Last Time
Spider-Man foiled a robbery attempt by Mysterio using the illusion of a kaiju attack to rob a jewelry store, leading to more questions than answers.
Dismissed from his teaching position for conducting unauthorized experiments, Dr. Curt Connors is now in the employ of Norman Osborn, both of them eager to unlock the secrets of Godzilla's regeneration, but for different reasons.
Mary-Jane Watson thinks she has a lead on a criminal conspiracy, but her hopes are seemingly dashed by J. Jonah Jameson. She knows she needs more substantive evidence before he'll listen to her, but she doesn't know how difficult getting that evidence might be.
Part 2
THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS
The rain had started sometime overnight and by the afternoon still showed no sign of stopping, the skies over New York City an opaque ceiling of grey clouds. Somewhere down underneath them, a damn burst, and a flood of teenagers were liberated from the confines of Midtown Highschool. Among them, an unassuming Peter Parker pulled over the hood of his jacket before crossing the threshold into the wide world.
Oh great, still raining. He grumbled to himself. My jacket's still damp from this morning, and my Spidey-suit is going to get soaked again.
Whereas students typically congregated around the entrance after the final bell, today they parted in quick fashion, allowing Peter to expedite his own route home. As he reached the sidewalk, a shiver of alarm went through his body and he leapt to the side just in time to escape a huge splash of water before it drenched him.
"GET A RIDE PARKER! STOP BEING A BUM!" Yelled the mocking voice from the sports car as it sped by, the puddle settling back down in its wake.
"Thanks for the advice, Flash!" Peter called back, looking himself up and down to inspect his clothes. Not that his pants would be any dryer by the time he got home anyway in this weather. When he looked back up, he caught sight of Mary-Jane Watson dashing from one of the school's side exits.
Where's she off to in such a hurry?
"Nice dodge, Pete." Glancing over his shoulder, Parker saw Gwen Stacy coming along the walk with her umbrella and fixing him with her usual wry smile. She got close enough for Peter to share the protection of her canopy, using the back of her hand to give him a tap in the ribs. "Come on, walk me home."
"You should have heard Seinfeld's speech," Gwen said as they strolled through the neighborhood, droplets splattering off the umbrella Peter now held for the both of them. "It was pretty popular; I think he actually has a good chance of winning the mayor's office."
Peter nodded, "He does make some good points." He agreed. "A lot of regular people wind up paying the price for all the damage superheroes and villains do. I don't think having some more accountability would be a terrible thing."
Moving a bang of hair back behind her ear, Stacy's mouth twisted in a direction Peter couldn't see. "Maybe, but part of the reason superheroes are so effective is that they're not constrained like regular law enforcement is. We take that freedom away, or wrap them up in red tape, it'll give the bad guys an advantage."
"Because the criminals aren't particularly concerned with obeying the law or considerate of innocent bystanders, sure." Trust me, I'm plenty familiar. He thought to himself. "Yeah, I know."
"And I'm not even worried about the superstars like the Avengers or the X-Men," Gwen continued, gesturing widely with her hands. "It's all the little guys who are gonna get the worst of it. The guys who need to protect their identity, who don't have massive fortunes to fall back on. Daredevil, Luke Cage, Spider-Man…"
"How do you know Spider-Man doesn't have money?" Peter asked with poorly masked defensiveness. "How else could he afford all those cool gadgets?"
"Cool gadgets?" She began with a chuckle, "He-he what?"
I got some cool stuff, I don't care what anyone says…
The Stacy household was one of a dozen similar builds in the neighborhood, albeit a different color scheme with a few minor alterations to the front. Taking back her umbrella, Gwen got herself half-way up the stone stairway before stopping.
"Thanks for walking me home, Peter," She smiled. "You wanna come in for a bit and dry off?" There was a tone of hopefulness in her invitation.
*Sigh* Tempting offer Gwen, but my afternoons are pretty booked.
"Uh, Sorry," He apologized. "My aunt needs me to help her move a bunch of stuff up to the attic from the basement in case we get flooded, and I got a ton of laundry to do."
The smile on her face faded imperceptivity. "Yeah, heard it's supposed to come down all week.".
Just then the door to the home opened, Captain George Stacy leaning into the frame. "Gwen, stop making that boy stand in the rain." He nodded towards Parker with a short wave.
Pete waved back, retreating from the steps. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Gwen." He said, departing with a polite smirk.
"Later." Gwen shot back languidly, letting her bangs swing in front of her eyes. She passed her father as he held the door open, a curious eyebrow raised at the downshift in her demeanor.
George Stacy spared Peter a final glance before closing the door, and as he did, something tugged at his mind that caused him to pause. There was something about Parker's backpack…
Streets of New York
"Of course, my first week in the city had be during a monsoon."
Indeed, the rain fell in relentless torrent against the windows of the taxicab as Kitty Pryde gazed out to the steel towers.
"Bugle weather says it's just getting' started," The driver said from the front. "Who knows, maybe it'll wash out another one of those smog monsters."
"Buhh…" Shuddered Kitty. "Hope I never run into one of those."
As she mulled the thought, she looked out an up at the corporate logo of the passing building…
OSCORP
Dr. Curt Connors let out a tired sigh, leaning back from the eyepiece of the microscope. A rumble of thunder from beyond his windows sounded, a memory triggered involuntarily, the boom of the gun pointing at him. For a moment he felt the reflexive muscles tensing in a hand that no longer existed and he looked down to where it should be.
I know how personally invested you are in seeing this through.
Norman Osborn's words echoed inescapably in his mind. Whatever his boss' own motivations might be, he was correct. This meant more to Curt than just the furtherance of medical science or the prestige of discovery, it meant being able to undo the unalterable. To get back what was taken away.
Another sound drew his attention, the scratching on the glass terrarium to his left. There, the reptile inside had its body up against the wall perhaps hoping to surmount its enclosure, long black claws scraping for purchase.
