my life, superhuman or not." Peter laughed as Gwen chuckled, looping a windswept lock out of her eyes. "Kidding. I was thinking a Movie and lots of fattening foods."

"Ah, comfort food. Well needed." Gwen nodded somberly. "I'm sorry about Harry." Gwen tilted her head to Peter, gently stroking a few strands of chestnut hair out of his still raw eyes.

"Yeah. I-It's been rough. Losing Danny...then Harry? I'd be happy if I could go the rest of my life without another funeral." Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, looking down at George's grave. Gwen sighed and stood beside him.

"Me too. But you know that isn't the life we lead anymore." Gwen murmured, stepping forward to brush a few crunchy leaves off of the bronze plaque on her Father's stone.

"Mmm, yeah. Sucks." Peter rubbed an itch at his jaw, looking up at the monolithic Oscorp Tower piercing the low clouds and disappearing into the silver abyss above. "Y-You kinda wonder, don't you..." he gestured lazily to Oscorp Tower across the river. "What's gonna come next from them?"

"I know. I mean, I learned a lot about Oscorp last year." Gwen rubbed her neck and shivered at a brisk gust of wind. "The...The Goblin? What he was able to do just from rooting around in a few of Oscorp's drawers?" Gwen scoffed and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "What they were doing in New Guinea, where Kraven..." Gwen trailed off and bit her lip, shutting her eyes and stifling a trembled sigh. "I think we can both agree that last year sucked." Gwen scoffed. Peter laughed incredulously and nodded, bending down before George's grave, pulling the leaves off of the marble stone and picking up the knocked over wax candle.

"Gustav Fiers is out of our reach now, Gwen. He's got Oscorp wrapped around his little finger, he's got my blood." Peter growled. "He's using it...selling it on a goddamn global scale."

Gwen smiled and rested her hands on Peter's shoulders, squeezing them softly. "I know. But Peter, that was a year ago, and...well, nothing bad's happened." Gwen shrugged. "I mean, there aren't thousands of Spider-men and women running around, or deaths related to it, so..." Gwen squeezed Peter's shoulders gently. "...It also saved us, all of us, when the Goblin meddled with our cure."

"Doesn't mean I feel safe knowing that it's in Oscorp's hands."

"Peter..." Gwen bent down beside him, taking his fingers from sweeping leaves off of George's grave. He looked at her gingerly. "I feel the exact same way, believe me, I do! But..." She sighed and peered up with emerald eyes, licking her lips. "The last time Gustav Fiers was in New York, do you remember what you did?" Gwen asked as she licked her cold and chapped lips. Peter sighed guiltily with a tinge of embarrassment, rubbing his tired face.

"I know, alright? I broke into Oscorp to try and get to him, to try and force him to destroy all the copies of my blood." Peter sighed. Gwen nodded.

"And damaged Spider-Man's reputation further." Gwen gently smoothed her fingers down his cold and flushed cheek, remembering the Daily Bugle headlines making Spider-Man infamous. "I know you meant well, but we failed, Peter. God knows how many copies of your blood they've manufactured by now."

"Yeah...I know." Peter sighed, resting a fist to his forehead with a sigh. "I just wish...I wish I could've stopped him from taking it from me in the first place!"

"Peter, You were malnourished, you'd lost your hand to Kraven! You couldn't have fought off a cold in that state." Gwen chuckled dryly. Peter grinned weakly and nodded, deciding to drop the subject, for now. He looked back to the gravestone stood before him.

"Rest easy, George." Peter paid his respect, standing with a groan. Even a year later, with the significant advantage of superhuman healing, Peter still had a slight limp and pain to his leg since the Clock tower fight with the now long dead Green Goblin.

"You okay?" Gwen noticed, looping wind battered hair out of her eyes. Peter nodded and rubbed his slightly bent shin.

"Yep. I-I'm good."

"That's why you should have gone to the Hospital." Gwen mumbled to herself.

"Yeah, well. They were hunting us by then." Peter shrugged. "If they'd matched my DNA to Spiderman, then I'd have either left in cuffs or a body bag." Peter scoffed dryly. Gwen sighed and nodded, resting her hand on her Father's stone.

