Riiiiiing! The bell in the hallway gives John and Andrew a migraine for the tenth time that day thanks to their ever so slightly enhanced hearing. Andrew swears he's going to go deaf one of these days because of the schoolbell, but John knows their rapid healing factor will protect them between classes.

"Such a dumb pop quiz today. I literally can not believe there were questions on there from chapters we never learned about before," Andrew complains, going down the hall with his brother. He is able to easily carry eight heavy books in his arms, but he needs to act like he's struggling.

"If you listened yesterday then you would know the teacher told us to read the next chapter for homework, and that there would be a quiz the next day on the matter," the blonde responds. He sighs and puts his blue hood up when he sees Flash walking down the hall. "Don't look now, but our favorite classmate is coming drenched in his favorite uniform."

Despite the warning, Andrew looks up and sees his nemesis in school wearing his football outfit, the number 15 draped across the front and shoulders. Luckily, he stops short before he can get to the twins, but he picks another victim instead.

Flash grabs Harry Osborn's collar and lifts him up, slamming him against the locker to create the typical clanging sound you usually hear in teenage movies. "Doesn't rich, pretty boy have some change to spare?" he asks in a mocking voice. "Or should I make you not so pretty?"

"Ey," Andrew yells, making John groan and look the other way. "If you bruise him up, everyone is going to think that's the latest fashion. Just admit it, Flash, he has way more style than you. Wearing your football uniform everywhere isn't going to make you more popular."

Flash forgets about Harry, dropping him to the ground and stomping over toward the Spiderling. He knocks his books out of his hands, papers flying everywhere (Andrew is one of those students who puts all of his notes inside his textbooks), and pushes his shoulder against the wall. With his free hand, he sticks a finger in the boy's face. "You should really learn to bite that tongue of yours."

"Why? When has that helped anyone? It would only make sense if you took that advice so we didn't have to hear your awful voice eight hours a day," he retorts, earning a punch across the face. All of the students crowd around and gasp when Flash makes a move.

"Would you leave him alone already?" Harry yells, pushing himself through the crowd. "What's with you today anyway?"

"Shut it, Osborn!"

"He probably failed Ms. Kim's pop quiz today like everyone else," Andrew says with a smile. He sees Flash's face turn red, so he knows he hit a nerve. Maybe he should push it a little further... "Or, you know, got told off last night by his parents because of his other grades." He turns back to the guy holding him against the wall. "You do know we are only a month and a half into the school year, right? Man, are you already failing? Hopefully you don't have to repeat senior year!"

He receives a fist to the stomach, the wrong side of the stomach, which makes him wheeze and fuzz out. Finally, John enters the fray only to drag Andrew's twitching body away from the scene before any teachers show up. Flash shoves his way through the crowd, everyone struck with confusion from what just happened. Harry has never seen the school this silent, but he snaps out of it and hurries over to the twins. People start to realize it's time to go home, and start moving around while gossiping over the latest hallway fight.

"Are you guys okay?" Harry asks, opening the door to the men's restroom. He looks around for a moment before spotting John overing over his brother in the corner, doing something to him. Walking closer out of curiosity, he sees that the injured one has a bunch of stitches on his side, half of his torso colored a sickly deep purple. Harry puts a hand over his mouth and says, "There's no way you got that from Flash. Unless, he's secretly Nitro Spider or something."

"Pfft, no," John answers, replacing Andrew's gauze with a fresh set since this one is now a bit bloodied. Luckily, his stitches only opened slightly.

"I was... mugged yesterday," Andrew lies, only stuttering for a moment. "On my way home from the courts. One of the guys had a knife or something, I don't really remember much of what happened."

"Oh my God! Do you want me to call your par-"

"No!" the twins yell. John quickly responds, "The mugging wasn't that big of a deal, and we can't afford a trip to the hospital right now. Three of us are in college and money is starting to get a bit tight..."

"And you didn't think to ask me? Is that why you're working at the Bugle, Andrew?" Harry asks.

"Y...yeah. That's why. We didn't want to tell you because it's kind of embarrassing, and we don't want to take advantage of you," he says.

Harry pauses for a moment, then lets a soft smile coat his face as he scratches the back of his head. "You guys don't have to prove your friendship to me. I know who is trustworthy in my life and who isn't. How many times have you saved me from Flash and his posse? Not counting today, I'd have to say around the high 80's."

"Still, we don't want to-" Andrew starts.

"I know, but just do me the favor of coming to my house today? I want to have a study group, and maybe play some video games when my dad isn't looking," Harry says, gaining both of their interests. The twins look at each other, and without saying anything else, they nod.

Theme song!

Julia lets out a huge yawn as she rubs her eyes, flipping her wavy and glittered hair over her shoulder. Man, last night hit hard, she thinks to herself. I had to spin the record until six in the morning, and then come to find out that my siblings all had a date with that creepy scientist. Luckily Andrew seems to be doing alright, but all of that sparked my interest again in the missing scientists. I need to dig deeper into that today, but maybe I should get some rest first.

Her head still foggy, she knocks on the door to the apartment building and gives her name. As soon as it unlocks, she heads up to the fourth floor, this time not needing to knock as she enters the room. Right as she takes a breath, a small Basenji dog colored orange and white scurries out of the kitchen, rounds the corner, and jumps on her legs.

