The Weapon of Darkness

Part One

"How could you lose an injured patient?" Norman Osborn angrily asked. He stared into the terrified eyes of a doctor. "Answer me!" He barked loudly.

The empty hospital room where Peter Parker had been resting was now a center of activity. Eddie Brock with a sadistic sense of glee smiled and took pictures.

The doctor rubbed their brow of sweat and backed against the wall. Osborn's face was a tempest ready to lash out at anyone who dared to anger him further. "I don't know, Mr. O-Osborn." He laughed nervously, "I promise you that we are doing everything possible to recover the patient."

"See that you do." Norman replied adjusting his tie. "And if you don't find him, I'd advise you to start looking for another job." He took a step back and grimaced, "You're excused."

"I understand, sir." The doctor replied after sighing in relief, "I promise we'll find it."

Norman nodded and watched the doctor leave. He then turned around and eyed Ben Parker standing by the window looking at the view of the city. "I blame you for this." He said walking towards the window but stopping just a foot short of exposing himself in the sunlight.

"You can do whatever you like." Ben grimly answered, "Doesn't change the thing."

Norman frowned and stared at his black, shiny shoes for a moment thinking about his current predicament. "How do you lose your own nephew, when you're in the room? You should be ashamed of yourself."

Ben turned around faced Osborn with a shaken but determined resolve, "I know enough to let Peter make his own decisions, I respect him enough. You might want to try that with Harry one day."

"Decision? He left the hospital because he decided to?" Norman inquired tugging at his neck uncomfortably. "What do you know, old man?"

"Only that my nephew is far away from you." Ben clicked his tongue and took a deep breath. "That's good enough for me."

Norman turned away and stomped out of the room. Once in the corridor he looked at his assistant, Donald Menken.

Donald, a young but somewhat chubby man, noticed Norman was in a bad mood and decided to wait a short moment before relaying some dire news to him.

The sounds of moaning and groaning could be heard from the other rooms, creating the sense of some sort of dark torture chamber.

"What is it, Donald?" Norman inquired, "I know you long enough to know your expression means you want to tell me something."

Menken nodded humbly, "Correct, sir. We were unable to purchase the warehouse on Sax Street."

"Why the hell not?" Norman demanded angrily, "I gave them everything they needed!"

"It appears Roderick Kingsly brought it up mere moments before our men arrived."

Norman grimaced, "Damn Roderick." He rubbed his temple, "This is turning out to be a terrible day. I'm getting headaches again."

"Did you take your pills today?" Donald suggested.

"No." Norman replied, obviously frustrated, "I don't need them, Menken. Besides, that's not the important thing. Get a board meeting scheduled for later today, I need to confer with them immediately."

"We have the money and are on our way to the meeting." Said Nick Fury, leader of the infamous S.H.I.E.L.D sect, into his cell-phone. The patch on his right eye gained some attention from several of the people in the airport as they walked towards the exit, but Fury managed to keep their eyes away from him with the cold stare that had terrified entire platoons of Vietnamese during the war.

The voice of their contact snickered on the other side, "Excellent." He said behind a thick Russian accent, "I will bring the package and we will conclude our business there."

Fury nodded, "Excellent. Until then." He turned the phone off and slipped it into the pocket of his trench coat. Fury gave a curious glance to Jan, one of his agents. "What do you think?"

She shrugged, "These people we are dealing with are untrustworthy and greedy." Jan made sure her weapon was still concealed in the depths of her own coat. "But they will get us what we need. It wouldn't be good business if they didn't."

"Agreed." Fury remarked with a sly smile across his face, "If things go sour we always have our insurance policy."

"Are you sure you can control him? Undoubtedly, he has his own agenda." Jan said cautiously. She hated the idea of using outside muscle and would have preferred to rely on the loyal members of S.H.I.E.L.D instead.

Fury laughed confidently, "As long as I give him access to our facilities, he'll assist us. He has nothing to gain in betrayal." He gripped the handle on the suitcase even more tightly realizing how much rested on this meeting. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. Like we always do."

"So, what can you do when you're living in a self-imposed exile?" Spider-Man asked as he sat on a ledge. The warm sun basked him in an aura of grace despite his conflicted inner-feelings.

The pigeon looked at him curiously for a moment, bobbed its head and then flew away.

