WOW man it has been a while! I have been a little busy what with the job stuff, family stuff, and some MASSIVE writer's block. So now we are on to Part VIII in my story. This is where things get interesting if not complicated. But when is life ever simple? Especially for our Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man?
And this is the bit that some have been waiting for:
The appearance of Kraven the Hunter!
So read on fellow CBMers and enjoy!!!
SCENE 24
The commercial airliner arrived right on time. It landed at JFK at 10:00 am on the dot. Eric had shown up at the airport an hour early not wanting to miss the VIP. His boss was insistent that the VIP got the very best treatment. Apparently they were old friends. And what the boss says goes. And that is why Eric Seavers, nephew-in-law to Nikolai Yusopov, was standing at a terminal holding a sing which read: Sergei Crevinoff.
As the people piled out of the terminal, one man stopped in front of Eric. He was tall. At least six feet with a muscular build. Sporting a goatee, and his dark man pulled back, this man was given a wide berth. Even though this man was in a casual suit, Eric knew that this was a man who was not to be trifled with.
Eric placed the man’s three cases in the trunk of the limo. The man did not want nor require assistance with getting the car or with closing the door.
“Just drive,” the man said with a thick Russian accent.
As Eric drove off, the citizens of New York city had yet to realize that one of the most dangerous men in the world was now peacefully waiting for his next assignment.
The limo arrived at the warehouse on the North side fifty minutes later. Not one word had been traded between the two men. One too scared to open his mouth, the other apathetic of everything except hunting. Nikolai was waiting for them in the driveway.
“Sergei!” Nikolai hugged his old friend. “How are you doing? Was the flight comfortable?”
“As comfortable as could be.” Sergei shrugged, “You did not have to pay. I could have.”
“And let you fly coach? Not for one such as yourself.”
Eric approached his uncle, “All the cases are unloaded sir.”
“Ah!” Nikolai slapped his hand on Eric’s shoulder, “Good job Eric! Do you know who this man is?”
“No uncle,” Eric replied without looking at the cold stare of Sergei, “I do not.”
“And you never will,” Nikolai said.
The police who found Eric’s body in a dump site still have not been able to identify a cause of death. But die he did. The body dropped in front of the old mob boss. Nikolai wiped his hands as if he had touched something dirty.
“He never was a good employee.” Nikolai motioned for Sergei to follow, “Come. Lets talk inside.”
They passed from the work floor of the warehouse to a set of metal stairs. The stairs led to the door of Nikolai’s office. Once inside and the door locked, Nikolai motioned for Sergei to have a seat. Once seated, Nikolai poured himself a drink.
“Want some?”
“No thank you Nikolai. Alcohol clouds the senses. And I prefer to keep them alert.”
“That’s right,” Nikolai remembered, “I had forgotten that you like to hunt with your bare hands. Speaking of which, how was Africa?”
“As thrilling as the wild can be….”
“What were you hunting by the way?”
“Panthers.”
Sergei regarded his longtime friend thoughtfully. He had certainly gone to seed. And yet Nikolai had established himself as an impeccable and ruthless overlord. Back during a nameless war, Nikolai and Sergei were Russian Special Forces. Otherwise known as Spetsnaz. A small group of “freedom fighters” figured they could take on the Russian war machine. Their little acts of violence eventually garnered the attention of the government.
It was a simple mission. Go in and assassinate the leaders of this Soviet Remnant. Security was tight. The mission had been completed, though not without casualties. Two good soldiers had been shot down but Nikolai had taken a bullet that would have otherwise skewered Sergei’s head.
From then on, Sergei had been there for Nikolai…. Within reason.
Nikolai’s little turf wars were of little concern for a man used to fighting man eaters with his bare hands. But he owed Nikolai a favor. And Nikolai was finally cashing in.
“My father always said that I could always the stature of a man by the way he treats his subordinates.”
“Your father was a wise man.” Nikolai toasted.
“Yes. He was. Until he grew weak and senile. I promised myself that will NEVER happen to me. But that leads me to ask, why did you kill your nephew?”
“Eric,” Nikolai sighed, “was an ignoramus. American trash. He had no concept of the term sacrifice. Not to mention that he was a witness that I could not allow to live.”