It was an odd happenstance that the marine iguana provided the most suitable bonding proteins for his work, considering it lacked the regenerative capability that some lizards do. But the results could not be denied. The mouse had regrown its tail before his very eyes with no sign of degeneration or adverse side-effects. It scurried about its containment house just as any average happy-go-lucky rodent would.
Under normal circumstances this would mean progressing to the next set of trials in a meticulous process of scientific experimentation. Unfortunately, that took time, a lot of time, a component which he was reaching the limit of. Mr. Osborn wanted results sooner than later, and he expected to get exactly what he was paying handsomely for. So how best to proceed?
Rubbing the top rim of his cheeks to message the muscles, Curt held himself there as he mulled a thought. Then he looked over to the miniature refrigeration unit, where the blood samples were stored. He stared long and hard.
The door to the refrigerator swung open, Connors swiftly reaching in and acquiring the rack of crimson-filled test tubes.
"Due to time constraints, I am advancing the trial stage." He spoke aloud for the computer at desk to record his notes, using a swing of the hips to shut the refrigerator door behind him. "The regenerative fusion I've designated Regen-98, will be introduced to blood sample H-Zero-One. Hopefully, the results will be stable, if not as successful as Zero-Five."
Setting the collection on the table, he selected one and the crimson fluid was drawn up into the body of a syringe, only a few droplets worth before transferring it to a glass slide.
"The cells of sample H-Zero-One have been deliberately damaged using a small amount of muriatic acid. Considering the source material and the previous results, if the bonding process is successful, I should be able to see a reaction rather immediately."
Placing the slide under the inspection of the microscope, Curt focused the dial to bring the red blood cells into clarity. With practiced skill he reached over and took hold of another syringe of a darker shade of red. Peering down he could see the partially broken cells drifting in the plasma, beyond unaware of the significance of their fate today. He felt a bead of sweat descend the side of his temple as he positioned his thumb over the plunger.
"I am now… introducing Regen-98 to the sample."
He saw the tip of the needle enter the picture, and with careful pressure on the thumb rest, discharged the biological concoction into the plasma. Setting the syringe aside, he shifted posture to angle his head even higher above the eyepiece, exhaling nervously.
The healthy and whole blood dispersed as it mingled ambiently with the sample, lacking the actual flow of an endovenous environment. He waited, watching for any indication of changes to the damaged cells. The seconds seemed to stretch out, the throb of his own heartbeat acutely perceptible.
Then it happened. A damaged blood cell in proximity to one of the Regen-98 cells appeared to regrow its missing portion in the span of a second. He gasped, searching for another and saw more of the damaged cells miraculously healing. Where they had once been eaten away and scarred their shapes filled out and returned to a vibrant red color.
"Ha!" Connors cried aloud, allowing an involuntary laughter to erupt from himself. "The bonding process seems to be successful! The damaged cells are regenerating at an exponential rate!"
He stood up suddenly, pushing the stool back and staring around the room, a dreamy haze overcoming him. "That's it…" He panted, running a hand through his hair. "This is it!"
Another realization struck him with a sharp gasp; the next trial stage would be more than just a few cells on a slide.
Do I inform Mr. Osborn? Curt pondered, hand over his mouth. He went back to the microscope and saw nothing but healthy blood cells, no indication of any aberrant developments.
What would I tell him? He's not gonna want to hear about another intermediate stage, he wants something he can show off to investors…
He glanced over to the mouse's glass box where it sat in a corner nibbling on a pellet. Curt Connors felt a familiar weight in the pit of his stomach.
The Parker Household
The storm only seemed worse as the evening wore on. Rain battered the basement windows as Peter Parker took another plastic box-tub in both arms, simultaneously eyeballing the small trickle of water seeping down from the bottom corner of the hopper window. Their house wasn't necessarily in the worst spot of the neighborhood's water table, but with a week's worth of downpour in the forecast, it was better to be safe.
The particular tub he had in hand was filled with old stuff from his Uncle Ben and his father Richard when they were growing up.
Been a while since I looked through this stuff, maybe being cooped-up inside is a good chance to reconnect.
"How you doing down there, Peter?" Aunt May's voice called down from beyond the basement door.
"Couple more to go," He responded.
"Good, dinner is almost finished, hope you like shawarma!"
I don't think I even know what that is…
"Sounds… interesting." Peter said with a twisted expression.
Passing by the living room on his way to the stairs to the 2nd floor, he paused at the threshold to see a newscast of Jerry Seinfeld's latest stunt in his bid for mayor, a town hall held in a coffee shop reminiscent of the café seen on the show. The ambitious comedian sat in a booth, his campaign advisor Jason Alexander in the opposite seat. A crowd of people had gathered around them in the adjacent booths and chairs, enabling a conversational dynamic to the meeting.
"My little brother worked for SHIELD," A man said, still dressed in his work overalls. "He was a flight deck specialist on the Hellicarrier, died when Godzilla smashed it into the Triskelion. We're still waiting on SHIELD to pay out his life insurance, but they say so many people died in the attack it's taking them years to finish all the pay-outs."
The anecdote was received by more than a few sympathetic nods and murmurs from the assembled.
"You and a lot of other people I hear," Jerry likewise nodded. "Huge bureaucracies grind slow enough on a good day, never mind when they're trying to build themselves back up after what happened. This is why, as mayor, one of my biggest projects will be the establishment of an emergency relief fund for those victimized by such uh… extraordinary events."
Hmm… seems like he has the right intentions. Peter thought as he ascended the steps. And you now what… he might just be right.
Having found a convenient spot in the attic to set down the latest transfer, he stood back up and took stock of the current arrangement to plot his next placement. It was then he noticed an older box in the corner, a line of cobweb tethering it to a slanted beam near the back.
Don't remember what's in that one…
Peter sat down on an adjacent box, blowing a huff of air to clear off the loose dust. With a flick of the hand he opened a cover flap, sending a small cloud of grey powder dissipating into the darkness as the light from the small window seemed to dim with each crash of thunder. A layer of envelops covered a few smaller boxes, and selecting one, uncovered it to find a collection of photographs.
