Part Four

Norman Osborn looked at the files in his hands. "If he thinks he'll get the contracts with these kind of profit margins, Trenton is mad." He adjusted the papers in his hands and placed them on the table. "This is far to dull." He remarked grabbing a glass full of brandy.

He looked at a copy of the Times, cataloging the recent battle between the HobGoblin and himself. "The rigors of work have been bearing down on me as of late." He murmured, "Perhaps its time I went out for a joyride."

Suddenly, he heard the front door open and then close shut. "Harry?" Norman called out, "Is that you?"

"Yeah." His son replied distantly.

Norman raised an eye, "Well, I just thought that you should know I'm planning on going out later tonight. You'll have the house for tonight." He said coldly.

"Do you really have to go out, tonight?" Harry said out of sight.

"Yes, it's a matter rather important to me. However, I doubt you'd have the scope to understand." Norman said mockingly.

Harry quietly entered the study, "I think I understand more than you think." He raised the pistol in his hands and took aim.

Norman's face widened in shock, "What in the blazes do you think you're doing Harry?"

"Taking control." The young Osborn said, "Isn't that what you always wanted from me?" He looked down in shame, "Why didn't you tell me that you're the Green Goblin?"

"I never looked at my exploits as something to be lightly brought up at the dinner table." Norman looked at gun cautiously, "What are you planning to do?"

Harry lowered his eyes, "I don't know yet."

Norman shook his head from side to side, "Same old Harry. You must always plan ahead. Especially with something as grave as this." He clicked his tongue, "Put the gun down."

"No." Harry retorted, "I'm in control."

"So you say." Norman responded. "I'm impressed that you were able to put it all together. Good show, son." He smiled jovially, "Come here. Have a drink."

Harry frowned, "What?"

Norman shrugged, "I see that you have a gun but not the first idea what to do with it." He pulled out another cup, a very special flask of liquor, from under the desk, and poured some into it. "Until you make a decision, I say have a drink and relax. You know, I've been waiting for you to show some backbone for some time. I'm glad that it was such a spectacular display."

The younger Osborn awkwardly walked towards Norman and sat in a chair opposite of his father. "Why?" He asked as he was handing his glass and taking a sip.

"There are certain problems in my line of work that require unorthodox solutions." Norman explained and took a sip of his own glass, "How is your drink?"

Harry stared into the drink and slowly put his gun down. "I don't know what to think about this."

"You'll understand, in time." Norman remarked. "I'll ask again, how is your drink?"

"Its fine." Harry replied before collapsing onto the floor lifelessly.

Norman smirked, "Still the same old Harry." He stood up and grabbed his son's empty glass. "You're first mistake was not shooting me when you had a chance. The second was not anticipating that the drink contained a powerful sedative." He laughed, "Looks like your old man outsmarted you, again." Norman sat back in his lush chair and sighed, "We'll talk about this when you wake up."

The Lizard moved through the alleyways and side streets. He slipped past homes unseen. He found it an exhilarating experience; it felt as if he were a hunter tracking down his prey.

He could smell the people all around him. They went about their daily lives, unaware that if he decided to he could enter their homes and slaughter them all.

However, he had to overcome that desire. As appealing as it was, he had a mission to accomplish, a greater plan to fulfill. This is what his goal was, if he had to run a few errand missions for Fury then he would, but in the end he was that much closer to realizing his vision.

He came around a dirt driveway and began to hear the sounds of police sirens. The Lizard could see the secluded rear of the Stacy home just ahead. He made his way over a few small fences and landed in their backyard. Police seemed to be focused around the front of the building, something had just happened. The yard was full of the things that made up those model homes, a grill, a picnic table and even thick and wild plant life that had been allowed to grow a little too wild.

The Lizard silently opened the back door and slipped in. He was in the kitchen, modest by most standards. He crept along the walls of the home. He spotted a police officer pass by the kitchen doorway, forcing Lizard to freeze up entirely. He hardly even breathed.

"Captain, can you say what happened, again?" Asked one of the police officers standing by the front door.

George Stacy sighed deeply, "I heard a large commotion in the upstairs guest room. When I got there, I found my daughter and her friend being attacked by what I guess was Spider-Man."

The Lizard clenched his jaw. He had gotten here too late.

"I tried to stop him but he threw me aside. He took my daughter's friend, Mary Jane Watson, and left through the window." Stacy's voice conveyed the anxiety he was feeling all too well.

The Lizard grimaced, unsatisfied with the product of his work. He slipped out through the back door. "Fury." He said demandingly. The microchip in his throat immediately connected him with the general.

"Fury here." The leader responded, "Report."

"I've lossst Ssspider-Man." The Lizard stated.

Fury seemed to be barking orders on the other line and ordering a course change. "That's fine, one of my scouts just spotted him and some girl landing on a church."

"Where?" The Lizard inquired.

"Its five miles south from your position. It's going to take us a short while to reach the site. I need you to engage Spider-Man and hold him there until we arrive."

The channel was cut. The Lizard tensed up his muscles. Pulling upon his incredible raw power, he leaped through the air an incredible distance.

Out from the bushes emerged Eddie Brock. He was breathing hard, still shaken by the Lizard's appearance. He had noticed the creature's arrival but said nothing at the time.

Instead, Brock had hid into the field of dense bushes while the creature invaded the Stacy home for a few harrowing moments. He remembered the directions that the creature had been given from whoever it called Fury. He knew exactly which church that Lizard was being directed to. The building would be totally empty at this time of day. He pulled himself back to his feet and began a mad dash for his car. There was no telling how much time he had.

This was his chance, his only chance, to prove to the world that he was more than just a second-rate photographer; it was his chance to prove that he was better than Parker. Something was about to happen and Brock intended on being in the middle of it.