Daily Bugle

The door to J. Jonah Jameson’s office opened and reporter Ben Urich entered, an excited expression on his face. “Jonah, I think I’ve found something!”

Jameson remained calm as he searched through papers on his desk, a cigar held between his lips. “Urich, what did I tell you about my open-door policy?”

Urich sighed. “You don’t have one.”

“That’s right,” said Jameson. “So you’ve got five seconds to tell me why you found it necessary to violate that policy before I shove my foot up your a—”

“I’ve got a lead on the Spider-Man story.”

Jonah looked up at Urich’s interruption. “Then what the hell are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Don’t pussy-foot around when you’ve got information like that, you burst in and you announce it! Damn Urich, don’t you realize you’ve gotta be assertive if you wanna last in this business?”

Urich rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jonah.”

“So spill, what is it?” asked Jameson.

“Look, we thought Spider-Man first appeared on Amazing Fantasy, right? And we thought maybe Osborn had some sort of hand in his creation?”

“What’s your point?”

“This is.”

Urich dropped an old edition of Empire State University’s college paper on top of Jameson’s desk. On the front page was a headline that read MYSTERIOUS SPIDER-MAN BATTLES ESCAPED ANIMAL.

“So what, some college paper wrote about something Spider-Man did? This is news?”

“Look at the date, Jonah. This issue came out before Osborn’s show.”

“What?” asked Jameson, checking again. “Slap my ass and call me Shirley, you’re right. What else did you find out?”

“I did some checking into ESU, right? And get this…” Urich sat in a chair in front of Jonah’s desk. “Turns out there was a genetics professor there named Curt Connors. He was looking into the possibility of combining human DNA with other organisms, to use the genetic traits of animals, insects, plants, whatever to cure ailments in humans. And Connors had a lot invested in this—he’s an amputee, lost his arm a few years back.”

“So what? Did you talk to him?”

“No, turns out right before this animal attack, the college cut his funding,” said Urich. “And when that happened, Connors disappeared. Soon after, this Spider-Man shows up not only on the exact same campus, but in front of the exact same building where Connors’ office was located. Police report says there was a giant hole found in Connors office, the kind that can only be made with a sledgehammer. Or…”

“…or someone with superhuman strength…” muttered Jameson.

“’Is he strong? Listen, bud. He’s got radioactive blood…’” Urich smiled as he recited part of the Amazing Fantasy theme song.

“Okay,” said Jameson, standing from his desk and facing his window, looking out over Ditko Plaza. “Connors is working on this research and his funding is cut. He’s got a lot invested in this, he needs someone to test this on. Who better than himself, right? After all, he wants to regrow his arm. So he experiments on himself and not only does he get a new arm, but he also finds out he’s got superpowers. He needs to continue his research but can’t do it without funding. So he goes to Osborn with this. Osborn makes him a deal—be my new reality TV star and I’ll give you all the funding you need. To avoid any suspicion as to how Connors got all this new funding at the same time as Spider-Man shows up, Connors goes into hiding. That sound about right?”

“A little far-fetched, but so does a guy with spider powers fighting a goblin who flies around on a glider,” said Urich.

“Benji, we’ve got our next headline,” said Jameson with a wide grin. “SPIDER-MAN: UNMASKED!”

ARMED & DANGEROUS

Part IV: The Hunted

By Dino Pollard

Spider-Man swung on a webline over the city of New York, heading towards the coast. He flipped and landed on a building, staring down. “This is the address I found in Octavius’ apartment,” he said to himself. “Gotta be where he’s hiding out, where he’s got Harry. Now I just have to figure out the best way to get inside without him noticing me, because those arms he’s got are gonna be trouble.”

Before the web-slinger could leap into action, he felt that familiar buzzing in his head and jumped from his perch, flipping in the air and narrowly missing a strike by a man dressed in animal furs, wielding a spear. Spider-Man landed in a crouch, focusing on his new attacker.

“Who the hell are you? The ghost of Steve Irwin?”

The man uttered a growl, one that sounded inhuman. Spider-Man felt the buzzing once more. “Oh boy…that doesn’t sound too good…”

He charged at Spider-Man, thrusting forward with his spear. The warning sense allowed Spider-Man to predict where each strike was coming from and to avoid it as best as possible, but this guy was fast. Unnaturally fast.

“Jeez pal, I know Red Bull gives you wings, but this is ridiculous!” said Spider-Man, backflipping and kicking the hunter in the chin as he swung his legs over.

“I am Kraven the Hunter,” said the man, wiping the small speck of blood from his chin. “You will take me to Octavius and the Osborn child.”

“I don’t know where you’ve been getting your info from, but I’ve got nothing to do with Octavius,” said Spider-Man.

“Lies!” cried Kraven, hurling the spear forward. Spider-Man shot out a webline, snagging it in mid-air, and flung it off the roof.