"Yeah...I'm amazed Fiers hasn't told the world who Spider-Man is." Gwen shivered at a harsh gust of wind. Peter nodded.

"So am I. But, I'm sure he has his reasons, all of which terrify me." Peter grumbled. Gwen nodded sadly and Peter stepped back to let her face her Father's grave. She looped hair out of her eyes and gave a weak smile to the Epitaph.

"Sleep well, Daddy. Mom says Hi, so do the boys. Tell...Tell Uncle Danny we miss him, Aunt Sarah especially...and her little baby..." Gwen bit her lip. "...George."

Peter smiled sadly and looked up at the distant side of the fog lathed Graveyard. Stood resting his chin on the top of his broom, atop a pile of autumn leaves, the elderly groundskeeper stared at Gwen and Peter. Peter firmed his chin and took Gwen's hand, just as a pair of Oscorp Drones paced up to the old man, chrome heads turning to the elder. He spoke inaudibly to the humanoid machines as the robotic officers nodded and turned to look at Gwen and Peter, who were both walking away from George's grave hand in hand.

"See you soon, Daddy." Gwen sighed, before leading foot with Peter.

...

"What sort of plan involves getting caught?" Ross asked with an aggravated tone, chewing the top of his knuckle. Mysterio shrugged with a creak of leather.

"You know, all the good ones...the...the master ones!" He gestured animatedly, voice sounded slightly scrambled through the dome.

"Mmm. Well, good luck with your Master plan inside that cell. That Glass is twelve inches thick, reinforced steel framing too." Ross chuckled. "I'll let you work on that Master plan." Ross flicked the intercom off and sighed, rubbing his face tiredly as he turned to the rest of his office. "I'm gonna get a cup O' Coffee." Ross slapped his aged and weathered palms together.

"Betty."

Ross froze. He gulped dryly and turned to stare at the black dome on the other side of the glass. Silvery smoke filled the tinted glass of the faceless Dome as Mysterio shrugged, sitting forward with a nod. "The girl in the photo on your desk. Daughter? Or little piece of hot stuff on the side?"

Ross slammed his palm on the nearest desk and shoved a wheeled chair across the room, storming up to the cell glass with seething eyes and hissing dentures. Mysterio simply tilted his domed head.

"I'm gonna tell you this once, and only once! Don't you ever mention my daughter!"

"Ah. Daughter. I umm...I didn't till just now. Thanks. Merely proved my point." Mysterio shrugged with a creak of leather.

"What point?!" Ross snapped.

"That you are very easy to manipulate." Mysterio chuckled within the smoky Dome. Ross growled and turned, pointing at Corporal Jones.

"YOU! Get Detention security down here. I wanna teach this punk some manors. Gonna rip that dome off and treat him like the rest of these inmates, without an ounce of respect!" Ross rolled up his sleeves. Mysterio raised his gloved hands in feigned surrender. Jones frantically beeped at the buzzer on his desk.

Ross paced at the glass like an animal, something Quentin Beck easily picked up on. He bounced his knees and slapped his leather gloved palms on his cargo trousers.

"Why is it that you looked like the caged animal, Ross? I thought I was in the cage?" Mysterio laughed maniacally. Ross grit his teeth further, fists clenching tightly to his sides. The doors burst open behind him and three armed security men stormed into the room with neutral expressions. Corporal Jones sat down behind his desk, gulping.

"Open it up. I wanna teach this little punk who's boss round here!" Ross roared, the guards fumbling with keys for the huge steel door.

"Oh yeah, Boss Ross!" Mysterio laughed, clapping his palms in anticipation.

The door slowly opened with a pneumatic hiss. Ross stormed into the room and stood tall over Mysterio.

"Not so powerful now, huh?" Ross growled deeply. Mysterio sighed and shook his head. He opened his palm to show it was empty, even showing the back of his palm to Ross too.

"It's funny..." Mysterio lifted his gloved hand. "Money can buy a lot of things..." He held his gloved hand behind Ross's ear, pulling it back with a quarter pinched between finger and thumb. The same quarter he made vanish earlier. "...Especially people."

