Disclaimer: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter done. I've been dealing with personal issues, and Writer's Block and work and a lot of cussing. A LOT OF CUSSING! I've also been trying to be optimistic about this story as a whole getting some reviews.

That said, I do not own the rights to Spider-Man or any supporting characters. And no, I'm not following the story of the upcoming movie.

Chapter III

It was Saturday afternoon now at the Daily Bugle and as always, chaos was the usual order of the day. Peter Parker had been working for the Bugle for two years and figured he would've gotten a little used to it by now, especially with J. Jonah Jameson being his boss and the Head of the Anti-Spidey Fan Club. As he was standing in the office of the Jolly One himself, and Joseph "Robbie" Robertson standing beside him, Jonah had his face concealed behind a yesterday's Bugle paper. Peter noted the front page had a photograph, his photograph, of Spider-Man apprehending a couple of low-level crooks and leaving them for the cops. He'd brought in his latest portfolio of photos of Spider-Man at Quest Tower, battling Beetle and saving those hostages, but Jonah didn't even acknowledge them yet.

Even if he had, Jonah would've put his own spin on what took place at Quest Tower and painted Spider-Man as the bad guy. He always did. All could Peter could do was wait for a response from Jonah. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. Eventually, Jonah folded the top half of the newspaper down and glanced at up at Peter. Peter responded with a light wave and a smirk. Jonah returned to reading the paper and concealing his face with it. Peter glanced at Robbie, noticing him rolling his eyes.

"Parker, shouldn't you be in school right about now?" Jonah finally spoke out.

"It's Saturday, Jonah," Peter responded. "Besides, I brought you some new photos of Spider-Man… that you have yet to look at for some reason."

Jonah tossed the newspaper aside to the floor and snagged the portfolio off the desk before Peter knew was happening. Pulling the stack of photos out, Jonah sifted through each one after another and each sifting was accompanied by a grunt or a snort. Or both. Jonah also had a cigar in his mouth right below his bushy mustache, and Peter had that little pang of dread that Jonah was going to burn the photos just for the hell of it. Jonah did no such thing because as he already knew, and Robbie was likely to remind him, the front page for the afternoon paper needed newsworthy photos and a headline. Robbie seemed to know what Peter was thinking, so to speak, as he chimed in to remind Jonah of said need for headline.

"Jonah, we've got seven minutes to deadline and no page one. You've got to make a decision on which photo you want us to use." he said point-blank.

"What are you, Robbie? My truant officer?"

"No, I'm your City Editor and telling that your newspaper needs front page photograph," Robbie said and looked over at Peter. He added, "And I'm pretty sure that Peter has some he needs to be later."

"Thanks, Robbie." Peter said.

"Alright, run that photo," Jonah said and flipped a single picture over to Robbie, and Peter recognized it as one of Spider-Man chasing Beetle. Jonah added, "Here's the headline: THE SPIDER AND THE BEETLE: INSECTS TERRORIZE QUEST TOWER! Make sure the photos are exclusive. I don't the Post on our ass again."

"I'll do that, but for the love of God, Spider-Man was trying to stop Beetle." Robbie said in defending Spider-Man.

"Stop Beetle from doing what, Robbie? Absconding with his share of the take," Jonah countered and pointed at the photograph he'd chosen. "A picture is worth a thousand words. Look at that; Beetle AND Spider-Man fleeing the scene of the crime."

"I think you're leaving out the part that Spider-Man came back to the tower to save those hostages. Conveniently, I might add," Peter explained as a pure matter of fact to Jonah. "What will it take to convince you that he's one of the good guys?"

"What will it take," Jonah repeated. "If Spider-Man's a real hero, he'll take off that mask and show everyone who he really is. Until then, he's a vigilante just like the rest of those costumed freaks."

"So you're basically saying that groups like the Avengers and the Fantastic Four are vigilantes." Robbie said.

"I'm saying Spider-Man is a vigilante, Robbie. Everybody in the world and their grandmother knows about Tony Stark and Steve Rogers and Thor and Reed Richards and Ben Grimm," Jonah clarified. "But nobody and I mean nobody knows who Spider-Man really is."

Venom does, but at least he's gone. I hope, Peter thought right as he was getting ready to leave the office. He stopped when Jonah bellowed at him.