“Then why didn’t you kill the two hundred who saw me at the airport?”
“One face out of two hundred people who are ALWAYS in a hurry. But Eric was a material witness. I do not want anyone knowing you are in the country.”
“So what is the target Nikolai?” Sergei growled, “You wouldn’t go out of your way for my expertise unless the hit was extremely volatile. So what is it comrade?”
“Well,” Nikolai took a sip from his glass, “It’s a who. A very irritating who.”
“Nikolai,” rumbled the hunter, “You could not possibly have been outsmarted by some insignificant welt. Who is he?”
Nikolai passed him a file folder, “Alexei Sytsevich. He was a newcomer to my ‘enterprise’ two years ago. Not especially quick witted but he was good at the grunt work. Then he got greedy. After performing mediocre in a drug run, he lifted the $25,000 that was being paid for my special medicine.”
“Why don’t you hire your favorite hit man for this?” he passed the file back, “I know I owe you but this like sending a nuke to swat a fly.”
Pouring himself another glass, “To answer your first question: The Russian is in recovery from some vigilante who came within an inch of killing him.”
“Impressive.”
“Indeed. But that is another issue entirely. The reason for sending you after him is this,” Nikolai pulled a newspaper out of the file folder and passed it to Sergei.
“Interesting,” Sergei purred, “You do realize that a suit that advanced could be bought for $25,000? Obviously, someone is backing him.”
“Sergei, I have interest in the suit. I want you to bring this turncoat back to me alive.” He drained his glass, “For this you will be handsomely rewarded.”
“You do not have to pay me friend. You saved my life, now I am returning the favor.”
And with that, the two brothers-in-arms got down to business and fine tuned Alexei Sytsevich’s death.
SCENE 25
Gwen had not spoken to Peter all day. She gave him glares from across the library. Cast him foul looks from across the classroom. Even in the hallway.
‘Geez!’ thought Peter, ‘this is almost as bad as high school!!!’
The only comfort Peter had was the fact that Harry Osborn had his back.
“Look man, in all honesty, what were your exact words to Gwen?”
“Well…..” Peter tried to think back, “A lot had happened that night…..”
“Oh c’mon!!!! You’ve got to give me more than that. You went on a date with Gwen. Obviously you screwed something up. It was just a little over twelve hours ago! What could have possibly happened in your life that would make you forget your date with Gwen?”
‘If you only knew,’ thought a bemused Peter.
“I don’t know Harry. I guess I just lost track of things. I even missed out on that yacht sinking.”
“You mean the incident last night where Spider-man killed some dude?”
“WHAT?!”
“Here,” Harry pulled out the latest edition of the Daily Bugle, “Take a look.”
On the cover page was a picture of Spider-man swinging through the city. The headline directly above that photo read as:
SPIDER-MAN: MURDERER?
Peter thumbed through the paper as fast as his hands would allow without tearing it to pieces. It didn’t take him long to find the appropriate page.
It read:
For the past four years, Spider-man has been a plague on our beloved city. Some have made excuses for him. “He’s just trying to help,” say some witnesses who have allegedly “witnessed” him saving people. But that is not always the case as people have seen with last night’s yacht accident. Spider-man was on the scene within twenty minutes of the occurrence. He was seen diving into the water, supposedly trying to save the victims inside. Or was it all a part of a more sinister plot? After being under the depths of the Hudson, a family of three surfaced. Their names have not been released in the wake of this tragedy. They had claimed that the husband/father of the family was still under and they had notified the web slinger of this fact. Not three minutes later, Spider-man broke the surface, clinging to the body of the children’s father. The man was declared dead almost instantly after being examined by a field medic. But The source of many people’s suspicions of foul play was the fact that the man had no legs. Spider-man claimed that “they must have been amputated by shifting debris.” Or at least, that is what the lead detective, Terry Lee, told the press after having a lengthy conversation with the wall crawler. This begs to question whether or not the NYPD is involved with this glorified vigilante.
Article continues on Page 2B.
Captain George Stacy threw the paper down on his desk.
“Is this what my task force does now?” he barked, “Fraternizing with vigilantes?”
