Chapter Three

Weird Science Stories


"Poetry in motion

When she turned her eyes to me

As deep as any ocean

As sweet as any harmony.

She blinded me with Science

She hit me with technology

When she's dancing next to me

I can hear machinery!"

--Thomas Dolby

"She Blinded Me With Science"


One year ago:

Harry Osborn looked at the sheath of blueprints and schematics with a baleful glance before regarding the inventor with thinly concealed contempt. "Mr. Smythe," Harry spoke calmly, "you must understand that this project--what did you call it again?"

"The Spider-Slayer, Mr. Osborn," Spencer Smythe answered. "I believe that this robot will be the perfect tool to bring Spider-Man to justice."

Harry shook his head, sighing deeply. "Mr. Smythe, you're wasting my time. We have police to deal with criminals like Spider-Man. Oscorp Industries is about technology, not law-enforcement."

"But sir," Smythe tried to defend himself. "These robot hunters would be the perfect tool to aid in law-enforcement. These robots could be deployed to handle terrorist situations, or other scenarios that conventional law-enforcement would be ill-equipped to deal with. Consider the contract we could make with the NYPD if this succeeds!"

"Consider the entire police department going on strike when their jobs are threatened by these Robo-Cop rejects!" Harry sneered. He sat behind his desk, leaning back in his father's leather-upholstered office chair, steepling his fingers against his nose. "Mr. Smythe, I'm sorry, but due to our losing military contracts last year, Oscorp has to tighten its budget, which means that some departments are being closed. I'm afraid that we're going to have to dismantle your robotics division. I am prepared to offer you a recommendation to any other company, but effective at close of this business today, you are no longer employed by this company."

Spencer Smythe gaped at the son of his late employer, his face ashen with disbelief. "Sir," he stammered, "please reconsider, I beg of you. I've served this company faithfully for over twenty years!"

"And I appreciate that," Harry answered calmly. "Which is why I will be more than glad to provide a reasonable severance package and a glowing recommendation for any company where you may apply for employment."

"Very well," Smythe glowered. "If I may take my blueprints, I'll be on my way." He reached for the plans, but Harry swiped them off of his desk.

"I believe that if you read your contract," Harry spoke in icy tones, "you'll find that any concepts created on company time belong to Oscorp Industries, not you personally. These blueprints are mine now, and if you attempt to sell your silly plans to any of my competitors, I will have no choice but to take legal action. Now, if you will excuse me..."

Spencer Smythe slammed his arms across Harry's desk, sending sheaths of paper flying. "I will NOT excuse you, you snot-nosed little punk! I've been inventing cutting edge technologies for your father while you were struggling with the rudiments of potty-training! The last thing I want is charity from some pampered infant who's barely qualified to be fry-cook at Burger King, let alone CEO of Oscorp!"

"Fine," Harry's face stiffened into cold hard mask. "You can forget the recommendation. And the severance package. I'll have security escort you off the premises."

Smythe glared at Harry in undisguised hatred. "You have not heard the last of me, whelp!" He turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of Harry's office. Harry Osborn called security to deal with Smythe, wrote a memo to remind payroll to mail Smythe his final paycheck, and thought no more on the matter. He didn't have time to deal with a hotheaded inventor with delusions of grandeur, not when he had a company to salvage.

And a father to avenge.


Present day:

"I want to go home," MJ informed Peter as they entered the main auditorium at Oscorp. Peter smirked slightly at the sight of a hundred stuffy scientists filing into the chamber around them, eager to hear the major announcement that Harry Osborn had promised to deliver at the annual symposium.

"Believe me," Peter breathed softly, "I'm right there with you."

"Okay, you make a distraction, and we'll make a run for it," MJ giggled. Peter snickered along with her, wishing that he could earnestly entertain her notion. "Don't worry, Peter," MJ assured him as they found their seats. "I'm not gonna do anything drastic."

"Good," Peter whispered.

"But you still owe me dinner," MJ reminded him. "And not at some deli where they write the menu on a chalkboard."

"You kiddin'?" Peter replied in an exaggerated Bronx accent, "I know a jernt so classy the check's engraved."

