Part 1: From the Edge

It was late in the afternoon in New York City, and the chase began at mid-day. Despite the nice temperature of 68 degrees Fahrenheit, Clyde Ditko was running hot. Sweating like a pig, as he ran down an alleyway. Gasping and wheezing with his lungs on fire as he ran hell for leather. He tried to look over his shoulder, and was quick in regretting the decision. The minute he looked was the minute a steel pipe beamed him right between the eyes.

"NGlah!" he cried as he lost his footing, slamming back first into the ground with a heavy thud

"Gotcha now, Clyde!" shouted his pursuer

Gilbert Parker sprinted down the alley as fast as he could with his beat up blue converse all stars. Not the least bit tired, even as he wore his usual long sleeved, black, zip-up hoodie. His hazel eyes locked onto Clyde, even with his sweat soaked auburn hair dripping into is eyes.

Clyde scrambled to his feet. Gasping and sputtering, he reached for the steel pipe that clocked him in the face. Frantic, he swung the pipe as soon as he saw Gilbert closing in. A vicious swing that Gilbert ducked, prompting the young man to follow up with an uppercut. Clocking Clyde right in the chain and causing the pipe wielding thug to stumble and crash. The back of his head slammed into a nearby dumpster, leaving a splatter of sweat from his mullet. The thug groaned, wincing as he clutched the back of his head. Gilbert wasted no time in throwing a left hook in the side of Clyde's jaw. He proceeded to reach for Clyde's legs, when the greasy mullet haired thug swung the pipe again. Causing Gilbert to step back with caution.

"Ay! Fahk ahff!" Clyde shouted, swinging the pipe with reckless abandon

Gilbert took a precise step forward and grabbed the pipe. Yanking it from Clyde's hands, the young man threw it in the air. He proceeded to catch it, brought it back with both hands, and swung it like a golf club between Clyde's legs. An audible, meaty thump followed by a high pitched squeal filled the alley. In excruciating agony, Clyde moved his hands down to the crotch of his faded jeans. Clutching his balls with care. Tossing the pipe aside, Gilbert grabbed one of Clyde's legs and started dragging him.

"Sick of your shit, Clyde!" said Gilbert with an exhausted sigh, "Every fuckin' time with this!"

Though his back was to Clyde, Gilbert recognized the frantic high pitched squeals. He had enough run ins with Clyde to know when the punk was cussing and pointing fingers despite a lack of breath. Hell, he and Clyde were so familiar that Clyde didn't actually have to say words.

After three short bursts of high pitched squeals, Gilbert had enough.

"Look, you giant flapping cock bat!" Gilbert shouted over his shoulder, "I ain't rolling in dough either, but you don't see me stealing shit!"

"*Wheeze!*-huff-*Reeble-REE!*" squealed Clyde

"Uh, it is your fault that people won't hire you!" Gilbert shouted back, "You got wasted and took a piss in front of the Daily Bugle, remember?!"

"*REE!*-huff-*Wee-REEE!" cursed Clyde, shaking a fist at the young man

Gilbert started snickering, "Yeah, you're right... front page was a bit much. They should've put it under obituaries! "Clyde Ditko; Age 33, pissed his life away!". That would've been something, huh?"

Regaining some of his strength, Clyde began thrashing about in rage. Swinging and pounding his fists as Gilbert dragged him away. Still unable to speak, the mullet haired thug bounced and squealed. Like a balloon releasing air. Nearing the entrance to the alley, Gilbert saw an opportunity. Rounding the corner, Gilbert began walking faster while twisting Clyde's leg.

"*REE!*-huff-*ReereeRE-*" was about where Clyde got cut off. Too angry to notice the light twisting of his leg. Too pissed off to notice his body had shifted position. Noticing far too late that one of the brick walls that made the alley came rushing at his face. Bashing his nose in with a loud "THWACK!", Clyde was finally out cold. Much to Gilbert's relief.

Granted, Gilbert was much more thankful that the place Clyde robbed from wasn't far. Right around the corner as a matter of fact. A StopQuik that Gilbert frequented from to time. Shoving the doors open with his foot, Gilbert stepped inside. It was time to finish shopping.

"Brought'em back!" Gilbert hollered at the counter at the back of the store... taking three steps and stopping to allow the doors to slam into the sides of Clyde's head

"Yo! Thanks, G!" Miles Morales, the teen clerk at the counter called, "I kept your groceries safe! Bring'em over!"

Happy to oblige, Gilbert dragged the unconscious thug over to the counter. Dropping Clyde's leg, Gilbert started fishing out his wallet. Before he had a chance to, Miles waved it away.

"You did me a solid, G." said Miles, "It's on the house!"

Right away, Gilbert started to protest, "Miles, don't do that! I can pay!"