“If you’re not gonna play nice, I’ll just have to take your toys away from you. Now back off before I give you a spanking.”

He paused and considered the words he just spoke. “Hey, can I get a do-over? That sounded a lot less gay in my head.”

Kraven drew a pair of tribal daggers, jumping in the air and bringing them down towards Spider-Man. The web-slinger twisted and ducked to avoid the blades. “All right, I get the message, no quip do-overs!”

“Both your scent and Octavius’ were all over Osborn’s house!” said Kraven. “I know you are working with him!”

“Hey man, my scent was there for different reasons!” said Spider-Man and then he groaned. “Jeez, I am having such a gay day.”

Kraven wrapped his arms around Spider-Man’s waist as he tried to leap away, crushing him in a vice-like grip. “Argh…and this…isn’t…helping!”

Spider-Man fired a glob of webbing in Kraven’s eyes and the hunter released his prey as he tried to tear the strands off his face. Spider-Man ducked low and drove his elbow between Kraven’s legs, causing the assassin to double over in pain. As he did, Spider-Man executed an uppercut, sending Kraven reeling. Spider-Man encased him in a web cocoon.

“I hate to fight and run,” he said. “Actually, scratch that, I’m okay with it. But I’ve got a frat boy to rescue.”

Spider-Man leapt from the building, firing and swinging from a webline towards Octavius’ location, with Kraven’s taunts following him: “You coward! Come back and fight like a man!”

Queens

Mark Raxton pulled up to the suburban house, moving the manual gear shift into neutral and pulling up the parking brake. “Well, here we are.”

Mary Jane Watson looked out the window at her house and nodded. “Yup, here we are.”

“I had a good time tonight,” said Mark.

She looked at him and smiled. “Me too, thanks. I just needed to get out, blow off some steam.”

“Somethin’ bothering you?”

“Not really, no. Just…school and the play, it’s a lot.”

“So…” Mark tapped his steering wheel in rhythm. “You got any plans tomorrow night?”

“I—”

She didn’t, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him that. Mark was a nice enough guy. He was in the music department and she was part of the drama, and those circles always seemed to intersect. But something was holding her back.

“I think I’m just going to stay in tomorrow.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, the play starts in a few weeks and I still don’t have all my lines memorized. So I think I’m just going to work on them.”

“I-I could help,” he said. “Y’know, read them with you? Bring over a pizza?”

She smiled again. “Thanks but I memorize better on my own.”

“Okay…so I guess I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at school.”

Mark started to lean in, somewhat nervously and Mary Jane found herself pulling away, opening her door and getting out, leaving Mark with his head halfway between the two seats. “Good night, Mark.”

Mark sighed and sat back in his seat, disengaging the parking brake. “Have a good weekend, MJ.”

He drove off and Mary Jane walked towards her front door. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. First, Peter tells her he’s interested in that RA in his dorm and then he comes to her window in the middle of the night. She just wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation, assuming there even was a situation. And now, she was putting her life on hold.

“Give him a break, MJ,” she said to herself as she leaned against the tree in her front lawn. “His uncle just died.”

Yes, but how long was Mary Jane going to wait for him?

“Hey—hey, what’s going on?” asked Harry. He could feel the cold touch of chains wrapped around his arms, dangling him in the air. His eyes were covered by a blindfold. He struggled, the chains suspending him jangling as he did.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, young Osborn.”

That voice, the voice of his captor. Harry then heard the hum of servos and the sound of something heavy striking the ground. It grew louder until he could sense the presence of Otto Octavius a few feet from him.

“You see, should you fall loose from those chains, it’s quite a long drop,” he said.

“Look, just tell me what you want,” said Harry. “My father, he’s Norman Osborn. He’ll give you whatever you want, I promise. As long as you don’t hurt me.”

“Oh yes, Osborn will give me what is owed to me,” said Octavius. “But Dr. Octopus requires more than simple cash. Have you ever read The Merchant of Venice, Harold?”

“My girlfriend dragged me to see it once,” said Harry. “She’s an English major.”

“A cultured young woman,” said Dr. Octopus. “One wonders what she’s doing with an Osborn.”

“—hey!”

“Then perhaps—assuming you weren’t sleeping through the performance, of course—you remember that Shylock wanted a pound of flesh,” said Dr. Octopus. “I, too, require my pound of flesh.”

Harry heard the servos again and then the sound of metal parts moving quickly in succession. Then, a buzzing noise and air blowing towards him. He began to sweat, his mind already beginning to form an image for him. “Oh god…tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a buzz-saw, Harry,” said Dr. Octopus. “And I shall use it against you should you give me any trouble.”

“Please…please don’t do this…”

The saw stopped. “Relax Harry, I don’t plan to claim my pound of flesh from you. You are simply my insurance that your father comes through on his end of our bargain.”

Dr. Octopus turned away, his arms carrying him to a workbench. “You see, I worked for your father for years. And yet, he treated me like garbage. Refused to grant me what was owed to me. And for that—”

When he turned around, Harry was gone. “What in the name of—?”

