Peter Parker, where the hell are you? Gwen Stacy thought to herself for the hundredth time.
She was pacing back and forth, wondering if he would show up. He rarely made it to any of her modeling gigs but this one was important. She was on the precipice of making one of the most important decisions of her life and the only thing keeping her from making it was a certain nerdy guy who she was crazy about. She had nonchalantly invited Peter to the exhibition as a challenge to see if he would set aside whatever it was he was always off doing and for once in his life put her first.
Gwen was brought out of her trance by one of the stage hands. "Five minutes to Showtime, Gwen. Oh, and someone left these flowers for you."
Gwen watched as a modest batch of flowers in a clear plastic wrap were placed at the end of her dresser. No doubt about it; the kind arrival of the flowers meant Peter Parker was somewhere in the building. For the first time in a while, she felt at least a bit happier although she mentally kicked herself for her earlier mood. A voice from outside her dressing room alerted her of the start of the show.
Showtime!
Surrounded by a proverbial sea of humanity, among them as yet unknown celebrities, Peter eagerly awaited Gwen Stacy's entrance on stage. He knew he should have always been more supportive of her modeling career but a selfish part of him always felt a little jealous about other men gawking at her.
He spotted several other photographers hording around a thirteen foot long runway. Four judges were seated at the very end of the runway, ready to, well, judge. In all honesty, Peter was a little concerned that Gwen strutting about in uniquely designed outfits would attract some unwanted attention from some unsavory individuals. Then again, he usually ran off to swing from buildings wearing a red and blue costume to fight super strong, yet dimwitted criminals. So what did he have to complain about? How about the disappearance of his Physics teacher and friend; and the rumors of a giant lizard running around?
"Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to thank you for joining us at the Hammerstein Ballroom this evening," said one of the directors of the show. "Before we began, our lead Fashion Designer would like to address you all."
The director stepped aside so another person took the stage; a handsomely spry looking man who appeared to be in his early to mid thirties . He wore an Armani suit and tie; he sported neatly combed brown hair and a very commanding glare. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Roderick Kingsley; I'm the lead Fashion Designer of tonight's showcase. On behalf of everyone here this evening, I'd like to personally thank you all for coming. Tonight, our lovely ladies will be showcasing our latest line of products. Now let's get this show started, and please be gentle."
The last comment barely garnered even a slight chuckle from the audience as dance hall music began playing. Peter readied his camera on the assumption that Gwen Stacy would be out first. She wasn't. Instead there came an attractive brunette wearing a silky powder blue dress with matching headwear and purse. Many in the audience gave a collective awe; maybe some of the male audiences were drooling as Peter might've thought.
Several ladies continued coming on and off the stage, promoting some of the greatest and latest fashion trends available but none of them happened to be his Gwen Stacy. For several heartbeats he thought that he might've gone to the wrong fashion show but then finally, the last lady, and the most beautiful, his Gwen Stacy, walked across the stage in a modest and beautiful bright red dress. She was dolled up with make up, ruby red lip stick, and her blonde hair seemed to glow in the florescent lights. His mouth was opened wide as he stood there mesmerized by her sheer beauty. She smiled adoringly at him.
He finally snapped out of his daze and began taking photos of her. It just dawned on him that he had planned on taking photos of some of the other models as well for a column in the Daily Bugle but he had definitely mucked that up as he had impatiently waited for her to arrive on stage and had not snapped a single photo prior. Oh, well. He thought. Her picture is the only one that needs to go in the paper anyway. She knocks all the other models out the water.
The New York sewers could be best described in one singular word; decadent. It was just legitimately filthy; a disgusting environment reserved for the most disgusting denizens of the so-called underworld. At this particular point in time, the sewers were considered home for the recently transformed Dr. Connors.
The former human doctor turned monstrous beast swam up the water current, his scaly back jutting through the surface and frightening several rats away. If anything, some local sanitation worker would've confused him as one of those rumored alligators in the sewer. Except this one wore a torn lab coat and dark blue slacks.
