Daily Bugle
Three Days Ago

Jonah Jameson struggled to contain his rage as the news came to him. “You wanna run that by me one more time, Mr. Robertson?”

Joe Robertson didn’t flinch, but he wanted to. Jonah rarely referred to him as anything other than Robbie. Instead, the Bugle’s editor-in-chief remained steadfast, not allowing his publisher to see even the slightest hint of fear in his face.

“I said we don’t have a picture to go with this story.”

“That masked menace was plastered all over the television, and you’re telling me we can’t get one goddamned picture?” asked Jonah.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Robbie. “Jonah, Oscorp owns the rights to all those pictures and if we try to run this story with one of those photos, his lawyers will take us to the cleaners.”

“Talk to our photographers then!” said Jonah. “Come on, you telling me no one in this town has managed to get a picture of Spider-Man?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. All the pictures that have been run of him were the property of Oscorp. Since the show’s been canceled, no one’s been able to get a shot.”

“That webhead has been all over this city since the show ended! I don’t care what it takes, I want a photo of that freak to go with the story Urich uncovered!”

“Right, about that story, Jonah…”

Jameson began to light a cigar and raised his eyes as he started to puff. “What about it?”

“Ben hasn’t been able to find any corroborating evidence. ESU says the story is completely ridiculous and they can’t provide us with any of Connors’ research.”

“So use the Freedom of Information Act.”

“Jonah, you don’t understand,” said Robbie. “I didn’t say they won’t provide us with the research, I said they can’t. Dean Warren says all of Connors’ records were destroyed in the attack.”

“And what about his family?” asked Jonah.

“His wife refuses to comment.”

“So you’re telling me we’ve got no picture and no story?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We have to cut this one, Jonah,” said Robbie.

Jonah stood and looked out the window of his office onto the city of New York. He rubbed his forehead. But then, a solution presented itself to him. He turned to Robbie, gesturing with the cigar in his hand.

“Put out an ad in tomorrow’s edition,” said Jameson. “A thousand dollars for a photo of Spider-Man!”

LIVEWIRE

Part I

By Dino Pollard

Norman Osborn sat in the back of a limousine, a blindfold covering his eyes and his hands tied behind his back. Two very large men came to him while he had been walking to his car in the Oscorp parking garage. They grabbed him, bound him and threw him in the back of this car.

Osborn had an idea where they were taking him, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Not until he knew for a fact it was true. He felt the car come to a stop and the men roughly removed him from the backseat, practically dragging him into…wherever they were.

They sat him down in a chair, quite forcibly. “What is this?” he asked.

He received no answer but then began to detect the scent of a burning cigar. He felt a presence over his body, one that had been very large and soon, he felt the smoke being blown into his face.

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn,” said the man, his voice a deep baritone. “I trust no introductions are in order?”

“Not at all…” began Osborn, “…Kingpin.”

The Kingpin smiled at the recognition, puffing on the cigar as his massive body moved around Osborn’s chair. “Your associate, a Mr. Kingsley, recently came to me with a simple proposal. He asked me to give you the information of one of my top assassins to rescue your son. You were willing to pay quite handsomely for the services rendered.”

“And still am,” said Osborn.

“I don’t need your money, Osborn,” said the Kingpin. “I could buy your company several times over if I so desired. What interests me more are favors. I did you a favor, and how did you repay me?”

“I haven’t, not yet. You haven’t asked me for anything.”

“I loaned Kraven to you and what happened to him?” asked the Kingpin.

Osborn shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“He wound up hanging from a rooftop, bound in webbing. And now, the police presently have him in custody.”

“You have lawyers,” said Osborn. “I can’t be held responsible if Spider-Man got involved.”

“And yet, you once sponsored Spider-Man, made a television show about him,” said the Kingpin. “Fairly recently, I believe. And the man who captured your son was Otto Octavius, another former employee. Then there’s the matter of this Goblin character who appeared to menace Spider-Man.”

“What are you getting at?”

“It seems you’ve set up quite the little freak factory, Mr. Osborn.” Osborn felt the Kingpin’s massive hand slowly wrap around the back of his head. “I could crush your head like a ripe melon right now.”

Osborn began to grunt in pain as the Kingpin’s grip tightened.

“After all, it was your freak who led to my assassin’s current predicament.”

“Spider-Man doesn’t work for me anymore!”

“But you created him, didn’t you?”

“No, it was an accident! I just discovered him, that’s all!”

“And you did tests on him, tests that led to the creation of this Goblin?”

“Yes! I did, okay?”

The Kingpin released Osborn’s head. “I won’t kill you, Norman. That would be too easy. And too unprofitable.”

“What do you mean?” asked Osborn.

The Kingpin circled back around to the front, laying a gigantic hand very gently on Osborn’s shoulder. “This may come as a shock to you, but I am actually something of a science buff myself, Norman. I read the journals and I have been particularly fascinated by your research in the field of genetics. And after seeing the Goblin, I know what your capabilities are in this area.”

