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[b]Parker Residence
Queens, NY[/b]

"What are you doing?" Gwen asks as she comes up behind me, putting her chin on my shoulder. "Because it's certainly not the homework you wanted to do together."

"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I did that hours ago. Just wanted you to be here to help." I continue to type away at my computer, desperately looking for any clues.

"Help to do what? I have homework to do, clearly," she laughs.

"What do you think could turn someone into a bunch of living sand?" I question without looking away from the screen.

Gwen sighs and flops back down on the bed, flipping through her book to the homework assignment, "Pete that's a bit above our expertise, no?"

"Maybe. No. I dunno. But I need to figure out what may have done this." The sight of Flint Marko contorting his body and becoming pure sand is burned into my memory. The guy was a crook, but no one deserves to be turned into something like that against their will. 

"Have you looked through Oscorp's projects?" she arches her eyebrows.

I have, but I hold back saying so. I'm frustrated, and I shouldn't take it out on Gwen. "I've taken a look. Nothing jumps out at me on their site. And I'm worried about digging deeper and drawing suspicion. I don't need to advertise to Stormin' Norman Osborn that I'm Spider-man any more than I already have."

"What about Doctor Connors?" she suggests. Connors had been Gwen and I's scientific mentor during the school year last year. He had once been an Oscorp researched before taking a teaching position at Empire State University. "I thought about it, but I worried it might set off suspicion."

"Fine, you big baby, I'll go do it," she rolls her eyes.

"Thank yooooou!" I hop out of my chair, flip through the air, and kiss her.

"You're lucky I love you," she pushes me off.

"Seriously," I chuckle. "Who else can put up with my shenanigans."

[center]**********[/center]

[b]Two Hours Later[/b]

With Gwen gone and Aunt May at work yet again, I don my mask and head out into the night. I'm not going out on patrol, but to talk to someone. Captain Stacy isn't on duty tonight, but one of his detectives is most likely out on the beat. She usually is, and I need to talk to her. 

Swinging in Queens isn't fun until the houses start turning into skyscrapers, but once they do I can really get going. Slinging a web onto a light pole, I swing around it, catapulting myself high over the street at an extreme speed.

"Woo!"

Attaching another line to a building face perpendicular to my path, I yank the webbing hard, turning sharply and quickly. I flip, landing in an alleyway. There I wait for my contact with the major crimes unit. After a few minutes, she passes by the alleyway, and I call out, "Hey lady, you looking to buy?"

I've busted enough drug dealers in order to learn the lingo. Of course I'm still a one hundred twenty-five pound high schooler, so I don't really sound the part. Still, it gets her attention, and she turns, coming into the alley, Once there, she crosses her arms at me, "How many times do I have to tell you, call me if you want to talk."

"My phone's out of minutes," I tell her the sad, horrifying truth. Ah, the life of a teenager.

"You are the true definition of a man," she says sarcastically. Renee Montoya's one of the best up and coming officers of Captain Stacy's crew. One hell of a detective and strong to boot. Gwen's dad had always raved about her, and I made sure to bring her into my group of allies early one. She was on my side before old man Stacy was. It helps I helped her take down a human trafficking ring run by the Big Man early on. But that's all she needed to trust me, and ever since then we've been virtual partners. "What do you need?"

"I need you to do a little digging into Oscorp. See if there's anything that could have created that sand creature the other night." Before she can ask why I'm not doing it, I explain, "I can't. I'm already on their hit list, and if I go digging I run the risk of leading them right to me."

"You're lucky I think you're on our side, kid," Detective Montoya nods. "When do you need them by?"

"No rush," I respond, firing a webline into the air. "I'm sure I'll have something else on my plate sooner rather than later."