This is…
The pictures were of his mother and father, in various ages and situations; cookouts, lounging on a couch, double-diving into a swimming pool.
These must be from when they were dating. How did I forget about this box? He wondered to himself with some unease. I suppose my life has been pretty consumed with being Spider-Man for a while.
Looking at the pictures, he found himself startled to see their faces in so many different compositions. While he'd always kept a framed picture of them on his desk, their images in his mind had become somewhat fixed and unchanging. A pang of guilt stung him in the breast, to feel like he might be forgetting the living, breathing people his parents had been. He had been very young, and their deaths so unexpected. The Parker family hadn't even the mercy of having bodies to bury.
He grabbed the box and went back downstairs.
OSCORP INDUSTRIAL PARK
A long dark limousine pulled up to the security booth at the entry control point, rain beating furiously on the hood. In the back, Norman Osborn stared through the tinted windows, fingers interlocked on his lap. Rain droplets on the glass casting shadows over his face via the perimeter lights, the visage of a man deep in thought.
With the swift presentation of a passcard by the limo driver, the guard raised the arm blocking the road and waved them through.
Beautiful night, isn't it Norman?
His eye twitched at the mocking tone of the voice, otherwise not deigning to entertain the question.
What's a matter, Norman? The scaly voice asked with feign concern. Afraid you won't be able to play with your new toy? Heheh…
Norman's gaze darted to the opposite corner of the car, left in darkness beyond the angle of the pale light from outside. There, hovering in the black were a pair of glowing yellow eyes, bereft of detail or supporting facial outline.
They've taken too long, I think. Perhaps it's time to give them some… encouragement?
"Shut up…" Osborn growled, returning his focus to fixtures of his compound as the car progressed.
"Sir?" Called the driver from the front with some confusion.
"Nothing, Edward," Norman said sharply. "Just keep going."
"Yes sir."
The garage door to a hangar-like building rolled upward mechanically as the limo drove directly inside, security camera position on the corners swiveling to follow the vehicle's track.
Inside, the car came to a stop within a designated space outlined on the bare concrete floor, the chamber a one-way tunnel with a receiving area on the left side. The driver hopped out and made to attend his boss, but the door swung open before he could reach it and a purposeful Norman Osborn stepped out.
"Impress me, Alistair," He announced, shutting the door behind him with a deliberate impact. "You better show me something that floats."
Standing there to greet the mogul was a man dressed in grey slacks and a green button-up under a lab coat. A decent amount of muscle filled his frame, juxtaposed by the pair of delicate glasses perched on his nose.
"Oh, it does more than float, Mr. Osborn," Alistair affirmed with a polite smile, clutching a clipboard to his chest. "I've prepared a small demonstration."
Norman reached out and took the engineer's hand, shaking it firmly as he fixed him with an inspectful stare. "Very good then."
Occupying the majority of the building's above-ground space, the engineering lab was an expansive area with a multitude of projects being worked on amidst a labyrinth of paths and equipment. Alistair Smyth led Osborn to one station where a team of three subordinate scientists surrounded a chrome device set atop a pedestal of steel supports, something that resembled a boomerang large enough for a person to stand on. Positioned at the center-front of the thing, protruded an accessory that reminded one of the camera mounted on the underside of a drone.
"We're very happy with the prototype," Smyth gladly announced, gesturing to the machine. "With a top speed of 90 miles an hour, it can support up to 400 lbs."
"Really?" An impressed Norman lifted his chin and regarded the device curiously.
Alistair snapped his fingers at one of the others, pointing up.
With a nod, the assistant grabbed a small device, resembling the controller of an RC car, knocking a toggle switch to the opposite lean, causing a green light to blink on in the corner of the black gadget.
The glider rose to life with an audible hum, lifting evenly a few inches from its pedestal. Other than a fiber cable attached to a port on the backside of the crescent, there was nothing that connected it to the ground.
"Electromagnetism is what provides the lift, four interior coils create a repulsion with the earth's natural field." Smyth made a twirling motion with his hand, and the glider was rotated in place to display the tapered edge of the concave curve. A pair of thruster turbines jointed in their sockets swiveled gracefully in synchronized positions.
"And these of course provide the necessary thrust for flight, the angle controlled by the pilot leaning and shifting their feet on the contact pads."
Osborn stepped closer to examine it, his jaw sliding side-to-side contemplatively. "And just what kind of power source does it run on?"
"I'll show you." Reaching just behind the front-mounted electronic protrusion, Alistair removed a metal plate to expose a small compartment featuring among other things, a panel of buttons. A soft beep preceded movement in the middle of the glider's topside where four rectangular plates parted, two to each side, allowing a soft glow to emanate from some point within.
Norman peered down and was perplexed to see a large crystal affixed into the center of a power conduit apparatus, whitish with a tinge of yellow in hue and about the size of a football.
"The hell is this?" He asked.
Alistair could not hide a satisfied smile, "That is a little gift we were able to acquire from the destruction of the SpaceGodzilla."
Osborn's head snapped up to stare incredulously at his employee. "SpaceGodzilla?"
"The crystal has an incredible capacity to accumulate and store power," Smythe continued. "At full charge it can power the glider for up to 12 straight hours before dipping below safe flying levels."
"How many of these crystals do we have?" Norman asked aloud without taking his gaze away from the extra-dimensional artifact.
"We've managed to salvage 15 of them through our acquisition agents. Obviously, this isn't enough to supply hundreds of soldiers, but we're making good strides into synthesizing them on our own."
Several moments passed without any further response from Norman, the light of the monster's relic reflecting in the dark of his pupils.
Wasn't expecting that, were we, Norman?
"You mentioned a demonstration?" He finally spoke.
Alistair reset the glider and turned to summon another figure from the periphery of the station.