"Where do you think you're going, Parker? I need you at OsCorp later; Norman Osborn's back in the public eye and he's holding a press conference at 4:30 PM."

"Jonah, I promised Gwen I'd at Starbucks later at 5:00." Peter stated.

"I don't want to hear excuses, Parker, and I certainly don't want to send Foswell to OsCorp either. Either do your damn job or it comes out of your paycheck. Is that reasonable for you?" Jonah said, effectively laying down the law.

Peter could only roll his eyes and said, "Fine." Then he exited the office.

"And let's try to keep Spider-Man out of it this time." Jonah bellowed.

Peter caught the last of Jonah's words about Spider-Man and felt an agitated chill running down his spine. That agitation was noticed by Betty Brant, who couldn't help but chuckle ever so slightly at Peter's beleaguered appearance. Peter notes Betty's chuckling gaze and it at least made him produces a slight smile coupled with a miniscule head shake and roll of her eyes. Peter walked over to the desk across from Betty's, which had few of his own items on the top and his nameplate, making it his after years of service to the Bugle. Peter never did forget how got the staff job, which involved no small amount of chicanery with his Spider-Man photos.

Peter fell back into his desk and tilted his weary head back and sighed in mute frustration. Betty chimed to him, "Tough day at the office, Pete?"

Without visually acknowledging his friend and coworker, Peter replied, "You have no idea, Betty."

"Hey, I was barely an adult when I started working for Jonah, and I'm 27 years old now. Trust me; I have some kind of an idea." Betty said.

Peter righted himself so he was facing Betty, noting briefly that looked as good as when they first met years ago. Hard to believe he once had a crush on her once upon a time. "I'm kind of at my wit's end here. I have no idea what it's going to take for him to see that Spider-Man is a hero. Look at all the super villains he's beaten, and Jonah still think he's a menace."

"I don't have any magic words, Peter…" Betty exclaimed.

"Yeah, you're no Dr. Strange." Peter joked. Then he saw Betty giving him a look that made him want to retract his joke. Not that she would've done something horrible to him in reprisal.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Mr. Parker?" she asked.

"Right," Peter said. "I'll catch you later, Betty."

Peter hopped out of his chair and started toward the elevator that would've taken him to the lobby, doing so if only to ward off suspicion if he happened to step into the maintenance closet. It was also something of a personal choice for Peter since he actually intended to go to the roof of the Bugle, change into his costume and swing home. The maintenance closet was so yesteryear. At the elevator, Peter pressed the UP button and waited for the elevator to make the climb up to the office and it was taking its sweet time getting there. Peter was already half-a-mind of opening a window and leaping out into the city, but the last thing he really needed was for everyone in the office to think he was committing suicide.

As soon as the elevator finally arrived and the doors opened, Peter was just about to cross the threshold when Jonah boomed out of his office. "Parker, don't forget to be at OsCorp at 4:30 PM on the dot so you'd damn well better use the fastest route you know."

"No problem, Jonah." Peter replied with a slight wave and without turning to face his boss.

"I mean it, kid. Screw this up and it's coming out of your paycheck." Jonah reiterated.

Peter was already in the elevator when Jonah finished his ranting. Oh, happy day.

Norman Osborn looked like himself again, dressed in a dark suit and adjusting a forest green neck tie under the jacket. Norman was entirely sure why he'd chosen to wear said tie since he preferred to wear anything black or grey or midnight blue. But green was the color of money and if Norman loved anything in this world, it was money. Power went well with money and he had both in spades. It was just too bad that same fire that Norman had within himself never translated to his own wayward son Harry. How and why Harry never seemed to possess the same drive as Norman was beyond him.

If Harry had been more like Peter Parker, his best friend, then Norman wouldn't have been so damn critical about him. Peter Parker; there was someone Norman admired. Driven, self-taught and intelligent beyond words, Peter Parker was quite possibly the son Norman never had but always wanted. Norman thought to himself the possibility of maybe adopting Peter, but where would that have left Harry? He was still Norman's son despite everything. What kind of father would Norman be if he'd abandoned Harry?

