Spider-Man #4
It's Dangerous Business Getting Your Morning Paper
The sun pried relentlessly into Peter Parker's eyes on the Monday morning that his life would flip upside down. Tried as he might, Peter could not shake the beams and was forced to get up and face the day. As he put his feet on the ground and stretched, Peter could feel the tense muscles in his body and the wounds he had earned ache as he moved. Peter sighed at the searing pain in his sides, however in the same second disregarded them. Those scars should be worn as badges, each one recognizing the steps towards redemption. Since he last visited Ben's grave, Peter felt that he did a great deal towards, not only the community and snuffing a potential criminal, but also did himself a great service. For the first time in three years, Peter Parker was beginning to appreciate himself a little more.
As Peter took care of his hygienic demands, he heard some stirring outside. As he tuned into the conversation outside of his door, it was not only Harry, but also his father, Norman, too. He couldn't make out any words as they spoke, but the mood wasn't pleasant. Peter could sense the tension through his door. Then, a cell phone rang busily inside of someone's pocket.
"What do you want?" Norman Osborn snarled into the cell phone. Peter made the distinction that it was Norman's phone that had rung. For some reason, Norman was in rare form this morning. "What? Yes, well… OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!" He cackled loud enough that Peter's door shook. He could visualize the vein on his forehead pulsating now. "Loo- No! No, I want you down in my office in," Norman hesitated. "I want to see you in my office in twenty minutes, do you hear?" The phone clicked.
Peter sensed that the tyrant's fumes had subsided and retreated back into his nostrils. As he simultaneously opened the door, the other slammed as Peter caught an appearance of Norman's leather shoe. Peter rubbed his hair profusely and looked at a worn Harry Osborn, who, even in the early morning, seemed to be battered.
"Sorry," Harry muttered without looking at his crony. "Did he wake you up?"
"No, no," Peter replied. "But he does make me wanna go back to sleep… It's too early in the morning for that kinda stuff…"
"Tell me about it. He's on about something that happened to Oscorp last night and he's taking it all out on me. Stormin' Norman gave me the 'you'll never amount to anything speech' when I told him that it'll blow over. I can't win with that guy." Harry looked up to Peter in desperation.
"What happened?" Peter said innocently. Since the scuffle, Peter was left in the dark about what was going on. It seemed so much had happened since he had been around the apartment.
"You didn't hear?" Harry said, stunned. "It's all over the Bugle, man," Harry tossed Peter a paper, which had been sitting on the table. The headline read in a bold, taunting font: Oscorp to Blame for Backstreet Brawl. Peter took the paper by the folds and looked intensely at the article, taking in what he could in the frantic seconds that his worst fears were realized. As if to make it worse for Peter intentionally, Harry dived into an explanation. "Apparently, some nut steals stuff from Oscorp, shoots one of dad's scientists on his way home and some mutant," Harry said, embellishing the word mutant with certain distaste. "Some mutant steps in and puts an end to it… Cops bring in the crooked %$#@ that stole the stuff. The mutant is at large."
Peter gulped. Unless mass pandemonium broke out on the other side of town, Peter was in it deep with something way beyond his comprehension. He had probably cost Norman Osborn some money, a scientist, and a reputation. Worst off, he thought, he was now deemed a mutant, which was currently a political and social taboo. Peter would've never imagined these repercussions.
"So, this morning, dad woke up to phone calls from the scientist's family about hospital bills, and, on top of that, the press is breathing down his neck and he's lost God knows how much money… Let me tell ya, it's going to be a long semester at this rate."
Peter gave Harry a dense stare. His sense of pride suddenly crippled in the few minutes that he had been awake. He hung his head. "Yeah," He said deep in thought. "Tell me about it."
* * *
"Parker, what the hell's wrong with you," Peter's boss, J. Jonah Jameson, roared. "You're early!" Jameson pounced on him, gave him an enthusiastic slap on the back, and grinned widely. He made eye contact with his pupil, widened his eyes, and began to speak down to him. "You keep this up, and you'll be with Ben Urich more often…"
"Yes, sir," Peter replied, as if he were a private responding to his drill sergeant.