“What are you saying?” asked Osborn.

The Kingpin smiled. “Let’s make a deal.”

Empire State University
Today

Peter Parker sat nervously outside the office of the dean. He had gotten a call a few days ago, telling him that he needed to come speak to Dean Warren in person about a very important matter.

His mind had been occupied with recent events. The Goblin and now Doctor Octopus and that weird Kraven guy. This superhero stuff was quickly proving to be a lot more dangerous than he originally thought. All of a sudden, all these supervillains were popping up out of the woodwork. Peter began to question if it was Spider-Man’s presence that had spurned them.

Or maybe there was a connection. The Goblin appeared when he was still working for Osborn and Octavius also worked for Oscorp. Kraven was also there to rescue Harry. It stood to reason there could be something else going on here. Was Osborn somehow involved in creating these freaks?

“Mr. Parker?”

Peter’s head snapped up to the secretary. She offered a light smile. “The dean will see you now.”

“Thanks,” said Peter. He stood and walked to the rear of the room where there was a door leading to another office. Miles Warren stood behind his desk and offered his hand.

“Mr. Parker, thank you for coming,” he said.

Peter shook his hand and then Warren motioned for him to sit. He did so, placing his bag at his legs. Warren sat down behind his desk and folded his hands together. Peter could see a file beneath his hands and he started to get a very slight tingle of his spider sense.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” said Warren. “Your scholarship came about as a result of the grant Professor Connors had been working with and was contingent on you helping him with his research. Now unfortunately, we’re going to have to discontinue that scholarship given Connors’ disappearance.”

“What?” asked Peter. “Can you find someone else who can take over the Professor’s research?”

“I’m sorry but no. You were the only one Connors worked with and we certainly can’t allow an undergraduate to perform such delicate and complicated research.”

“What about transferring me? I could assist another professor.”

“We considered that, but unfortunately, there are no vacancies. Everyone else in the science department already have enough assistants as well as waiting lists.” Warren sighed. “I understand this is difficult, but the grant has been retracted. There is simply no other option. You are financed through the rest of this semester, but after that, you’ll need to find your own way to make the payments. If you require financial assistance, I can give you the name and number of someone at the financial aid office.”

“You don’t understand,” said Peter. “My uncle died a few months ago and my aunt has been saddled with funeral costs. We don’t have a lot of money, even before he died the only way we could afford this place is with my scholarship. Without it, I…”

“I’m really sorry, son. I have your information and I will contact you if something else becomes available.” Warren opened a drawer in his desk and took out a business card which he handed to Peter. “Here’s the information for the financial aid office. That’s the best I can do right now.”

Max Dillon found himself standing in his girlfriend’s dorm room with his mouth hanging open. The lilies he bought for her fell from his loose grip. There, sleeping naked in bed was his girlfriend. Next to him was a guy with short blond hair, also naked with his arm wrapped around her.

“…Katie?”

She didn’t move. Max nudged her a little and she slowly stirred awake, as did the guy. “Mmmm not now, Flash. Need some more sleep.”

“KATIE!”

Max’s shout woke both her and the man she was with. As soon as she saw her boyfriend’s face, she pulled the sheet over her bare breasts in surprise. “Max! What are you doing here?”

“We were supposed to go out, remember?” asked Max. He looked down at the flowers. “Today’s our anniversary…”

“Max, I’m sorry, I just…I…”

“Shut up!” He turned away from her, feeling the tears beginning to form behind his eyes. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me! And who the hell is this guy?”

“This…this is Flash, he’s…”

Max turned around. “Flash? Flash Thompson?”

Flash raised his hand a little. “Nice to meet you, bro.”

Max pointed at him. “You’ve been cheating on me with a goddamn freshman?!”

“Whoa, I made varsity, dude,” said Flash.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m sorry, Max,” said Katie. “But we’ve been growing apart for a long time. You just… Every time there’s something going on at the house, you always want to go out to a movie or stay in my room.”

“…so I’m not too big on parties,” said Max.

“It’s not just parties, but you’re just…well…”

“Say it,” he muttered.

“Max, please.”

“Go on, say it,” said Max. “You know you want to, so just say it!”

Katie sighed. “You’re boring. There’s just no spark anymore. I’m sorry.”

“…I think maybe I should go,” said Flash, beginning to lift the sheet off his body.

“No, by all means, stay.” Max picked up the flowers. “I think it’s obvious I’m the one who’s not wanted here, right?”

“Max, don’t be like that, I’m so—”

He threw the flowers at her. “Happy anniversary, you bitch.” Max left the room, slamming the door behind him.

As Peter left the dean’s office, he took out his cell phone and looked through the contact list for Aunt May’s number. But he hesitated, not wanting to push the call button yet. What would he tell her? She already had the funeral costs to worry about. And he wasn’t even sure if he could get a loan, especially with how bad the economy was right now. Besides, Aunt May’s credit wasn’t that great to begin with.

Peter sighed and pushed his back against the wall, sliding down to the ground. “What am I gonna do?”