"Mr. Osborn, meet Jason Macendale Jr., our resident pilot and human crash test dummy."
Approaching the group was a man of immediate impression; standing 6-foot 3 with chiseled features, black hair, blue eyes, he filled the skin-tight flight suit with a muscled frame. Like a lead actor straight out of the golden age of Hollywood, he strode up with a bit of a swagger to his hips.
"Pleasure to meet you sir," He said with a smile, taking the initiative to offer a handshake.
Norman regarded the man with a visible degree of curiosity before responding. "Macendale… why does that name sound familiar?"
Alistair interjected, "We recruited him a few months ago from the CIA, came highly recommended."
"That's right, you're the man Ophelia mentioned," Osborn grinned with recognition.
Jason shrugged, "Oh, I just did some freelance work here and there." His voice was deep, carrying an almost melodic cadence. "I like to go where the fields are greenest."
Sounds like a man after our own heart, doesn't he, Norman?
Still grasping Macendale's hand, Osborn's eye twitched, but he did not break façade.
In short order Macendale was mounted on the glider, magnetic nodes implanted into the soles of the suit bonding him to the top of the machine. He drifted in a lazy circle around the others some 15 ft high.
"The handling takes a little bit to get comfortable with, but it's pretty intuitive." Jason took the glider through a range of movements, dipping and swerving to display its agility.
"And the magnetic grip is strong enough for this-" The glider capsized and pitched him into an upside-down position. The move startled Norman, who naturally expected the man to crash head-first into the concrete floor. But instead, Jason simply rotated in place with his arms folded over his chest.
"You can't do much flying when you're upside-down, but at least you won't come detached."
"Whoa…"
Heads turned to see a young man in casual clothes standing at the edge of the workstation, gawking at what was going on.
"Harry?" Norman spat in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted see what was so interesting you had to keep ignoring my calls, dad." Harry held up his phone as he walked closer.
Macendale righted himself, he and Smythe heading back to the glider's charging station and removing themselves from the family affair.
Norman's posture softened, "I'm sorry, Harry, but I've had a lot on my plate today. There are some critical projects underway that require my personal supervision."
"I get that dad, but you could at least answer a text every now and then." Harry huffed, averting his face to where the glider was being dismounted. "Looks like the glider prototype is almost ready." He said with barley disguised tone of irritation.
Sharing the apparent desire to refocus the conversation, Harry nodded and put himself beside his son. "Seems to work but scaling resources for mass production will be an issue."
"Power supply?"
"Efficient but scarce," The father confirmed.
Harry's head tilted, forming a thought. "Could work out for you. Roll the units out in small batches, let the military get a taste of what they can do. Once word gets out, it could drive up interest and competitive bidding from other parties."
Norman was forced to twist his head sidelong at his boy, appraising him with a new weight.
"Yeah," He said, putting an arm around his son's shoulder. "I was thinking the same thing."
OUTISDE THE 107TH POLICE PRECINCT.
Under the negligible protection of an umbrella, the sodden red hair of Mary-Jane Watson hurried through the torrential rainfall towards the car parked on the adjacent block to the NYPD hub. The brown sedan sat in outside the range of the streetlights, leaving the lone driver obscured in the darkness. She opened the passenger side door without hesitation and slipped into the seat.
"Hey, don't go getting my seat soaked." The man complained semi-seriously, shifting to angle his front towards her. "I've already got some rot on my undercarriage from all this goddam rain."
"Don't worry Eddie, I won't shake myself off in your car." She teased back, whipping the water off her collapsed umbrella, placing her purse across her lap, and closing the door. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."
"You know I don't mind." The headlight from a passing vehicle cast their beams across the man, briefly revealing a clean-shaven man in his early 30's with close-cropped blond hair. He wore a light grey coat over a white dress shirt and red tie, a cigarette hung unlit and dim from the corner of his mouth.
"I dig the wet look."
MJ spared him a short laugh, more of a light cough. "Thanks, so were you able to find out anything?"
Eddie subtly rolled his eyes with a silent sigh. "Yeah. The word to squash the investigation came from somewhere north of the Commander, maybe the Deputy Chief's office. With the big flashy Mysterio caught, it's easy to move things along and not push the investigation any deeper."
"What would they be trying to hide?" She followed up. "Who gains from keeping the spotlight on Mysterio?"
"Hard to say," Eddie shrugged. "Depends on what they're trying to hide. The pre-planted bombs are just the tip of the iceberg. Something happened in that jewelry shop, and Mysterio's stunt either covered it up or allowed it to happen."
MJ ran a hand over her mouth, "Whoever is behind it went through a lot of trouble just to stage a robbery. Has Mysterio been talking to anybody?"
"Nobody except his lawyer, some tight-lipped suit named Donovan who only visited him for five minutes. Kind of a pompous prick."
Eddie cast a side glace over to his company as she stared through the window. "Never likes to uh… make conversation."
With the last words he shifted closer and slipped his right arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his chest and tossing his smoke into the ashtray. Mary-Jane inhaled sharply, tensing at his touch but not resisting. She swallowed a lump and allowed herself to settle against his body.
"Maybe that's the connection," She said after a moment, brushing back a bang of hair. "Figure out who the lawyer answers to."
"Whoever Donovan works for they got… deeeep pockets." Eddie moved his left hand onto her thigh, caressing over the damp denim to the knee.
Watson felt her body tense, right hand squeezing into a fist. "How deep?" She asked.
Nestling his nose into her hair, Eddie shut his eyes. "He always gets picked up by a pair of black suburbans, tinted windows, armed escorts."
As her heartbeat increased it became almost impossible for her to keep her mind on the investigation.
The lawyer… MJ thought. That's the lead…
"You think-uh, you think Donovan will see him again?" She asked with a hard swallow.
"Likely…" Eddie's right hand gripped her shoulder.
Her eyes darted to the passenger side window, internally hoping some third-party rescue would come to her.