"Hello there, little buddy! How's my Quips doing? Are you protecting the house while I'm gone, huh?" she asks in her puppy voice, kneeling down to give her dog the best of her love and attention. "I just came by to pick something up, so don't tell him I was he-"

"Jules, is that you?" a voice asks from the kitchen, making the bile in her stomach churn. She scoops up Quips in her arms and smiles as she rounds the corner.

"Y-yeah! Sorry for dropping by unexpectedly, but I needed to pick up my old camera," she explains.

The kitchen is quite big for being an apartment in Manhattan, and even has its own little island in the center. The stove is on the opposite side, so when she enters, the guy in the room isn't facing her. When he turns around, she sees the familiar sweet smile of her boyfriend. He's tall with broad shoulders and swift, dirty blonde hair. He has deep, blue eyes that shine like sapphires in the yellow glow of the kitchen, and rough hands that man the kitchenware. His smile is not perfect, some yellow edging the whiteness of his teeth, but Julia never minded that aspect of his physical appearance. The guy sets down the pan and wipes his hands on the apron around his waist, walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "You didn't come by this weekend. Did something happen?"

"Oh, nothing major. I was just working all night, you know how the club gets on the weekends," she says her normal excuse. "I thought you knew my schedule was more open during the week, Tanner."

"You're always working!" he groans, filing his hands through her hair and catching sight of the glitter. "Wow, it must have been wild last night."

"Yeah..." Julia trails off, trying to think of something to say. "What are you making?"

"Only the finest Italian dish known to mankind," Tanner says, guiding her over to the stove. Her expression lightens when she smells the aroma and sees the food. "Your favorite chicken parmesan, and guess what's for dessert?"

"Hmm? What?"

"My famous creme brulee! So, can you spare one evening to have dinner with me? I haven't seen you in what feels like forever," he pouts.

"Well..." she says, thinking. She was planning on investigating the Bugle today which is why she needed her camera, but if she goes over there a little early then she should be home in time for dinner. He's right, anyway, they haven't had some quality time together since school started. "Sure, why not? I have a... study session today though, so it would have to be a late dinner."

"I am perfectly fine with that. As long as I get to spend it with you," he responds, kissing her cheek. She blushes but bites her tongue, not knowing why. "So, what did you need that camera for?"

"Oh... there are some old pictures on it that I wanted to print out. Maybe we can look at them later when I come back?" she asks hopefully.

"Of course! I would love to see hot pictures of me," he teases, hearing something bubbling on the stove. "Ah, too much oil!"

"I'll let you get back to cooking. See you tonight, hun!" Julia waves, feeling all giddy inside.

Today is a good day, she thinks as she heads up to Tanner's bedroom. Okay, I think I left it over here. The room isn't an entire mess, she's seen worse, but the amount of clothes on the floor is a little more excessive for her taste. Nevertheless, she pokes around the closet until she finds an old box stuffed in the corner, opening it to reveal a little purple camera. I was always the one to take pictures on our family vacations. That is, until I got into high school and met Tanner. Then we would do our own things together and documenting family events became less important to me. I wonder if this thing still works.

Just to test it out, she faces the lens toward her and smiles, the flash staying off thankfully, and she turns it back to the screen to see a very un-aesthetically pleasing picture of her face. Despite that, she hums with a smile and puts the device in her pocket, ready to get to the bottom of this nonsense once and for all.

Sometimes there is a desk in OSCORP that was made to be broken...

"You don't UNDERSTAND!" Slam! The metal arm of Doctor Octavius's harness smashes against the center of a table in a lab, breaking it in half instantly upon impact. "There has to be something you can do. Why do you think I came here over Warren Industries?"

"Because he is no longer a scientist, but a raging monster? Come on, Otto, I thought you considered me a genius but that question was just low," a man on the other side of the room says. He turns his head, revealing his cold green-brown eyes to compliment his messy auburn hair. He scowls before turning back to his front and walking up the rest of the stairs. "Don't you have your own lab where you can get that thing off?"

"I'm a robotics and neuroscience engineer. How am I supposed to deal with something that is biological? I have no equipment!" Otto yells, gesturing to his harness.

"And I'm just a humble aerospace engineer. Now, you you'll excuse me-"

"LIAR!" he shouts, face turning red and metal arms extending. Octavius climbs the wall and stops himself in front of the man, shaking with rage. "You, Norman Osborn, have been a secret biological and human anatomy scientist, making extra money under the table and explaining it as charity donations. You think I don't know how you climbed to the top so quickly? You think I don't know who got rid of their own scientists just because they came up with better ideas than you? I mean, really, sending twenty of your own workers to the Daily Bugle and they never return? It doesn't take a genius to figure out your intentions behind that."

"What about you, Otto? We can play this game all day," Norman smiles, unflinching when he hears the stuff about his most recent, eh, loss. "I'm not the one who kidnapped people off the street to try and replicate a few powers. Let's not forget who built the head of a certain mob boss-"

"THAT WAS ONE TIME!" Otto takes a deep breath to settle himself. "Fair enough, it looks like we both have blood on our hands. But, Osborn, there isn't anything you can-"

"The harness has fused to your spinal cord right here," Norman explains, opening up his computer and showing the diagram of Octavius's x-ray. "The only way to detach it is to kill you, and I didn't think you would be up for that. I could probably remove the arms, but you'd be stuck with the harness-"

"No, the arms stay with me. If you can't do anything, then don't do it," he says, climbing over Osborn and slamming his arm into the wall as he reaches the stairs.