Connors found it painfully ironic. He'd never believed the rumors about the alligators and now, he'd become one; a living, breathing lizard. That's what Connors was now; The Lizard.
He, or it, reached a main water junction where it or he pulled or clawed up onto a ledge. The Lizard cupped his now long nosed, scaly face in his similarly scaly hands in disgrace.
"It shouldn't have happened like this," the Lizard told himself. "Where did I go wrong? I've taken all of the necessary precautions!" the Lizard exclaimed as he stomped, not walked, toward the water from which he had just emerged. "And now look at what I've become; I'm just a freak," the Lizard's red eyes began to seethe before he furiously whipped his tail into the water. "A FREAK!"
The Lizard went into a blind rage, whipping his tail repeatedly into the dank water. He leapt onto the walls and scratched into them in a fury, leaving hideous claw marks. Then he suddenly spewed a stream of sickly green liquid at the far wall, melting portions of it away. The Lizards' tail whipped into the concrete floor, causing portions of it to break off and go flying. He took a large piece of asphalt and hurled it into the water; then silence. The Lizard stopped himself from further going berserk and stared almost blankly at his arm; his right arm. The same limb that the Lizard, as Dr. Connors, sought to regain in the not too distant past.
"I have what I've wanted all along," said Lizard in startled realization. "Of course there's a legitimate inconvenience with this new form, but my desire to better this world remains. Or perhaps it can be altered; a new race to rule this planet. A race of reptiles; it will be better this way but first, the human genes must be eliminated."
The Lizard leapt back into the grungy water, using his newly heightened senses to find his eventual destination; Columbia University. Part of him hoped that nobody was at the school at the moment but if somebody was, they wouldn't be for very long.
The school was quiet, almost dead to the sounds of the city. The crime scene from the previous night was still quarantined by police, at the behest of Captain Stacy. No one gets in, just as he'd said earlier that day. The lone school janitor got the message just as everyone else, but that didn't mean he had the night off. He wished he had.
Sometimes, the school was damn near spooky at night but a job is a job. Tonight however, his suspicions were met by a faint noise coming from down the hall; it seemed much more than normal for a faint noise. The janitors' curiosity clearly got the better of him, so he ventured toward the ordinance to investigate.
As he rounded the corner, the janitor came across the shadowed form of someone, or something, hunched over. The shadow turned its upper body sharply toward the man, fixing two horrifying red eyes on him. That was the last image the man would see as he let out a blood curtailing scream.
The fashion show at the Hammerstein Ballroom was long over and now many people were enjoying a so far pleasant evening. Peter walked around within the sea of humanity, getting some photos of important persons and their starlets. Of course, his attention was divided with his concern as to the whereabouts of Dr. Connors and his relationship with Gwen Stacy. Thankfully he'd be able to concentrate on the latter, as Gwen was close by speaking to some of the other models. He subtlety approached Gwen, careful to avoid a collision with the other people.
"Hey beautiful," Peter exclaimed, holding up his camera to a just turning Gwen Stacy. "You looked fantastic up there."
Gwen beamed at him. "I doubted that you'd come but I'm glad you did. It shows that you do care about me."
"Of course I care about you, Gwen." Peter said, exasperated. "I've always cared about you."
"Just not enough to be completely honest with me, right?" Gwen challenged.
"Can we please not do this right now, Gwen." Peter asked, practically begging.
"If not now, then when?" Gwen asked defiantly.
"Is there a problem here, Ms. Stacy?" Peter and Gwen turned around to be greeted by Roderick Kingsley. "Young man, I hope you aren't causing problems for Ms. Stacy."
"Everything's alright, Roderick, he's a friend," said Gwen in defense of Peter. "Peter, this is Mr. Roderick Kingsley; the head Fashion Designer for the show and the head Fashion mogul that I was telling you about at the Cafe."
"Peter Parker, sir." said Peter as he held his hand out. Roderick Kingsley wasn't too eager to welcome the gesture.
