Harry had been uneasy all morning. There was something strange in the air, something… foreboding. A sense of impending doom. As he got in the back of the limousine, he fumbled with his bag. He already knew it held everything he needed for the day, but he couldn't resist. He needed to do something to ease his mind.
His father noticed his restlessness.
'What's wrong, son?'
Harry shook his head.
' I don't know. I just have this very bad feeling about today. Sort of, like, there's an anvil hanging over my head.'
Norman Osborn smiled, and looked up in mock-surprise.
' Well, I certainly hope not. I can't leave my empire to a doormat.'
Harry looked at his father, genuinely surprised. His father had never said this in so many words, but he did intend for Harry to take over when he would be too old to carry on. After all, he couldn't leave Oscorp in the hands of those wolves without an Osborn sitting at the table. No, Harry would take over from him. Not that he wanted to, but what choice did he have?
Harry took the entire ride to stare out the window and ponder. Which, of course, didn't make the anvil go away. If anything, it only got worse the closer he got to the university.
As he got out of the car, he noticed the unnatural amount of girls. They were everywhere, and they were all eyeing him in a very creepy way. Almost… lustfully?
Deep in thought, he walked into Peter. Peter didn't seem to notice the overwhelming female attention or, if he did, he didn't show it. They talked a while, when he heard the familiar voice of his father. Then, the most peculiar thing happened. All the girls turned as one to Norman Osborn.
' Here, son. You don't wanna forget this.' Norman said, as he handed aforementioned bag to his son.
And then, there was giggling.
' Isn't that just, like, sooo caring of him. He's sooo cute!' one of the girls said. Norman finally realised all the female attention he was getting. He seemed to do a quick assessment of the situation, smiled apologetically at Harry, then made a run for the limo followed by what seemed to be no less than half the female student body.
' I WANT HIS SHIRT!'
' FIRST DIBS ON HIS UNDIES!'
' SCREW THAT, I WANT THE WHOLE THING!'
He made it back to the limo just in time, locked it from the inside and thanked Oscorp for the bullet-proof exterior.
While all this happened, Harry and Peter had stood by open-mouthed and completely stunned. However, when the girls found out Norman's limo-fortress was impenetrable to their charms, they turned back to dear Harry. It wasn't their leering that did it, it was the whispering that freaked Harry out like nothing else.
' (whisper)…cute butt…(whisper)…go round the back…(whisper)…cut him off.'
Peter looked at Harry.
Harry looked at Peter.
They looked at the girls.
The girls looked back hungrily.
Then the two boys made a run for it.
Norman saw it all through the window. He felt sorry for his poor son, but Harry would have to fend for himself. He'd have to in the end, anyway. He gave his chauffeur the order to take him to Oscorp, where he felt he would be safe. It was more of a home to him than his mansion ever was. He felt he just couldn't fill the place. Sure, there was staff to look after it, but it still felt like he was a young boy walking around in the trousers of his father. Oscorp, however, was like his left-arm to him. He couldn't do without it. It was a part of him. It lived and breathed with him. When the limo stopped in front of the entrance of the main building, Norman felt relieved like never before in his life. With a bit of luck, there were no women in there. At least, none that weren't supposed to be there.
As the limo drove away, Peter and Harry were running through the research-facility, looking desperately for a place to hide.
'Quick, in there! With a bit of luck, they won't dare to follow us!'
'The men's room? Are you kidding!'
'No time to kid, let's go. There not that far behind.'
The two boys ran into the men's room, into the last cubicle and closed the door behind them. They could hear the footsteps of what seemed to be at least an entire battalion of man-hungry girls. Then the running stopped, and the boys heard hushed voices outside the door.
'Do you wanna go in there?'
'EW! No! I've been in there once. It smells of gross.'
'You've been in the me…'
'Yes, yes I have. I'm still havin' nightmares. Please don't talk about it anymore.'
'… So…what do we do?'
'Eh… wait?'
'… 'kay.'
The sound of a thousand bottoms hitting floor could be heard.
'Hey, I know…SLUMBERPARTY!'
'YEAH! GOOD IDEA, GIRL!'
The voices got a decidedly higher pitch. Harry and Peter listened to this with wide-eyed amazement. Then reality kicked in.