Then his cell phone rang, surprising both of them. He stared down at the center console where his phone was resting, its screen alight. With a disappointed sigh he disengaged from her to take hold of the phone and answer the call.
"Detective Brock," He said expectantly.
As he listened, MJ took a few fast breaths to collect herself and flush out a bundle of nerves with a shiver.
"Really? That bad huh?" Eddie replied to the other end.
Mary-Jane opened the door to her side and stepped out, popping the umbrella overhead. His eyes shot to her parting with an irritated glint, unable as he was to betray his displeasure while on the line.
"Sure thing, be there as soon as I can." He said, ending the call.
"Thanks for the info, Eddie." MJ blurted, turning back to face him. "I'll put it to good use." Then shutting the door.
Eddie Brock adjusted himself back into his seat, turning the ignition. "Any time…" He muttered disgruntledly to himself, adjusting the gear shift.
Rounding the corner of the next block, Mary-Jane threw her back against the brick, not caring about the wet surface soaking into her back. Pinching her face shut, she let a few trapped sobs burst through. With her free hand she scraped the spots Eddie had touched with as much revulsion as if removing parasites.
She finished the episode with a long exhale, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small rectangular device. With the click of a button, the recorder was stopped.
OSCORP
"Commencing with…. Human trials."
Lightning arced across the New York City skyline, the flash illuminating his lab through the windows. A rumble of thunder like a carpet-bombing campaign followed, eliciting a flourish of activity from the reptiles in their tanks.
"Preliminary tests show advanced recovery within moments of introduction, all results indicate… success."
Sitting on his rolley-stool, Dr. Curt Connors looked at the visual of himself on the computer, the camera recording his sullen expression. The right sleeve of his lab coat was rolled back, exposing the stump where the edges of dermis were bound together.
"Let this recording show, that I, Dr. Curt Connors being of sound mind and body, do undertake this experiment of my own free will. Consequences… come what may."
He looked down to his amputation, remembering the sound of the gun going off just before he felt his arm explode. He took a small wet cloth and wiped it over the skin of the lost limb to sanitize the injection area.
"Martha, if there should be some unfortunate consequence to this… I love you." He said as he worked.
Curt took a deep breath, bringing his stump into center presentation for the camera. "I will now, introduce Regen-98 into the site of my amputation."
Examining the deep red fluid in the cylinder for air bubbles or contaminants, he gave the plunger a slight squeeze to ensure the needle was full. Selecting a suitable vein, he placed the tip of the needle on the skin, and with a final short breath, pierced the surface.
The injection went as smooth as he expected, experiencing no more than a slight amount of pressure, Regen-98 feeling thicker than he'd anticipated. There was a sensation of light-headedness, though whether it caused by the serum or just a psychosomatic reaction to the moment was a thought for another time.
Once the shot was finished, he extracted the syringe and self-consciously cupped his hand over the stump, looking to the camera.
"Being that I have a much higher body mass than the mouse, I don't expect results to be quite as immed-"
His body convulsed, upper body lurching in a whiplash that sent him tumbling off the stool and sprawling to the floor. A sound escaped his throat somewhere between a grunt and a wheeze, every vein near the surface of his skin bulging against its own constraint. He twisted onto his back as his legs struck out and slammed into the table, the monitor wobbling until it fell. Curt could again see himself on the screen.
Then he felt it. The spasming quelled and he held up his right arm to watch in amazement as the rest of the limb generated from the stump, flesh growing like a tree branch in time-lapse.
"Huh!" Was all he could exclaim with a wild emotion at the dull pain moving its way along his expanding arm. A thin layer of translucent dermis encased the newly spawned skin, only for fingers to sprout through it wriggling and cracking. He brought his right hand up to his face, observing the fetal texture of the digits, how it might have looked when he was still in the womb.
A mad laughter began to burst from him. "It worked!" He sputtered, turning his hand over, marveling at the creation. "This is incredible!"
He gave the camera a wide grin, flexing the fingers and pulling at the protective tissue. When he looked to the camera a moment later, he stopped, struck by a strange new tint in his eyes.
"What…?"
A second pulse surged through his chest and a bolt of pain radiated out from his heart into every nerve, even his eyeballs brimmed with an agony that threatened to rupture. He collapsed back to the floor mouth locked open, hands curled against this chest, watching as his newly birthed arm continued to transform, becoming more muscular, skin hardening to scales.
Lightning ripped the sky as his spine snapped and arced, contorting to accommodate new growth. His shoulders pinched inwards, the sounds of a hard material scraping into the floor beneath him.
When at last it felt as if his legs would break themselves apart from the inside, he found his image in the monitor once more. Curt Connors saw himself disappear into something… monstrous.
DOWNSTARIS
The parking garage door opened, Norman Osborn and his small entourage walking with purpose to his private elevator.
"-And make sure Harry gets home safe." He commanded the person on the other end of the call before stuffing the phone into his breath pocket. "Don't I wish I could be getting home this early."
"Sir!" Yelped an approaching guard from the nearby security booth. "Alarms are going off on the 51st floor, we're not sure what's going on."
"That's Connor's lab," Norman said aloud. "Let's go."
The elevator doors parsed with a friendly tone in the midst of the blaring klaxon and red lighting. Two suited bodyguards, sidearms drawn and at the low ready stepped out, flanking to either side of the hall. Some of the doors were smashed down, long gashes decorating the length of the walls and miscellaneous objects laying scattered on the floor.
"Dr. Connors?" Osborn called out, following his men, two more at his back keeping watch. "Hello? Curt?"
Something moved near the opposite end of the hall, causing the lead guards to snap in its direction. They found only an iguana in the corner, staring back at them with its black eyes before crawling away.
"Check the lab." Norman ordered, watching the creature flee the commotion.
Wonder what happened here? Queried the voice in Osborn's head.
The guards moved forward, stepping gingerly over the broken remains of the laboratory door, the bits of glass and twisted metal of the frame.
