The sound of heavy knocking woke Peter from his slumber. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and cringed as he climbed out of bed. His battle with the Goblin last night had left him sore from head to toe. It definitely wasn’t what he expected. He hadn’t been in this much pain since he went up against the Lizard.

Just where did that guy come from, anyway? And what did he do to himself? Peter certainly hadn’t expected to run into any supervillains while doing the Spider-Man thing.

The knocking persisted and brought Peter back to the present. “I’m coming,” he said. He made the short walk to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway was Captain Jean DeWolff of the NYPD. She looked at Peter, who wore nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.

“I see you dressed for the occasion,” she said.

“Sorry, I was sleeping,” said Peter. He opened the door and allowed her to come in. DeWolff wasted no time in making herself at home, taking a seat in his desk chair.

“Do you mind if I put some pants on?” asked Peter.

“I was about to insist,” said DeWolff.

Peter took a pair of jeans from the floor and pulled them on. He sat on the bed and DeWolff kept her eyes trained on him. Her expression was unreadable, and Peter wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“You came to ESU on a scholarship, correct?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Peter.

“And you worked with Dr. Connors as his lab assistant?”

“It was one of the requirements for the scholarship,” said Peter. “Should I… like, have a lawyer here for this?”

“Why, do you think you need one?”

“Well… I dunno,” said Peter. “Just what is this all about?”

“I’m just trying to get a full picture about Dr. Connors’ disappearance. Speaking to everyone who interacted with him before he vanished.”

“I see,” said Peter.

“Did Dr. Connors talk to you at all about his personal life?”

“No, we weren’t that close, we just worked together.”

“Ever mention any trouble at home? With his wife?”

“Nope,” said Peter.

“What about financial difficulties? Was he hard up for money? Gambling debts?” asked DeWolff.

“I don’t know, but probably not.”

“Why so sure?” asked DeWolff.

“He just… didn’t seem like that type I guess,” said Peter.

“What were you and Connors working on?” asked DeWolff.

“It’s kind of technical…” said Peter. This was what he didn’t want to talk about. Something that could connect him to Spider-Man.

“Try me,” said DeWolff.

“Well… I don’t really know all the details, but it involved harvesting stem cells from animals. He was trying to see if he could find a way to make them compatible with human DNA.”

“I see,” said DeWolff. “And where were you the day of the attack?”

“What attack?” asked Peter.

DeWolff raised her eyebrow. “I’m sure you haven’t already forgotten the day when an animal was loose on campus. The entire school was shut down, classes were cancelled, any of this ring a bell?”

“Yeah, right, sorry I was just kind of out of it,” said Peter.

“So where were you?”

“Here,” said Peter.

“In your room?” asked DeWolff.

“Yeah.”

DeWolff flipped through a small notebook and looked back up at Peter. “I spoke with your resident advisor. She said all the residents of this floor were in the meeting room with her, except for you and your roommate. Now your roommate has already been accounted for, but why haven’t you?”

“Gwen told me about it, but I just decided to stay here,” said Peter. “I was exhausted, just needed to sleep.”

“What do you think about the article that appeared in the student paper the next day?”

“I don’t read the paper…”

“Your roommate was a source in the article.”

“I don’t read the paper and me and Flash don’t really get along,” said Peter.

“It was about someone the paper named Spider-Man,” said DeWolff. “Fighting a giant lizard.”

“Sounds like something out of the tabloids,” said Peter.

“Ever hear of Amazing Fantasy?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a reality TV show about Spider-Man,” said DeWolff.

“I don’t watch TV.”

DeWolff raised an eyebrow. “You’re a college student and you don’t watch TV?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m here on a science scholarship. I have to study a lot to stay ahead of the curve and make sure I still have a scholarship. Otherwise, there’s no way my family could afford this place. Plus, I don’t really like a lot of TV.”

“Do you know where your roommate is?” asked DeWolff.

“No idea,” said Peter. “We’re not that close.”

“So you said.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, with Peter unsure of what to say next. DeWolff solved that problem by asking another question.

