Part Four

Peter Parker stood in the lobby of his school. His book bag was slung over his arm and his hair for the first time in months was combed neatly. This would have been like any other day, but on this Monday morning, his elderly and wise uncle Ben stood beside him.

"How do I look?" Ben nervously inquired in his brown coat.

Peter inspected his formally dressed uncle, "Good. Really." He responded. He smiled, "Nervous?"

Ben laughed, "I haven't been to school in decades and now I feel like I'm a high school freshman all over again." He glanced across the crowded lobby, full of students and their loving parents.

"Don't sweat it." Peter responded, "A counselor shows up, we talk, and that's probably the end of it."

"I hope so." Ben said wiping his hands together and then brushing his fingers through his white hair.

"Peter." Harry Osborn suddenly emerged from the crowd and greeted his good friend, "Mr. Parker." He said respectfully to Ben before shaking Peter's hand.

"You made it?" Peter asked, "I thought you said, your dad probably would be held up at work."

Norman Osborn appeared behind Harry like some sort of watchdog, "Being in charge of an entire company does have its perks. One is being able to dictate my own work hours." He grinned widely at seeing Peter, "I don't know what would give Harry the idea I wouldn't show up."

Uncle Ben extended his hand to Norman, "You must be Harry's father."

Without returning the handshake, Norman merely responded, "Ben Parker, correct?"

"Yes."

"Amazing." Norman turned an eye towards Peter, "No parents and you've managed to make it this far on his own." Norman nodded almost prideful, "I know how difficult that can be."

Ben frowned, "Excuse me, Mr. Osborn, but Peter is hardly alone. I've supported him all the way through."

Norman smirked, "I had no intention of insulting you." He replied, "Its only, that no uncle can replace the genuine love of a real mother and father. Surely you understand."

Ben Parker and Norman Osborn exchanged angry glances before taking a step away from the other. "So, Peter. How is school?"

"Good." The young student said, "I'm first in my class this semester."

"Wonderful." Norman answered before looking at Harry with a fair amount of disdain. "Its so good to see a young man finally utilizing his abilities. I must say, Mr. Parker, I'm somewhat jealous." He said to Ben.

Peter saw Harry slowly lower his head and a wave of guilt washed over him.

Ben smiled and placed his hand on Peter's shoulder, "I guess we all can't be lucky Mr. Osborn."

"No I guess not." Norman stated turning a shameful eye towards his own son.

"Is Harry Osborn here?" Asked Counselor Bart Hamilton. Nearly a dozen students and their parents were assembled in this small classroom. He smiled upon seeing Harry stand up in his seat. "Wonderful, and your father?" This sort of scene was taking place across the school. Peter and Ben Parker were in a different room and would not witness the spectacle that was about to occur.

Norman leaned forward, "I'm here." He said lifelessly.

Hamilton nodded, "Good. I understand you own Osborn Industries."

"Correct." The tycoon replied in his nice, clean business suit.

"If I may ask, why is Harry attending a public school?" Hamilton took out a notepad and began to jot down notes.

Norman laughed somewhat nervously, "My son has a problem with motivation. As a father, I of course put him in all of the best private schools. However, maybe out of spite, he's flunked out of everyone until we reached this point." He beamed his son angry glance.

"That disappoints you?" Hamilton adjusted his thick black spectacles.

"Immensely." Norman responded, "There's not much I can do by this point. He's dug his own grave."

Hamilton nodded and turned his attention to the young Osborn, "Harry, how does that make you feel?"

Harry was about to complain when he suddenly realized he could feel his father's eyes studying him, waiting for a response, "I-I… I don't know."

"You never did." Norman replied.

"Please let your son speak?" Hamilton said.

Norman laughed, "Harry, speak? He has nothing to say, never has. He does what you tell him, he's a follower not a leader. It disgusts me to call you an Osborn." There was a madness developing and surging beneath his eyes.

Hamilton raised his hand, "That's enough, Mr. Osborn. This behavior's not healthy for your son."

"Shut up." Norman declared silencing the counselor. "You don't think I've tried?" He asked furiously, "I've been in and out of meetings with your type before, for him. What has it gotten me? Nothing." He shook his head, "He's lucky I haven't had him institutionalized."

His eye slowly widened and he stood out of his chair suddenly. "What am I…?" He shook his head as if trying to shake off the effects of something. "Excuse me, please continue." He suddenly rushed out of the class.

After a short but frantic search Norman had found the bathroom and was already splashing water on his face. "What's happening too me?" He asked of himself and waited a moment for the answer.