Spider-Man now hung from the chains, upside down. “Sorry Doc, but Harry had to run. Kids these days, absolutely no manners. I mean, he didn’t even say goodbye! Personally, I blame rap music.”

Dr. Octopus’ upper arms shot forward, extending towards him. Spider-Man swung from the chain, releasing it and avoiding the arms, firing a glob of webbing to bind them together.

“I can see you disagree,” he said. “So what’s your explanation? The Internet?”

Dr. Octopus pulled his arms apart, shredding the webbing. Spider-Man was perched on a wall and watched as those arms came towards him again and he leapt between them, swinging from a webline. “Grand Theft Auto, perhaps?”

“If Osborn thinks he can send his lackeys after me, he is sadly mistaken!” shouted Dr. Octopus.

“Oh please, unlike you, I’m not dumb enough to keep working for Osborn,” said Spider-Man. “Now calm down. No one likes a cranky punching bag, Ock.”

“That’s Dr. Octopus!”

“And I’m sure your mother is very proud.”

Dr. Octopus set himself on the ground and now all four arms charged towards Spider-Man. “This might be difficult…”

He ducked the first arm, then wrapped his arm around it, flailing with it as the other three tried to strike him. Spider-Man shot webbing from arm to arm, pulling himself through the twisting maze those mechanical tentacles kept trying to trap him in.

He pulled himself free and shot a webline, swinging towards the rafters. Okay Spidey, time to put that scholarship-winning brain to good use. Those arms are making it almost impossible for me to get in close to hit him, so gotta find another strategy.

It was then he took notice of the sunglasses Dr. Octopus wore. He flipped away as another arm came towards him, his spider sense allowing him to stay one step ahead of the tentacles. Sunglasses at night, huh? Either he’s trying to make a fashion statement—doubtful—or he needs those things. And there’s that computer system he’s near…

Spider-Man flew up at the wall and bounced off, diving straight towards Dr. Octopus. He extended one arm out in front, throwing the other back. He fired a webline at Dr. Octopus, sticking to his sunglasses and yanked them off. With his other arm, a split-second later, he shot out another webline, pulling himself from the path of the tentacles.

He swung towards the computer terminal, with Dr. Octopus approaching closer. “You can’t run forever, you stupid little insect.”

“Don’t plan on it, Doc Ock,” said Spider-Man. He jumped just as Dr. Octopus’ tentacles shot towards him, shattering the computer equipment and causing a bright burst of light that was enough to momentarily blind him.

That was just the opportunity Spider-Man needed, jumping free without worrying about Dr. Octopus’ arms striking him. He latched onto the villain’s back, bringing his fists down on Dr. Octopus’ head, withholding his strength just enough so he would only knock the man unconscious and not cause his skull to cave in.

“And that’s all she wrote,” said Spider-Man as he webbed up his unconscious foe. He went back up to the roof and found Harry Osborn, who had been watching from a skylight, waiting for him.

“That was unreal,” said Harry.

“I don’t think he’ll bother you for a while,” said Spider-Man.

“I hope you’re right, I’ve had enough craziness to last me a lifetime,” said Harry. He looked at Spider-Man with a raised brow. “Say…you sound kind of…familiar.”

“Umm…I-I think that’s just because you saw me on TV,” said Spider-Man, now intentionally trying to change his voice.

“That Spider-Man guy, right? So you work for my father?”

“Worked. As in ‘past-tense.’ These days, your dad and I don’t really get along.”

“That’s a story I’d like to hear,” said Harry. “He doesn’t tell me that much about his work or…well, anything, really.”

“Sorry kid, that’s between us,” said Spider-Man. “C’mon, I’ll give you a lift home.”

An anonymous tip led Detective Jean DeWolff to the whereabouts of both Kraven the Hunter and Dr. Octopus. Although now, she found herself with another problem on her hands: “Just how the hell are we supposed to contain this guy once he wakes up?”

A uniformed officer came running into the warehouse from outside. “Detective! There’s something you really need to see!”

DeWolff followed him outside as a large helicopter descended on the street. Several men dressed in dark suits, trench coats and sunglasses emerged from the craft once it landed. “Something I can help you gentlemen with?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the spinning blades.

“No thank you, Detective, we have what we need, you and your men can stand down,” said one of the men, who had a large red mustache.

DeWolff crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re going to need more than a fancy chopper to kick me out of my crime scene.”

“How does this sound?” asked the man, handing her a slip of paper. “This is post-human situation.”

“Excuse me? Post-human?”

“Yes, you heard correct,” said the man. He flashed her some identification which included a badge with the emblem of an eagle in the center. “Timothy Dugan of the Super-Human Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Directorate. As per Special Executive Order 6160, Dr. Octavius is our prisoner. You and your men can now leave my crime scene.”

NEXT: Livewire