"Sir," One of the close guards began in a whisper, putting a hand on Norman's shoulder. "I advise you clear the floor and let us handle this until we figure out what happened."
Osborn pulled away, "I've got too much invested in this, I need to see it myself." He said angrily.
"WUHAAAAH!" A scream from the lab preceded a tremendous crash and a small spat of gunfire.
Norman and his men stood dumbfounded as a flash of illumination from the outside storm gave life to a shadow play of silhouettes and blood-curling shrieks.
"GET BACK IN THE ELEVATOR!" One of the guards finally barked, seizing their boss by the collar and herding the stunned Osborn in retreat. The other man remained a step behind, weapon sweeping side to side to cover their exit. A bizarre cry cut through the relentless noise of the storm beating the side of the high-rise, a pitched wail of sorrowful chords.
A large shape burst from the lab entrance, bounding from side to side as the rear guard hurried to acquire a target, squeezing off rounds in a frantic attempt to hit something. Just as Norman could reach the elevator the man behind loosed a single yelp before being cut-off. Something heavy struck him in the back, knocking both he and the other guard to the floor.
With his face on the ground, Norman could only perceive the presence of something large and heavy above him, his immediate instincts telling him to lay still. The remaining guard however displayed no such inclination, turning into a seated position against the elevator doors to fire several shots at their assailant. Out of the peripheral of his vision, Osborn saw a shadow overtake the man despite the bullets and pin him in place with a single clawed foot.
You may want to find another way out, Norman. Spoke a voice only he could hear.
Twisting away just as a crunch put an end to the cries of the last bodyguard, Norman crawled on his belly down the hall, hoping the creature would be occupied long enough for him to devise an escape. He passed the unmoving form of the other guard partially embedded back-first into the glass door of a room, head pitched forward at steep angle, blood trailing down his shoulders.
Crossing the threshold to Connor's lab he scrambled to his feet and darted for the large workdesk across the room. Hunkering down on the side opposite the entrance, he pulled his phone out and hit a number on speed dial.
"SECURITY!" He barked. "There's a monster loose on 51! Get some goddamn guns up here!"
The steady march of footsteps cut him off, a man on the other end of the line calling out 'Sir! Sir!' until Norman cut the call off. Cast from the red emergency light, he watched a silhouette rise above that of the workdesk, a head searching curiously, a set of jaws opening wide for a raspy growl. A flash of lightning confirmed that whatever this thing was, it was looming just over the other side of the desk. Osborn watched with gritted teeth as it lowered, the sound of sniffing, a tongue clicking.
A sudden buzzing went off in his breast, and he realized he'd failed to silence the phone that now betrayed his concealment. He reached in to extract it, adrenaline gifting him the speed to snatch it and kill the vibration in less than a second. For a fleeting moment, he thought this meant success.
Something strong latched onto his right shoulder with such force it nearly crushed the bones underneath, lifting him up and off his feet.
"AHHH!" Was all he could shout as he was tossed across the lab, colliding bodily with the refrigeration unit. Though the breath was knocked out of him, he managed to right himself in time to face the approaching creature.
It stood on saurian legs over six feet tall and postured forward, counterbalanced by a muscular tail swinging casually behind it, long claws flexing at the end of relatively small arms. Like a miniature tyrannosaur, its head was long and divided by a maw that could bite down on half a full-grown man. From the crown of its skull and down nearly ten feet to the tail were a multitude of stumpy protrusions in regular rows, the largest mid-back.
The creature stalked toward him slowly, circling, emitting a low groan and eying him coldly with dark pupils. Norman could only stare back, mesmerized not by fear but pure fascination.
Well, isn't this interesting… How you gonna make a buck of this, Norman?
His hands, creeping unthinkingly over the floor found something, a quick glance revealed the sidearm of a fallen bodyguard. An audible tone from the elevator distracted the creature just long enough for him to snatch the gun and slip it into the rear of his beltline.
Slowly, Osborn gripped the refrigeration unit behind, using it to help him stand so as to not break his gaze with the beast. It seemed to regard him with some scrutiny, sniffing the air and issuing short hisses, perhaps deciding whether the human was a threat. Sensing this hesitation, Norman glanced for the exit, seeing a clear path for himself to the hall. All he needed was something to keep the monster from cutting him down before he took five steps. A small idea occurred to him.
"Hey…" He muttered. "You wanna smell something more interesting?" Placing his hand against the palm-print reader, he guardedly leveled his left eye to the retinal scan. With every security code in the building slave to his master override, the device emitted a few tones and unlocked the door.
The creature snapped its jaws, a warning.
Norman reached in a grabbed a rack of blood vials, picking one and dangling it like a treat. "Maybe you like this one?"
As much as it pained him to lose any of the invaluable research, he valued his well-being moreso. He tossed the vial far to his left where it shattered against an overturned table. The creature's attention shifted immediately in the direction, nostrils flaring a few times, but it did not move. Osborn cautiously began stepping towards the exit as he plucked a different sample. "Or this one?"
Another bottle was thrown and destroyed, but other than a brief glance in its direction the beast remained on course for Norman. They continued in this precarious dance until Norman was able to put the hallway to the exit at his back. Doing so however, forced him into a much tighter situation until he could put the doors of the elevator between them.
I think he's cute, Norman, can we keep him?
"Not now!" He growled.
The beast roared in response to the outburst, lowering its posture, tail slamming into the wall.
Osborn stumbled back, his foot knocking into the leg of a fallen bodyguard that almost caused him to topple over, blood vials clinking as he caught himself.
"I don't know what happened to Connors, but you're not going to make a meal out of Norman Osborn you son of a bitch!"
In a flash, he reached into his waistband and took out the gun, edging himself ever closer to the elevator. Something seemed to click in the reptilian slits of the monster, and as soon as it sighted the firearm it reared up and loosed a wild cry.
The beast lunged, Norman reflexively discharging several rounds directly into its torso. The fusillade earned a moment's faltering of the creature's aggression as it shrieked, small sparks of light going off where the rounds hit. He pulled the trigger until the slide locked back; the magazine spent.