“Sir,” Lee said, “I was comforting the kid. He blamed himself for that man’s death.”
“Maybe this ‘kid’ should be blaming himself!”
“Captain,” she stepped forward, “I was there. He did not kill this man.”
“Maybe not intentionally. You said so yourself. The guy’s a kid!”
“I’m not saying that its out of the question, but if you are going to blindly charge Spider-man with the death of that man, then you might pin every drug dealer with man slaughter because their customers overdosed.”
Stacy pulled out his pipe and chewed on the tip. Silently cursing the No Smoking sign, he tried to gather his thoughts.
“Look Detective, I understand your intentions. But next time, make sure that you fraternize with THIS costumed ‘hero’ outside of the press’s view.”
“Yes sir,” the chastised Detective said as she exited his office.
Peter shoved the Bugle back into Harry’s arms.
“You don’t believe this trash do you?”
“Well Peter,” a slighted Harry tried to respond, “You work at the paper. Didn’t you say that you had to abandon Gwen last night to go over to that yacht thing?”
“Harry, I didn’t abandon her!” Peter said a little too forcefully. Massaging the bridge of his nose, Peter took a breath, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not frustrated with you.”
“Hey man, its cool.” Harry shrugged, “You have a right to be upset over the fact that one of your heroes turned out to be a ‘NOT hero.’ Just take it out on Spider-man.”
‘There’s a thought,’ Peter thought wryly.
“Or take it out on the reporter who wrote the article.” Harry glanced at the name, “Edward Brock.”
“You know what?” Peter said, “I think I just might do that.”
“Oh! BTW, are you coming to the frat party tonight?”
“Nah, I’m not much of a party animal like you.”
“Ha. FYI, Gwen will be there. You might even be able to patch things up with her….. AGAIN.”
“Ooooooookay.” Peter thought about it, “Where is it?”
“Just off campus at the Gammas,” Harry pointed over in the general direction of the frat house.
Finished gathering details for the “party,” Peter and Harry went their separate ways. Peter walked down the sidewalk while Harry climbed into his dad’s limo.
SCENE 26
The ride in the limo was uneventful. Harry spent most of his time ignoring the sounds blaring from his iPod and sipping a soda from the built in bar. The limo pulled into the driveway and most people would have found Harry’s “house” intimidating. Of course, Harry didn’t buy the house. His big spender of a father did. And good ol’ dad loved to show off. Off course it was as nothing compared to the mansion-turned-school ten miles away.
When Harry entered the foyer of the “house,” he was mildly surprised to find it empty. Not that he cared, but dad was usually yelling at someone in the house. If it was over the phone or in a meeting, dependable Stormin’ Norman liked to intimidate his competition.
Harry slung his shoulder bag off and threw it on a priceless armchair, apathetic to whether or not the fabric was ripped or if the wood was scratched. As far as he was concerned, ANYTHING could be replaced. Even antique armchairs.
Just to make sure that the house was truly his to enjoy for the few hours before the party, he checked his father’s study. He walked into that cavernous room and shivered. As a child, he had never been allowed in here. Technically speaking, he was STILL banned from the “study.” You crash into and accidently demolish a $50,000 vase and see how your dad reacts.
But the vase was not the only item of value in Norman Osborn’s study. There were paintings galore, tribal spears, and abstract sculptures where even the artists could confess they have no idea what they had created.
Usually a peak in the so called den would suffice to tell Harry that his father was not in the house. And so it was this time. He shut the door quickly and quietly as if he were afraid that some monstrous beast would awaken. But as soon as he crossed to the next hallway over, his mood immediately lightened.
He unfolded his laptop at the kitchen island and checked his Facebook page.
‘Over two thousand friends on this site and at least ¾ of them don’t even know my hair color,’ he thought.
But when he clicked on his updates, he discovered Gwen had posted something on his wall. When he clicked on it, he couldn’t believe what she had posted. He checked her profile again to make sure it was the SAME Gwen Stacy from Biology. The SAME Gwen Stacy from high school. Yes it appeared as if it was THE Gwen Stacy who had been the Juliet to his best friend’s Romeo.