Norman pondered these thoughts while looking down at his tie, knowing it wouldn't offer him a better angle. When he raised his face back to the mirror, he suddenly recoiled back into the wall behind him. That thing, that bizarre Goblin creature was staring at him with that twisted grin and those frightening yellow eyes. Norman shook his head and rubbed his eyes just hoping the Goblin wouldn't be there when he looked again. Sure enough, the image was gone and replaced by Norman's reflection. Norman felt beads of sweat trickling down his forehead by the time he heard a knock on the other side of his bathroom door.

"Mr. Osborn," replied Hendry, Norman's butler, in a slightly raspy tone that suggested he was middle-aged or advanced. "Your vehicle is ready and waiting to bring you to OsCorp. You also have a visitor, sir."

"Who is it?" Norman asked while shaking the nerves out of his system.

"Wilson Fisk, sir."

Fisk; that's just perfect, Norman thought before he replied, "Tell Mr. Fisk I'm not interested in speaking with him, Hendry. And make sure he understands that anything he has to say has no bearing on me."

"I understand, sir, but Mr. Fisk was quite insistent that he be allowed to speak with you, and I don't think he intend to leave otherwise." Henry nervously stated.

Norman cringed and wanted to fire Hendry on the spot – or throw him out the window, then fire him, but he regained himself and replied, "Fine then. Thank you, Hendry."

Once he was certain that Hendry had gone, Norman slimmed his right fist into the finish of the sink and cursed himself. Then he noticed that he left a sizable dent in the finish. Norman studied the dent closely before he looked his hand. Unlike the sink, hand didn't have a mark on it. Peculiar in of itself since Norman wasn't an avid weight lifter by any stretch of the imagination. Yet he had noticed at times that was as physically fit as any athlete he'd ever seen in any sport. But unsure as he was about his supposed physical prowess, Norman refocused on readying himself for the press conference at OsCorp. First though, he had to deal with Wilson Fisk. And he wasn't looking forward to it.

Wilson Fisk was many things to the people of New York; billionaire, philanthropist, humanitarian. What the people of New York didn't, at least for the time being, was that Fisk was secretly the Kingpin of Crime. The number of underworld connections he had rivaled anything or anyone else in the world, maybe even dwarfed them. In fact, only a handful of the more colorful individuals knew of Fisk's underworld dealings. The likes of Daredevil, Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. and possibly the Avengers were among those that were aware of the Kingpin's existence. But unless concrete evidence could substantiate those claims, the Kingpin was for now as much a myth as El Dorado or Shangri-La.

There was one other person who was aware of Fisk's moniker and that person was Norman Osborn, and Fisk was in Osborn's home to confront him about certain things. What the Kingpin wanted, he usually got. As he waited for Osborn to appear, Fisk studied the various masks displayed on the wall. Fisk never fully understood Norman Osborn's fascination with masks and while he was wondering this, Norman appeared on the balcony above without saying a word.

"Admiring my collection, Wilson?" he finally said.

Fisk barely flinched at the sound of Norman voice but was hardly surprised to hear it. "It's impressive, I'll give you that. Sadly, it isn't my thing. I'm usually more interested in more lucrative business ventures."

Norman was already halfway down the flight of spiraling stair when he said to Fisk, "How about you skip to the part where you tell me why you're here."

"That's no way to treat an old friend, Norman." Wilson said.

"We're not friends," Norman said right as he reached the foot of the stairs and approached Wilson. "And if you're thinking that I might continue our business dealings from before, you're as delusional as you are massive - Kingpin."

Wilson simply shot a sly and shrewd smile back at Norman coupled with a nonplussed attitude that belied his slick, uptown appearance. The sheer differences in both size and appearance were as evident as ever. Wilson Fisk was an African-American male born and raised in the Bronx who took up physical training, power lifting and the like. He claimed to weigh close to 350 lbs with only 2 percent of body fat – the rest was pure muscle. Rumors suggest that Wilson was discovered by the late crime boss Don Rigoletto to act as his bodyguard, but that ended when Wilson killed Rigoletto and took over his criminal empire, and the Kingpin was born.