For a few seconds he stutter-stepped, eager to put more distance between himself and the reptilian, but just as much morbidly curious to see the effects of his assault. Before his eyes he saw the crumpled bits of metal fall to the floor from their points of impact, not a drop of crimson upon one.
Osborn gawked at the empty pistol before pitching it at the beast and dashing for the elevator. The monster batted the gun aside with a claw and charged mouth open with a feral scream.
The doors of the elevator parted just as Norman hurdled the other bodies to reach them, revealing four armored security guards with automatic rifles. The foremost one grabbed Osborn by the lapel of his suit and thrust him into the car, the others unleashing a deafening barrage of ammunition that stalled the creature in its tracks.
"Sir, are you alright?" A guard knelt down to ask the boss.
"NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT!" Norman barked. "KILL THAT THING!"
With one final push the creature drove itself into the elevator, jaws clamping down on the arms of one of the men and crowding the car with its head. Amidst the panic and screaming, the falling brass casings and cacophony of shots, a claw reached through the commotion and found Norman Osborn. It shattered a few of the blood vials on its way to ripping into the flesh of his forearm and scoring a deep gash.
"GAAH!" Osborn bellowed, scrambling against the wall.
A butt-stroke from a weapon landed in the creature's left eye, forcing it to recoil. Another man levied a boot into its snout and pushed it the rest of the way out of the car, clearing the doors long enough for his partner to slam a fist on the floor-button panel.
The other two guards were already trying to stem the flow of Osborn's blood as the car began descending, carefully making sure small bits of broken glass hadn't entered the wound.
"We'll get you to a hospital as soon as possible, Sir!" One of them said as they worked.
"No, get me down to biological," Norman gritted through his teeth. "I want my own people to handle this."
The guards nodded, trading anxious looks. "What about these then?" One asked, taking hold of the vial rack and setting it aside.
Norman could feel his pulse pounding in his head, the mixture of adrenaline and hypovolemic shock uniting in an increasingly disorienting cocktail. His upper lip curled to one side. "Get Morbius in here, until we find Connors, I want him to take a look at those."
"Units respond to reports of gunfire at OSCORP Tower."
"OSCORP?" Queried the officer in the driver's seat of the cruiser, a late-night cup of coffee in his off hand. "You think Spider-Man got into something up there?"
His partner bobbed his head side to side, "I'd rather Spider-Man than Punisher."
"Yup."
Red and blue lights bathed the surrounding buildings as the squad car sped through the nighttime streets. As the OSCORP skyscraper loomed higher as the vehicle closed the distance, the officer on the passenger side peered through the rainfall battering the windshield. His face flinched and his body jerked forward instinctively, pointing up to the tower.
"Get a look at that!" He gawked.
Up on the outside of the building some forty or more stories up, something was crawling its way down the glass façade, moving diagonally from a smashed-out windowpane with serpentine ease. The downpour made it difficult to discern any details beyond the recognizable side-to-side gait and swishing tail of the dark figure.
"It's like… some big-ass Lizard!" The partner exclaimed, marveling at the relative size of the thing.
"Holy shit…" Murmured the driver as he too caught sight of the creature.
ELSEWHERE…
A red-masked face followed the train of police cars streaking down the avenue.
[long exhale] "Guess trouble isn't afraid to get a little wet tonight!"
Leaping out from the cover of a gargoyle overhang, Spider-Man cast his web line across the span to the next building, the rain pelting his body and seeping into the suit.
Gotta make sure to adjust the trajectory of my web-lines to account for droppage in this rain. He reminded himself. Wouldn't want to show up to a fight soaked and bruised!
The disturbance at OSCORP headquarters quickly made itself apparent as Spider-Man came to a stop on an adjacent city block, sheltering under a billboard frame. An entire side of the tower was shimmering with police lights, interspersed by the flash of a lightning bolt.
"Lord Osborn's got a small army of private security in his building," Spidey remarked. "Must be something big if the police are rolling in."
Swinging closer, he crawled his way to a point from which he could launch a line to OSCORP itself, but a shadow of movement on the dark side of the tower caught his notice.
"Well, what do we have here?" He asked aloud, casting a line to intercept the figure. Another flash of lighting mid-way unveiled the grey-scaled creature moving steadily over the glass.
"WHOA!" Spider-Man landed on the vertical surface some twenty meters lower than the creature. "I guess nobody told OSCORP that you're supposed to make your dinosaurs on a tropical island, not Long Island!"
The beast let out a surprised cry at seeing the human block its path, rain flying off its snout.
"I don't suppose that's your way of saying 'I'm not even thinking of eating you.'?"
He was answered by an angry hiss and a tail slap against the glass.
"Well, fighting a dinosaur wasn't exactly on the list of things I thought I'd be doing tonight… maybe I should put a call into the X-Men, don't they have a dinosaur on their team or something?"
A shiver went though Spider-Man's body, a tingling sensation surrounding his head that seemed to slow time for a heartbeat. This portent gave him the split-second necessary to dodge the monster's gravity-assisted lunge, diving to the side just before jaws snapped closed where he'd been.
The Lizard's claws cut through the glass, shattering everything until finally being halted by the bottom frame, using the momentum to swing itself around and keep visual on the human.
Spider-Man's grip on the windows faltered as he tried to regain his footing, his traction hydroplaning until he was able to concentrate on strengthening the molecular bonds that allowed him to wall-crawl.
This isn't going to work very well. He concluded, steadying himself with a hand. I have to get him on level ground.
"Alright gruesome!" Spidey pointed. "Time to… uh, you know my trash-talking is much easier when my opponents can understand English. Wait, can you understand me?"
The Lizard leaped from its position, but this time Spider-Man was ready, launching himself into the air and casting twin web-lines from his shooters that attached themselves to the creature's back. Landing behind the Lizard, he pulled on the sticky reigns against the angry thrashing, trying to pry it off the window.