“Harry,” the post asked, “Would you go with me to that party Gamma is throwing tonight?”
Harry already had his mind made up.
‘Peter is going to have solve this little problem on his own.’
He moved his finger on touchpad directing the arrow towards the Comment section of the post. He was half way through putting the finishing touches on his response when his cell phone went off.
Enjoying the beats of Snow Patrol, Harry answered his iPhone.
“Hey how ya doin’ Geoffrey?”
“Harry,” his butler asked, “How many times must I insist that you call me Geoff?”
“As many times as it takes for you to realize that I will NEVER call you Geoff,” Harry mused, “I thought you British loved to be formal?”
“Only as formal as we WISH to be. And might I remind you that only my mother was British.”
“Yeah yeah yeah. And my great great grandfather was Italian. Anyway, you need anything?”
“Harry, have you heard from your father?”
“Not today. Or even last night. Not that I’m not pleased or anything,” Harry said with a smirk.
“Well,” Geoffrey paused, “The first thing you need to know is that your father is okay.”
Harry’s jubilant mood evaporated quicker than his smirk, “What happened? Is he hurt?”
“Again Harry,” Geoffrey calmly stated, “Your father is in pristine condition. At least no more than usual. But his business trip to Florida was somehow tracked down by several men who then took it upon themselves to kill everyone your father was with.”
“Where is he?”
“The last I checked, he was still at Glenview Memorial downtown. But he did vigorously mention a debriefing at the company building.”
Only half of Geoffrey’s statement got through because when looked down, the connection was dead.
Peter walked into the Daily Bugle with his jaw set and his gait determined. As he entered the elevator alone, he went over how he was going to approach this “Eddie” Brock.
‘Mister Brock, why are you presenting unfounded opinions in a newspaper where honesty is held highest?’ Peter thought, ‘Yeah. That sounds good.’
The elevator PINGED that he had reached the top floor. He stepped off and headed over to Betty Brant’s desk.
“Hey Betty,” Peter tried to sound light.
“Hi Parker. JJ’s in a meeting right-“
“Thanks but no thanks Betty.” Peter interrupted, “As much as I enjoy speaking let alone being in the same room with good ol’ JJ,” that got a smile from Betty, “I’m actually looking for some else.”
“And who,” Betty slipped on her reading glasses and moved closer to her computer, fingers poised, “would you be looking for?”
“A reporter by the name of Eddie Brock.”
“Oh him?” she removed her glasses and stepped out from her desk, “You’re in luck. Jolly JJ’s having a nice little chat with the guy as we speak.”
Chat is not the word I would have used to describe the conversation between J. Jonah Jameson and Eddie Brock. Debate would be a mild description but heated argument would have been the best expression used during this particular conversation.
“BRUCKNER HOW DARE YOU MAKE ACCUSATIONS OF THE NYPD WITHOUT INFORMING ME FIRST!!!!!”
“I figured you would just thank me later JJ,” Brock said, his face displaying no emotion other than apathy.
Built like a linebacker, Eddie Brock stood six foot one with a strong jaw. His blonde hair cut short, and his brow low. He would been the poster boy for Neanderthals if it wasn’t for his eyes. They displayed a cunning that would have made Castro blanch.
“BRENSTEEN, I’M WARNING YOU! I AM NOT INTERESTED IN PRINTING RETRACTIONS!!!!!! AS MUCH AS I BELIEVE THAT THE POLICE COULD EVER POSSIBLY BE INVOLVED WITH THAT LAW BREAKING VIGILANTE, WE CANNOT BE PUT INTO A POSITION THAT WILL COMPROMISE THE REPUTATION OF THIS PAPER. I HAVE SPENT THE LAST THIRTY-FIVE YEARS BUILDING THIS PAPER FROM THE RAG THAT IT ONCE WAS AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY LOW RENT HOT SHOT REPORTER MAKING ASSUMPTIONS WITHOUT ANY EVIDENCE TO BACK IT UP!!!! NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!!!”
Peter was surprised at the size of Brock when he barreled through JJ’s door. His face didn’t display any form of anger but his body language certainly did.
He shoved past Peter who in return shouted, “Hey watch it!!!!”