Ross fell to the floor with a groan as one of the security guards slammed the butt of his pistol down on the back of his skull, knocking him out cold. The guard let Mysterio stand up to full height and roll his shoulder blades, before giving Mysterio a sidearm. Beck nodded his thanks and stepped his jet black trench coat body out through the cell door, flanked by the rogue security guards. The room erupted in screams as people clambered to hide behind their desks.

"Corporal Jones. Thank you for letting me keep my bombs." Mysterio nodded curtly to his other inside man as he grinned back.

"No problem, sir. That Ross was a prick anyhow."

"Mmm." Mysterio looked up as US Army soldiers stormed in, alarms blaring and rifles aimed at him and his three guards. Shouts and screams filled the air along with the monotonous chorus of alarms. "I leave you with one lingering word, gentlemen!" Mysterio spoke boldly, before unclipping a small silver bauble from his belt and holding it above his domed head. "...And that word is, Mystery!"

Mysterio threw the grenade down with a pop and a flash of bright light, the room filling with opaque grey smoke.

"Open fire!" the soldiers roared as they unleashed a barrage of automatic gunfire into the smoke. As the smoke finally cleared, Mysterio and his guards were gone. Corporal Jones sat laughing at the table as the Soldiers came over to detain him, still laughing psychotically the whole time. "Where the hell did he go!"

"H-He just told you, you idiots!" Jones laughed into the table top. "Woo-hoo! I-It's a Mystery!"

"Damn it! Sound the alarm! Set the whole prison on alert!"

...

"Okay, so If this is how you're gonna cheer me up every-time I'm sad, then I'm gonna be miserable, like, twenty four seven!" Gwen laughed as she took another sip of her warm and sweet Coffee, with just a hint of Cinnamon spice. "Cinnamon Coffee is like, the best thing ever." Gwen laughed. Peter chuckled and sipped his own decaf coffee, settling back into the web hammock they had made between them in the most secluded part of Manhattan, just overlooking the harbor and the scaffolding wrapped statue of liberty, not to mention the Huge wrecks of Naval vessels still laying in the harbor since the Goblin's reign.

"It's gonna take em years to clear up all this mess, you know." Gwen mused, crossing her bare legs, sliding her shoes off to fall into the webbing beneath. She rubbed her aching heels, settling back too with content. "Ahh."

"Yeah." Peter yawned, rubbing his eye and sipping his coffee. "Those ship's are huge. God, the Goblin cost the U.S millions, maybe even billions. I just wish we could've stopped him sooner." Peter grumbled. Gwen nodded.

"Yeah. Me too." Gwen grit her teeth and shook her head slowly, fist paling atop her thigh. "I-I mean, he was always one step ahead of us!" Gwen hoarsely snapped.

"I know, I know." Peter soothed her. They looked across the harbor to the Bill board on the side of an overlooking skyscraper. The Billboard made Gwen and Peter's radioactive blood boil.

Help stop Spider-Man and Spider-Woman! If you see them, call this Number: (212) 334-0611

Underneath the font was a pair of photo shopped mugshots of Spiderman and Spiderwoman, each holding up Mugshot signs. A final tagline lay at the bottom of the billboard.

Unmask and bring to justice!

"You know, Flash still wears his Spidey T-shirt." Gwen bumped her shoulder to Peter's, trying to lighten his mood. "A-And I'm pretty sure I saw Mary Jane wearing a Spiderwoman top, too!" Gwen chuckled to herself. Peter simply stared at the sign, grating his teeth, holding his Coffee to his lap. "Come on, Bugboy, it'll be okay."

"The Goblin was right." Peter scoffed. "He said this'd happen, that the city would turn on me when they got bored of me, and they did!"

"Peter, he caused them to hate you...us." Gwen sighed. "He was only right cos he made it happen." Gwen sipped her coffee.

"I-I mean, now they've got Oscorp producing those...those..." Peter swirled a hand through the air to remember the name. "Those Spider slayers!"

"Oscorp's first robotic police force, yeah I know." Gwen murmured sarcastically. "Last thing I managed to dig up on them before my internship there ended." Gwen shrugged, crossing her legs the other way. "Alistair Smythe, he's the head of the mechanics division. Probably him who made that god awful Rhino thing Harry used."

"Mmm." Peter nodded to himself, fiddling with the rim of his piping coffee. "We gotta play it safe nowadays, Gwen." Peter licked his lips, looking up at her with brown doe eyes, pleading for her safety.

