Changes

Part One

Norman Osborn held the small glass container of formula Green in his hands. The empty lab was completely silent except for the noises of the test chimps and a few computers that Norman had activated for this very special night.

"Computer." Norman called out as he pulled the lab coat over his shoulders.

"Yes, Mr. Osborn." The mechanical and dull computer voice responded to his call.

Norman took a deep breath and grabbed one of the sterile syringes on the lab table and stuck its sharp end into the cork at the top of the container. He obtained enough of formula Green from the small container to circulate through his body system. "Erase all videotape from the security cameras from eleven o'clock to twelve-thirty. Authorization: Osborn-Goblin."
"Password accepted. Erasing video." The computer responded lifelessly unaware of the importance of tonight.

He gazed at the syringe full of the formula that would save his life. All his existence he had been defeating impossible odds, his father, poverty, isolation, his wife's dead, Harry's incompetence and now death. "Bottoms up." He told himself.

Norman pressed the sharp point at the end of the syringe against his exposed arm and pierced the vein with ease. The formula flowed into his veins and emptied from the syringe within moments.

He put the syringe back on the table and shrugged, "I don't feel any different." Suddenly the pain burst through. Norman screamed out in rage and found he was stumbling across the lab. "Damn this hurts!" He yelled behind clenched teeth.

"Computer! What's happening?" He demanded as he grabbed the ends of the table.

"I need further clarification before I can answer that." The computer responded.

Norman swiped his hand across the table resulting in all of the beakers and note pads to fall on the floor. "No!" Norman screamed as his face began to slowly scream out in pain.

Suddenly it stopped. Norman stood up on his feet realizing the pain was gone. "What was that?" He asked of the massive surge of pain recalling that none of the test subjects had gone through it.

He moved to a mirror on the other side of the lab stumbling somewhat from his exhausting process. He gazed into the glass and saw his own reflection, "Dear God. What is this?" He stepped back in horror, "No, no, no!" Norman clenched his teeth and smashed the glass angrily with his fist as he placed the blame squarely on one man, "Stromm!"

"You slept all day, yesterday." Aunt May noted with a look of concern on her face as she served Ben and Peter pancakes. "Were you feeling alright?"

Peter raised his eyes, "I did?" He asked quietly.

"You bet." Ben asked just before taking a whiff of the short stack, "Looks great, May."

"As usual." She responded before taking another look at Peter, "Now eat, your just skin and bones." She had said the phrases so many times before that it had become routine. However, now she realized that something had changed in her nephew. "Peter, have you been working out?"

"What?" He asked his aunt.

She leaned over and squeezed Peter's arm in surprise, "Your arms!" She proclaimed, "You must have been working out, and where's your glasses?"

Peter gave a curious glance towards uncle Ben who merely shrugged, "My glasses?" He realized his spectacles were not on his face as they were every day, "I didn't take them, this morning." He gazed across the room, "That's funny. My vision's perfect." He glanced at the clock on the wall and rose suddenly, "I'm going to start for school."

"But you didn't eat your breakfast." She commented gesturing towards the untouched plate.

"I'm not hungry." Peter responded with a look of puzzlement on his face, "I'll see you two later."

Ben nodded, "Take care of yourself, Pete." His nephew quickly grabbed his bag and could be heard leaving through the front door.

Aunt May leaned over towards Ben, "Now what do you suppose that's all about?"

"Nothing." Ben confidently responded, "He's just maturing that's all."

"Oh." May said with a frown on her face, "The little boy of the house is becoming a man." She said with a great deal of sadness and pride in her voice.

"Hello?" A tired and groggy Mendel Stromm asked as he approached the door. He was in shorts and a white shirt. The knocking continued. "Who is it?" Mendel asked with a little bit of annoyance. Another series of angry knocks pounded the door.

Mendel leaned over and looked through the peephole on the door of his apartment. "Who the hell is it?" He demanded. Mendel gazed at the figure on the other side of the door, "What the devil?"

"Trick or treat." A fist slammed through the door and burst through with great ease.