'They're not gonna go away, are they?' Peter sighed.
'Nope, we're stuck. Bummer.' Harry answered.
'Bummer? It's more than just a bummer, Harry. If we don't show up, we're gonna flunk this class!'
'We'll, if you wanna go out there and get your camera trampled on, you shirt ripped to shreds and your cherry taken by a mob of horny, yet very creepy girls, then be my guest. Heck, I'll open the door for you.' Harry made a move for the door-handle of their cubicle.
'No, stop! Alright, okay I'm staying. Besides, they can't get my camera, because I slipped it to Mary-Jane when we were running. She knows how it works, so I'm sure she'll take some pictures for the school-paper this time.'
'Good for you, Pete. Great…'
'Yeah…'
'… So, you got any cards on you?'
' I'm afraid not.'
'Bummer.'
Mary-Jane Watson had a bad morning, to begin with. First, she couldn't find her bag. Then, when she finally found it and went downstairs for breakfast, her father had yelled at her again. Calling her useless tart, a whore, that she should be grateful that he'd tolerated her stench around the house for this long. Then, when they were at the research-lab, Peter and Harry were being chased by insane girls. As they passed, Peter had given Mary-Jane his camera. Great, now she couldn't hang around at the back of the group. She'd have to take pictures. Ugh. As she listened to the scientist explain all about spiders, she raised her hand.
'Excuse me, miss? Can I take some pictures for the school-paper?'
The scientist nodded. 'Sure, go ahead.'
'Hey, MJ. Did Parker split, or what?'
'Shut up, Flash. For your information, he was chased by more girls than you'll ever have.'
'Hey, chill out. Besides, I don't need more girls, I got you.' He squeezed her butt to give his words some extra emphasis.
'Stop it! I gotta get this picture.'
As she focussed the camera on one of the fifteen small compartments in front of her, she noticed it was empty.
'There's only fourteen.'
The woman looked at her. 'What?'
'There's only fourteen spiders, but there are fifteen compartments.'
'Then they're probably working on that one.' The woman answered.
'Oh, okay. Thanks.' Somehow, though, Mary-Jane didn't find that very reassuring. The group moved on, but she and Flash Thompson stayed behind.
'Let's just go, MJ. What are you waiting for?'
'I need one with a student. That's what Peter always does.'
Flash raised an eyebrow. 'Okay, what do you want me to do?'
'Just stand right over there. Next to the box with the white one in it.' She answered, taking a few steps back to get both Flash and the box in the frame. Flash looked the prototype of a student on a science-trip; Bored to Death. He leaned on the table, stifling a yawn. Mary-Jane threw an angry look at him.
'Jeez, Flash. A bit more enthusiasm would be nice. I'm not gonna give this back to Peter without some good pictures, now work with me damnit!'
'Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm enthusiastic. Jeez!'
As Mary-Jane focussed her camera once more, she didn't notice the spider landing on her hand. It was a small one, red and blue and, very much like her fourteen sisters, she was extremely aggressive. She walked across the back of the hand she'd landed on, picked herself a nice, tender spot and bit down. Hard.
Mary-Jane shrieked as she felt a searing pain shoot up her hand. The spider landed on the floor and made herself scarce.
'MJ, what's wrong? Camera bite you?'
'SHUT UP, FLASH! DAMN, THAT HURT!'
Flash walked over to her, and inspected her hand.
'What is that?… did it really bite you?'
'Well, something bit me. Let's just go, okay?'
Mary-Jane stalked off, Flash Thompson following meekly a few steps behind.
'Do you think the tour's over?'
Harry looked at his watch. 'Probably.'
'I hope MJ took some good pictures.'
Peter had moved to the adjacent cubicle, and looked at the spider above him. It was weaving a web. Peter loved spiders, he always had. The way they could make something so beautiful and complex out of nothing had always fascinated him. They were artists in their own right. Suddenly, Peter longed for his camera. He should've brought a spare. Then again, he didn't have one. He leaned back against the wall.
'Hey Harry, what do you wanna do after graduation?'
Harry shrugged. 'I don't know. To tell you the truth, I don't think I'm gonna graduate. I've been kicked out of so many private-schools I just don't see the point anymore.'