"Looks like you could use something to punch," Norman points out.

"Or someone," he mutters. The man is about to leave when he spots a weird looking door that seems to be hiding behind some boxes. "Say, where do you keep your biological equipment, anyway? Do you have a separate lab for that stuff or is it all in your penthouse?"

"That's none of your business, Otto. I think you've overstayed your welcome," Norman says sternly.

"Yes, of course," he responds, formulating an idea as he walks out the door, retracting his arms. Right when he walks out of the building, the doctor runs into a kid who loses his balance and falls backward.

"Gah! Ow..." the kid grumbles, shaking his head and looking up at the doctor. "S-sorry, sir."

"It's quite alright," he says, reaching a hand out and obviously a tad annoyed.

The boy hesitantly gathers a few things he dropped and accepts the gesture. Allowing the doctor to pull him back onto his feet. For some reason, he refuses to make eye contact with Otto, and he becomes rather self-aware. He can't be scared of his arms, right? They are snugly tucked away in the back of his harness. Maybe the kid has anxiety issues or something, but he doesn't get a chance to think much about it because Norman's son interrupts his thoughts by waving the boy inside. "Come on in, Andrew! Your brother is already here."

"S-sorry again, s-sir," the boy apologizes, passing the doctor and walking into the building. Otto shrugs, thinking that the kid is just intimidated by strangers, and leaves for his own lab.

Andrew finds the elevator quickly and smashes the button that reads "living quarters" so hard that he almost breaks it with his super strength. Right as the door closes, he slumps against the corner and hugs his books tightly to his chest. Nononono! What was Doctor Octopus doing here? Did he recognize me? There's no way, don't worry, he couldn't have possibly recognized me without my mask or something. I gotta tell John.

Despite his growing fear, Andrew can't help but to grasp the amazingness of the Osborn penthouse. The elevator opens to a huge, open room lined with oak flooring and a massive table in the center. There are five different passageways he could take from here, each leading to another luxurious room, but the second one on the right is the one he chooses. He is greeted with Harry's room, the far wall being an open window to view the entire borough, and the other three lined with comic posters and pictures of stars. Harry has always been an astro-nerd, so it makes sense when the ceiling is an exact replica of the night sky when you view it on July 18th, his birthday. Would it be a stretch to say he painted it himself? Because, he did. From every detailed blue, red, and green star to the exact proportions of the constellations. The only thing that's different about his ceiling and the reference photograph is there is no light pollution to obstruct anything, leaving all of the stars accounted for and the sky glowing on its own.

"Ahhh!" Harry sighs and flops on his bed, curling around so he can look at his friends. "So, are the rumors true? Are the famous Nikris twins finally going to try out for basketball?"

"This is the year," Andrew says brightly, sitting in a bean bag next to his brother (who was already lounging, playing Minecraft on Harry's television).

"We aren't even that famous, so don't try to up our stigma, Har," John says, not looking away from the screen.

Harry watches as he digs into the caves, coming across some rare materials one wouldn't normally find above ground and Andrew responds, "Speak for yourself. I'm pretty popular with the ladies."

"Yeah, if Flash were a lady," John comments.

"Oh, he got you there," Harry says with a chuckle. "Seriously, though. Have either of you seen any hot chicks in school? You still have that crush on Sally, Andy?"

Ugh, I hate that name "Andy," but there are only two people in the world who are allowed to call me that. Harry and his father. Even my own parents know that name is off-limits. Everyone always calls me Andrew, and that's how it should be. Well, and sometimes Maria abbreviates my name in text messages by calling me "AJ," but other than that it's just Andrew. He shivers when he remembers Ethan trying once as kids to give him a nickname. He just never understood that his name was supposed to be shortened. Perhaps if he grew up being called "Andy" or "Drew" then it would be acceptable, but it's too late for that sort of thing.

What were they talking about? Oh, right, Sally. His face turns red and he rolls his eyes saying, "Nah, that was left behind in Sophomore year. Sally is so old-school."

"Don't say that to her face," Harry warns. "Sally is one of the most popular girls in school, if not the most. You don't want to make an enemy of every girl in our year."

"Yeah, well, you can rest easy knowing every female has their eyes on you, Har. You've been model material since you hit high school," Andrew whines. "No one even looks at me twice."

"Come on, man. You've got the flow. I would give my right arm to have your hair!"

"I wouldn't go that far," John pipes in. "He spends three hours each morning on his body above the shoulders."

"You guys are just jealous of my drip."

"Yeah, super jealous," John sarcastically comments.

"I actually am a bit, but maybe I'll feel better if I don't admit it," Harry says, brushing his bangs back with his hands. He has always looked older than the rest, almost as if he was a college student. Harry is tall, athletic, toned, and tan with the bluest eyes in New York complimented with curly, orange hair. He could be the star of a magazine with his pearly teeth and symmetric features. In every pose, every position he sits in, the girls will all stop and swoon, and it doesn't help that he wears tight-fit shirts and jeans every day to school. Andrew and John always wonder how Flash finds the nerve to punch his perfect face, but among the many things he is, Harry isn't a fighter.

