Author's Note: Well, here's the first chapter of a fic I've been writing with Katrina Makani. Yes, I realize this chapter's a little slow, but trust me - the set-up is worth it for what's coming. ::grins:: Anyway, read and please review? This is the first multi-chapter fic I've ever written that I expect to get done... and reviews let me know that Katrina and I aren't not just writing for our health. Besides... I won't post any more of the fic if we don't get reviews. ^_-
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Two weeks. His father had been dead two weeks and yet the shadow of guilt and the intense feeling of failing somehow hung over Harry Osborn like the red and blue Grim Reaper that had stolen his father from him. And the man that had taken his father's life - Spiderman as he was called by the Daily Bugle - would pay dearly. That much, Harry had already decided. Now, it was just a matter of how, and the auburn-haired youth's mind had already started brewing ideas.
Pushing aside the term paper he had been working on, he reached for a blank piece of paper. And then absently, half attempting to design some fantastic way of defeating the 'super hero' that had ruined his life and half attempting to banish the dark storm cloud hanging over him, he doodled on the paper. His pencil scratched lightly, without purpose, over the blankness beneath his fingertips for a few moments and then slowly, something emerged from the complex pattern of lines. A glider akin to the one he had seen at his father's labs at Oscorp, and later under the fiend known as the Green Goblin's feet, stood out at him among the chaos of pencil marks. And at this, a slight smile graced his features.
A glider? He had a feeling his father would be proud of the shred of irony he had stolen from a seemingly random doodle. After all, if he could get the sketch out of the paper and into reality... if he could don the mantle of the only person who had ever opposed Spiderman... it would be the perfect revenge. Something truly worthy for a father he had only begun to get to know before his death. For a moment he was content, happy to know he had used the 'old Osborn intellect' his father had always harped on him about learning to use... And then, suddenly, the curve of his lips vanished just as surely as he crumbled the piece of paper and tossed it into the nearest trashcan.
It wasn't really the paper's fault... It was more his own, as another wave of guilt crashed onto the beaches of his mind. One that cried out that what Harry was planning on doing was wrong. Sure, it would be easy to put on a mask and make Spiderman's life as miserable has the wall-crawler had made his, but the young Osborn doubted that his father would have supported it. Norman Osborn had always been against costumed freaks, as he had called them. Besides, the original Green Goblin had been a murderer who had almost killed him, Mary-Jane Watson, and probably his father, wherever he had been that day. And the thought of becoming that by wearing a flight suit and riding around on a glider terrified him more than never getting vengeance for his father ever could.
Sighing, he stared blankly at the bare spot he had created on his desk. Wonderful. How was he ever going to get any kind of closure? Though he didn't have time to think about it, because seconds later, an all too familiar voice called to him from the entrance to the loft apartment his father had bought him and his best friend, Peter Parker before his death.
"Hey Harry."
Looking up, the young Osborn spotted his roommate and forced a smile. "Peter."
Harry's chestnut-haired companion moved purposefully to the apartment's small refrigerator and removed an apple. "How's your English paper coming?" Peter asked, biting into the apple.
"Not too well," Harry admitted, holding his pencil by its ends between his index fingers.
"Still having problems concentrating?"
"...Yeah..." Frowning faintly, he pulled the term paper back in front of him and stared dismally at the two meager paragraphs he had come up with in the two hours he had spent working.
"Maybe you should talk to someone, Harry," Peter began, moving over to his roommate's desk. "I mean, you're not the only one who's lost - " Harry gave him a pointed glare, and Peter corrected himself - "who's had someone stolen from him."
There was a moment's silence and then the slightly older man sighed. "You're right, Pete. You're always right."
"So you wanna talk about it?" he asked, pulling a chair up to sit opposite Harry. Setting the pencil down on the desk, Harry nodded and opened his mouth to say something. But before he could the phone, which was sitting several feet away from both boys, rang loudly. With a sigh, the young Osborn offered Peter a meaningful look before standing up and heading towards the phone they shared.
"Hello?"
"Harry Osborn?" the voice inquired.
"Yes, this is him."
"This is James Mendora, your father's lawyer."
"Oh," Harry responded, his tone half curious and half nervous.
