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Peter took the invoice to the accounting department—$150 for the Spider-Man photos.
The accountant looked at the paperwork, then at Peter, expression apologetic.
"Sorry, this doesn't even cover your last advance."
Peter remembered. He'd borrowed against future payments when rent was due last month.
He couldn't argue with accounting. It wasn't their fault.
He left empty-handed.
On his way out, Peter passed Marcus's office. The room was dark, door closed.
Strange. Peter didn't come to the Bugle often anymore—college kept him busy—but whenever he did visit, Marcus was always here.
Seeing the empty office felt odd.
Peter stopped, looking through the glass. Memories surfaced.
During the Green Goblin attack on the bridge, Marcus had shown up wearing a mask, shooting at the Goblin with a sniper rifle. When Peter had asked about it later, Marcus had denied everything. "Wasn't me. You've got the wrong guy."
Peter hadn't pushed it. What was he supposed to do, interrogate Marcus?
Over the past two years, they'd developed a good friendship. Marcus was the only person in the world who knew Peter was Spider-Man. That created a certain bond. They talked sometimes—casually, about nothing in particular.
Peter didn't worry about Marcus's absence. They were adults. People had their own lives.
He'd catch up with Marcus later.
Peter left the building and hurried back to campus.
He had Professor Connors's class—or rather, he'd already missed it.
By the time Peter reached the university, Connors's lecture had ended. Peter found the professor outside the science building, packing his briefcase.
Connors looked at Peter with visible frustration.
"Your grades are dropping. You're constantly late. You look exhausted all the time. And you still haven't submitted your fusion energy report."
"I'm planning to write about Dr. Otto's research—"
"The university doesn't assign topics, and Otto happens to be a friend of mine." Connors fixed Peter with a stern look. "You need to write an excellent report. If you don't submit it, I'll have no choice but to fail you."
Peter nodded quickly. "I'll get it done. I promise."
He spent the rest of the afternoon attending other classes, then headed to Uncle Ben's house. His uncle had specifically asked him to come over tonight.
Peter wasn't sure why.
When he arrived, Uncle Ben welcomed him warmly.
Aunt May was there. So were Harry and Mary Jane.
"Surprise!" they said.
It was Peter's birthday. They'd planned a celebration.
Peter felt genuinely happy—for a moment.
Then things got awkward.
Harry kept trying to get Peter to reveal Spider-Man's identity. "Come on, you must know something. You take all those photos. He trusts you, right?"
Peter couldn't tell him the truth. The conversation grew strained.
Before leaving, Harry mentioned he could introduce Peter to Dr. Otto. Oscorp was funding Otto's nuclear fusion research—creating new sustainable energy. An introduction would be easy to arrange.
Then Mary Jane delivered more bad news: she had a new boyfriend.
The only good news was her invitation to see her in an upcoming stage play. Peter accepted.
As Peter was leaving, Uncle Ben pressed a hundred-dollar bill into his hand.
"For expenses."
"Uncle Ben, I can't—"
"Yes, you can. Don't argue with me."
Peter lived on his own now, in a cheap apartment near campus. Uncle Ben knew money was tight. This was his way of helping.
Peter accepted the money, grateful despite his embarrassment.
Back at his apartment building, Peter was intercepted before he could reach his door.
"What about the rent, Parker?"
Peter turned. The landlord was hosting friends in the apartment across the hall, door open, beer bottles visible.
"Hi—"
"Don't 'hi' me. Where's my rent?"
Peter forced a smile. "I'm getting paid this month."
"You haven't paid in a month."
"I promise—"
"If promises were food, my daughter would weigh three hundred pounds!"
The landlord gestured at his daughter, who was notably thin.
Peter pulled out the hundred dollars Uncle Ben had just given him.
"This is supposed to be my living expenses—"
The landlord snatched it from Peter's hand with surprising speed. "Apologies don't pay bills."
He pocketed the money. "Don't try sneaking past me next time. My ears are like a cat's, my eyes like a rodent's."
Peter bit back his frustration. At least the landlord hadn't evicted him. "Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah." The landlord turned back to his party, then paused. "Wait. Package came for you."
He handed Peter a small gift box.
There was a note attached: Happy Birthday. —Marcus
Peter stared at it, surprised.
The landlord, uncharacteristically kind, added: "Happy birthday, kid."
His daughter smiled from the doorway. "Happy birthday, Peter!"
"Thanks," Peter managed.
Inside his cramped apartment, Peter opened the gift.
A palm-sized Spider-Man figure. Detailed, well-made, clearly custom.
Peter held the little model, emotions churning.
Since becoming Spider-Man, his life had fallen apart. His relationships were strained. His finances were a disaster. The Daily Bugle constantly slandered him.
Peter was confused now.
He wasn't sure if he should continue being Spider-Man.
Maybe he needed to rethink everything.
The next day, Peter went to Oscorp's research facility.
Harry led him through security and down to the laboratory level.
Dr. Otto Octavius was there—red sweater, slightly overweight, working at a computer terminal.
Harry was his primary benefactor. Otto couldn't refuse to meet him.
When Otto saw Peter, he looked puzzled. "Who's this?"
"The genius I told you about," Harry said enthusiastically.
Peter stepped forward, hand extended. "Peter Parker. I'm writing a report on your work."
Otto shook his hand with professional courtesy. "I know why you're here. I don't usually have time for undergraduate interviews, but Oscorp funds my research, so here we are."
Peter smiled awkwardly.
Harry checked his watch. "I've got meetings. You two talk."
He left.
Peter turned back to Otto. "I won't take much of your time—"
"Connors spoke about you," Otto interrupted. "Said you had a good brain. Also said you were lazy."
Peter's face flushed. "I'll do better. I promise."