He looks as if he is about to comment on another topic, but his bedroom door swings open and his dad walks inside, holding a tablet and looking to be very engrossed with whatever is on the screen. "I thought this was supposed to be a study session," he says in a fatherly tone, gazing up from the tablet to stare judgingly at the boys.

"We are studying! Umm... studying the... art of the stars!" Andrew says quickly, taking an astronomy book off Harry's shelf.

"Of course, that and the art of women," Mr. Osborn says, making two of the three high schoolers turn red. John is too busy with his game to care. Mr. Osborn laughs, "Don't think of me as a deaf fool, now, son."

"I-I know, Dad," Harry says, scratching the back of his neck.

"Honestly, I don't know why you restrain yourself from relationships so much," his dad responds with a sigh. "Andy isn't wrong about you, Harry. Why, by your age I was already dating your mother for two years."

"You know I'm trying to focus on school, Dad. Do you really want me to date someone?" he asks.

"I want you to have fun, spend your money on a girl," his voice gets deeper at the last part, "and be the rebellious son you used to be."

"Daaaad! That's so weird," Harry says with a blush.

"I bet you were the stuff back in your school days weren't you, Mr. Osborn?" Andrew asks.

"I was, what you would call, the 'package deal'. The ladies were all over me, but unlike someone else in the room, I wasn't shy," he responds with a smirk.

"Dad-"

"Sorry, but I have a hard time believing that. Our mom was in your class and she would never have fallen for that type of thing," John comments, still tapping away at his controller.

"Oh, sure, sure," Mr. Osborn says, straightening his tie and placing his device on the side table. He adjusts his sleeves to fit over the cuffs and walks toward the gaming sibling, catching him off guard by grabbing his wrists and pulling him out of the chair.

Andrew swears it's straight out of a scene from an anime his sister, Julia, watches. Norman's arm wraps around John's waist and he pulls him to his chest, his other hand resting under his chin and lifting it up just slightly to gaze into his eyes. When blue meets hazel, John seems to get lost in the moment for a second, feeling as if he was being entranced. His legs go numb, but he can feel the support of Norman keeping him elevated (almost as if Mr. Osborn was expecting him to lose his footing).

"Uhhhhhhh..." is all John can say after a long moment of silence, the other two boys stuck in awe at what they just witnessed.

"Dad, what the heck? You're embarrassing me!" Harry whines.

"I'm just showing you how to approach someone you like. You have to make them feel like a princess, the only gem of your life," Norman says, shrugging and pushing John gently back down into his chair. He brushes his hair back and walks to the door, snagging his tablet.

"What are you working on, Mr. Osborn?" Andrew asks, trying to change the subject from John's stunned form.

"Oh, your buddy Mr. Morales sent me some intriguing designs that I'm looking over. If he's not careful, I might just have to hire him," he responds. "The kid has some fascinating ideas."

"You're not seriously thinking about bringing him into the company," Harry says, jealousy lacing in the back of his throat. "I mean, he's only in high school."

"You worry about your projects, and I'll worry about mine. Harry, there was something else I-" Norman is cut off by his watch beeping, and when he looks down he is not amused by what it says. "We will talk later. I have to take this."

When he finally leaves the three alone, John slumps back into his bean bag chair, finally able to relax. "What was that all about?"

"Sorry, John. My dad can get super embarrassing sometimes, you know how he is," Harry says with a loud groan while flopping onto his bed. He seems to sink into the mattress even more somehow.

"Yeah, because that's totally what I meant," he responds sarcastically, grabbing the controller and turning back to the television. John can't help but to bite his lip, feeling something off about how Norman acted today. It's not a spider sense thing - he knows what that feels like - but this is more of a hidden feeling. The way he looked at his watch gave him the sense that there is something he isn't telling them. But, that happens with Norman Osborn a lot, he's a very secretive guy. So, why did this feel so wrong?

Andrew seems to have moved on, that or he just doesn't feel the stinging paranoia that he does, so he tries to relax a bit more and forget about it. Let's just try to have a nice, chill time here at the Osborn penthouse. After all, Harry has a secret stash of Mountain Dew that I'm dying to break open.

Underneath the penthouse, there is a certain scientist holding his phone out for a signal...

"Have we reached an agreement yet?" Dr. Octavius asks with a grumble. He moves his free hand over one of the mechanical ones, stroking it as if it was his pet. Holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek, he is able to hold the arm down with both hands as he starts tearing it apart, making adjustments to make it more combative.

The voice on the other side of the line is very deep, one might even think he was talking to Tombstone. However, unlike the jolly Frankenstein man, this person talks as if he's actually trying to hide, to stay in the shadows. That doesn't keep him from answering, "You get Osborn's corpse, I get paid. Really, can it be more simple?"

"The files, Sir. Don't forget about the files on me and those missing people," Octavius reminds him.

"Hah, of course," he responds with a genuine laugh. It almost seems as if this guy is intentionally messing with the doctor. "But, why hire me when you can obviously take care of it yourself?"

There is a distant clanging noise on the other side of the phone that sounds like a knife being stabbed through a plate. Dr. Octavius says in response, "There might be some... disturbances that I'd rather not meet again for a while. Besides, I don't need the murder of Norman Osborn on my permanent record."