"I'm calling to talk to you about your father's death. A couple of years ago, Norman came into my office and asked me to help him draw up a living will - just in case he passed away before he felt you were ready to inherit his assets." There was a slight pause, and Harry could hear papers being rustled on the other side of the phone, and then his father's lawyer continued. "Apparently he's left everything to you, Harry."
"Everything?"
"Yes. His wealth. The Osborn Estate. Even Oscorp Industries."
"Oscorp?" he inquired, something close to bitterness creeping into his voice. "Oscorp is being bought out by Quest Aerodynamics."
"Not anymore, kid. The head of Quest thinks it'd be bad for public relations if he bought a company that had just lost its CEO... and its entire board of trustees for that matter. It was brought up in court as to what should happen to Oscorp, and the judge decided that it should go to whoever Norman had left it to. Namely you... well, that's assuming you want the company."
Harry was silent. Him? Head of Oscorp? It was a dream and a nightmare all at once. He had never been a bright boy - his father and the fact that he had been kicked out of private school after private school had reminded him of that frequently - but this was Oscorp. He was being offered a chance to keep the one thing his father loved almost as much as his family alive. So what did he do? Did he take the company and hope that keeping his father's dream alive was what he would have wanted? Or did he let someone else have Oscorp, effectively making sure that he wouldn't further disgrace his father's name?
"What - what if I don't want to take over Oscorp?"
The auburn-haired boy could almost hear his father's lawyer shrug. "Then Oscorp gets shut down. Look kid, why don't you take some time an think on it - I've got a week before I have to put anything down on paper."
"Yeah..." he mumbled, his gaze flicking briefly over to Peter, searching for those calming blue depths his roommate had for eyes. Meeting them for a split second, Harry repeated in a voice that was more self-assured, "Yeah. I'll call you in a week... or when I've reached my decision."
"Sounds good, kid. We'll be in touch."
Click.
Sighing faintly, Harry pushed the cordless phone off and set it down where he had found it. Then, slowly, his feet dragging every inch of the way, the auburn-haired youth moved back to his desk. For a moment, silence passed between the two as Harry trained his eyes on Peter's once again and then with another sigh, he plopped back down in the chair he had been sitting in.
"Who was that?" Peter inquired gently, his tone one that told Harry he didn't have to answer if he wasn't feeling up to it.
"My dad's lawyer."
"What'd he want?"
Harry stared blankly at the term paper beneath him. "He... he wants me to take over Oscorp."
"I thought Quest was supposed to buy the company."
"Nope," he responded, shaking his head. "The lawyer said it'd look bad for Quest if they bought a company who's CEO kicked the bucket... or something like that."
A frown poisoned Peter's features. "So you gonna take the company?"
"I dunno, you know? I mean if I do take it, I know I'd be doing what my dad would've wanted... but I'd have to have my schedule at school rearranged so I could go to meetings and stuff. And then we wouldn't have classes together and I wouldn't have time to do anything but run the company and go to school and study. But if I refuse to take over Oscorp, then the lawyer said they were gonna shut it down." Harry offered a short, bitter laugh. "And dad'd roll over in his grave if that happened - the company was his life. You know?"
The vaguely younger boy nodded sympathetically.
"I... I don't know what to do, Peter."
Peter sighed inwardly, uncomfortable with the entire situation, but unwilling to leave his friend's side. What a mess. What was he supposed to tell Harry? The brunette smiled faintly at the older boy, offering all his support and comfort. "Harry, you've got to do what you think is right. You've got to do what you've got to do."
How horrible did that sound? Very horrible, the boy thought, shifting positions so he was staring squarely at Harry. "I'm sure your dad was proud of you, so no matter what you choose, you shouldn't worry about him being upset. Sure, the company was his life, but so were you."
Silence filled the apartment for several seconds as Harry considered his friend's words - Peter was right, as always. He needed to do what he thought was right, regardless of what he thought his father would have wanted from him. If he his heart told him to take Oscorp, then he took the company... but if not, no one would think any less of him. Not Peter. Not his father. No one. So what was his heart telling him?
* Take the company. Make your father proud. *
"I've gotta do it. ...You'll still be there for me, won't you Pete?"