“This Spider-Man, he apparently has superhuman abilities. The show’s tagline is ‘he does whatever a spider can’—climb walls, make webs, even has superhuman strength.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“If this is all true, how could he get such strange powers?”

Peter shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You said Connors’ research involved combining animal DNA with human. What sort of results was he expecting?”

“Some animals are immune to certain diseases, others can regenerate at a faster rate,” said Peter.

“If a person used this procedure, and gained those sorts of abilities, couldn’t that person also gain the animal’s other natural abilities?”

“I dunno, maybe,” said Peter. “Look, I’m just a freshman bio student, this is all pretty theoretical from what I can tell. I don’t think Doc Connors was anywhere close to experimenting with this stuff.”

DeWolff flipped through her notepad. “I did some digging, spoke with Dean Warren. And apparently, Connors was ready to move into the next phase, but he was denied funding.”

“He was?” asked Peter.

“He didn’t tell you that?”

“No, I didn’t even know the board got back to him,” said Peter.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” said DeWolff. “Apparently, Connors disappeared shortly after he lost funding. I wonder if he continued his research into the area of human testing, without the permission of the board?”

“How would he do that?” asked Peter.

DeWolff’s eyes were hard. “By testing on himself.”

“I—I guess that’s a possibility…” said Peter. “But if he did, he didn’t trust me enough to let me in on it.”

“Right, as you said, you’re just an assistant, and one who’s only been working with Connors for a short time.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “Hey listen, are we done here? Because I kinda have some place I need to be…”

DeWolff sighed. “I suppose we are. I think I have everything I need from you.” She stood and walked towards the door. “Have a good day, Mr. Parker. Call me if Connors should attempt to contact you.”

“I will,” said Peter. Once DeWolff closed the door, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He lifted his mattress and removed his red and blue costume. Quickly donning it, Spider-Man moved to the window of the dorm and opened it up, relying on his spider sense to warn him if anyone was watching. Crawling out of the window onto the side of the building, he propelled himself forward with his legs and shot out a web line.

RESPONSIBILITY

Part III: The Real World

By Dino Pollard

Norman Osborn sat in his chair, reviewing the footage from Spider-Man’s battle with the Goblin. He picked up the remote and turned off the monitor.

“Beautiful,” he said. One of the producers for Amazing Fantasy stood in the room with him, a nervous look on his face. Osborn turned to address him. “I want this footage edited and on the air within two weeks, understand? This needs to be out by sweeps week. And I want a TV spot ready by tonight.”

“Sir?” asked the producer. “That’s… kind of short notice.”

Osborn’s gaze remained firm. “Do I look like I care?”

“Sorry sir, I’ll get right on it,” he said.

“Good,” said Osborn. “You can go now.”

The man nodded and scurried for the door. Once he left, Osborn opened his desk drawer and produced a small PDA. On it was a map of the city and a red dot moving quickly through the map.

“Van Adder… did you really think you could get away that easily?” asked Osborn with a smile. “No one steals from Norman Osborn and lives.”

He heard a soft buzzing noise and smiled, pressing a button on his desk that caused one of the windows behind him to open. “Come on in, Peter.”

Spider-Man crawled into view and flipped into the open window. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Motion sensors,” said Osborn. “Can’t be too careful these days, especially now that we’ve got supervillains running around.”

“Where’d that guy come from, anyway?” asked Spider-Man.

“Who knows,” said Osborn. “It’s only been a day and we’ve been trying to track down any information on him, studying the footage, but no luck so far. Speaking of which, I’ve got the editors putting together a spot for the Goblin episode. It’ll be perfect for sweeps week.”

Spider-Man cocked his head. “Is that all you really care about? The ratings?” He made a sharp gesture towards the city. “There’s a nutcase out there with superpowers! Not to mention bombs and some sort of glider! And all you care about is the damn ratings?”

Norman rested his chin on his hand. “Peter… relax. I’m a businessman and business is what I’m concerned about at the moment. When the Goblin rears his head, I’m confident you’ll be there to stop him.”

“Stop him? He almost killed me!”

“Then you’ll be better prepared next time.”

Spider-Man sighed. “Look… this is just too much for me to deal with right now. I’ve gotta take some time off, let my wounds heal, all that.”