He begrudgingly took Peter's hand and then turned to Gwen. "Some of my colleagues from Paris are very anxious to speak with you, Ms. Stacy. You absolutely took their breath on stage. I saved you for last for a very good reason. They're over by the Complimentary Bar speaking with the Mayor. Why don't you go razzle dazzle them for a spell. Further bewitch them with those sparkling eyes of yours."
Gwen blushed at the statement, "I think I'll do just that." With that she disappeared over toward the Complimentary Bar where Roderick had indicated.
Peter frowned at the man's flattering comments toward her and watched her walk away, leaving him alone with this man that he was quickly beginning to not like all that much.
"So Mr. Parker, I've seen quite a bit of your work in the papers," said Kingsley. "I must say, your photos of Spider-Man are very impressive. How do you get such good angles?"
"A treasure traded secret, Mr. Kingsley." said Peter, evasive.
"I'm sure it is. I wouldn't want to pry too far into your professional life," Kingsley began, "but that won't change my opinion of the wall-crawler."
"How do you mean?" Peter asked, becoming somewhat uneasy at the moment.
"I believe that Spider-Man is a blight on this city," Kingsley subtly snapped. "He's as much a danger as the criminals and villains he faces and heshould be locked away; or killed."
"Well, with all due respect Mr. Kingsley," Peter retorted in protest, "while a lot of people think as you do, a lot of other people believe Spider-Man is a hero."
"Ignorance is no excuse, Parker. But then again, everyone's entitled to their opinion. Now, if you'll excuse me." Roderick Kingsley then left him there without saying another word and leaving no room for Peter to reply to his last statement.
Yep, I definitely do not like that guy, Peter thought to himself.
Peter glanced over at Gwen, who was laughing and having Roderick's colleagues metaphorically eating out of the palm of her hands. He was just about to go over to her and interrupt their laughing frenzy when he overheard an officer speaking to Captain George Stacy over by the snack bar.
Apparently, there was talk about a disturbance at Columbia University; reports about that lizard thing again. Peter sighed as he realized that his time with Gwen had just been cut short as he felt obligated to investigate this for himself. Maybe he'd get a clue as to where Dr. Connors had gone or maybe manage to run into that thing.
Gwen damn sure wasn't going to like that Peter had up and disappeared again but he wasn't left with much choice. This was who he was, but she had no clue what it was that he did and it had been his choice to keep it from her. At this rate he knew he was losing her and that she'd soon rush off to Paris.
Hell, she might even start a relationship with that douche bag Kingsley. He definitely had his eyes on her and he had blatantly flirted with her right in front of him. Of course, she did introduce Peter as just a friend so perhaps Kingsley didn't realize their relationship status. If their even was a relationship, considering the fact that she did just introduce him as only a friend. Were they actually over?
With all of these thoughts burdening his already troubled mind on top of everything else going on, he rushed out of sight for the back of the building.
Peter didn't realize that Gwen had glanced up just as he disappeared out of the back of the building. Curious as to why he'd abruptly leave like that, she excused herself from the conversation and followed toward the back of the building where she'd last seen Peter.
The path led to an exit door that went out into an alleyway. She looked in both directions of the alley, but did not see him any where. Who could have disappeared that quickly?
"Peter!" She called out.
No response came. She sighed in frustration and was just about to head inside when something caught her eyes over by a nearby dumpster. She approached the dumpster and saw a set of clothes scattered underneath it. She picked the clothes up and immediately recognized them as the clothes that Peter had been wearing just moments before.
"What the hell," she exclaimed.
"You sure this is going to work, Jameson? I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Don't get cold feet on me now, Gargan," Jameson snapped. "You agreed to this procedure and Professor Stillwell is the foremost expert on it."
"Do try to relax, Mr. Gargan," added Professor Farley Stillwell. "I'm sure that Mr. Jameson will compensate you once you've done the deed."
"I'm not worry about that, doc," Gargan snapped at Stillwell. "I know I'm going to be paid for this. What I am worried about is the radiation part of this whole thing; and what's with this suit you put me in?"