"Of course Harry. I'm not someone you've got to worry about." Not that he really has to worry about anyone leaving him, Peter added mentally. There was no way the blue-eyed genius would ever desert his friend, not after everything they'd been through. Even with Harry's intense grudge toward, well himself, Peter had still stuck with him, and he always would. Besides, it wasn't like he had other companions to flock to...
"I wonder what it'll be like for you? What are you going to do?"
"Well, dad was more or less a figurehead for the company... I mean, the board of trustees had been running things for about a year before he died. Though dad liked it that way - he said it gave him more time to be a scientist," Harry admitted. "I don't think I'm gonna get away without being around a lot, you know? I'm gonna need to find some trustworthy people for the board and," the auburn-haired Osborn paused, offering a frown, "I think I'm going to have to take some business classes at school or get someone who knows what they're doing to help me out.
"Dad would've taught me... but..." A pained look found its way to Harry's face as he trailed off. Then, his voice low, he continued with, "Spiderman's gonna get it eventually too. I'll make sure of that."
Peter cringed slightly, Harry's words cutting through him with ease. It was as if the older boy wielded an invisible knife, and the more that Peter thought about what his friend had said, the more he dreaded ever becoming Spiderman. Then his best friend might not hate him as adamantly as he did now.
"I'm sure everything will work out Harry." It was all he could say really. He dared not stir anymore talk of his alter ego. In fact, this was why he avoided bringing up Spiderman at all. But the look in his friend's eyes was too much, and Peter couldn't help but divert his gaze to the paper that lay on his friend's desk. "But your grade isn't going to be okay if you don't finish that paper."
An exaggerated groan passed Harry's parted lips. "Maybe if Shakespeare would cooperate with me..." he answered, trying not to crack a smile as the his vendetta against Peter's alter ego faded from his thoughts for the moment. The younger man was right, and it wasn't funny that he had the potential to fail if he didn't finish the paper... but for some reason, he always found medieval playwrights comical. And that was never good if you had been assigned a paper on them.
"And maybe if certain young science majors wouldn't bother me..."
"So I'm a bother now?" Peter asked, chuckling all the while. It was refreshing to laugh with Harry again, like they had done so long ago. He remembered it well, those days when it seemed nothing could bring them down from their high perch. He remembered it all, and this just made him laugh more. But his friend was right, he needed to stop being a distraction.
"Alright, alright. I'm going to go study for my Atomic Physics class, but just call if you need any help."
"Don't worry. I won't hesitate to."
---------------------------------------------------
Two weeks. His father had been dead two weeks and yet the shadow of guilt and the intense feeling of failing somehow hung over Harry Osborn like the red and blue Grim Reaper that had stolen his father from him. And the man that had taken his father's life - Spiderman as he was called by the Daily Bugle - would pay dearly. That much, Harry had already decided. Now, it was just a matter of how, and the auburn-haired youth's mind had already started brewing ideas.
Pushing aside the term paper he had been working on, he reached for a blank piece of paper. And then absently, half attempting to design some fantastic way of defeating the 'super hero' that had ruined his life and half attempting to banish the dark storm cloud hanging over him, he doodled on the paper. His pencil scratched lightly, without purpose, over the blankness beneath his fingertips for a few moments and then slowly, something emerged from the complex pattern of lines. A glider akin to the one he had seen at his father's labs at Oscorp, and later under the fiend known as the Green Goblin's feet, stood out at him among the chaos of pencil marks. And at this, a slight smile graced his features.
A glider? He had a feeling his father would be proud of the shred of irony he had stolen from a seemingly random doodle. After all, if he could get the sketch out of the paper and into reality... if he could don the mantle of the only person who had ever opposed Spiderman... it would be the perfect revenge. Something truly worthy for a father he had only begun to get to know before his death. For a moment he was content, happy to know he had used the 'old Osborn intellect' his father had always harped on him about learning to use... And then, suddenly, the curve of his lips vanished just as surely as he crumbled the piece of paper and tossed it into the nearest trashcan.
It wasn't really the paper's fault... It was more his own, as another wave of guilt crashed onto the beaches of his mind. One that cried out that what Harry was planning on doing was wrong. Sure, it would be easy to put on a mask and make Spiderman's life as miserable has the wall-crawler had made his, but the young Osborn doubted that his father would have supported it. Norman Osborn had always been against costumed freaks, as he had called them. Besides, the original Green Goblin had been a murderer who had almost killed him, Mary-Jane Watson, and probably his father, wherever he had been that day. And the thought of becoming that by wearing a flight suit and riding around on a glider terrified him more than never getting vengeance for his father ever could.