“Yes, of course, no problem,” said Osborn. “Take all the time you need, my boy.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am,” said Osborn, standing from his chair. He threw an arm around the costumed youth. “You’re my star, I can’t have my star running himself ragged. We’ll get to work on the Goblin, see what we can dig up. In the meantime, you just relax, let those wounds heal, and all will be right with the world.”

“Right… sure thing,” said Spider-Man. He climbed out the window and shot out a webline. Osborn watched him swinging across the city before he removed his cell phone from his jacket and dialed a number.

“Octavius, it’s Norman,” he said once the other party had answered. “That DNA sample we have from Spider-Man? I want you to see what you can do to replicate his powers. I’m worried our star may prove difficult and we’ll need some sort of insurance in case he becomes… problematic.”

The clock had just struck six when Ben Parker walked out of the school building. Although the school day ended at around three, there were some nights he stayed behind longer, especially so close to finals. Most teachers preferred to do their extra work at home but Ben liked the feeling of being in his classroom as he worked, putting himself in that scholarly environment.

His car was the only one remaining in the parking lot. He reached for the door handle and found some sort of adhesive there. Pulling his hand away, he saw it was a spider-web and he sighed.

“You can come out, Peter,” he said.

A figure in red and blue silently dropped to the ground behind him from a lamp post. “Do you have to use my name?” he asked.

Ben chuckled. “Oh please, you worried about someone hearing us? I’m the only one around, kid.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, the tone of their last conversation still present in both their minds. Ben was the one to break the silence. “I’ve been watching your show.”

Peter perked up. “Really?” He stopped himself. “I mean… that’s cool.”

Ben smiled. “Yeah. Your aunt’s not a fan and she keeps asking why I waste my time watching it. But Pete… I saw in the papers today… that thing you were fighting…”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I know. It wasn’t easy, but I got out.”

“Peter, this isn’t the best thing for you to be doing,” said Ben. “I know I came down on you kind of hard last time and I know you want to do the right thing, but doing it for some TV show isn’t the way to go. There are better ways to do this. What if this Osborn character—who I’ve done some research on and he’s a bit of a shady character himself—what if he decides grabbing purse-snatchers isn’t good enough for ratings? What if his buddies in Washington feel that Spider-Man should be out there fighting in the war? You don’t want to be fighting on behalf of some corporate tyrant, understand?”

Ben sighed. “Peter… your father… he was a brilliant man. Smart enough that he had offers pouring in from everywhere when he got his doctorate. He could’ve been a very rich man, but he wasn’t. He focused on non-profit work and helping those who were less fortunate. He wanted to help mankind, not the pharmaceutical companies. One time, our dad—your grandfather—asked him why he was turning down all these opportunities that came with huge financial success. He would tell your father, ‘Richard, you’ve got so much power and you’re just wasting it.’ And do you know what your dad’s response was?”

Peter quietly shook his head.

“He—I’ll never forget this—he looked up at our dad with a smile on his face and he just said, ‘you’re right, Dad. I do have all this power and I could use it irresponsibly and become really rich. But I’m not going to do that. Because I think, I think that with great power comes great responsibility.’”

“And… what did grandpa say?” asked Peter.

Ben chuckled a little. “He told your dad to get the hell out of his house and not to come back until after he got some sense knocked into him.”

“And did he?” asked Peter.

“Nope, they never spoke again,” said Ben. “That was Rich, never back down, never give in. Always stand up for what’s right. He was using power as a way to describe his intelligence, but you’ve got more than that, Peter. You’ve got real power, physical power, power that I can’t even begin to understand. And using it in the service of some media mogul, well… let’s just say your father wouldn’t be pleased.”

Peter sighed and started to walk away.

“Peter wait!” said Ben. “I’m not telling you all this to be hard on you, I’m just trying to let you know that you’re making a big mistake here. You shouldn’t be squandering your talents working for some corporation. You can do so much better, you are so much better. Why did you go after that Lizard character anyway? Not because there was any glory in it, not because there was a paycheck or a movie deal to be had, but because you knew it was the right thing to do.”