"As long as you cough up the cash," there is another clash of the same noise, "your slate will be polished clean. And, don't worry about those disturbances." The man pauses, and Otto can almost hear him smile from the other side of the phone. "Squashing those spiders will be a piece of cake."

Swinging toward the Daily Bugle, the twilight hour is beckoning...

Aqua Spider zips herself forward as high as she can go, the purple camera hanging loosely around her neck. There were only a few instances when she almost lost it because she was swinging too fancily, but it never dropped thanks to her webbing and amazing instincts. She texts on her phone as she flies past the buildings, only half paying attention to what is going on ahead of her. Dani's contact is pulled up and she has been talking with her, explaining that she is continuing the investigation for her husband. With her right thumb (her left is becoming numb as she continues to swing) she presses the send button on the next message that reads: Going to the Bugle now, actually. Like you said, this is where it all started. Maybe it could lead me to an end of some kind. She sends another quick one as she lands on the roof: I'll find him, Dani. Your husband will greet your kids with warm hugs and a noogie when he comes home.

Thank you so much, Aqua! Remember, his name is Isaac Delaney, she responds, the notification popping up almost immediately. Aqua takes a deep breath, giving her a thumbs-up emoji, and searches for a way inside the building without setting off alarms.

"If broom-stache was worried about the Spiderlings sneaking into his office, he might have upped on the security," she comments to herself, wondering if there is an entranceway that won't set off any alarms. She crawls down, sticking to the glass window as she looks around inside. "It's not like I'm Shadow and can disable alarms by doing some techy-engineering stuff. How do bad guys normally sneak into places?"

She climbs around the corner, gazing into a room at another angle. "Hmm, just my luck. The door seems to be already open," she comments, seeing that J. Jonah Jameson is there passed out on his desk. That means there aren't any alarms to trigger since he is still in the room. "All I have to do is stay quiet, piece of cake."

Aqua finds an open window and slides herself through, but her hoodie gets caught in the corner which makes it almost rip. Luckily, she manages to control herself and unhook it before anything disastrous happens, and quietly steps on the floor in the corner of the office. Humming to add sound to the surrounding area, she pulls the hood over her head and feels the creases tighten slightly to fit around her more comfortably. She acts like a ninja, a very terrible ninja, and jumps onto the wall behind Jameson.

"If I were a secret file explaining the whereabouts of a missing scientist, where would I be?" she asks herself, scanning the room for any drawers. She finds some, but her heart sinks when there are a lot more than she has time for. Well, gotta start somewhere.

The first row of drawers contain Jonah's extra socks, shoes, and other clothing materials, which makes Aqua think that he actually does live here and never goes home. Yeesh, get a life, dude, she thinks as her nose scrunches in disgust. On the other side of the room contains magazines about the Spiderlings, but she is less creeped out than she was in Dr. Octavius's lab. Now that she thinks about it, she would be more concerned if she didn't find any articles or other content regarding her and the other spiders. She snaps pictures of some of the covers, thinking they're quite the scene (most of them depict Olympic or Emerald Spider on the cover for some reason), and moves on to some other drawers.

Aqua stops halfway as she crosses the room, peering over to Jameson's desk and tilting her head as she argues with herself to decide if she should try and find out what he was working on. One little peek wouldn't hurt. Besides, I want to be the first one to read the exclusive headline that the Spiderlings are trying to make the city sewers explode. Why do my siblings have all the fun?

Walking up to the hardwood desk, she immediately trips and falls forward, her hands slamming on the table to stop her from crashing into it. Cringing, she is sure that Jameson would wake with a start from the noise, but he continues to snore the night away. Aqua sighs in relief and decides to test her luck by snapping her fingers right in front of his face. After waiting a few moments, he doesn't wake up and she suddenly feels a lot more safe about sneaking around the office.

"He's a heavier sleeper than I am. Now, let's see what he's been working on..." she says, grabbing the stack of papers Jameson was lying on top of. Ignoring the drool on the corner of the pages, she flips through them to find tomorrow's newspaper headline reading: Spiderlings attempt to blow up Manhattan via sewers!

"I so called it," Aqua mutters with a chuckle. She goes to the next few pages and stops at big, red letters written over the articles. "Did... did Jameson write this?"

Right wall. What am I going to do? 18. The number "18" is written over and over again in the margins. "The right wall?" she whispers, looking from Jameson's point of view to where he would perceive the far right wall.

She walks over to it, being more careful with her feet this time, and feels the drywall for anything out of the ordinary. She didn't notice that she pressed a button, but she must have triggered something because the paint vanishes, leaving a dark entryway, stairs leading downward. Looking back at the sleeping reporter one last time, Aqua sucks in her fear and walks into the passageway, the exit closing behind her.

Three boys are playing wrestling-tag across the several rooms of the penthouse...

What did you expect would happen, them actually doing homework together? After Norman was confirmed to be in his lab, the boys got restless and Andrew started chasing Harry around the house. John wouldn't have joined in if his brother hadn't taken a bucket of pool water and dumped it all over him (soaking both him and the controller for the X-box). Now, he is getting his revenge.

For some reason, Andrew thought it would be a great idea to take everything off but his shorts, claiming it gives him a better advantage in the running part of this game. In reality, it's so Harry and John can't snag his tank top and drag him to the ground. Harry didn't need to follow in his footsteps, as his clothes are skin-tight, but he did it anyway just in case he was pushed into the pool or something.