"In fact," JJ said, occupied with his wris****ch. "I'll have you shadow him today." He looked at Peter again, this time smiling so wide that his roach-of-a mustache crinkled underneath his nose. "I'm gonna have him on the developing Spider-Man story. It's a biggie, so be prepared to get your hands dirty."
Peter's eyes widened and he gulped as if a stone was passing through his throat. Was this street fight between him and the Beetle really going to carry on like this? "Sir," Peter asked, at first sounding as if on the offensive. He sighed, took a deep breath and continued. "With all due respect, what's so special about this guy?"
"He's a criminal at large, son," JJ answered. "That means it's a good story to follow…"
"But, I thought I heard that he saved lives, Mister Jameson," Peter rebutted. His reputation as Spider-Man wasn't as strong as he would've hoped.
Jameson was beginning to fume. His fuse was short to begin with and myriads of questions from an inferior ignited his frustration. He was a very animated person when he was aggravated. "Look, whoever told you that obviously wasn't a journalist. We've had eyewitnesses report in that this Spider-Man was helping the other guy set the fires and ravaging apartment buildings… That's what we're basing our investigation off of. Now, enough of these questions. I've gotta get back to work!"
"But--" Peter attempted to ask him a few more questions; however, JJ wasn't having it.
"Ben's waiting for you outside," Jameson hollered. "GO!"
* * *
Ben Urich was one of Peter's favorite co-workers, although they had a difficult relationship. He was a very disciplined man, one that took things very severely, and always seemed prepared for what Jameson stipulated. Because of his successes as a journalist, Peter looked up to the efforts he made towards furthering his career, although he was at a fairly stable position as it were. Urich was a seasoned reporter reaching his prime; the only thing that really seemed to stop him was a bad left knee and time. These obstacles got in the way of Ben having a positive attitude, although Peter and the rest of the people around him endured his frankness.
The two Bugle employees had been lolling around on the street for some time after Jameson sent them out. Oscorp refused to let reporters in, the Harrow family was a dead end, and Urich refused to visit the prison where Abner Jenkins, affectionately dubbed the Beetle after his suit, was being held because he was a "creep".
After the strenuous schedule that proved fruitless, Peter and Ben stopped.
"Hot dog?" Urich croaked at his companion. He pointed his hitchhiker's thumb towards a hot dog vender's till.
"Sure," Peter responded.
Urich nodded and walked up to the man and ordered two hot dogs. As the vender prepared the two hot dogs, Ben looked at Peter. "Kid, can I ask you a question?"
Peter was sort of shocked. Was Urich really going to embrace a conversation and friendship with him? "Uh, sure." Peter replied. He didn't see the harm in saying so.
"Do you like following me?" Ben asked.
"Well, yeah," Peter responded without thought. It wasn't that he wanted to please his superior; Peter longed to become a journalist and to follow a respected gentleman in the field was a great opportunity that Peter wouldn't spoil. After his answering Ben's question, Peter made the mistake of asking a question. "Why?"
The hot dogs were ready and Ben snatched them harshly and handed one to Peter. "Because," he muttered frankly, as if to reply as a child would trying to get one up on his opponent. "This is my life, Peter. It's like you sell away your life to become a vulture. When you say you're a reporter, people will give you a look, you know? Like, that person is all of a sudden under the microscope… They think you're going to pry into their every thought." Ben hung his head. "It's something I really didn't want to become. Loved the hunt, you know, for the news, but I never considered the cost. I became a germ for a paycheck."
Peter looked at him, and understood what he meant. Here was another example of how reputation could cripple a person and here was what Peter would become if he continued down the same road he was. Here was Urich, a respectable man, being cynical about his passion in life. Peter wanted anything in the world not to end up like him. Currently, his reputation was in danger because of the Spider-Man incident. Was it that important that he would have to hang up his heroics to protect what he coveted most?
* * *
The sun, while still out, lurked at the mid-section of the skyscrapers. It didn't give Peter that much light to feel secure, however, his new abilities could surely keep him safe on the rough and tumble New York City streets. He was waltzing through Empire State territory after his tedious day at work, so he didn't really worry in the first place, but knowing the state of the city sine he had ravaged it, he never could be sure.