He started to wish he had stayed with Oscorp. Maybe he would have sold his soul in the process, but at least he could pay for school. There has to be something he could do, some way to…

His eye caught something on the ground in front of him. Peter leaned forward, picking up the discarded copy of the Daily Bugle. On the front page was an image of a spider with a question mark inside. The headline read $1000 FOR A PHOTO OF SPIDER-MAN!

“A thousand bucks…” muttered Peter. Granted, a thousand dollars wouldn’t even begin to cover his college costs, but it could help out a little bit. And maybe he could find another way to get some more money out of this. Besides, this wasn’t like working for Osborn. He was still doing what he was doing already, just taking photos that would be snapped anyway. And if anyone deserved to make money off photos of Spider-Man, who better than the man who secretly was Spider-Man?

Peter shoved the paper in his bag and ran from the administration building. All he needed now was a camera. And he knew someone who could help him out with that part.

Alpha Sigma Lambda

Max Dillon slammed the door open and stormed inside the fraternity house. Over on the couch, Harry Osborn sat with Randy Robertson watching television. Harry stood up once he saw Max rush upstairs.

“Max? Everything cool?”

Harry walked to the foot of the stairs. “Hey Max, you okay?”

“Let him be, man,” said Randy.

Harry walked back to the couch, jerking his thumb towards the stairs. “Didn’t he have a date with his girlfriend?”

“Like I give a shit,” said Randy. “Dillon bugs me, man.”

“Lay off,” said Harry, sitting on the couch. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Dude’s lame.”

“He’s just got his own thing, that’s all,” said Harry.

“Man’s crapped out on almost everything we try to get him to do. Why’s he even in this frat if he’s not gonna participate?”

“Here we go…” muttered Harry.

“I’m just sayin’…”

“I hear what you’re saying, but why do you care so much?” asked Harry. “Look, Max is a bit shy, he’s got his own thing going on.”

“Only reason he’s in this thing is ’cause his brother was,” said Randy. “Now his brother, he was cool. Steve Dillon, that guy was a badass.”

“Look man, just lay off him, okay?” asked Harry. “I’m gonna go up to talk to him.”

As Harry began to walk to the stairs, the doorbell rang. He looked back at the couch. “Think you can get that?”

“Why? You’re right there,” said Randy.

“Lazy bastard,” muttered Harry. He opened the door. “Pete? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Harry,” said Peter. “Look, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and…” Peter stopped. “Oh geez, I’m sorry. How are you doing after what happened?”

“I’m good,” said Harry. “Got out okay, didn’t get any hurt or anything. And watching it…damn man, I’ll tell you. I saw him on my dad’s show, but it’s completely different seeing Spider-Man in person.”

“So I hear,” said Peter, failing to suppress the grin that appeared on his face.

“Anyway, what’d you need?”

“Oh, right!” said Peter. “Look, do you have a camera I could borrow?”

“A camera?”

“Yeah, I need it for…for something important.”

“Sure, come on in, I’ve got it up in my room.” Harry led Peter up the stairs. “Y’know, assuming Doc Ock didn’t destroy it when he broke in.”

“Bet the police asked you a lot of questions,” said Peter.

“Actually no, they didn’t have the chance to,” said Harry. “But there were these other guys there—feds, I think. They asked me a lot. Kept me for a few hours, did all sorts of tests.”

“Feds?” asked Peter. That was unexpected. Osborn was a big player, but getting government agents involved?

“Yeah, guys in dark suits and sunglasses and everything, real Men In Black-type shit,” said Harry. “They asked me what I saw, if I knew Spider-Man, what sort of powers I saw him demonstrate, asked me what sort of contact I had with him, all that stuff.”

Could it be the FBI? Maybe the NSA or even the CIA? Peter tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. He had enough to worry about right now without dealing with government agents who may be after him.

Harry stopped on the way to the room, standing at Max’s door. He knocked a few times on it. “Hey Max, you good?”

Harry waited a few seconds but heard no response. “…Max?”

Still nothing. Harry shrugged.

“What’s that about?” asked Peter.

“I dunno, just think something might be up,” said Harry. “Guess he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”

Harry took Peter into his room and opened the top drawer of his dresser. “Ah good, here it is.” He took out a small digital camera and handed it to Peter. “This thing’s great, small but it gets the job done. You should be able to take some good shots with this.”

“Nice,” said Peter, examining. “Does it have an auto setting?”

“Yeah, let me show you,” said Harry.

Max heard Harry knocking on his room door, except he wasn’t in his room. He was in the bathroom a few feet away, lying in the tub full of water. He held pictures of him and Katie in his hands, which he tore up as he looked at them.

“Stupid bitch, you’ll be sorry you made me do this,” he muttered. He reached over the edge and picked up a small stereo that was plugged into the wall. “No spark, huh? How’s this for a spark?”

He dropped the stereo into the tub and his body convulsed as electricity coursed through his body. After a few moments, it stopped and he lay motionless in the tub, steam rising from his body.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open with a spark.