Mendel backed off in shock and focused on the monster entering his apartment, "What the hell are you?"

The figure smirked, "Surely you remember your boss." His yellow eyes glowed brightly and contrasted with the torn white lab coat that hung over his body by threads.

"Mr. Osborn?" Mendel inquired nervously, "That can't be you."

Norman grinned, "In the flesh!" He took several casual steps towards Mendel, "Now, let's take this from the top." His hand struck out and he picked up the doctor by his neck, "Why the hell did your formula do this to me!"

"You took formula Green? Why?" Mendel asked in shock.

"That's irrelevant. Your formula is defective!" Norman barked angrily.

Mendel shook his head as he struggled against Norman's grip on his neck, "No its not! I told you the formula wasn't ready for human testing!"

Norman clenched his teeth, "Can it be reversed?"

Mendel took a gulp, "No, your genes have been permanently altered. There's nothing we can do about it now." He took a deep breath as his mind considered the possibilities, "Sir, if you will. We could learn a lot from this, there's no telling what the implications could be."

"Are you suggesting I become a guinea pig?" Norman asked emotionlessly.

"In a manner of speaking." Mendel said nervously, "Not that I want to trivialize your…disfigurement. However, this could broaden the horizons of the project to all-new levels."

Norman nodded his head, "Let me think about it." He was silent for a moment and his eerie yellow eyes blinked but he never lessoned his grip on Mendel's neck. "Mendel, you're fired."

"Sir?" The doctor's face dropped.

A chuckle began to emerge from Norman for the first time and then it became louder and before transforming into a twisted cackle.

Mendel crashed through the window and began a plummet towards the street below. He managed to scream before splattering on the asphalt much to the pedestrians' horror.

Norman peered through the window at the bloody spot on the street, "Test that!" He turned around and exited the obliterated apartment.

Peter Parker gazed at the imposing doors that led into his school. Students moved all around him in a flood, rushing to get to their next class.

He took a deep breath realizing that Flash and his friend would be there. Upon passing through the doors he made his way towards his locker every so often looking over his shoulder.

His hand reached for the locker only to be stopped by a sudden sensation of fear. "What the?" Peter asked of himself as if waiting for his brain to respond. He shook his head and reached for it again only to feel another sensation of terror. It was like something was scratching at the base of his skull.

"Let's try this again." Peter told himself. He took several steps to the side of his locker and very carefully opened it. Immediately, he noticed water pouring out from the locker. "Oh no."

If Peter had been staring in front of his locker instead of beside it he would have been caught in the wave of water. However, that didn't make things any better.

Once the remaining water had spilled out, Peter opened his locker and gazed inside. A container of water had been placed faced down and had been steadily pouring out inside the locker all throughout last night.

He grabbed one of his books and sighed angrily realizing they were all ruined and he would have to pay for them.

"Mr. Parker?" One of the school's deans appeared behind Peter as he gazed at the ruined locker. "What is this?"

Peter turned around surprised by the dean's presence, "I-I don't know sir."

The dean shook his head at the water spilling across the floor, "Well get rid of this mess, do you hear me?"

"Yes sir."

It was after the first bell and the classes had already begun. The dean had given Peter a pass for when he was done but for the moment he was on the floor wiping away the water off the floor.

"Damn, Flash." Peter said angrily, "This is funny? It wouldn't be so funny if I did it to him, would it?" He stopped for a moment and looked at his position, at his situation, "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He said, his tone was full of regret.

"Peter Parker, right?"

He turned his heads towards the source and immediately his eyes widened in recognition, "You." The beautiful redhead stood over him with her book bag slung over her right shoulder.

"What are you doing?" She asked looking at the puddle of water on the floor.

"Oh, well…uh." He couldn't find a way to tell her without embarrassing himself.

She shook her head seeing that the question was putting him in an uncomfortable position and stretched out her hand, "Forget it. I'm Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ."
Peter raised his eyes, "Nice to meet you, MJ?" He said awkwardly, "So, why aren't you in class?"

"Just got here. I was a little late leaving home." She responded, "Need help?"