MJ just smiled, and kissed Peter lightly on the cheek. "I love you, y'know," she whispered sweetly.

"Well, that's a relief," Peter quipped, "or otherwise people would think that you kiss total strangers on the cheek." MJ playfully swatted Peter's arm as Dr. Curt Connors took his seat on Peter's opposite side.

"Peter," Connors greeted the young man. "Glad to see you bright eyed and bushy tailed this fine morning."

"Good to see you to, Doc," Peter answered. "Oh, Dr. Connors, this is my fiancé, MJ Watson."

"Mary Jane Watson?" the blond-haired woman sitting next to Connors asked. "The Mary Jane Watson? This is a pleasure. I enjoyed your performance in 'The Importance of Being Earnest' last year."

"Thanks," MJ grinned, pleased to meet a genuine fan.

"Oh," Connors interrupted the conversation. "And this is my wife, Martha. Martha, this is Peter Parker, the young student I've told you so much about."

"Hope you don't hold that against me," Peter demurred slightly, as his mind travelled back briefly to his first meeting with Dr. Otto Octavius. "Professor Connors tells me that you're brilliant," Octavius smiled as he greeted him. "He also tells me that you are lazy." Peter shook his head vigorously, banishing that memory from his consciousness. He had worked long and hard to regain Doctor Connors' trust since then, he was not about to blow it again.

"Not at all," Martha smiled generously. "In fact he thinks the world of you."

"Believe me," Peter admitted, "I'm the one who lucked out, working with Dr. Connors. Oh, and skulking about somewhere in a disreputable fedora—" Peter looked around for a second, before spotting a barely-shaven face peering out of a rumpled suit, "is Ned Leeds, who's covering this little shindig for the Daily Bugle." Ned nodded without saying a word, and waved his hand in a casual salute. Martha ignored the reporter entirely.

"The power of the press," Dr. Connors nodded. "Love it or hate it, my project requires it."

Martha grunted noncommittally. "I just don't know if I want my husband's work to be associated with that rag. I mean, the way the Bugle's editor keeps trashing Spider-Man."

"You may be assured, milady," Ned announced gallantly, "that our current acting editor Robert Robertson, will deal more fairly with all topics. Be they scientific discoveries or spandex fetishists."

Peter began to smirk slightly. Little did he know... he thought with a knowing chuckle that MJ caught on to. Before Ned or anyone else could speak any further on the subject, the house lights dimmed, and a spotlight stabbed through the darkness, illuminating the podium on the left side of the stage. "You're on," Ned jostled Peter's elbow, as Peter lifted his camera.

As Peter lined the sight to his eyes and concentrated on his focus, MJ leaned into his ear and whispered, "Lenscap." Peter stifled an urge to laugh out loud at MJ's comment, harking back to the movie they saw together two nights ago; the word she spoke was the last line of the movie. Peter glanced back toward MJ, who just smiled puckishly.

As Peter readied his camera(and made sure that the lenscap was off), a familiar sandy-red haired young man strode to a waiting podium. Harry Osborn's posture spoke of confidence, the controlled gleam in his eyes radiated calm determination. Peter found himself scanning the face of his one-time closest friend, hoping to see at some level the same young man who befriended him on his first day of high school. Harry kept his eyes pointed straight ahead; he clearly wasn't seeking Peter out in the audience. Peter sighed slightly and began lining his camera for the better shots.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Harry began as he stood behind the microphone at the podium. "Honored scientists and members of the press, greetings. This is the first time that I've had the privilege to host this symposium. Indeed, this marks the first time that Oscorp has hosted this event; prior to our recent corporate restructuring, this company has been largely interested in military applications of technology. But, as Bob Dylan said, 'The times, they are a-changin'. Since I inherited this company from my late father, I have had to steer through choppy waters, as Oscorp had lost several of its military contracts, along with several members of its board of directors, due in large part to several seemingly random attacks by the criminal the media referred to as the Green Goblin."