"I know."

"Th-Those Oscorp slayer things patrolling the streets, People trying to catch us to claim the damn reward." Peter sighed heavily. "This is not what I envisioned when I made Spiderman."

"I know, and neither did I when I first donned my mask; but Peter, honey..." Gwen turned on the web to look at him. "...This is the life we lead now, this is our path."

"Yeah..." he closed his eyes, defeated, solemn.

"...So until this blows over, we keep our heads down, and finish College, okay?" Gwen sighed. Peter gulped and licked his lips. "The city'll need us again, and when it does, we'll rise from the ashes, a'la phoenix style." Gwen chuckled lightly, making Peter break out in a grin.

"Yeah, okay."

"I love you?" Gwen pouted. Peter laughed and slid closer, kissing her gently.

"Yeah...you too." He grinned against her pink lips, pulling her into his side with a content sigh. "At least we got each other."

...

Mysterio paced down the lengthy hall of an armory within Guantanamo Bay, alarms screaming all around. A group of armed guards turned the corner ahead and aimed at the dark coated man. "Beck, freeze!"

"I'm cool, I'm cool." Mysterio raised his hands above his head, black tinted Dome tilting, faceless and unreadable. The guards sighed relief, one of the pair stepping forward and lowering his rifle to cuff Beck. As the soldier neared Quentin, cuffs in hand, the tall dome headed man threw a smoke bomb down and a flash of white blinded the men, along with a thick opaque smokescreen.

The men coughed and spluttered, eyes watering as the choking smog dried them out. The man dropped the cuffs and rubbed his eyes, turning to his teammate as the smoke faded, only to see Mysterio stood behind him, Leather jacket arm wrapped around his neck, holding him hostage.

"You wanna know why I wear this dome?" he gestured to the ovular dome wrapped around his head, bare pale neck leading down to his crew-neck. Both of the guards suddenly began to swat at the air around them and dry heave, panicked and breathing heavily. "One of the reasons is so I don't breathe this stuff in."

"W-What is it?" The guard drunkenly staggered around the hall, swatting at invisible swarms of wasps. "Ah!" he screamed as his vision blurred, filled with swarms of wasps, yet in reality, nothing was there.

"You liking it? It's my own homemade Hallucinogenic gas." Mysterio chuckled with a metallic tinge to his gruff voice. "I gotta say, the plant seeds I foraged in Brazil certainly are potent." Mysterio threw the other panicking man down onto the floor, leaving him screaming at nothing and huddling into a ball. "Oh, big bravado men, having had fear beaten out of them in training, they soon return to sniveling wrecks at just a breath of this stuff."

Both soldiers cried for their mothers and screamed bloodcurdling wails as they writhed across the floor, clawing at their own ears and eyes. Mysterio scoffed and tugged at his tall leather collar, looking down at the childlike men. He pressed his open tongued boot down on one of the soldier's rapidly rising and falling chest. Mysterio bent down and his faceless black dome stared down into the fearful watery eyes of the screaming man.

"They scream and they cry, their worst fears come alive! Funny how petals and seeds crushed with Pestle and Mortar can show brave men...true dread." Mysterio chuckled, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders, stepping away and down the hall, leaving these men to panic and cry on the floor, surrounded by their own nightmares.

"It's all an illusion." Mysterio laughed as he entered the armory, sighing contently at the racks of rifles and shotguns. "Money buys a lot of things..." Mysterio picked up a shotgun, gloved palm pulling the pump back to load in the shells, humming a lullaby the whole time. "...Especially people."

He turned and stared at the end wall, bouncing his booted toes slightly, fist curling with a creak of leather, other hand swinging the shotgun down to his hip. He cricked his domed head left and right with a groan. Outside the wall, the sounds of a rumbling engine and a wailing turbo grew louder and louder.

Mysterio took one step back, just as the wall expanded inwards in an explosion of bricks and mortar. The rear end of a desert colored Truck reversed straight through the wall in a huge plume of dust and crumbled brick. Mysterio looked down at the rubble as it tumbled to a stop by his boots. He lifted his left hand and flicked the dust off of his shoulder, domed head looking to the truck as the rear tailgate lowered heavily with a clatter.

