Note: Spider-Man belongs to Stan Lee and so do the rest of the characters. You know the rest of the drill, I'm sure. The only thing that belongs to me is Ophelia, and that's only because Sam Raimi fired me. So banana! Also, this is rated "G" for now, but may get worse once Norman arrives on the scene. ;)

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Newark airport was quite possibly the most confusing place Ophelia Osborn had ever been to in her entire life. One thing that she wasn't used to was not being able to read the signs in English and Irish. And how was she supposed to find the train station in this mess? There were so many people milling around the place, jabbering in accented, American English and getting in her way in general. How in Summerlands' name was she supposed to get to New York and Manhattan at this rate?

"Ma'am? Can I help you?"

Ophelia turned to the man beside her. "Yes, please. I need to catch a train to Manhattan as soon as possible."

"Of course! Just follow me."

~*~*~*~

Shifting from foot to foot, Ophelia knocked at the door of the penthouse once again. In the telegram that her mother Emily had received, they said that her father had died and she was needed for the reading of the will. But as brave as Ophelia thought herself to be, she really hadn't wanted to leave Fae Ily Ambersol and confront her little brother Harold. Heh. Harold. That was someone she hadn't seen in years.

"Who are you?"

"Harold?"

"Harry. But you still haven't answered my question."

"I'm Ophelia. Your older sister."