Harry turned his head slightly, his eyes suddenly affixed on Peter's face, as though homing onto him. Peter flinched slightly, but kept his camera focused on the Chief Executive Officer of Oscorp. Peter couldn't read Harry's face from the distance between his seat and the podium; Harry's eyes were hooded, his face set in a serious caste. "But that is in the past," Harry continued. "And it is time for this corporation to enter the future. So I wish to thank all the scientists, inventors and other distinguished minds who answered my invitation, and I hope to speak with many of you in person, either over the weekend or at a later date. Because I will require as many of you as would wish to join with Oscorp to help me achieve this future. Ladies and gentlemen," he nodded once to a stagehand, and a movie screen slowly lowered behind the podium. Taking the microphone in his hand, Harry stepped out from the podium. "It is my pleasure at this time to introduce Oscorp International's most ambitious undertaking, the Ad Astra project."

The spotlight shut off, plunging the auditorium in darkness. Slowly, pinpoints of light appeared on the screen, as the multimedia presentation began. A night sky was projected on the screen, as the opening brass strains of 'Thus Spake Zarathustra' built into a crescendo over the audience. Peter leaned toward MJ, whispering, "Couldn't he have done something original with the soundtrack?"

"Despite my father's many military contracts," Harry's voice rang over the throbbing kettle-drums, "there was one non-military project about which he was passionate; space exploration." On the screen, the Space Shuttle Discovery drifted across the starscape. "In the last half of the twentieth century, mankind has made its first faltering steps out of the cradle that is the Earth. However, due to various factors, our progress in this arena has been stunted. The current state of the art in space travel, NASA's Space Shuttle, is over twenty years old. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't trust a car that old!" This comment bought him a faint smattering of laughs from his audience. "And for all its technology, the Shuttle still hasn't ventured past Earth orbit. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe, as my father believed before me, that not only can we do better, but for our survival as a species we must do better. President John Kennedy said in his inaugural address in 1961 that he would make it his mission to put a man on the surface of the moon within the decade. A lofty goal that NASA managed to achieve. Today, I propose my goal for the next ten years; to establish a permanent manned science station in solar orbit, between the Earth and Mars!"

Harry clicked the remote he carried in his hand, and the image of the Shuttle faded, to be replaced by a computer generated image of a different craft. This new vehicle was sleeker than the shuttle, more tapered, its nose sloping more subtly, like a slightly rounded wedge merging into a flattened cone. "Introducing the theoretical flagship of Oscorp's new space program, Ad Astra. From the Latin, 'ad astra per aspera'; through our endeavors, the stars. The Ad Astra is still in the planning stages, but Oscorp Aerospace has already begun the painstaking process of ironing out the glitches; we intend to test and retest every component of the Ad Astra through computer sims before forging a single bolt. The Ad Astra will be a sleeker, more durable and more fuel-efficient design than the Space Shuttle, allowing for longer trips. The planned Hestia satellite will serve as a docking and refueling station for the Ad Astra shuttles, as well as a space-bound laboratory and scientific research center. Within twenty to thirty years, our projected plan is to build a permanent settlement on Mars, as well as several small lunar colonies. Pipe dreams, you may think, but without the politicking and budget cuts that NASA has faced over the years, we at Oscorp feel that we will succeed. I have no political agenda, I have no desire to run for public office—"

"A statement only spoken," Ned interjected sotto voce, just loud enough for Peter, MJ and Dr. and Mrs. Connors to hear it, "by someone who is planning a bid for public office somewhere down the line."

"My only ambition is to see this project through to its fruition," Harry concluded. The screen faded to black, and the house lights went back on. "With the aid of other private investors, I feel wholeheartedly that Ad Astra will open a new chapter in mankind's conquest of space. And with the support of the scientific community, in the creation and improvement of the technologies required for such an undertaking, I have no doubt that we will succeed. In fact, I expect a large percentage of the scientists gathered for this symposium to serve aboard Hestia in the next ten years." A wave of applause greeted Harry's declaration, spurred on by the obvious passion and dedication he clearly felt for the project.

As the applause subsided, Harry continued; "The current time table calls for Ad Astra to make her maiden voyage within the next year. And it is my pleasure at this time to introduce the flagship's captain, the first astronaut we've recruited to join our happy family at Oscorp. It is my honor to present former NASA astronaut John J. Jameson."