"Hey boss man!" A rotund man dressed in military fatigues hopped down out of the back of the truck with several empty duffle bags. He threw them on the floor and ran over to the wall, taking guns by the armfuls and throwing them into the bags. "That's a lotta guns!" He chuckled to himself in a deep southern accent. Mysterio waltzed around the room with a constant slow nod to his domed head.

"It is..." Mysterio rasped, looking at the shotgun in his own grip. He lifted it up and slapped the pump down into his left hand, giving it a harsh pump back and forth.

The rotund man picked up the first duffle bag and with a huff, threw it in the back of the truck. He began to fill the next one with weapons.

"So, what's the plan now, boss?" He asked breathlessly, looking up at Mysterio as he paced around the room. He admired the scorched holes in Mysterio's weathered trench coat, in which silvery metal tubes peeped through each hole.

"Plan? Plan is we blow Guantanamo Bay to kingdom come. I take it you've already taken most of the security guards out?" Mysterio spoke.

"Yep, sir! Good idea gettin guys on the inside."

"Well, people are easily bought. Especially when the sums are six digit numbers." Quentin chuckled to himself. "Now we take our spoils, and disappear."

The fat man threw the last bag of guns in the back of the truck and panted, dusting off his hands, looking up at Mysterio as he paced around the room, like his domed face was looking for something.

The passenger side door to the truck opened and a man of Mysterio's build stepped out dressed in the exact same clothing as Mysterio; same coat, same Domed helmet, same everything. He stepped over the rubble cautiously and stepped up to the mastermind himself, like looking in a mirror, though his slightly hunched demeanor was far from Mysterio's held high chin.

"W-why'd you want me to dress like you, boss?" His loyal follower asked. Mysterio tilted his domed head to him. "I-I don't understand."

"Well, it's hardly the same. That dome's fiber glass. A cheap knock off." Mysterio scoffed. "Besides the point, I need the officials off of my tail for a while." He prodded a gloved finger to his doppelganger's shoulder. "You'll do nicely."

"F-For what?" he asked, cut short as Mysterio pressed his shotgun's barrel to his chest and pulled the trigger. A bright flash and deafening bang erupted between them and his doppelganger flew across the room, crashing against the wall in a heap of blood and torn flesh. Dead.

"Whoa!" The rotund follower gasped. Mysterio threw the shotgun in the back of the truck and turned to step into the back of the truck, sitting down besides the bags of guns.

"Drive." Mysterio snapped. The rotund man nodded and quickly tripped and clambered over the rubble, hopping into the driver's seat and starting the truck up with a roar. Quentin sat in the back, resting his spine against the billowing tarp cover draped over the back of the stolen troop truck. He pulled the tailgate up with a click and rested his fidgeting hands in his lap, just as the truck pulled out of the wall and rumbled off down the gravel road.

Mysterio lifted his domed head and peered out the back of the truck as armed military vehicles raced by towards the destroyed armory. "Thank you, Thaddeus Ross for the encrypted data on Oscorp Industries..." He pulled a square hard drive from his pocket. "Everything I need, bar a plane ticket to the big apple..."

"Did your men plant the charges like I ordered?" Mysterio asked to no one in particular. He looked up at the back window of the cab and saw the rounded face of the driver in the rear view mirror, nodding furiously. Mysterio reached into his pocket and took out a detonator, flicking the safety lid off of the button, thumb hovering over the top. "Good boys."

He depressed the button with his thumb and a silent bright flash lit up the noon sky above Guantanamo Bay, a shock wave racing towards the retreating truck, carrying the sound. As the shock wave hit the truck with force, a deafening bang cracked across the land, plumes of smoke rising from the destroyed base.

"And that, ladies and Gentlemen, is how Mysterio died...for now." He chuckled darkly from the back of the truck, as it made headway far away from the Base.

...

Peter lay in the hammock of webbing as the grey clouds began to glow bright orange and pink, soaking in the bright colors of dusk. He hummed a content sigh as Gwen coddled into his side, empty coffee cups lay strewn on the webbing to their side. Gwen murmured incoherence in her sleep and snuggled into his neck with a breathy sigh. Peter smiled softly and stroked a lock of hair out of her closed eyes, looping the golden locks behind her ear.