"That's okay." He answered immediately, "I don't want to impose."

She shrugged, "Its no problem, I've got gym this period anyway." She glanced at the roll of paper towels, "Hand me one."

Peter complied and they went to work. There was something in her that he noticed, a kindness, inner-strength that he found appealing. The work proceeded quickly and after five quiet minutes they were done.

"Thanks for the help." He said.

MJ nodded and smiled lightly, "Peter why don't you come over my house after school?"

"Y-your house?" Peter raised his eyes in shock, "You want me to come over to your house?"

"Yep."

"Sure, I guess." Peter sheepishly replied.

"Great." She began to walk away towards one of her classes and waved goodbye, "Meet me by the buses, I'll see you then, tiger!"

Peter waved bye and watched her vanish down the twisting corridors. He smiled to himself and repeated her pet name for him, "Tiger." He laughed, shook his head and proceeded to wrap things up.

In the deeper and more sinister parts of New York City an unremarkable bar had been built on a street corner. Inside the bar were all sorts of drunkards and criminals.

They were the type that you would never wish to be on a subway car with even if it was full of people, because they're stares alone would discourage people from helping you if they decided to focus their attention on you.

"Jack, you're not forgetting to pay are you?" The bartender asked of one of the customers who were putting on their coat.

He raised his eyes innocently; "You mean I didn't pay you already. How silly of me." He reached into his pockets and searched for a couple of dollars. "Sorry, I seem to be a little light. Just put it on my bill."

The bartender sighed angrily, "That's what you tell me every night!" He proclaimed, "One of these days I'm going to get Jimmy on your ass and we'll see how much you procrastinate with two broken legs."
"I'll get you Sunday, trust me." He assured the bartender as he made for the door leading back out onto the streets.

As he pushed the door open he nearly bumped into a large man covered by a trench coat with a hood over his head, "Watch where you're going?" He said before slipping out.

"My mistake." He responded mischievously. The mysterious figure made his way towards the counter and leaned over towards the bartender, "Nice night."

The bartender gave a cautious glance to this newcomer, "Want a drink?"

"No." The figure grinned widely while keeping the rest of his face from the man's sight, "But I'd like all the money you have in your safe."

"Is this a joke?" The bartender asked sarcastically.

The figure shook his head, "No, and I'd like the money, now."

"Get out!" The bartender angrily barked just before pulling a shotgun and placed the barrel against the figure's head. "Get out or I'll blow that head of yours off!"

"Oh?" He raised his head and pulled off the coat revealing his true self, "That might be an improvement." His yellow eyes glowed brightly as he smirked.

"What the hell are you?"

He chuckled menacingly, "Just someone who takes Halloween a little too seriously." He reached out with a green arm and crushed the barrel of the shotgun with his bare hands.

Suddenly all attention was now focused on this scene. The bartender opened his mouth in shock, "Somebody stop him!"

The newcomer grabbed the bartender by his collar and flung him across the room. He spun around and gazed at the crowd of occupants now closing in on him. "Ten bucks to the first person that can bring me down."

"Get him!" Somebody yelled as the crowd began to rush him.

Their opponent stood confidently in his trench coat. He snapped the neck of the first attacker with an incredibly powerful blow to his face.

The rest took a moment to look at their fallen companion. With a roar from the crowd they advanced.

The man they fought against only grinned at their oncoming assault. He followed up with an uppercut upon the nearest foe. The impact sent him flying through the ceiling and out of the building entirely. Then he landed a spinning sidekick on another man breaking his back with ease.

Next he grabbed two of the nearest people he could find and picked them up both by their necks, "Now kiss and make up!" He smashed them together with devastating force that left both of them dead.

The three remaining men backed off towards a corner of the bar in fear. "Don't kill us!"

"Sorry, I don't do requests." He leaped forward and reached their position within moments. He unleashed a dizzying volley of punches and at the end of it stood over a pile of dead bodies.

He gazed slowly across the bar at the fallen. "This was hardly a valid test. I'll need an opponent more…durable." Norman Osborn pulled his hood back over his head and vanished through the door.