MJ startled slightly, as Peter nearly dropped his camera. He managed to avoid breaking the sensitive instrument, and after a brief moment of incredulity, began firing off shot after shot of John Jameson standing next to Harry, shaking his hand and waving to the crowd. He managed to get enough images of the famed astronaut to assure a decent front-page photo for the Daily Bugle.

MJ glanced back at Peter, noticing the sudden tension in his jawline. "You okay, Tiger?"

Peter turned toward MJ, letting her warm jade eyes penetrate his facade of calm. "How is it," Peter grumbled slightly, "that I'm always taking this guy's picture?"

MJ gently placed her arm around Peter's shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze. "Hey, look on the bright side," she whispered softly in his ear. "This time, I'm down here with you, instead of up there with him."

Peter turned to MJ, seeing the light playing off her green eyes and making them sparkle as she smiled. I have no idea where I was before I met you, Mary Jane, he thought, but I hope I never have to go there again.

Peter got in two more shots of John Jameson as he began to make his speech (which Ned was writing down in a wild shorthand that only he could decipher), when a familiar flash of vertigo assailed his inner-ear. MJ sensed his body tensing, as Peter's smile faded suddenly. "You okay?" MJ asked.

Peter shook his head. "Spider sense," he whispered curtly. MJ nodded, her eyes glancing around. "Uh, Peter, why don't you show me around, while my ex-fiancée wows the crowd?"

"Uh, sure," Peter answered, glancing at Professor Connors. "That is, if that's all right with you guys."

"Go, Peter," Curt Connors answered. "You've fulfilled your obligations for today. But I'll expect to see you next Monday, bright and early."

"I'm there," Peter answered as he ushered MJ past the Connors's and Ned. Ned simply waved with two fingers, before returning to his frenetic scribbling. Without another word, Peter and MJ silently vacated the lecture hall and ducked down the first available corridor.

"All clear," MJ whispered as she scouted ahead of Peter. Peter swiftly divested of his street clothing, revealing the familiar red-and-blue spandex costume, the ridged webbing shining dimly in the fluorescent light overhead. "Any sign of whatever tripped your alarms?"

"Not yet," Peter said hurriedly as he pulled his mask and gloves out of his backpack. As he handed MJ the backpack and donned his gloves, he added, " Thanks for the cover story, MJ. Now, you find a nice safe place away from here, and go there."

"I'll be okay, Peter," MJ answered as she gathered Peter's discarded clothing and stuffed it in the backpack. "They engrave the bills, right?"

"They even have linen hand towels in the restrooms," Peter grinned as he finished donning his boots, before pulling his mask over his head.

Just before he could pull the mask over his nose, MJ placed a finger on his lips, stopping him long enough for her to lean in and kiss him quickly. "Love you, Tiger," she breathed, "and the deli will be fine with me."

"Love you back," Peter answered, just as a sudden crash from the direction of the lecture hall rattled the walls around them. "That's my cue," he announced as he pulled down the mask, grabbed his camera and leapt toward the lecture hall.

MJ watched in stunned silence, mixed with awe, as the man she loved raced off to face whatever danger was threatening. "Stay safe," she whispered, before finding some nearby cover.


"OSBORN!" The hideous computer-altered voice grated on the eardrums. "Where are you, you bastard?"

People ran frantically away from the gaping hole in the ceiling, as plaster and bent steel rained down on the suddenly empty seats. The enormous thing that broke through the ceiling scanned the surroundings with red glowing photoreceptors and audio receptors. The object that caused the scene of horror was an enormous robot in the shape of a huge spider, nearly twelve feet in length from mandibles to tail. The eight thick legs were tipped in huge pincers; the four forward legs grabbed at the scientists while the four rear-legs spread out below it, stabilizing the mechanical nightmare. "Give me Osborn," the robot shouted, grabbing a fleeing scientist by the wrist. "If I don't see him in ten seconds, this guy gets perforated!"

"Well, well, well," a voice called out from the wall behind the giant spider. "Whose toy box did you escape from?" The spider turned around, its hind legs scuttling around with speed that belied its size, as its hideous head craned forward, its glowing eyes scanning the new threat. "Spider-Man!" the mechanical monster screeched as it observed the spandex-wearing figure perched almost casually on the wall. The pincer released its captive, who rushed away from the fracas. "How perfect is this?"