Brock whirled around, grabbed Peter, and lifted him off the ground, “What did you say to me?”
“Security!!!!!” Betty tried to wave for the sixty something guard who was snoozing in the back corner.
“Nah wait Ms. Brant.” He set Peter down, “There’s no problem.” Then Eddie took a closer look at his disheveled colleague, “What’s your name?”
“Peter Parker,” he said with just a hint of suspicion.
The look on Brock’s face went from curious to an instant grin, “You wouldn’t be the same Peter Parker who takes photos of Spider-man?”
“Yes,” Peter replied warily.
“Petey!!!!” Eddie lifted Peter up again, but this time in a bear hug, “It’s been too long!!!!!”
“And…….Where……..Do………I………Know…….You……….From?” Peter gasped from Brock’s strangling grasp.
Eddie dropped Peter with a disappointed look on his face, “You mean you don’t remember me?”
“Should I?”
“Dude!!!!! Man, we used to go to the same elementary school! You don’t remember Ridgemount Elementary?”
“I remember Ridgemount, but not you.”
“But, our parents used to work together!”
“Really?” Peter was taken aback at this knowledge. No one had spoke of his parents in at least fifteen years.
“Yeah man. Our parents would schedule ‘playdates.’ Which consisted of me babysitting you, but we still had a lot of fun!”
“Huh.” Peter said, “Well now that we’ve gotten past all the pleasantries, you mind if I speak with you in private?”
“Sure man. We need to catch up!”
Peter led Eddie down the busy hallway and into the stairwell. Because the architect designed the building to be so tall, hardly anyone used the stairs even if it was just to go the next floor.
After the door clicked shut Peter turned to Eddie, “Look, I know that apparently we have some sort of past history and that’s great. I would like to hang out with you just to see if we really did grow up together. And you’re new here, so I would also like to show you some of the ropes around here. But I’ve always been a little sensitive about how the press treats Spider-man.”
“Oh c’mon!” Eddie scoffed, “The guy’s a vigilante! He takes the law into his own hands! As far as the public knows, he could have no training of any kind which could lead to a disaster only God knows about until its too late!”
“Well Ed-“
“It’s Eddie.”
“Right,” Peter dryly smiled, “Well Eddie, I don’t see you complaining about other so called ‘vigilantes’ like Iron Man.”
“Hey, so far that guy is staying on the West Coast. For now, he’s some other reporter’s problem.”
“And what about all the lives that he has endangered from the illegal sale of his weapons?”
“Exactly my point! Where does being a super hero end and accountability begin?”
“You’re changing the subject,” Peter said.
“Look, Petey, I know that the wall crawler’s your bread and butter, but I think that you are taking this a little too personally.”
“I take it personally because I know Spider-man pretty well. He is a well meaning guy who does the best he can with what he has.”
“Well,” Eddie said, “As much as I would love to stand here and debate vigilante ethics, I’m late for a meeting with a contact of mine.”
Eddie then gently pushed past Peter who was slowly simmering at the foot of the stairwell. Not quite yet ready to leave, and hoping to pick more work, Peter headed back upstairs.
Wading through the constant flow of rushing reporters, photographers, and the like, Peter finally came back to Betty’s desk.
“So Betty,” Peters started, “How’s it going?”
“Not bad,” she replied only half listening, “I get off work in forty-five minutes, and then I have a date.”
“Really? Good for you!”
“Yeah I know. It’s been like a year since I even had a conversation with a man, let alone a date.”
“Thanks for the ego boost,” Peter said.
“Oh Peter!” Betty realized her tactical error a little too late, “You know I didn’t mean that! It was just girl talk. Besides, I thought you were going out with someone?”
“We’re working through some things,” Peter tried to sound nonchalant. “Anyway, I was wondering if you had any-“
“Hold on one second,” Betty interrupted as she answered her blaring cell phone. “Hello? Hey Sammy!!!! I’m glad you called! I’m working. What else would I be doing? Looking forward to our date tonight?” Betty’s face fell as her beau gave his answer, “Oh. Well, I guess if you have to work, you have to work. Okay. See you later. Bye.” She clicked her phone shut.
“Problem?” Peter said, because he tried not to listen.