John wrings out his own clothes to try and dry them out faster as he hides behind a wall. Slinging the fabric over his shoulder, he cracks his knuckles to get ready to beat up his brother for what he did. He can hear him and Harry running around, leaping over the couches like the athletic friends they are, when there is a crash and a yelp that makes John think they knocked over a lamp.

"Are you kidding me?" John sighs while rolling his eyes. Despite him being mad at Andrew, he knows he should make sure he's okay. After all, he still has those stitches in and might need some serious medical attention if he re-opened them. Stepping into the living room, he yells, "Andrew, are you al-"

Eyes widening, he sees both his twin and friend knocked out on the floor, tied together with some sort of cord, their unconscious bodies lobbing to the side as the wall supports them. The lamp isn't the thing that's broken, but rather the giant window that allows a gushing, cool breeze to send chills down his spine (no thanks to his soaking clothes, either).

He surveys the area to make sure no one is here and runs over to his brother and Harry, moving the former's face around with his hands and saying, "Dude, are you okay? Wake up!"

"Came in... through there," Andrew manages to say, struggling to stay awake. He points to the shattered glass from the window with his eyes. "Grabbed me h- agh!"

John looks down and sees his brother grasping at his side, a bit of blood seeping between his fingers. "This is exactly what I was worried about," he mumbles. "Stay here, I'm going to figure out who this person is."

"N-no, John. I go... too," he pleads.

"There is no way you can fight like that. I'm sorry, bro, but you need to sit this one out," John says in a demanding tone. He knows his brother would argue back, but whatever happened to him was too much and he ends up passing out once again.

I know he was hurt, but what could give Andrew the jump like that? Maybe it was something that didn't trigger his spider sense at all, he thinks to himself. One thing's for sure, John Nikris can't beat him. But... maybe Shadow Spider can.

Dashing into Harry's room, he thankfully doesn't run into anyone and quickly changes into his spider outfit. He is about to exit the room, but he sees something shining out of Andrew's backpack. It's his camera. Poor him wasn't able to get shots of the fight with Tombstone or the Octopus guy because both times he was incapacitated. And now again... I should help him out with that.

He quickly figures out how the camera works and puts it on auto-shoot, webbing it to the corner of the ceiling as he investigates the shattered window. "Both Harry and Andrew are still unharmed. Whoever broke in here was probably looking for something, not someone. Could be an expert burglar, because who doesn't want to rob the Osborns?"

"Should I introduce myself, or wait for you to figure it out yourself?" someone says from behind him, making him jump and turn around.

"Who-"

"The name's Taskmaster, and I've been looking forward to this," he says, steeling his fists. The guy isn't that tall, probably the same height as John now that he looks closer, and he can't make out any of his features. A mask representing a skull hides his face, and he is clothed in an orange and navy blue suit, finished with a white cape and hood. Many gadgets line his silver belt, some even around the straps of his boots, and John swears he sees a holster for a sword under his cape.

"Taskmaster? What are you going to do, the chores?" he responds with wit that would make Aqua proud.

"Charming. I almost hate to do this, but I've waited far too long," he says, taking a few things off his belt and throwing them at the spider.

John's spider sense rings, making him think the daggers are aimed to stab him, but when he dodges he almost gets blasted away when they explode. "I don't know what you're deal is," he starts, webbing up a chair and throwing it at the guy, "but you should get home before I call the police."

Taskmaster blocks the attack by crossing his arms in front of him, making the chair shatter into many wooden pieces. "You call New York's Finest, and those two die," he says, pointing at the tied up high schoolers. "Notice how you didn't remove the syringes I used to deliver the sleep medication. One wrong move from you, and I activate the syringes' self-destruct modes."

"Did you seriously put bombs inside a needle? How desperate are you?!" Shadow yells, getting angry, and jumps toward him with a raised fist.

Taskmaster side steps, grabs the back collar of his hood, and pulls him back, slamming him into the ground. All with one hand behind his back, which he uses to pull out a double edged sword, the kind most fantasy characters have. "I'm not desperate," he spits. "Just resourceful."

Shadow shoots webs at his ankles since he is on the ground and pulls, finally able to knock over Taskmaster. "For the amount of bad guys I've heard say that, none of them went without an arrest seconds later," he retorts, regaining his footing.

"Whoever said I was a bad guy?" Taskmaster asks, pushing himself up with the handle of his sword. "If you pay the right money, I might even consider helping you five freaks."

"Ohhhh, so you're a mercenary?" John says, swinging his foot at his face, but the guy blocks it with his wrist.

"Correction," Taskmaster grumbles, taking the opportunity to grab Shadow's ankle this time and pulling the kid toward him. "I'm the best mercenary."

Shadow pushes himself away from Taskmaster and does a few flips, posing as he lands. The merc chuckles and does the same maneuver, but this time flipping forward and landing right across from him. His eyes not believing what he just saw, Shadow asks, "How did you...?"

"An ancient secret," he answers, swinging his leg to kick Shadow in the face just as he tried to do to him before. This time, it's Taskmaster who is successful in creating a dent in his cheek.

"Copycat," Shadow grumbles, rushing forward with his fists swinging in all different directions. He is able to block every one of them, however, and the spider isn't able to land a single punch.

