Father

Part One

"Its good to be back in action!" Peter declared excitedly as he swung through the city streets, each one of his movements utterly graceful. The fabric of his red and blue costume felt fresh against his skin.

Almost a month had passed since coming home from Florida, and since that time he had decided to take a short break from being Spider-Man and enjoy the start of his summer vacation. The city didn't fall into chaos, no madman tried to take over the world, life proceeded much as it had before Peter was bit.

He fired another web-line and turned a corner. Peter suddenly tugged on his web and began to ascend. He was now at highest peaks of the city, facing the moon hanging proudly in the night sky.

Things had gone fine with Gwen thus far. Despite some initial shakiness, they saw one another regularly, and to the casual eye things seemed fine. However, things were far from fine.

Gwen's infatuation with Spider-Man continued and Peter began to wonder whether he could even compete with his alter ego. He did love her though.

Then there was Mary Jane. Every day that went by he found himself wishing that he could tell her how much he cared for her, that he wanted to be with her. The only thing that kept him from doing so was Gwen. Eventually he would have to decided which one did he want: MJ or Gwen. It was a rather frustrating feeling.

After his truce with Flash Thompson the jock had apparently changed his ways, while he was still somewhat of an oaf, he had stopped bothering the socially challenged members of the school.

Peter landed on a rooftop and looked down at the streets below. He could see dozens of people going about their business, unaware of who was watching them.

That was something that he had been contemplating as of late: recognition. He had saved dozens, maybe hundreds, of people since taking on the job and still everybody looked at him with suspicion. Thanks in no small part to Jonah Jameson's articles on him.

There was only so long before you get tired of repeatedly being shot at by the police just after saving a school bus full of children. Peter raised his arm and fired a web-line that connected with a building across the street.

He got onto the ledge and tugged the line. Within moments he was swinging through the streets at amazing speeds. Peter spotted some guys trying to smash open an ATM. "In my town?" Peter asked himself, "I don't think so." He grinned, "Damn, its good to be back!"

"Happy birthday, father." Said Norman Osborn toasting the portrait of Ambrose that hung on the wall in his study. He took a sip of wine in the glass that he held. "How many years have you been in the grave?"

Norman stared at the picture waiting for an answer and frowned, "You've forgotten? Well I haven't. You shot yourself when I was fourteen." He put his glass down on the bookcase that he sat beside. The yellow in his eyes glowed brightly. "I remember those years well, father. You, the drunkard, me the fool believing you could be redeemed, right up until the end."

He ran a finger along his jaw and smiled, "Whenever somebody mentions your name I don't know whether to feel proud or terrified. Whether I should remember, Ambrose Osborn, the leader of business." He said proudly, "Or the man who lost it all." Norman shrugged, "I imagine you'd like the first, but I spent more years with the second."

"Well, I've done it." Norman looked proudly at the financial reports on his desk, "After years of struggling, I've finally surpassed all of major competitors, and I'm the best as it should be." He finished off his drink, "This will be the last time we have one of our little reunions, father. I just wanted you to know, that I beat you."

He stood out of the seat, looked at the portrait of the stern Ambrose, and smirked, "I'll have to remember to have that picture removed in the morning."

"Of course I understand that for many years you have had a corner on the Fashion Industry, but as you know, to survive we must be diverse." Norman said coolly as he faced a fellow tycoon at the negotiating table.

Roderick Kingsly eyed Norman on the other side of the mahogany table, "Yes, but what troubles me is that every industry that Osborn Industries has expanded into it has dominated. I still don't know how you escape being prosecuted for owning a monopoly."

Norman grinned, "Well, with the right connections you can get away with nearly anything." In truth, Osborn had blackmailed all of the right people and nobody dared touch him. "Kingsly Enterprises has nothing to fear from us."

"Oh?" Roderick said and held up several documents in his hand, "What I have here are reports that your company has already brought up several designing companies. What am I to make of these?"

Roderick was a man around Osborn's age. His short white hair seemed to add some years to his face. He was slender but his demeanor was that of a titan.

"Nothing." Norman said annoyed that Roderick had gotten the reports, "When I say something, I mean it. Are we not men of our word?" He asked casually.

"Men of our word?" Roderick laughed, "You know as well as I do, that we both got where we are by lying and creative accounting."

Norman nodded, "Indeed. Well, then we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?"

Harry sat at the edge of Peter's bed with the game controller in his hands, "This is pretty good." He remarked. The sunlight poured in through the windows, while Peter cleaned up his rooms slightly. "What's it called?" He asked as he completed a game stage.

"I forget; it's on the box." Peter said carelessly, "I would have thought you would have owned all of these games by now." He placed a pile of his clothes on the desk.

"Well, my dad doesn't like these things." Harry remarked, "He says they're a waste of time." The young Osborn shrugged, "Maybe he's right."

Peter was quiet for a moment sensing some tension. "What are you doing on Friday?" He asked finishing his rather sloppy cleanup.

Harry smiled, "I've got a date with Mary Jane on Friday to the movie theater."

A sudden silence erupted between them with the mention of the redhead's name. Peter stood still for a moment, unwilling to move, "Oh." He said dejected. "Well, that's good to hear." He said insincerely.

"Thanks." Harry replied returning to his game. He brought down his computer-generated enemies with ease and upon seeing another loading screen sighed, annoyed at this interruption. "You?"

"Flash invited me to a party, but the host got sick." Peter answered.

Harry nodded but raised his left eye, "I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that you and Flash Thompson are friends. That guy gave us the hardest time during junior year."

"People change." Peter said quietly, trying not to face the fact that Harry and MJ were together. "So what are you doing Saturday?" He asked.

"My dad is hosting some function with a bunch of his socialite friends. At least he says there his friends." Harry appeared to not be looking forward to the event, "He wants me to be there so that I can meet his buddies and make an impression on them." He said the words with a sense of dread, not so much about the party but that his father was grooming him to take his place and that this was just one step towards that goal. Harry then looked to his friend and snapped his fingers realizing a great prospect, "Why don't you come with me?"

Peter raised his eyes, "Me?" He laughed, "I'm not exactly made for that sort of crowd, if you get my drift."

Harry nodded, "Neither am I. Listen, Pete, its going to be boring as hell."

"All the more reason for me not to be there." Peter said, "Besides, I wasn't invited by your dad."

"Are you crazy?" Harry said, "My dad thinks you're a great, you're my only friend that he's ever liked. He'll love the idea." Harry clasped both his hands together and put on the best puppy-dog face that he had ever done in his entire life. "Please, Peter. Help me out, keep your old friend some company."

Peter was about to refuse but ended up sighing. "Fine, what should I wear?"