“Yeah. No. Maybe.” Betty rifled through her purse, trying to place her phone back in its designated pocket, “I had just been planning this Big Night for us and now he has to work.”
“Well….” Peter’s mind was racing. He still wanted to fix things up with Gwen, but he didn’t want to leave a friend in need. “Since you’re not doing anything….”
“Yes?”
“There’s this frat party…”
“Oh.” Betty got up, “As much as I would to go on a date with you, there are two things stopping me: One, I have a boyfriend. He’s great and I’m not interested in compromising that. And two, frat parties are a little too immature for me.”
“But it wouldn’t be a date!” Peter tried to explain to Betty, “I’m not breaking up with Gwen and I would never ask you to betray someone else’s trust. I just figured you needed some fun. And what better place for fun would there be than at a frat party?”
“If by fun, you mean fifty college students getting wasted, and then the seniors tormenting the freshmen?”
“Well……” Peter said, “I don’t wanna brag or anything. But this is a ‘Seniors Only’ party. And seeing as how I’m a Senior and everything, I have no idea as to why you would have any objection at all.”
Needless to say, Betty finally convinced Peter that she was not interested. Peter left the Bugle about an hour later, without a scrap of work to show for it.
SCENE 27
The apartment of Alexei Sytsevich was not what someone privileged would call “classy.” Those people would actually call it a dump. On a rotten part of town where slums were not uncommon, Sergei Kravinoff mentally compared it to the dens of hyenas.
Hyenas were scavengers in every sense of the word. They took what they could get whenever they could. But unless they were in packs, the hyena would not take confrontation well. The same went for the “residents” of this apartment complex.
Sergei was clad in his hunting gear. This included a somewhat gaudy vest which upon closer inspection was stitched together from the head of a lion. Normally, Sergei would not don something like that but it was given to him as a gift from his great love Calypso. And what better way to honor her than to wear her gracious gift?
He carefully unlocked the window although he did not know why. The building was so decrepit that anyone who even gave it a look would consider it just being another piece of crap equipment that the land lord “forgot” to replace.
After Sergei crawled through the window, he took stock of his prey. The first thing he noticed was the tiny layer of dust over his mark’s coffee table. A glass half empty left on it with not a hint of condensation. Alexei had not been in this place for weeks. Even though the land lord did not know him as Alexei. It was that crappy false ID, Alex O’Hirn.
The second thing that Sergei took note of was the fact that Alexei was a pig. Large boxers littered the kitchen floor and roaches scurried across some Cheetos on the counter.
But this did not deter the hunter. He merely crossed over to Alexei’s bedroom and started searching for anything. Anything that might better lead him to his mark. He tore the drawers from their housing and dumping their contents over the already cluttered bed.
He was about to start searching the closet when something clunked out of the last drawer. He dug through the drawers until he came to a small box.
Unlatching the box, he viewed it’s contents. It was a small photo album. Looked like it cost five cents. But that did not matter to Sergei. The photos inside the album did. Many of the pictures were taken what seemed to be twenty years ago. Alexei with his parents. Alexei with his grandparents. But then came the more recent pictures. And the majority of them were of a woman.
And this woman was pretty but not beautiful. At least not to the average passerby. But to Alexei apparently, she mattered a lot. He tore the photos out of the album and looked at the back of each one. The sentimentality of the ignorant loved to describe the events of each picture.
And each one said:
ALEXEI AND OKSANA AT THE DINER
ALEXEI AND OKSANA WITH FAMILY
ALEXEI AND OKSANA PROPOSAL
The last one intrigued Sergei to no end.
“So….. The Rhino has a mate.”
He folded the pictures into his vest pocket and left the dilapidated complex in search of the lioness.
Harry had grabbed a cab and sped over to the hospital where Geoffrey had said his father was at. After being told that Norman had checked out an hour ago, he directed the cabbie towards the Osborn Building. Not like anyone could miss it.
It wasn’t the tallest structure in New York City but because of its location, which happened to be right next to Central Park, the fifty-seven story building stood out a little bit.
“Thanks for the ride,” Harry said as he ducked out of the car.
“Waitaminute!” the cabbie yelled, “What about my fare?”