The madness returned, stronger than ever before, and held him tightly in its grip. He tugged at the edge of his chin, "Just a face for the world to see. If only they knew the true power that lies beneath this mere shell."

Ben and Peter Parker were walking down the sidewalk towards his car parked at the end of the street. "So what did you think?" Peter asked.

The old man shrugged, "It was alright, although I didn't learn anything particularly jaw-dropping about myself." He laughed, "I guess were just about as average as they come."

Peter frowned as Ben broke away to open the door to the car, and for a brief moment the image of Aunt May in that stretcher popped into his mind, "Sometimes I wish that were true." He said sadly.

"What am I doing?" Peter asked himself as he sat on a ledge overlooking the streets of the city. "Why do I put myself through this every day?" His Spider-Man mask was in both his gloved hands.

The moon hung quietly over him as if to comfort him. He sighed heavily, "I made up for it didn't I, Aunt May?" He lowered his head and brought his knees up to his chin, "I've done so much. I just want to be able to stop."

There was a moment of silence and the wind came in. Peter gazed at the figures below him. "Please." He begged.

The response he received was a bitter one. Police sirens began to echo through the city. Slowly, Peter rose to his feet and pulled his mask over his face. "Fine."

Several days later…Norman Osborn raised his eyes slowly, his hands were clasped together and everything about his stance revealed what deep thoughts he had been having only moments ago.

"It is time."

The time for his ascension was at hand. Norman wished his father were here to see him now and how powerful his son had become. Norman's dad, Ambrose Osborn, had been a visionary, but even he might not have believed what had come to pass.

Ambrose had at one time been a strong, wise and rich leader of business. He had molded Norman into the man he was today, telling him the single most important thing in Osborn's life: Power is at your fingertips; all you need to do is grasp it! It was something that Norman believed in with all of his heart.

He was sure that Ambrose, the powerful and intelligent man that he had been in his early years, would be proud of what his son had become. Not the weak Ambrose, the one that had lost the family fortune and became an abusive drunk and a sniveling coward.

Norman was standing in the abandoned mill, with only the hot sun to keep him company. He walked across the clearing to his suitcase gently placed beside a pile of old steel beams. He opened the case revealing the purple garb inside. His yellow eyes glowed brightly.

He ceremoniously pulled the costume out of the case. First he stripped himself of whatever scraps were left of Norman Osborn. It was a moment to remember, as man transformed into monster.

A moment passed when Norman was afraid to put that hat on his head and complete the change. He gazed into its dark recesses as if it was own heart, threatening to be lost forever.

Then the lure of power came and he at last became that which would soon rock the foundations of this city. The Green Goblin cackled for his time was now at hand.

Peter Parker closed his eyes and gazed into the duffel bag. The money was all gone. He had spent every cent of it on his newly completed, but untested web-shooters. He was now on his own.

"Peter, do you need a drive?" Ben asked from downstairs.

"No." Peter responded before gazing at his Spider-Man costume strewn across the bed, "I can make it."

Flint Marko was moved along from the hospital doors towards the truck. He would then be moved to Ravencroft where he would await his trial.

Peter Parker raised his camera and took the first shot with ease. He was but one of a dozen or so trying to get scoops here. The police formed a protective perimeter.

It was a wonderful day, the sun was out, and so were blue skies. However, something was nagging at Peter's essence, something he couldn't shake.

The damage to Flint was massive. He had lost his legs and his body appeared to be scorched and gashed at nearly every spot visible. It was an amazing stroke of luck that he was even alive.

They managed to get Flint into the back of the ambulance with relative ease. Peter managed to snap off what shots he could and was rather satisfied with the results. It wasn't a tough job, but then JJ did want him onboard.

Suddenly, he felt it. "It's happening again." Peter whispered among the crowd of journalist. The tingling sensation near the back of his skull grew. For the first time ever it began to actually hurt. "Here? Danger? What could it be?"

A missile streaked through the crowd and slammed into the ambulance. A great ball of fire erupted from the inside killing both drivers. Flint Marko remained safe for the time being.

The police immediately reacted by drawing their guns. They were both stunned and surprised to see a pumpkin roll across the floor. For a moment they looked at one another to see what should be done. The pumpkin exploded enveloping them all in a deadly field of fire.

The sound of an engine roaring was heard above them and everybody gazed towards the sky, only to see the hideous monster on his mechanical glider. He cackled wildly, his yellows full of insanity, "How's that for a photo op!"

Peter's eyes widened, he was the creature in his dreams, always laughing. For the first time since becoming Spider-Man his overweening pride was replaced with terror, genuine terror.