Just as he tries a different approach and goes for the legs, Taskmaster finds an opportunity and slices his sword against the shoulder armor of his uniform, but is taken aback when it makes no noise. "What the... I'd rather be a mimic than a freak," he says, dodging another punch.

A circular shield forms around Taskmaster's left wrist and he bashes it into Shadow's chest, slightly knocking the wind out of him. He stumbles backward, a hand over his breastplate, and coughs to regain his composure. The mercenary runs sideways up the wall, flips, and swings his sword at the spider's head, but he ducks and swipes his feet around to trip him up. While on the ground, he does the same thing to Shadow and they both jump to recover in the same fashion, posing as spiders as if Shadow was fighting a mirror.

"What is it? Some sort of copy-tech that you made in your grandma's basement?" Shadow asks, spinning and smacking the back of his hand against Taskmaster's mask. Thankfully, he actually landed the hit this time.

"Try an instantaneous photographic memory. Everything you do-" he pauses to perform the same spin and smack to the spider, "-I can learn from."

If what he's saying is true, then he can match me in everything I do! Think, Shadow, what is something he can't copy? The tiniest bit of breath sucks through his teeth as he gasps, getting an idea. But, before he can do anything, the elevator dings and Norman Osborn (clad in his fuzzy green pajamas) walks in all disgruntled. "What the heck is going on here?!" he yells, now more awake once he sees the spider and the merc.

"There you are," Taskmaster says, unclasping a gun from his belt and aiming the barrel at Norman. "The Doctor sends his regards."

BOOM! In an instant, he shoots the gun, but the bullet makes a hole in the wall instead of the scientist's head. "What the..." Taskmaster grunts, following the trail of black webbing from his wrist to Shadow Spider's hands. "You," he says, throwing the gun to the floor and swinging his sword through the webbing.

"Osborn, get out of here. This guy is a mercenary," Shadow explains simply, taking something off his belt. "And I have a feeling he's after you."

He goes to do as he says and flee the room, but the mercenary turns, pointing his blade at him, and says, "Hold it right there. You leave this room, and I blow your son's brains out."

"You're kidding," Norman says angrily. He looks at Shadow with the same tone and asks, "You let him near my son?!"

"As one might guess, I got here after he did. What do you think I've been trying to do for the past ten minutes? Help him search for the detonator?" Shadow asks, throwing the silver metal sphere at the merc. When it gets near him, it explodes into a bunch of black webs that stick his feet to the floor and one of his hands to his side. His cape also tears in one direction, making his neck go stiff. "You like that little gadget I whipped up? Got the idea after molding a palm full of webbing while facing Tombstone," he says gingerly.

Taskmaster grunts and drops his sword, allowing him to raise his arm and go for a button on the side of his mask. Shadow chuckles and thwips webs at his face, ripping the face covering off Taskmaster who yells, "You really trying to make an enemy out of me?!"

"Nah, that's for you to decide, but I'm not just going to let you kill two kids and a Manhattan prodigy," he responds, checking the side of the mask to see that there is the button that would have set off the bombs in Harry and Andrew's needles. "And, next time, don't point out to me where your stuff is. Like you, I learn from watching my enemies." He turns to Norman and adds, "Call the cops, Mr. Osborn."

"Thank you, Shadow Spider. How can I ever repay you?" Norman asks, following him to the broken window.

"Make sure that guy gets behind bars. Oh, and check on that blonde kid who was hiding in the kitchen. I think I saw him under the cabinets," he says, making sure to give himself a reason for not being there. Can't have Norman connecting the dots as to why "John" isn't tied up with his son and Andrew.

"Can do, Spider. Can do," he responds, nodding and watches as Shadow jumps out into the night, swinging away.

Norman turns around, his eyebrows lowering, and he faces Taskmaster. "I thought you were a professional, Mason. Yet, you were bested by a Spiderling. Pity."

"You know as well as anyone that no prison can hold me. I own too many people, I can pay for my own bail," he threatens, dark eyes glowing with menace.

Osborn glares at him, taking in his features with a disgusted face. The familiar way his lip twitches from a scar, the trickle of his black hair over his dark skin, and the shape of his face almost looks as if he was born to wear the skull mask. He smirks and says, "Oh, I'll compensate you, if you get off my case."

"Hmm..." he thinks about it. "As long as I get another crack at the spider, I'm forgetting this job ever existed. I'm going to need time, though."

"Perfect," Norman responds, crouching down to grab the man's sword. He easily cuts through the webbing and hands the weapon to him, also giving him his mask back. Taskmaster gathers his things and heads for the window, but stops when he hears Norman ask one more question, "Out of curiosity, how much was Octavius paying you?"

"Not enough," he grumbles, jumping outside without looking back.

Osborn calmly walks over to where his son is tied up, searching for the injection point and taking out the needle, also removing Andrew's as well since he is one of Harry's best friends. Just as he does so, John comes bursting into the room looking like he's seen a ghost and breathing heavily, his words all jumbled, "M-Mr. Osborn! I-I..."

"Don't worry, John. One of the Spiderlings came here and handled the intruder for us. Unfortunately, the man got away before the police could arrive, but I know he doesn't have the guts to come back here," he says, putting a hand on his shoulder in a fatherly way. "You and your brother can spend the night here. It would be unwise to roam the streets at this hour, and I think Harry could use the company after what happened to him tonight."