“Sorry,” Harry replied sheepishly, “How much do I owe you?”
“$275.” The anxious cabbie held out his hand.
“Okay,” Harry pulled out his wallet, “That’s One, Two, Three, and a fifty.” Harry handed it to the bewildered cabbie, “Keep the change!”
Harry nearly ran through the automatic doors trying to enter the dang building.
“Hey Brenda!” Harry greeted the receptionist, “Have you seen my dad around?”
“Yes Harry,” Brenda said, “He’s up on the thirty-first.”
“Thanks Brenda!” Harry shouted as he ran for the elevators.
“But he’s in a meeting!!!!” Brenda yelled back as the doors shut, “He didn’t hear me,” she said to no one in particular.
Norman Osborn was not one to be intimidated. Even when he was, Norman would never let his “opposition” on. That all changed when HE showed up. Built like a mountain wearing tailored by only the top designers, Wilson Fisk was as large as they came.
He stood in the corner as if he did not wish to be seen. Seeing that Norman and Fisk were arch rivals in both the business world AND the counterfeit one that they had each turned into a personal monopoly. But it was Fisk who was King of the Mountain, NOT Osborn.
“I’m very pleased to hear that the operation was successful.”
“Yes Mr. Fisk,” Norman said nonchalantly. “It went exceptionally smooth.”
“Come now Norman. Must we remain so formal?”
“Okay Wilson,” Norman gritted his teeth, “It went great.”
“Excellent, Norman! Have your best-“
“I already have Stromm assigned to R&D.”
“So you’re taking the initiative…..Finally.” Fisk rubbed his ruby studded cane, “If only if you had acted sooner on my offer, our relationship would not be so….. strained.”
“If I had acted sooner, Emily would still be-“
“DAD!!!!!”
It was at that moment that Harry Osborn exploded through the doors that led into Norman Osborn’s private office.
When he caught sight of his father, the disheveled and extremely relieved son ran over and embraced Norman. Osborn, on the other hand, was not so relieved. The term bewildered or more likely incensed would be the most likely expression to describe the look on Norman Osborn’s face.
“Harry,” Norman said as he shrugged off his son, “I believe that Brenda was to inform you that I was in a meeting.”
“Oh sorry Dad,” he barely acknowledged his father’s apathy, “Brenda must have mentioned it after the elevator doors shut. I was just glad to know you’re okay!”
“Yes,” a voice came from behind Harry, “That was quite a spill you had Norman. Most traumatic.” Fisk stepped from the shadows, “I’m just glad you came out of the incident intact. It would have been most unfortunate if my company could not have another try at that hostile takeover. It would have been distasteful.”
‘Like you don’t own me already,’ Norman bitterly thought.
“Harry this is-“
“Wilson Fisk,” Harry finished. “I’ve you talk about him.
“Hopefully nothing bad I would hope,” Fisk chuckled.
“If by bad you mean,” Harry said, “blood sucking, manipulative scumbag who can’t be touched. Then, nope.” Harry grinned, “Haven’t heard a word. I got that from a gossip column.”
“Harry,” Norman indicated the door.
“Yeah I know.” Harry’s eyes rolled, “Big business.”
After Harry left the door swinging, Norman approached the massive form that was Fisk.
“So are we done?”
“For now,” Fisk lit one of his many overpriced cigars, “But don’t cross me Norman. Your family has already faced much tragedy. It would be a shame if the Osborn legacy ended with you.”
Fisk left Norman Osborn sagging in his chair, chuckling as he went.
I hope that you enjoyed this latest installment in my Spider-man saga. And keep checking back because I'm hoping to have Part IX up and running within a few weeks!
And if you have missed out on any of the previous "sessions" or if you want to check some of my Fan Casts, just check out the links below!
MARVEL:
Spider-man Part I Spider-man Part II Spider-man Part III Spider-man Part IV Spider-man Part V Spider-man Part VI Spider-man Part VII Secret War The Initiative Doctor Strange DC:
Batman 3 (If you haven't noticed by now, my focus leans more towards Marvel ;p)
*BTW
Here is a SHOUTOUT to AxlComix for the Norman Osborn pic!!!