Sighing, he stared blankly at the bare spot he had created on his desk. Wonderful. How was he ever going to get any kind of closure? Though he didn't have time to think about it, because seconds later, an all too familiar voice called to him from the entrance to the loft apartment his father had bought him and his best friend, Peter Parker before his death.
"Hey Harry."
Looking up, the young Osborn spotted his roommate and forced a smile. "Peter."
Harry's chestnut-haired companion moved purposefully to the apartment's small refrigerator and removed an apple. "How's your English paper coming?" Peter asked, biting into the apple.
"Not too well," Harry admitted, holding his pencil by its ends between his index fingers.
"Still having problems concentrating?"
"...Yeah..." Frowning faintly, he pulled the term paper back in front of him and stared dismally at the two meager paragraphs he had come up with in the two hours he had spent working.
"Maybe you should talk to someone, Harry," Peter began, moving over to his roommate's desk. "I mean, you're not the only one who's lost - " Harry gave him a pointed glare, and Peter corrected himself - "who's had someone stolen from him."
There was a moment's silence and then the slightly older man sighed. "You're right, Pete. You're always right."
"So you wanna talk about it?" he asked, pulling a chair up to sit opposite Harry. Setting the pencil down on the desk, Harry nodded and opened his mouth to say something. But before he could the phone, which was sitting several feet away from both boys, rang loudly. With a sigh, the young Osborn offered Peter a meaningful look before standing up and heading towards the phone they shared.
"Hello?"
"Harry Osborn?" the voice inquired.
"Yes, this is him."
"This is James Mendora, your father's lawyer."
"Oh," Harry responded, his tone half curious and half nervous.
"I'm calling to talk to you about your father's death. A couple of years ago, Norman came into my office and asked me to help him draw up a living will - just in case he passed away before he felt you were ready to inherit his assets." There was a slight pause, and Harry could hear papers being rustled on the other side of the phone, and then his father's lawyer continued. "Apparently he's left everything to you, Harry."
"Everything?"
"Yes. His wealth. The Osborn Estate. Even Oscorp Industries."
"Oscorp?" he inquired, something close to bitterness creeping into his voice. "Oscorp is being bought out by Quest Aerodynamics."
"Not anymore, kid. The head of Quest thinks it'd be bad for public relations if he bought a company that had just lost its CEO... and its entire board of trustees for that matter. It was brought up in court as to what should happen to Oscorp, and the judge decided that it should go to whoever Norman had left it to. Namely you... well, that's assuming you want the company."
Harry was silent. Him? Head of Oscorp? It was a dream and a nightmare all at once. He had never been a bright boy - his father and the fact that he had been kicked out of private school after private school had reminded him of that frequently - but this was Oscorp. He was being offered a chance to keep the one thing his father loved almost as much as his family alive. So what did he do? Did he take the company and hope that keeping his father's dream alive was what he would have wanted? Or did he let someone else have Oscorp, effectively making sure that he wouldn't further disgrace his father's name?
"What - what if I don't want to take over Oscorp?"
The auburn-haired boy could almost hear his father's lawyer shrug. "Then Oscorp gets shut down. Look kid, why don't you take some time an think on it - I've got a week before I have to put anything down on paper."
"Yeah..." he mumbled, his gaze flicking briefly over to Peter, searching for those calming blue depths his roommate had for eyes. Meeting them for a split second, Harry repeated in a voice that was more self-assured, "Yeah. I'll call you in a week... or when I've reached my decision."
"Sounds good, kid. We'll be in touch."
Click.
Sighing faintly, Harry pushed the cordless phone off and set it down where he had found it. Then, slowly, his feet dragging every inch of the way, the auburn-haired youth moved back to his desk. For a moment, silence passed between the two as Harry trained his eyes on Peter's once again and then with another sigh, he plopped back down in the chair he had been sitting in.
"Who was that?" Peter inquired gently, his tone one that told Harry he didn't have to answer if he wasn't feeling up to it.
"My dad's lawyer."
"What'd he want?"