"Peter!" A voice cackled from behind him. Peter, startled, turned around to find his professor, Curt Conners, trundling along, panting in an effort to catch up with his student. "Peter… It was you."
Peter couldn't possibly imagine what he meant. "What?" He replied with urgency.
Conners couldn't respond; he was fighting for his breath to come to him again. Instead, he held up a newspaper and a wavering finger pointed at the headline, which read: Oscorp to Blame for Backstreet Brawl. Conners looked up at Peter, the color in his face spent.
* * *
Conners harped on Peter as if he were his father.
"I can't believe you would do something like that," Conners ranted. "You know, you're lucky there were no cameras or you woulda been put in the papers, too. The entire city would be at your neck!"
"Doc," Peter responded, examining the news article. "It says here that some eyewitnesses claimed that I had six arms and antennas. I think I'm good."
Conners sized Peter up and gave him a very severe look. "You don't understand, Peter. The NYPD came to me to see what this was all about, you know, since I'm the 'spider guy'," He held up a wad of Peter's web fluids, charred and frayed at the ends. This had come from the encounter in the street. "Your recklessness is going to get me in trouble, too." He tossed the strands aside and paced the room again. "Not only all of this, but I told you to come back here so we can see about these powers and you ignored me."
Peter, who could no long play the role of an inferior, stood as an equal to his teacher. It was then that he felt he had grown up. The aftermath of what he had set in motion left Peter helpless, but it was his responsibility. He would have to take what he had done and mold it into something right again. After visiting his uncle's grave, he was almost obligated. "It's not like I had a choice, Doctor. Just what did you want me to do?"
Conners paced the room. Part of Peter thought that Conners would have an argument for Peter; the other half was convinced that he had been convinced. Unfortunately for Peter, it wasn't the latter. Conners looked at Peter and spat, "You're a criminal." He tossed his hands in the air and turned around; he couldn't bear to look at Peter anymore than he had. "All of my life as a successful scientist and one of my students, one of my friends, is going to take that away from me. That's forty plus years! You're not listening, are you?"
Peter would've answered Curt's last question with a "no". All day, he had been called a mutant, and, for the second time, he had been called a criminal. Peter had saved a life, probably more, and the selfish people that were too concerned with a news story or their career were still oppressing him. For the first time in his life, Peter sacrificed his own hide for the better of someone else's. For the first time, Peter took a glimpse at the bigger picture, tried to add his two bits and was crucified for it. He was convinced he was doing right, though, and would not be convinced otherwise by the few people that he didn't think understood.
"Are you listening to yourself?" Peter shot back at his professor. He thought it was a good idea to start changing the world around him in the very room in which he stood. "A man could've died and I could've been killed… If I didn't do anything, what would've happened? I had what it took to snuff out something that could've turned into something far more horrific than you think this is. I have done nothing to hurt your career and you're down my throat about it… It was an accident, Dr. Conners. This was all an accident. I didn't choose to be bitten by that spider, you know."
The unrelenting aggression in Conner's face gradually waned. He hung his head, swallowed hard and through up his hands again, more animated this time. "You're right." Conners smiled at Peter, emotion running through his expression. "I'm so sorry… I was overreacted." His actions may have been wooden and a little unnatural, but Peter deemed them genuine. "Just, next time," Conners said. "Remember not to be so reckless. If you're going to save lives all of the time, keep your head about you."
Pete had succeeded in his second mission to convince someone who had once stood against him. He extended his arm and said, "I'll need you to help me, Doctor Conners. I can't do this on my own."
Conners grinned. "Sure, Peter," he said excitedly. "We're a team!" He returned Peter's gesture by putting his hand in his.
A firm handshake symbolized a bond between the two men. They had devoted their ambitions to one another's. Whether it would be fatal for either, neither knew, but they were bound by one another's successes and failures.
"Yeah," Peter said. He began for the door. "Just promise me I'm not gonna be some science experiment in the end…"
Conners mustered his breath and smiled. His chest full of air, Conners looked like a proud man, which Peter had not seen in him before. "Don't worry, Peter. I've got a few ideas that will keep me busy for a while."
Peter left, assured that he had an ally.