"It's fine, man, for real!" Miles said with that kind, sly smile of his

Gilbert didn't buy it. He remembered the other day when he saw Miles' boss chewing him out for giving one of his school buddies a discount. He could only imagine what would happen if the boss saw Miles giving stuff away for free

Seeing the suspicious look on Gilbert's face, Miles did his best to reassure him."For real, dude! Boss is out of town! Besides, you busted Clyde!" he told the young man, "Dude's such a dead beat, the cops won't even chase him!"

"Not your dad, though!" Gilbert countered, "I've met your dad, dude! He's on the force for a reason!"

"Was..." Miles corrected, shrugging, "Got shot'n the leg. Early retirement, remember?"

"Aw, right... sorry man..." said Gilbert, starting to reach for his wallet again

Reaching down behind the counter, Miles brought up all three bags of groceries. "Please take'em, man! Legit, it's all good!"

Putting his wallet away, Gilbert reached for the bags. He stopped halfway. It bugged the living shit out of him thinking someone he liked was at risk of losing a job because of him.

"Hey, if it makes ya feel better..." Miles offered, "When you get your gig up'n running, you can always pay me back then!"

Only then did he relent.

"Alright Miles...thanks." he said with reluctance as he picked up the bags, "Tell your dad I said "hey", alright?"

"Sure thing, G!" Miles said with a wink, "Keep it steady!"

With a nod, Gilbert took his leave. He smiled as he exited the store. Anytime he got a ton of stuff for little to no effort always made him feel good. Granted, it still felt weird...but he was coming around. Lost in his thoughts, and a spring to his step as he headed back to the business he co-owned.

The one that's failing... said an errant thought in the back of his head

He shook it off. After all, he helped someone good, and punished someone bad. Heck, it was more or less self promotion for the kinda work he did. Miles would spread the word, people would talk, and traffic would come. Besides. it was only a slump.

A slump that's been happening for almost two months... said another errant thought

Annoyance started setting in. Grinding his teeth, Gilbert started looking back on weeks passed. All the times he kicked Clyde's ass. All the flyers that he and MJ put out. Granted, the two of them were the only employees... but they were making an effort! Sure the payoff was taking its time... but it would come! He believed it.

Working so hard trying to promote a dead horse... said another errant thought, You are so fucking retarded...

Gilbert froze in place. Annoyance erupting into anger. He hated that word. Pinching his eyes shut, and clenching his teeth super hard. He fought against the thoughts. So angry at them, and also at finding himself in a sour mood when he had done so good earlier. And as always, when he was this angry, he had to be verbal to shut the bad thoughts down.

"I am... NOT retarded..." he growled through his clenched teeth, "I am autistic... and either way, there's nothing wrong with being either of those things!"

Yeah, sure... big difference... said an errant thought, Both mean there's something wrong with your brain. Also! Nobody asks to be either of those things either!

"Yeah?" Gilbert fired back as he resumed walking, "Well I'm not stupid, which is what you're trying to say! So quit acting like I am!"

How can I not when you're acting stupid? said an errant thought, You're a young man with a fucked head who's too stupid to see the writing on the wall!

"Man, shut up!" Gilbert said in a huff, walking faster

Awww... mad that you're losing? said an errant thought, Also, how ironic... quoting what your brother said when you hate him for trying to help your stupid ass...

"Shut. Up." Gilbert growled, pinching his eyes shut again

He saw the writing on the wall, and you didn't! You still don't! said an errant thought, Like, what more do you need?! Was Gwen leaving you not enough-

"Shut up! Shut up!" Gilbert shouted over and over before finally screaming, "SHUT UP!"

That's when he felt it. The thoughts leaving his mind, giving return to a peaceful silence. Then realization set in. Horrified, Gilbert looked around, hoping to god that nobody saw all that. He soon sighed with relief when he realized where he was. Right outside of Parker & Watson Protections Co., his company. A small old building behind several larger buildings on Queens. Hidden away... where few visited... which was not ideal for any business...

Stupid...

"Shut up..." Gilbert told the errant thought as he headed inside

Ignoring all the graffiti on the front of the building, Gilbert headed for the front door. He grabbed it, and cringed when the unholy screams of the rusted hinges stabbed his eardrums.

*kerWEEEAAARGHRANGK!*

"Jesus Christ!' screamed Gilbert's business partner from inside the building

Gilbert headed inside. Wincing when the hinges unleashed a less tortuous scream. Making his way down the barren, one room building to his friend and partner. MJ, real name Marshall James Watson, sat in a computer chair at the very back of the room. Sitting in front of a beat up laptop on a small fold up skin, dreadlocks poking out of a red beanie hat. Green eyes, mustache above his lips. Thin frame beneath a Slipknot shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Hands covering his ears. He brought them down when Gilbert came over.

"Fuck, I hate that door!" said MJ, then with a nod asked, "Where were you?"

"Store," Gilbert said, handing one of the shopping bags over to MJ, "Clyde showed up."

"Clyde?"

"Clyde."