Peter sighed, "That's how it is? You're my best friend until I hit you with the heavy questions?" He asked jokingly and shook his hand as if he were some old cartoon villain with a slick mustache.

He fired a web-line and began to routinely swing through the city streets. Despite the confidence that he showed in relying on a thin strand of webbing, the truth was that Peter felt more lost now than he ever had.

No home, nobody to turn to and no work, he had nothing left. Only his costume and a few spare web-canisters that he had taken from home after leaving the hospital.

It was a terrible feeling. Wondering whether or not he should try to live his life and pray that the Goblin didn't find out who he was. It was like before he had got bitten and went to school hoping that nobody noticed him. Things had changed so much yet his situation was not that different.

After performing a couple of laps around the street he finally decided to catch a quick bite. He had left his wallet with what money it had remaining when he took it from his room placed on the roof of a nearby building.

He landed on that particular building and switched into his only set of street clothes and hid his costume behind a beam. Peter looked at the five-dollar bill, all the money he had, in his hands realizing how desperate his situation really was.

If he didn't find a way to get more money and soon, the Goblin wouldn't have to kill him, starvation would do that for him. It was the morning so most places would still be cooking bacon, sausages and pancakes. Just thinking about it made his mouth water.

He looked down at the street and surveyed its length in great detail. Peter licked his lips upon spotting a McDonald's, "Whoever came up with fast food deserves a big hug and five dollars." He remarked looking at the bill again.

Eddie Brock grinned widely after handing Jonah Jameson the pictures. "Crazy stuff, eh?" Brock remarked, "With any luck, Parker fell out the window." He had made it no secret that he was resentful about being upstaged by a high school student.

"Shut up." JJ replied angrily and slowly stared at the pictures. He clenched his jaw and dropped them on his desk, "I'm not going to run it." He said coldly.

Brock grimaced and grabbed one of the shots in his hands, "Why the hell not? They're good pictures, JJ?" A slight sound of desperation entered his voice.

Jameson clasped his hands together and puffed his cigar slowly. "I've made my decision, Brock."

"No." He said stunned at this latest rejection. Eddie laughed contemptuously, "Why the hell not?"

"Its tempting, you did a good job, Brock. But, I don't want to capitalize on Parker's disappearance like this." Jameson rubbed his brow; "I've already got enough on my conscience without adding another weight."

"This is so bogus." Brock said angrily and slammed his fist on Jameson's desk, "Why are you cutting me off at the knees, JJ? Because you've got a soft spot for the Parker kid?"

Jameson shook his head, "No, it's not like that, Eddie."

"I've been working here for six years, JJ." Brock recalled, "I bring you news like I always have, and you always ran with it, no matter what. Now, because its that dumb kid that's the story, you can't handle it!"

Jameson stood up angrily, "You're out of Parker's way from now on."

Eddie grimaced, "JJ, what are you saying?"

"I know the kid and if there's one thing he's got its determination and reliability, something that you could use, he'll be back." Jameson barked, "And I'm tired of you pushing him around because you've got some petty grudge against him for something he didn't do. When he does show up again he has seniority over you. Whatever he says goes!"

"Take orders from a kid? You can't be serious!"

Jameson grimaced, "I am serious. Now get out and go back to whatever hole it is you sleep at night in."

He stumbled out of Jameson's office. Eddie couldn't believe that this had happened, all because for some reason the owner of the Bugle couldn't bring himself to run with a story about some geek.

Sure the kid had brought in Spider-Man pictures consistently, but Eddie assured himself that he had done more work in a day that Parker had ever done in a month. "Parker will pay. He has to pay."

Peter Parker sat on yet another ledge finishing off his breakfast. With the final bite of his sausage biscuit he finished the meal off and swallowed the meat realizing that could be his last meal for a while.

"That was good." Peter remarked feeling the meat slam into his stomach. He sighed, pulled his mask back over his face, and gazed across the city, "Lets hope that lasts a while, otherwise I may be known as the pigeon stalker."

Suddenly, his spider-sense ran through his head and threw him off balance almost immediately. His lightening reflexes were the only things that kept him from plunging down into the street.

"What the hell was that about?" Peter demanded and then spotted a black car moving through the streets. A sense of uneasiness settled over him as he watched the car stop at a light. "Just when I think things can't get any worse." He fired a web-line that attached itself against a building across the street. "The job calls to know why I'm taking a day off." With that he pushed off the ledge and was airborne.