"I dunno," Spider-Man drawled. "How perfect is it?"

"I prayed for the opportunity to prove the merits of my Spider-Slayer," the robot shouted, "and now you've fallen into my web!" With lightning speed, the Spider-Slayer threw its left foreleg toward the wall-crawling hero.

Spider-Man dodged the leg just barely, tumbling across the floor past the Slayer, and jumping to the stage. "No way I'm gonna get clocked by a runaway erector set!" Two forelegs reared, firing blasts of superheated plasma at the leaping figure. "Okay, that's just cheating," Spider-Man announced as he dodged the blasts. "Besides, you're lifting my theme here! I should sue you for copyright infringement!" With practiced ease, Spider-Man lifted his hands, firing streams of webbing at the robot spider.

The webs bounced off the thing's hull soundlessly. "I was prepared for you, Spider-Man," the Slayer declared. "Your webs won't stick to me! My body is coated in a teflon-bonded ceramic sheath!"

"Great," Spider-Man announced as he dodged a sudden gout of fire from a flame-thrower concealed in one of the Slayer's legs. "It maims, it kills, and it makes the perfect three-egg omelet! Now how much would you pay?" He ducked backstage as the robot fired more shots toward him.

"Coward!" the Slayer screeched. "Come back here or I'll kill everyone in this room!" He shot a spray of fire over the doors to the auditorium, discouraging anyone from attempting to escape.

Spider-Man stood tensely, his back against the wall, planning his next move. "Great," he whispered to himself. "Not enough room for me in there to take that overgrown Erector set down. If only I could draw it outside..."

"Spider-Man," a harsh whispered voice broke his concentration, and he glanced around. Harry Osborn and John Jameson stepped toward him from the darkness. "I was afraid this would happen," Harry said sadly, shaking his head.

"Look, Osborn," Spider-Man glared hard at the son of the Green Goblin. "I know I'm not on your Christmas card list, but do you mind too terribly if I try to save those lives in there?"

"Easy, Spider-Man," Harry answered. "I'm on your side, I just want that thing off my property."

"Any idea who's controlling that robot?" John asked. "It occurs to me that the way it's talking, that can't be a programmed response. Someone has to be piloting that thing from remote-control or somesuch."

"Good thought, Jameson," Spider-Man answered. "I think I saw camera lenses in its photo-receptors. And whoever's running the show, he seems to have a mad on against you, Osborn."

"Maybe because I fired him last year," Harry answered. "I recognized the thing from the blueprints he showed me. Spencer Smythe, one of my dad's employees, bit of an eccentric inventor, tried to sell me on this so-called Spider Slayer. He tried to sell me on the idea of using them to hunt you down. I had to lay some people off, and I didn't want to waste company resources on personal revenge, so I had to let him go."

"And this is his idea of a golden parachute?" Spider-Man guessed.

"He said he'd get me back. Revenge," he sighed ruefully. "I guess there was a lot of that going around at the time."

"Okay," John interrupted, "so we know who's behind this, but how do we stop him?"

"Luckily," Harry offered, "I came prepared." He stuck his hand in the pocket of his blazer and withdrew a metal disk. "It's a portable disrupter," he explained. "One of my dad's more useful inventions. When the Slayer first crashed in, John pulled me off the stage. We then rushed to my office and grabbed the equipment. The disk is magnetized, and should stick to the Slayer's hull. Spider-Man, you stick this disrupter on the thing, preferably near the head, and stand back. Once you're clear, I'll fire up this EMP broadcaster," he added, gesturing toward a nearby device the size of a car battery, "this will send an electromagnetic pulse through the disrupter, knocking out the Slayer's electronics."

"Good plan," Spider-Man said, "except that my dance partner went and brought protection. It's covered in some kind of ceramic/teflon coating. My webs won't stick to it, and I'm betting that magnets won't either."

"You have ten seconds, Wall-Crawler!" the voice shouted from the monster's speaker grille. "After that, people start dying!"