'I don't know what I'm gonna do. I was thinking of going into science.' Peter continued.
'You would. You've got the smarts. You can do anything…'
'Well, so can you. You've just gotta stop being so negative and give yourself a chance.'
'Yeah, I know. I know!' Harry sighed. 'It's just that… I feel like my life's already been decided for me. My dad wants me to take over Oscorp when he's gone. Like I want that.'
'… Forget about your dad. What do you want?'
'I don't KNOW! Will you stop whining about it!'
Peter raised his arms. 'I surrender.'
The silence that followed hung like a fog over the two cubicles. Harry's thoughts were turned inwards. Even though he hated to think about it, if he were to face his father about not following in his footsteps, he'd have to be able to tell him what it was that he did want to do. And so far, no profession came to mind. He'd had half a mind to take up modelling once, but Norman had put a quick stop to that by calling models a "bunch of prancing fairies in Donna Karan, talking about the latest type of handbag". Harry hadn't mentioned it again.
Peter was thinking his usual thoughts when left by himself. They involved Mary-Jane, cameras, Mary-Jane and Mary-Jane. He couldn't help it. Ever since she'd moved in next door, he was completely besotted. Thinking about her made him happy. Not to mention, it took his mind off the girls camping out in the hallway. Where the hell did they come from, and what did they want?
As Norman Osborn entered Oscorp, he felt decidedly better. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He took off his coat and jacket, and put on his lab-coat. He looked at his watch and cursed. He was late for his appointment with the general and his advisors. Personally, he couldn't stand the man, but it was the general who decided whether they were getting a new budget or not. Norman took a deep breath, focussed and walked through the doors.
…
Back to formula? What was that idiot talking about? Back to formula! He'd have to have a talk with Stromm about keeping his mouth shut. He was positively fuming as he worked. When he noticed that simple procedures took him twice as long as usual, Norman Osborn realised that today was not a good day to continue working.
'Natasha, warn my driver. I wanna be outta here in five.' He grumbled to his secretary. He turned off his computer and stared out the window. He had a good office. It was on the top floor, with the most magnificent view you could have of the city without seeing it from a helicopter or an airplane. But hey, he was Norman Osborn. And what Norman wanted, Norman got. And he wanted a view.
He mused on this thought for a while, then turned in another direction. He needed that funding. Back to formula! Ha! Not when he was still around. He'd come back after dinner, and would let his men pick some homeless guy off the street to test it on.
Now restless, he looked at his watch. What was taking Alex so long? You start the car, you drive to the main entrance. Easy enough. He stuck his head out of his office, where his secretary seemed to be engaged in a very bemusing phone call. She put her hand over the lower part of the horn, and looked up at Norman.
'Sir, I think we have a problem.'
Norman sighed. 'Oh, really. How so?'
'I-I think that your Rolls is being held hostage.'
Norman blinked. 'Come again?'
'What, here?' The secretary answered bemusedly.
'Don't get funny with me, what the hell's going on?'
'I'm talking to some girl, who's putting up a low voice and saying she's Alex.'
'WHAT!' Norman stormed out of his office and grabbed the horn, almost yanking the phone off the desk. 'Who is this?'
Giggling. Then the sound of a high voice pretending to be a low one.
'It's me, sir, Alex.' The voice said. 'Your limo is ready, sir.'
For what, I wonder. Norman thought to himself.
'I don't know who you are, but your are not Alex. Now put Alex on the phone.'
Other voices were now sounding in the background. It seemed the phone inside the limo was on the speaker-function, and Norman found himself listening in on the strangest conversation he'd ever heard.
'I told you, you should've let me do the talking. My voice is lower than yours.'
'Oh piss off, you tart! At least Í am really an Alex, so I can understand the complexness of the Alex-character.'
'You are so full of it!'
'Quiet, I think he can hear us.'
'Oh, shit. Turn off the speakers, you idiot!'
'I don't know how!'
'Just… just press a button! Okay!'
Norman heard nothing at first, then a sound of air rushing by, then something that sounded like Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" (which seemed to be causing some sighs in the background. Norman didn't know why, but hey, who cares?), then … the sound of panting, moaning and moving furniture?
'Holy shit, GAY PORN!'
Norman held the horn at arms length, a look of indignation painted on his face.