"The suit is fitted bulletproof titanium meshing to protect the wearer from projectiles," explained Professor Stillwell. "Just stay perfectly still."
"You'll get your money, Gargan," said Jameson. "But first things first; you take out that wall-crawling psychopath."
"Just start the damn process." Gargan snapped.
Mac Gargan was inside a sealed room surrounded by some very sophisticated machinery, while Mr. Jameson and Professor Stillwell were inside a separate control behind a one-way window. They could see Gargan but he couldn't see them. Gargan was strapped to a steel table, wearing a sort of cybernetic suit. The suit itself was very radically designed, especially around the forearms, each featuring an extendable blade of sorts. The most unique feature was a long titanium "tail" with a sickle at the end of it. Gargan was also wearing a face mask with three large holes cut out; one for his mouth and chin and the other two for his eyes. In the control room, Jameson spotted a small scorpion inside a canister.
"Why a scorpion, Stillwell?" he asked.
"Scorpions are considered as the nature rivals of a spider in terms of hunting prowess," explained Stillwell. "Look at it as being an eye for an eye."
"We use one arachnid to take out another." Jameson added approvingly.
Stillwell punched a few buttons that started a machine that was hovering over Gargan. It hummed and soon after that it came to life, shooting a wide spectrum burst onto it's intended subject.
Gargan groaned and twitched in his table bed, and then he started violently convulsing. His screaming was changing drastically, from human to almost primal.
Inside the control room, Jameson took a deep breath. In the back of his mind, he hoped that he was doing the right thing to this poor man and that the process was justified. There was only way to find out.
Stillwell flipped a few switches to stop the machine; there was a cloud of smoke inside the chamber, along with the silhouette of a menacing figure.
Making sure he wouldn't have been seen, Spider-Man quietly crept into the still disaster-ridden office/lab of Dr. Connors. Maybe he'd find some kind of clue, any clue that could point him the right direction.
Spider-Man scanned the immediate area for something of use to his mission, finally focusing on a small black camera on the floor. How the police failed to confiscate that little tidbit was beyond the web-spinning superhero's comprehension. He was about to pick it up when he heard a faint noise in the background. Someone else was in the room.
Spider-Man stuck to the ceiling out of sight. He saw movement; the silhouette of a man moving and rummaging through the debris. Spider-Man snagged the person with a quick web line; the intruder turned out to be Ned Leeds.
"What're you doing here, kid?" Spider-Man asked him.
"Listen, please don't hurt me okay, Spider-Man," Leeds begged. "I was just looking for some clues. What're you doing here?"
"Same thing, only more covertly," Spider-Man said as he lowered Leeds to the floor. "You've got to leave right now; it's too dangerous here."
Suddenly, his spider-sense shot through the roof; they were not alone in the room. Ned Leeds couldn't have known that the shadows behind him were moving. Nor could he have known that a gigantic reptilian tail was whipping around behind him. Spider-Man fired two web lines, snagged Leeds and pulled him to safety just moments before two massive jaws could clasp onto him. Leeds landed with a thud just a couple feet from Spider-Man as the Lizard emerged from the darkness.
Spider-Man shouted, "GO!" before he was tail whipped over a table. "Okay, that one hurt!"
Ned Leeds didn't need further coaxing as he high-tailed it out of the area. The Lizard noticed him running and attempted to follow but his tail was snagged by Spider-Man. The Lizard pulled Spider-Man hard into range but the web-slinger kicked him hard through the earlier made hole.
Quickly back to his feet, the Lizard bolted toward a manhole in the street, pulled the cover off and hurled it toward Spider-Man. He leaped over the projectile but the distraction bought the Lizard enough time to enter the hole.
Spider-Man landed by the and he peered into the darkness below. Before he went any further, he noticed a small object on the ground. It was a name tag, and Peter was stunned by what he saw.
No! It can't be! It couldn't be him!
Without a second thought, Spider-Man jumped down the manhole and the chase was on.