In a split second, Spider-Man made his decision. "When I say 'now'," Spider-Man intoned, snatching the disk from Harry's hand, "you do what you gotta do." The arachnid hero bounded off toward the stage to face the Slayer, leaving Harry Osborn and John Jameson to watch and wait.

"Come back alive, Peter," Harry mouthed quietly. "We have unfinished business, you and I."


"Five...four...three..." the metallic voice boomed, grating harshly against the eardrums of its captive listeners. The steel arachnid stood menacingly, its lethal arms prepared to rain fire down on the first unlucky soul that stood in its way.

"Showing off, Slayer?" A sudden shape appeared to the Slayer's left. The Slayer's body spun like a tank turret, but with lightning speed, as its right foreleg fired a blast of superheated plasma, incinerating its target.

"Nice shootin', Tex," Spider-Man leapt onto the chassis while its back was turned to him. His plan was working so far; distract the thing's sensors with a large blast of webbing, fired in a carefully controlled arc so it would land on the monster's far side, so Spider-Man could advance while it was turning away. Spinning a finer line of webbing to use as a rope, Spider-Man snagged the creature's head, long enough to jump onto its back. Once he landed on the abdomen of the giant spider, micro-fine hairs on his right hand and the soles of his feet flexed forward, digging into the ceramic surface. Not as easy as digging into brick, or even steel, but his grip held, for now.

The Slayer bucked violently, sending its captives scattering like fallen leaves for cover. "Easy there, big fella," Spider-Man drawled. "You may be spirited, but you won't buck me that easily!"

"I WILL DESTROY YOU, WALL-CRAWLER!" the Slayer screamed.

"Yeah, that's what they all say." With his free hand, Spider-Man pressed the disrupter against the surface of the monster's head, holding it steady with all his strength. "Harry!" he shouted. "I'm in position! Do it!"

"You have to jump clear!" Harry protested. "The EMP will be powerful enough to do even you damage!"

"Not as much as Widowmaker here," Spider-Man answered, as the Slayer extended a free arm behind its back to remove the unwanted rider with another plasma blast. "NOW, HARRY!"

Harry gritted his teeth and held his hand over the button of the EMP broadcaster. "Make a wish, John," he whispered, before depressing the button.

The electric charge tossed Spider-Man off the Slayer's chassis, throwing him backwards against the wall, where he fell limp as a rag doll. He lifted his head, and was relieved to see that the disrupter was having the desired effect; the creature's legs twitched and spasmed, it's head jerked back and forth, and it's electronic speakers had begun to short out. After ten seconds, the thing fell with a thud, the reddish glow of its photo-sensors fading to nothing.

Harry dialed his cell-phone, calling for a security detail to remove the dead robot and begin repairs to the lecture hall, and a medical team to tend to those injured by the Slayer's rampage. He then rushed past the metal hulk to Spider-Man's side, offering the hero a hand up. Spider-Man accepted the aid as Harry pulled him to his feet. "Can you stand?" Harry asked his one-time best friend, his voice hushed so that no one would hear the concern that tinged his words.

Spider-Man nodded, smiling underneath his mask; for the first time since his final battle with Doctor Octopus, he held hope that he might have his best friend back. "Yeah, Harry. I'm fine. But..." A stray thought had occurred to him. He lifted the hem of his glove and pulled it back far enough to glance at his watch. The second hand sat unmoving, the hour and minute hands frozen at 1:29, the exact moment that Harry Osborn fired the disrupter.

"Man," Spider-Man groaned to himself as he examined the watch that his aunt had given him on his high-school graduation. "How am I gonna explain this to Aunt May?"


Author's note; I apologize for the delays in getting this chapter written. The Spider-Slayer turned out to be a tougher villain than I thought to write for. Who knew? I have most of the next chapter plotted so it shouldn't take nearly this long. Here's hoping, anyway.

And yes, we finally see Harry Osborn. Next chapter, we'll see what he is up to, and how he views his relationship with Peter and MJ. Hopefully there'll be some surprises in store. And before I go, I want to thank all of you who have given me feedback, especially Jeremy Harper, Mary-Jane Watson Parker, Diablo Dude and jjonahjameson. You guys rock mightily!

Next up; Peter and MJ confront Harry, who demands to know what really happened on the night Norman Osborn died.