"Come on! I'll get you a nice terrarium set up, with all the crickets you can eat and smooth stones to sun yourself on!"
With a feral roar the Lizard used its tail to wrap around the web-lines and create a counter-pull to Spider-Man. Despite his own super-human strength, the glass underneath Spidey's feet began to crack and bulge outward, threatening to betray him.
"Uh-Oh."
The glass snapped, sending Spider-Man hurtling upwards via the tension of the tether on collision course with the Lizard, the monster meeting him with claws and teeth.
"TUHH!" He grunted, taking the impact of the scaled shoulder in the breadbox, the both of them removed from their connection to the building as thunder cracked. Together they fell through the air a tangle of limbs and snarls, Spider-Man's hands on either jaw all that prevented them clamping down on his head.
"Guhh! Of all the ways to go!"
For a fraction of a second in the blur of motion he caught sight of a streetlight rushing up from below.
I've only got one shot at this!
The perception of time slowed for Spider-Man as the pair rotated. With his left hand he held the Lizard's mandible at bay, and with his right he reached out and cast a web line.
Come on! He thought in the moment, hoping against the odds that the rain would not thwart his aim.
The line found purchase just in time. GOT IT!
He wrapped his legs around the Lizard's neck and used both hands to grip onto the line, pulling it tense to swing them both in an arc that all but scraped the pavement.
Spidey released the monster, letting it crash into the window of a convenience store before he landed on a traffic light on the other side of the street. What few pedestrians on the street there'd been scattered in all directions.
"This might be too big a job for Animal Control. Gee, I hope monster lizards aren't covered by the ASPCA."
Glass and metal burst apart as an angry Lizard smashed its way through what remained of the storefront, a large bag of popcorn dangling from one of its fangs. it ignored Spider-Man at first, knocking away the bag and gazing up to the peaks of the surrounding skyscrapers, illuminated by the city lights from below.
"Hey Lizard-lips!" Spider-Man called out. "If you come with me, I'll give you a nice star-leaf!"
Attention snapping back, the creature uttered a snarl as it stepped forward, crossing into the street.
"That's it, come to Spidey…"
Flashing lights preceded the screech of rubber as an unmarked police vehicle rounded a corner, the beacon stuck at arm's length on the roof of the driver's side.
"-I don't care if he's asleep, get his ass up!" Captain Stacy screamed into his cell, steering with the other hand. "If Osborn's office is the scene of a crime, his lawyers are gonna be throwing up obstacles faster than the goddamn Hulk's collateral damage! I need to make sure I can get up there!"
Ahead of him on the road a literal obstacle came into view as he made the left turn, his headlights falling over the crouched reptilian as it paused in the middle of the street.
The phone ripped away from his ear as he took in the sight, his foot slamming on the brake. "What in-?"
Lizard spun its head to the oncoming car with a warning screech, the lights causing its pupils to collapse.
"NO!" Spider-Man leaped from his position, seeking to interpose himself between the car and the monster. Then a sensation of peril rung in his head, in its unspecific forewarning way.
The speed with which the tail was whipped about came as a surprise to both Spider-Man and Captain Stacy. Spider-Man had timed his move correctly but so had the Lizard, walloping him into the front grill of the car with its tail in half-a-heartbeat. Crushed between the force of the blow and the last of the car's momentum, Peter's scream of pain was cut short into a desperate wheeze. A disorienting amount of pain and whiplash leaving him stunned and embedded in the dent his body had created.
The car had effectively hit a fixed object, its back end lifting off the ground and swinging almost 90-degrees to compensate the sudden loss of forward momentum. With the horn blaring and a trail of steam rising from the crumpled side of the hood, the Lizard jumped onto the roof to unleash a savage cry of victory.
Captain Stacy awoke groggily, body draped over the steering wheel, a sharp pain emanating from somewhere on his forehead. His first visual was that of the numerous cracks in the windshield and the oddly human-shaped figure in red that had taken the place of the hood ornament.
"Huuu… what…?"
The window beside him was shattered in an instant, an array of long claws pulling at the frame and warping the metal. He recoiled, protecting himself with his left arm while his right reached instinctively for his sidearm. Thumping on the caved-in roof alerted him to the monster's presence above, and despite his dazed state he had enough of a mind to flatten himself over the seats and aim his weapon upwards. With one eye closed from the sting of blood, he fired four shots at his unseen target, the only confirmation of his accuracy the surprised yelp and quick retraction of the claws.
Oh jeez, what hit me? Shaking his head, Spider-Man fell to a knee as he stumbled away from the car, rib cage and neck aching.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Spidey turned to see the creature perched on the vehicle, the roof collapsed under its weight, flinching back from the series of shots.
"Hey!" Without hesitation Spider-Man cast two web-lines at the Lizard, sticking them to its face and forelimb and in a single heave yanked it off the car. The creature squealed as it tried to regain it's footing under the bombardment of subsequent web-grenades that burst into sticky nets. Attached like tendons to the pavement, one of the strands managed to dislodge a manhole cover and unveil the hollow.
Satisfied that the monster was subdued for the moment, Spider-Man bounded to the hood of the car and used his bare-hands to pry away the drivers' side door like a sardine can. "Hey! You alright?!"
Laying back over the center console, George Stacy let the arm gripping his pistol drift aside, relieved to see the local hero. "Never been so glad to see your scrawny, onesie wearing ass." He grunted as he sat himself up. "Any idea why a baby T-Rex just tried to attack me?"
"Time paradox? Cloning project gone wrong?" Spider-Man said, reaching in help the police captain out. "But my better guess is it has something to do with whatever's happening at OSCORP."
George nodded, "I think I agree."
The commotion of loud scraping and shrieks gave the two enough time to watch the Lizard squeeze itself incredibly through the diameter of the manhole, the last strands of webbing snapping as it escaped.
Spider-Man tilted his head, "Well that's… not good."
/