"It's always Clyde..." said MJ, shaking his head as he grabbed the bag

"It's always Clyde!" Gilbert said, raising his voice in angry disbelief

"Man, no wonder you look like shit!" said MJ, as he pulled a beer bottle out of the bag, "How long did it take?"

"About an hour..." Gilbert said with a sigh, placing the other bags down, "Crack one open for me, will you? Gonna go clean up."

He headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Flipping on the lights, he turned to the mirror to assess the damage. As he expected, his hair was a frazzled mess. Auburn hair once combed, and neatly trimmed to be long on the right but short on the left and back... was now a sweaty train wreck all over. The five foot eleven young Caucasian man shook his head.

"Christ..." Gilbert said in disgust as he pulled out his comb, "It's like Rob Boss' hair came back to life and latched onto m' scalp..."

Gilbert was quick, but thorough. He combed it all back into place, especially the loose hairs of his goatee. It was not as neat as earlier, but it was better than a second ago. A nice hot shower would fix that later. He started to lean in, see if he could touch things up better, when a spider crawled onto the mirror. Gilbert jumped, hopped back and pinned his back to the wall

He hated spiders with a passion.

In a flash, he grabbed some toilet paper and squished the eight legged freak of nature. Tossing it into the garbage, he shivered with disgust before flicking the lights and heading back to MJ.

"So, any calls while I was gone?" he asked, sliding into the fold up chair that MJ pulled out for him

"Nope..." MJ replied, handing Gilbert an opened beer bottle

"Any emails?" asked Gilbert, taking a big swig

Sighing, MJ slumped back into his chair and said, "Nope..."

Gilbert sighed, and proceeded to do the same. Both went quiet then and there. The only sounds heard was the low hum of MJ's laptop, and the honks of New York City's clogged traffic. After a while, MJ took a deep breath, and proceeded to lean forward. Eyes locked onto Gilbert.

"Gil... I know you don't wanna hear this..." said MJ with a calm but serious tone, "But... shit ain't working out..."

Gilbert wasn't angry. He wanted to be angry, but he wasn't. The young man was too tired to be angry. Too tired and sick of being a stupid piece of shit with a failing business to be angry at the truth.

"I know, Marsh..." Gilbert admitted, rubbing his eyes with one hand, "I-I've... I've known for a while, but-"

"Yeah, I get it, man..." MJ said, taking a quick sip, "You were mad at Matt. Then you had that falling out with Gwen-"

"Yeah, I was there..." said Gilbert, cutting him off

"It was a great plan man... a big plan!" said MJ, passionate with his words before slumping again, "But... nothing worked like we planned... y'know?"

"Yeah, man... yeah..."Gilbert sighed, shaking his head as an odd sense of relief took over, "We're just... beating a dead horse at this point... Gwen was right..."

MJ whistled when he heard that, "Man, if you're saying that... so... are you-"

"Yeah, dude... I'm done..." Gilbert told him, taking another long swig of beer, "Time to quit... no sense waiting on miracles that won't come..."

"Tch... miracles..." said MJ with a defeated huff, taking a swig as well, "Ain't no miracles gonna come out here and open that damn door to-"

*kerWEEEAAARGHRANGK!*

"AAGH! DAMN IT!" Gilbert screamed, covering his ears

"Fuckin' CHRIST!" MJ screamed in kind, dropping his beer on the floor

They turned their attention to the front door, where they found a pale, Caucasian man in a suit. A clean shaven man in a rather expensive looking suit, who ran his fingers through his crew cut. Shaking his head. Shocked beyond words at the door as it unleashed a horrific wail when it closed.

"What an awful door..." said the man in disbelief as he adjusted his glasses

"Hey!" MJ shouted, catching the man's attention

"Can we help you?!" Gilbert shouted in kind, "The hell are you doing here?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" said the man in the suit, making his way over to the young men, a smile on his face, "I'm Karl Lykos! Are... you the owners of this... business?"

"Yeah, but not for long." MJ answered, picking up the beer bottle he dropped, disappointed at how much remained

"Oh?" said Lykos, "May I ask why?"

"Business is dead." Gilbert said, his tone more blunt than a baseball bat, "Can't get work, so we're closing shop..."

"That's a shame..." said Lykos, then waving his finger like he had an idea, "Gotta be the location! You thought about moving?"

"The fuck is this, twenty questions?!" Gilbert snapped, looking over to MJ, then back to Lykos, "Why are you here?!"

His smile never wavering, Karl Lykos cleared his throat. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a business card. One that was golden in color, and made of hard plastic. He handed it to Gilbert. It didn't take long for Gilbert's jaw to drop. The big, black, octagon shaped "O" caught his attention right away.

Stunned and at a loss for words, Gilbert looked up at Lykos.

"You... you're..." Gilbert stammered, shaking with excitement, "You're from Oscorp?!"

"That I am!" said Lykos with a nod, "What's more... is that I have a job for you!"