He doesn't give John the option to go home or not, but instead leaves to set up the guest bedrooms. The spiderling sighs deeply, walking over to the corner where he webbed up Andrew's camera, and takes it down. He looks through the photos to make sure they look decent and puts it back in his brother's backpack, slumping against the wall next to him and ready to fall asleep himself.

But, the night isn't over yet. Back at the Bugle...

The Aqua Spider scrunches up her nose as she walks down the steps. What is that awful smell? Ugh, it's revolting. Finally reaching the bottom, she finds that the room is way more open than she anticipated, but it's also pitch black. Light switch... Light switch... Bingo! She manages to put the lights on, but she wishes she didn't.

"Oh my God," she gasps, putting her hands over her nose and mouth. Her eyes quiver as she looks at the array of mostly-rotted flesh and piles of bones scattered around the room. There are bugs everywhere crawling over and buzzing around the corpses, finding the feast of their lifetime. All of the bones are wearing white lab coats stained with what Aqua guesses is dried up blood.

She steps forward, accidentally coating the bottom of her feet with a dark red crust. I-I have to investigate. Have to k-keep looking. Ignoring the bodies (what's left of them) and trying not to hurl when she steps on a bundle of centipedes. She finds the large tube in the back of the lab, which is where she guesses the Scorpion got his suit. He must have done this... all of this. How could this happen? The initials MH are engraved on the machine, and now that she looks around the lab more, it's stamped on all of the equipment. Who is MH? she asks herself.

After taking pictures of all the mechanical stuff, she swallows her shock to investigate the bodies. First, she takes a head count, but this proves to be difficult because of how mangled everyone is. However, she gets a rough estimate of about 17 to 20 people down here. "Wait," she whispers, "Jameson kept writing the number 18. Could that be the number of people he knows have lost their lives down here? Was he... in on this?"

Feeling nauseous, she finally inches her way forward and kneels down, trying to find a nametag or wallet from the pocket of a lab coat. After looking through a few of them, whom's names she doesn't recognize, she finally finds him: Dr. Isaac Delaney. His body is by the control panel, right next to another doctor named Michael Morbius.

"What do I do? I have to... tell somebody," she manages to say, reality starting to kick in. Her breathing quickens and her chest tightens so much that she has to roll up a bit. I have to get out of here or I'm not ever leaving.

She looks around, finding part of the wall that looks different from the rest. It appears to be a poor patch job, but Aqua doesn't stick around to wonder why as she sprints toward it, throwing her body against it entirely, and lands in the wet grass outside the building.

The fresh air is overwhelming, and so is the downpour of rain that soaks her sweatshirt. It's times like these where she wishes she wasn't waterproof, that she could feel the drops soaking through her spider suit. However, it just rolls off, but she lifts her mask up to her nose and allows the bottom half of her face to get wet. Finally able to breathe, she secures the camera around her neck and shoots webs forward, her feet leaving the ground and swinging away.

About halfway home, she finally allows herself to start crying. Aqua bites her lip to keep herself from hyperventilating too much, but she can't think of anything else. The smell still stings in her nose, the bottom of her feet still feel dirty, and the tips of her fingers still have a layer of blood on them from searching around. She knows that she has to bring this evidence to the police at some point, but she can't help herself and makes a beeline for Tanner's apartment. I need help, she repeats over in her head until she lands in front of his apartment building.

Diving into the alleyway, she takes her spider suit off, desperately trying to get rid of the feeling of when she was back inside the lab. She fumbles through a backpack she left on the wall a while ago in case of emergencies, and finds a clean sweatshirt and loose, comfy pants she used to wear. She throws her spider suit in the dumpster and walks out of the alleyway, knocking on the door.

Julia isn't sure how, she doesn't really remember, but she is let into the building and she finds her way to Tanner's room. After knocking, her eyes red and face salty with tears, she enters the room and her nose is stinging again.

"Bout time. I was wondering when your fatass would come back," Tanner's voice echoes from the living room. She rounds the corner, ignoring the comment, and finds her boyfriend lying on the couch with a glass bottle next to him.

"I-I'm not that late," she whispers, but then quickly says more firmly, "I really need to talk to you. Something... something happened and I-"

She should have been watching, and she knows that, but she was getting too distracted and overwhelmed with the memories of the lab that she doesn't even hear Tanner stand up before it's too late. He reels his arm back and punches her square in the face, knuckles aimed down to connect with her cheekbone. Julia turns and falls on her stomach, one hand grasping her face as the atmosphere seems to turn off. All that matters is she stays alert. Don't get back up.

"You missed your chance to talk. Don't come in the room," he says sternly, dropping the bottle right next to her as he walks by. The glass shatters and she covers her eyes to protect them from the shards. Listening to the footsteps make their rounds, she hears his bedroom door slam and she takes that as her signal to sit up.

"Ow," she breathes, leaning against the side of the couch while picking glass out of her hands.

A small jingling sound can be heard, and Julia turns her head to see Quips turning the corner and skipping up to her lap. "Hey, buddy," she says as the dog puts his two front paws on her chest, leaning his chin against her pounding heart. "I love you, too," Julia comments. She wraps her arms around the dog, making him wag his tail, and leans her forehead against his. For the rest of the night she curls on the floor, listening to the rain to distract her and cuddling with her dog.