Norman knew the history of the Kingpin of Crime and the numerous gang wars with the like of Silvio Manfredi, Martin Li and Leland Owsley. And somehow, Kingpin always seemed to come out on top. Norman's continued icy gaze at Wilson didn't faze him anymore than a bat could avoid being eaten by an owl, and Wilson stepped back in the end and of his own accord. That was because he wasn't at Osborn home to talk him into continuing their previous work together. He had something in mind.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Norman; our business dealings are a thing of the past," Wilson stated. "I'm here to talk to you about a certain costumed maniac and someone who's on a bit more of a lunatic fringe than Spider-Man," Wilson paused for a few moments to make Norman think about it. Then he stated, "I want to talk about the Green Goblin."

Norman raised an eyebrow. That was the creature from his nightmares Fisk was addressing; how the hell did he know about it? "What makes you think I know anything about some sociopath in a Halloween costume?" he asked, trying to play it off.

"I think you know more about the Goblin than you're letting on, Norman," Wilson claimed. "See, I prime my on noticing certain things about my enemies. When the Goblin first abducted me last year, I noticed that the technology he was using at the time came from your company. The glider, the weapons; it all came from OsCorp while you, quite suspiciously I might add, were absent."

Norman huffed and sneered at Wilson while he walked to the table with bottles full of wine and liquor. He poured himself a glass before he explained, "I've told the authorities, the press and anyone else who'll listen that I was away on business in Europe. Donald Menken was left to in charge of OsCorp while I was away, since I couldn't very well trust my own son to run the company."

"Maybe you're giving that fool, Menken, too much credit, or giving your son too little. Either way, it's become clear to me from the start what's been going on at OsCorp." Wilson stated.

Norman slammed the glass down on the table and faced Wilson and snapped, "You're not seriously suggesting that I have something to do with the Green Goblin."

"I'm more than just suggesting it, Osborn," Wilson calmly and stoically replied. "I think you and the Green Goblin are working together to take over my criminal operations and those of Silvermane and Li and Owsley. While you come up with these alibis of business trips abroad, you're putting out the Goblin to take us out. And most importantly, you knew who the Green Goblin really is under that false face of his."

"You're really that paranoid, aren't you, Fisk? You're worried that someone in a Halloween getup discovered your own secret and can't wait to reveal it to the world," Norman stepped up to Wilson so they were face to face and nose to nose. "I'll say it one more time; I DO NOT know anything about the Green Goblin and I'll be DAMNED if I let you pin all this bullshit down on me. Am I clear?"

Wilson remained stoic through Norman ranting, calmly saying, "Crystal."

"Good! Now I have a press conference to attend. I assume you can see yourself out, be it the elevator… or a window. You're choice."

Sure that he got his point across, Norman stormed out living room and left Wilson behind. Wilson remained stoic as he watched Norman disappeared into the elevator. Norman was holding something back; Wilson could tell just that much by watching his mannerisms, his posture. He sure as hell didn't believe a word Norman told him about the Goblin or about Menken running the company in his absence. So when Norman was gone, Wilson reached into his coat pocket and pulled on his cell phone. Hitting the speed dial function and pressing the phone to his ear, Wilson waited for a response and after a few moments, someone on the other end of the line.

"What is it?" a voice asked from the other end of the call.

"I've got a job for you," Wilson replied. "Norman Osborn is about to return to the public eye and he's holding a press conference at OsCorp today. I want him taken care of."

"And if Spider-Man gets involved?" the voice asked.

Wilson replied, "Kill him, too."

Author's note: Good God, this one took forever. Despite lack of reviews thus far, (only got one) this story is progressing. Maybe more will come around; one can hope.

We've gotten our first appearance of J. Jonah Jameson, Robbie Robertson and Betty Brant and established the Peter has been working at the Daily Bugle for two years. Frederick Foswell is briefly mentioned but I can't confirm that he'll appear.

The meat of the chapter is the interaction of Norman Osborn and Wilson Fisk AKA Kingpin, and how Kingpin is suspicious of Osborn being in league with the as-yet to appear Green Goblin. Oh yeah, and Kingpin as African-American; a call back to the late Michael Clarke Duncan.

Additional mentions include Donald Menken, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers and Dr. Strange. Again, I can't clarify any of the mentioned will appear.

If you want to know more about what's going to happen, I suggest you read on and leave a few reviews. I want to keep this story alive but I can't do that without you. Keep it alive.