Peter slowly turned to face his uncle. “If you wanna be that way, then fine, be that way. I don’t need your support. I don’t need your approval. Since I started doing this show, I’ve done a lot more good for this city than anyone else. I’ve fought thieves and rapists and murderers. And the city is a better place with them off the streets.”

“You’re right, but how long will it be before Osborn realizes he can use you for other purposes?” asked Ben. “It’s only a matter of time before he asks you to completely sell your soul.”

“Yeah well, you’ve gotta trust that I know what I’m doing,” said Peter. “You said my father turned down all sorts of offers and that makes him an idiot. He could’ve worked for the benefit of humanity without taking a huge pay cut. I’m not my father, understand? And I won’t make the same mistakes he did.”

Peter leapt to the lamp post and gripped it, swinging around it to build up momentum before he released and flew into the night sky, firing off a webline. Ben just sighed as he watched his nephew swing out over the horizon.

“I hope you’re wrong about that, kid,” he said. “Goddamn, do I ever hope you’re wrong…”

Peter landed atop a building and removed the web sack strapped to his back. He tore it apart, revealing his street clothes and shoes inside. Pulling them over his costume and then stuffing his mask and gloves into his pockets, he climbed down into the alley and emerged.

By the time he got back to the dorms, the dining hall would be closed until eleven when they opened up for late-night dining. And he didn’t want to wait that long before he got something to eat, so he stepped into a small hot dog restaurant.

He sat alone and ate quietly, running over the events of the past few days in his mind. Osborn seemed really excited about this Goblin character, almost like he wanted these crazies on the streets for ratings. And his conversation with Uncle Ben just made things worse. Not to mention the bombshell that was dropped on him when he found out about Gwen and Harry.

As he ate, he felt that familiar buzz in the back of his head. He looked up and watched as a man walked up to the register and drew a gun, pointed it at the cashier, and demanded for all the money to be put into a bag. The cashier complied quickly and handed the burglar the bag. The thief ran for the door and Peter just watched him, his foot resting on the chair across. Peter’s table was right by the door, all it would take was a simple push and the crook would trip over the chair.

Instead, he just watched.

“Stop him!” shouted the cashier. He ran out the door after the guy and just watched as he disappeared into the crowd. “Dammit!”

The cashier walked back in and noticed the chair with Peter’s foot on it. He looked up at Peter. “The hell is your problem, kid?”

“Excuse me?” asked Peter.

“All you had to do was kick that chair and the guy would’ve gone flying! Now thanks to you, he stole all my money!”

Peter took a sip of his soda. “I’ve got enough problems to deal with. That whole thing was none of my business.”

The cashier’s face turned red with anger. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get the hell out of my restaurant right now before I call the cops!”

“Geez, fine,” said Peter. “Your hot dogs suck anyway.”

“Goddamn kids these days… no morals, no convictions, nothing,” said the cashier. “You’re all a bunch of cowards!”

“Oh bite me,” said Peter.

By the time Peter got back to Lieber Tower, it was already close to eleven. After the incident at the restaurant, he chose to clear his head by catching a movie. Flash was in the room the two shared, uncharacteristic for him, and watching the recent episode of Amazing Fantasy downloaded onto his computer.

“You’re back late,” said Flash. “Hey, next time you decide to leave, mind taking your phone with you?”

“Huh?” asked Peter.

“Your cell, you left it behind,” said Flash. “It’s been ringing nonstop for the past hour or so. Fucking annoying as hell.”

Peter felt the urge to comment on the irony of Flash claiming something was annoying, but he resisted. Instead, he picked up his phone from the desk and checked it. There were fourteen missed calls, all from his aunt and uncle’s house.

He dialed the number and the phone was answered almost immediately.

“Peter?!”

“Aunt May?” asked Peter. He could tell something was wrong from the tone in her voice. “What’s going on?”

“Oh my god Peter… it’s… it’s…”

“It’s what?” asked Peter. “What is it, what happened?”

“Peter… it’s your Uncle Ben…”

His eyes widened as she relayed the events of the past few hours. Before she finished, his hand lost all feeling and the phone slipped from his fingers.

“Peter? Peter, are you there? Peter!”