"No more funerals..." he bit his lip. "Please, no more funerals." He stroked her cheek and cuddled her closer to his body, feeling her warmth radiate up his side. Slowly Gwen's eyes fluttered open and she blearily blinked. Peter retracted his hand with a guilty wince. "Sorry." He chuckled. "You looked so cute."

"Urgh, no I don't." Gwen grumbled hoarsely, sitting up from the webbing, yawning tiredly. Peter sat up too.

"How do you know, you're asleep, dummy." Peter rubbed his nose alongside hers. Gwen laughed and shoved him playfully.

"Uh, because I am always right? You've been in a relationship with me for over a year now, you should get how this works." Gwen tied her long locks back into a messy ponytail. Peter laughed breathlessly and rubbed the sleep out of the corner of his eye, stroking Gwen's bare knee. She smiled softly and bounced on the stretchy hammock of Biocable, pushing the blonde bangs out of her face as she sat cross legged to Peter.

"I'm lucky to have you." Peter blurted. Gwen blushed and smiled softly.

"Wow. Peter, I mean-"

"No, don't try to bat off this compliment, just..." He sighed exasperatedly and smiled at her, begging her without words to bare with him. Gwen smiled and nodded to him. "I love you, Gwen Stacy. Ever since I laid eyes on you in school, I've been so..." he bit the air for a word. "...Enamored by you! And everyday you prove more and more that you are the only woman I want in my life."

"Peter..." Gwen's eyes widened and she nervously shuffled, biting her lip. "W-What are you getting at here?"

There was a long and awkward pause as Peter gaped, fidgeting nervously. Gwen winced lightly at his struggle for wording.

"I guess...I mean, I know we're still really young and all, but..." he groaned loudly and butt a fist to his forehead. "I-I'm just gonna say it. Today's shown me how short life is, and I...Gwen, I-

Peter and Gwen's eyes widened and their ears pricked up in unison, both looking at the source of the loud ringing in their ears, setting their nerves on fire.

"Spidey senses?" Gwen asked nervously. Peter nodded. They heard clapping rotors sounding louder and louder. Gwen grew nervous, Peter also shuffling to obtain a stance on the bouncy webbing. They both gulped.

"Th-They can't have followed us, w-we haven't even worn our suits today!" Gwen whined, quickly brushing the windswept hair out of her eyes as a cold evening breeze rumbled over her ears.

"I have." Peter blurted, pulling the crumpled up Spiderman mask from his pocket. Gwen's eyes bulged on him and her lips contorted to a frown, before she punched his arm.

"You idiot! You know they're pining to catch us!" She panted, hearing the rotors grow louder and louder. Gwen panicked just as the helicopter flew overhead, towards the city. Both Gwen and Peter sighed heavily with relief as they watched the white news station helicopter rattle towards Manhattan. An awkward silent filled the air as both Gwen and Peter calmed down, slowing their heart rates.

"I-I-I can't keep living like this, I can't!" Peter stood up and clambered out of the web, pressing his palms to the brickwork to clamber out of the top of the alleyway, onto one of the parallel rooftops. Gwen followed suit, climbing up the wall behind him on sticky fingers.

Peter vaulted over the ledge and paced across the gravel roof, just as Gwen leaped over the lip to land on bare feet, wincing as she put her black pumps back on her feet.

"Peter, what?" she asked hoarsely, strutting towards him. He rested his hands on the concrete ledge and stared out through bleary eyes at Manhattan. "Hey." she softly spoke. Peter sniffed and wiped his nose roughly with his sleeve, staring through wobbly eyes. "...Peter?" she asked in a whisper. He shook his head downwards and tensed his arms, fingers paling on the concrete.

"Wh-Where did it all go wrong, huh?" he cried. "Urgh!" he suddenly threw his hands down and straight back up to run down his face, feeling sandy grit leave his palms and drag down his cheeks. Gwen watched him acutely. "Why am I living in fear of damn rotor blades, huh? I-I was Manhattan's hero! They loved me! Th-They'd call out "Spiderman! Yay, Spidey's back!" a-a-and I used to believe em, I did, Gwen!" He panted, wiping his stinging eyes. "Now they want me strung up by my own webs, c-c-cos I messed up!" He pressed his back to an adjacent cooling unit with a deep thunk. He slid down it to sit on the gravel, head in his hands. Gwen bit her lip to hold back her tears and gently bent down beside him. He sobbed his heart out into his palms, and it broke Gwen's heart.