Harry stared blankly at the term paper beneath him. "He... he wants me to take over Oscorp."
"I thought Quest was supposed to buy the company."
"Nope," he responded, shaking his head. "The lawyer said it'd look bad for Quest if they bought a company who's CEO kicked the bucket... or something like that."
A frown poisoned Peter's features. "So you gonna take the company?"
"I dunno, you know? I mean if I do take it, I know I'd be doing what my dad would've wanted... but I'd have to have my schedule at school rearranged so I could go to meetings and stuff. And then we wouldn't have classes together and I wouldn't have time to do anything but run the company and go to school and study. But if I refuse to take over Oscorp, then the lawyer said they were gonna shut it down." Harry offered a short, bitter laugh. "And dad'd roll over in his grave if that happened - the company was his life. You know?"
The vaguely younger boy nodded sympathetically.
"I... I don't know what to do, Peter."
Peter sighed inwardly, uncomfortable with the entire situation, but unwilling to leave his friend's side. What a mess. What was he supposed to tell Harry? The brunette smiled faintly at the older boy, offering all his support and comfort. "Harry, you've got to do what you think is right. You've got to do what you've got to do."
How horrible did that sound? Very horrible, the boy thought, shifting positions so he was staring squarely at Harry. "I'm sure your dad was proud of you, so no matter what you choose, you shouldn't worry about him being upset. Sure, the company was his life, but so were you."
Silence filled the apartment for several seconds as Harry considered his friend's words - Peter was right, as always. He needed to do what he thought was right, regardless of what he thought his father would have wanted from him. If he his heart told him to take Oscorp, then he took the company... but if not, no one would think any less of him. Not Peter. Not his father. No one. So what was his heart telling him?
* Take the company. Make your father proud. *
"I've gotta do it. ...You'll still be there for me, won't you Pete?"
"Of course Harry. I'm not someone you've got to worry about." Not that he really has to worry about anyone leaving him, Peter added mentally. There was no way the blue-eyed genius would ever desert his friend, not after everything they'd been through. Even with Harry's intense grudge toward, well himself, Peter had still stuck with him, and he always would. Besides, it wasn't like he had other companions to flock to...
"I wonder what it'll be like for you? What are you going to do?"
"Well, dad was more or less a figurehead for the company... I mean, the board of trustees had been running things for about a year before he died. Though dad liked it that way - he said it gave him more time to be a scientist," Harry admitted. "I don't think I'm gonna get away without being around a lot, you know? I'm gonna need to find some trustworthy people for the board and," the auburn-haired Osborn paused, offering a frown, "I think I'm going to have to take some business classes at school or get someone who knows what they're doing to help me out.
"Dad would've taught me... but..." A pained look found its way to Harry's face as he trailed off. Then, his voice low, he continued with, "Spiderman's gonna get it eventually too. I'll make sure of that."
Peter cringed slightly, Harry's words cutting through him with ease. It was as if the older boy wielded an invisible knife, and the more that Peter thought about what his friend had said, the more he dreaded ever becoming Spiderman. Then his best friend might not hate him as adamantly as he did now.
"I'm sure everything will work out Harry." It was all he could say really. He dared not stir anymore talk of his alter ego. In fact, this was why he avoided bringing up Spiderman at all. But the look in his friend's eyes was too much, and Peter couldn't help but divert his gaze to the paper that lay on his friend's desk. "But your grade isn't going to be okay if you don't finish that paper."
An exaggerated groan passed Harry's parted lips. "Maybe if Shakespeare would cooperate with me..." he answered, trying not to crack a smile as the his vendetta against Peter's alter ego faded from his thoughts for the moment. The younger man was right, and it wasn't funny that he had the potential to fail if he didn't finish the paper... but for some reason, he always found medieval playwrights comical. And that was never good if you had been assigned a paper on them.
"And maybe if certain young science majors wouldn't bother me..."
"So I'm a bother now?" Peter asked, chuckling all the while. It was refreshing to laugh with Harry again, like they had done so long ago. He remembered it well, those days when it seemed nothing could bring them down from their high perch. He remembered it all, and this just made him laugh more. But his friend was right, he needed to stop being a distraction.
"Alright, alright. I'm going to go study for my Atomic Physics class, but just call if you need any help."
"Don't worry. I won't hesitate to."