'Alex watches gay porn IN MY ROLLS ROYCE!'
The secretary looked at him dryly. 'Of course he does. Gay as a daisy in May, sir.'
'Oh. Right. Why don't I know these things?'
'You never really ask, sir.'
'Oh… are you gay?'
'No sir.'
'… Well, that's okay too.'
'Thank you, sir. I'm glad you feel that way.'
The panting seemed to have stopped, so Norman put the horn back to his ear. In stead, he heard a lot of girls' voices talking excitedly amongst themselves. They seemed to have temporarily forgotten about him. Happy with the short reprieve, Norman took the time to form a strategy. He had to get his limo back from these horny wenches and make it safely home without getting pounced on. Oh no, what if they were at the mansion, too? Well, he'd just have to risk it. He took a couple of deep breaths, then spoke.
'Hello, ladies? Are you still holding my limo hostage?' He asked pleasantly. The voices on the other end of the line subsided a bit, and the same girl he'd been talking to earlier, but now with her normal voice, answered.
'Yeah, we're still here. Too bad you're not.' Words of agreement were heard in the background.
'Well, I'm very sorry ladies, but it's gonna stay that way. I'm asking you nicely to leave. Don't make me ask it the hard way.'
One of the voices in the background giggled. 'Tee hee, he said "hard". Did you hear it?'
'Oh, shut up Suzan, you childish ho! I'm sorry, Normy, but some of us got sucked into this by mistake. YES I SAID SUCKED, YES! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!'
Sobs in the background. Norman raised an eyebrow. It seemed he had overestimated his female stalkers. These were obviously no criminal masterminds.
'If you don't come down, we'll go back to our sisters at the university, and wait for dear Harry and Peter to come out of the privy. Understood?'
Okay, so maybe they were criminal masterminds. Norman felt he was being cornered. That's when Stormy Norman kicked in.
'Okay, ladies. You wanna bargain? Let's bargain. You let Harry en Peter return safely home, and I'll give you my tie. How's that?'
Whispering on the other side of the line. Then "Alex" again.
'Nope, not good enough. Try again.'
'A tie and a sock?'
More whispering, then back to "Alex".
'Nope, we're not interested in your socks. Well, Suzan is, but she's not getting anything. Think… torso.'
Stormy Norman was taken aback, but only for about two seconds.
'…My shirt?'
'Bingo!'
'…Alright, you've got a deal. I send someone down with my shirt, and you let my son and Peter Parker go home. And I get my limo back.'
'Deal… We'll be waiting.'
Then they hung up.
Norman put down the phone, and sighed.
'… Well?' An impatient voice said. Norman looked behind him, to find that the entire forty-fourth floor had been listening in.
'Yes, mister Osborn. Time to cough up.'
'Yeah.'
'…Get back to work!' Norman answered back, annoyed that his staff were so easily distracted.
The people went back to work grudgingly. Norman took off his overcoat, his jacket, his dark-red tie and, finally, his shirt. He gave it to his secretary.
'You take it to them, Natasha. You're a woman, so I suppose you'll be safe.'
'Certainly, mister Osborn. I'm very sorry about this. We weren't prepared.'
'Who would be?' Norman answered, as he took a spare-shirt from out of the cabinet in his office.
'It's the most horrible shirt/tie combination known to man, but it'll have to do.' He said, as he watched his reflection in the window. Harry didn't know about Fashionable Norman. It was a secret he'd kept all his life. After all, who would believe a scientist could have a fashion-sense? As he landed on the comfortable couch opposite the window, Norman waited for Natasha to return. Preferably with good news.
Mary-Jane slammed the door behind her. She'd been able to avoid her father, but she still felt sick. Like she was going to throw up. Her muscles were going mad, and the spasms were getting worse every minute. Mary-Jane landed on the bed, holding herself, sobbing quietly. Oh well, if I die now, at least it will be a natural cause that did it. she thought to herself.
Mary-Jane suffered from an abusive father like most children did; in silence.
Feel pain? Suck it up.
No nonsense.
The convulsions got worse, and she bit down hard on her pillow, tears streaming down her face. Finally, everything went black. Sweet relief.
End of chapter one. Reviews are always welcome.