"I messed up once! One time, a-a-a-and..." he lost track of thought and panted, staring into space as he tried to rebuild the argument he had in mind.

"Peter, baby." Gwen sighed softly, crouching to avoid bare knees on sharp gravel.

"I thought we're supposed to learn from our mistakes, not get victimized cos of em!" Peter wiped his eyes with the ball of his palm, futile as more hot tears fell. "I-I can't keep doing this." He whispered, shaking his head repeatedly, flushed red and puffy. He took out his crumpled mask and stared at it. He growled and threw it across the rooftop to slap against the concrete ledge opposite, cracking the lens on the mask. Gwen barely flinched.

"I hate this..." He calmed, sniffing and letting the tears fall. "I-I was a hero. I was supposed to make a difference. Now parents are telling their kids to not go out and play cos Spiderman's still out there. I was supposed to make people feel safe."

"So what's the alternative, Peter?" Gwen asked gently. "Give ourselves up? Hand in our masks and call it a day? You know we don't walk away from that."

"So...what do we do?" Peter licked his tear dripping lip. Gwen sat beside him and tugged at her skirt.

"You don't stop being a hero because the people don't want you anymore..." Gwen murmured over Peter's sniffs. "...You keep going, and prove to them that in fact, yeah, they do need you, just as much as you need them." Gwen looked to Peter as he stared at her with bleary eyes.

Peter sniffed and nodded, stroking Gwen's thigh as thanks. Gwen smiled sweetly and pat his knee back. "We'll be okay, Bugboy. As long as we've got each other."

"Yeah?" He blinked. Gwen thumbed the tear off of his cheek and beamed.

"Yeah."

Peter's phone's ringtone suddenly rung loudly and he pulled it from his back pocket. Gwen noted how he'd changed it from the Spiderman ringtone, to her own dismay. Gwen watched him flick the screen open and place it to his ear.

"Hey, Aunt May."

"Oh Peter, honey, how was the funeral?" she asked softly. Peter sighed and picked up a stone in his other hand to fiddle with.

"As good as a funeral gets." Peter mumbled. "Hardly anyone was there, Aunt May."

"Aw, I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I just couldn't get out of the shift at the Hospital."

"I know, It's okay. Gwen was there with me." Peter dropped the stone to stroke Gwen's knee appreciatively. She smiled softly.

"Oh, how is she?"

"She's okay, aren't you?" Peter asked Gwen. She nodded. "Gwen says hi."

"Hi May-May!" Gwen called.

"Hello dear! Oh, I love that girl!" Aunt May laughed gently. Peter grinned to the phone.

"Yeah, me too." He looked at her appreciatively.

"When are you going to be home? If you don't get back soon, I'm going to have to heat up my meatloaf."

"Sounds like a threat, Aunt May." Peter chuckled.

"My Meatloaf? How dare you, young man." Aunt May laughed. Peter grinned a chuckle at the phone.

"Gwen and I are on the way home now." Peter stood up and offered his hand to her, pulling the lithe blonde to her feet. "We're gonna grab comfort food on the way home, I think." Peter shuffled his feet.

"Okay honey. Well, get home safe. Please."

"We will, Aunt May. New sheriffs in town, or haven't you heard." Peter sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh I know. Oscorp's new metal police force? Not sure I feel safer under their care." May growled. Peter nodded and sighed heavily.

"Okay, Aunt May, we'll be home soon."

"Love you, Peter." Aunt May said gently. "And Gwen too."

"Love you too Aunt May." Peter smiled, hanging up the phone. "Come on, Gwen..." he tucked the phone into his pocket and picked up his mask, stuffing it in his pocket. "...Let's go home."

...

Author's Notes: So? How'd you like the first chapter? Good? Please let me know with a review, no matter how long or short, anything goes a long way to me! Love you all and I should have Chapter Two up tomorrow! - Dave