“Is this a joke?”

The question came from Ben Parker. His nephew, Peter, sat across him in a coffee shop not far from Empire State University’s campus. Peter just shook his head.

“No, not even close,” he said.

Ben smirked. “Right, whatever you say, kid.”

“I’m not joking,” said Peter.

“C’mon Pete, I wasn’t born yesterday,” said Ben. “If you told me you got some girl pregnant or you got suckered by some credit card company, I could believe those things. But now you’re telling me you got superpowers?”

Peter reached for his messenger bag and fished around inside it. He pulled out a copy of ESU newspaper he got his hands on before he left campus and set it down on the table in front of his uncle. “Look at this,” he said.

Ben adjusted his glasses and picked up the paper. He scanned the headline. “‘Mysterious Spider-Man battles escaped animal’. What’s this?”

Peter pointed at the artist rendition. “That’s me,” he said. “I’m this Spider-Man they’re talking about.”

“According to the article, there’s only one witness,” said Ben.

“I know, my roommate.”

“Ah, I see, so this is all some sort of prank you guys are working out together,” said Ben. “Gotta hand it to you, that’s a pretty good one. Never would’ve thought of that in my college days.”

“No, that’s not it,” said Peter.

“Pete, enough. It’s a nice little joke, but don’t wear it out.”

Peter looked over his left shoulder and then followed it up with his right. Ben watched him with curiosity. “What are you doing?”

Once Peter was sure the coast was clear, he flexed his wrist and a thin strip of webbing shot out from just above his palm and struck the side of Ben’s cup. Ben looked at the strand and touched it carefully. He then looked up at Peter and back at the webbing.

“Holy shit…” he said. He looked up at his nephew again. “You really were serious.”

BIG-TIME SUPERHERO

Part II: Confessions

By Dino Pollard

Oscorp

Norman Osborn stood at one end of a long, sleek table. Seated around the table were various producers, who flinched as Osborn leaned forward on the table, his palms resting on the top. Lying in front of his hands was the latest issue of the Torch, the ESU student newspaper.

“I want to know everything about this ‘Spider-Man’ and I want to know it yesterday,” said Osborn.

“…sir?” asked one of the producers. “I thought we were here to discuss new programming?”

“We are and this is it,” said Osborn, his finger pointed at the paper. “This is our next show.”

One of the producers leaned closer to read the headline. He looked at the artist rendition, then back at his employer. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t think I understand.”

“Superheroes,” said Osborn. “They dominate the film industry. Smallville draws huge ratings and Heroes seems to follow that same trend. People want heroes. They want to be able to turn on the television and see noble heroes standing up against despicable villains and overcoming impossible odds. We live in a country where both political parties are implicated in scandal after scandal and traditional role models—cops, firemen, doctors—they’re demonized in television dramas. People want hope again and that’s what we’ll give them.”

“So you want us to make a pilot based off a story we found in a college newspaper?”

“Better. This won’t be based off a real story, this will be a real story,” said Osborn.

“I don’t follow…”

Osborn started to walk slowly around the table, and the eyes of the producers followed him. “Reality TV is the big craze, right? Superheroes are obviously popular. So what do we do? We capitalize on both of those and combine them.”

“Who Wants To Be A Superhero?” asked a producer with a chuckle.

“No, a reality show that follows the exploits of a real-life superhero,” said Osborn. “This Spider-Man is just that. And he’s our perfect contender. According to the witness in this article, Spider-Man had powers. Superhuman strength, could cling to walls, agility, speed, he even shot webbing from his hands. That’s what we need.”

“We’d definitely save a lot on special effects…” said one producer.

“And no worries about hiring any writers…” said another.

“Exactly,” said Osborn.

“But sir, look at this sketch—even if this Spider-Man is for real, he’s a guy in a ski mask.”

“We give him a costume. Something bright and flashy. Something that screams ‘hero’,” said Osborn.

“Sir, one question…”

Osborn turned to look at one of the producers. “Yes?”

“How exactly are we going to find this Spider-Man?” he asked.

“This happened on ESU’s campus, so I think it wouldn’t be difficult to assume that Spider-Man is either part of the faculty or the student body,” said Osborn. “ESU’s been doing some cutting edge work with genetics. And then this Spider-Man pops up there? Seems a bit too coincidental. Get whatever information you can regarding that.”

“How do we do that?” asked a producer.

“Oscorp is more than just this media company,” said Osborn. “Get in touch with our science division. I’m sure we have some money invested in this. Talk with Stromm. Find out what he knows, if there’s anything he can give us. I also want to find the highest crime areas of New York, places where Spider-Man would be the most effective.”

“What should we call this, Mr. Osborn?”

“Why not Spider-Man?”

“…doesn’t someone own the rights to that?”

“Well what about Web of Spider-Man?”

“No, it should be The Amazing Spider-Man.”

“No,” said Osborn. “It should be Amazing Fantasy.”

Queens

Ben pulled his ’97 Saturn into the driveway of his home. On the drive home, Peter went through the whole story from the beginning, about Professor Connors and the Lizard and how Peter got mixed up in it. Now, Ben shifted the gear to park and turned off the car. He looked out the car window and could see his wife May in the family room, talking on the phone. He considered what he was going to say to her, then turned to his nephew.

“Listen… let’s keep this Spider-Man business just between the two of us. At least until we know more. I don’t want to worry your aunt,” he said.

“Sure,” said Peter.

“You know how she worries,” said Ben. “And if she knows you were fighting a Godzilla reject, I think it’d only make things worse on her.”

“So… what are we going to do about it?” asked Peter.

Ben sighed. “I really don’t know. But I’ll figure something out. And when I say keep it between us, that goes beyond Aunt May. Don’t tell anyone about this, not even MJ.”

“Right, I got it,” said Peter. “Our secret.”

Ben nodded. Peter opened the passenger door and slung his bag over his shoulder. Ben stood outside the car and watched as his nephew entered the house. As soon as Peter opened the door, May put the phone down and ran up to him and gave him a hug. Ben smiled as he saw his wife’s lips moving a mile a minute. No doubt she was berating the poor kid with question after question about college so far. Ben closed the car door and walked inside his home.

“May, get off the poor kid, he just got home,” said Ben. “You act like you haven’t seen him in years.”

“He’s never been away from home for more than a week, I’m allowed,” said May with a smile. She kept her arm around her nephew and looked back at him. “You seem… different.”

“Really?” asked Peter. He glanced to his uncle, then back to his aunt. “Different how?”

“Well, first off, you’re not wearing your glasses,” said May. “What happened to them?”

“They… umm… they broke,” said Peter.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked May.

“I dunno, it just doesn’t seem like I need them,” said Peter. “I can see just fine without them.”

May stepped back from him and gave him a once-over. “That’s not it, though… there’s something else about you…” She ran her hand through his hair. “Did you get a haircut?”

Peter lightly batted her hand away from his head. “Nope, no haircut.”

“Well whatever, have you been eating okay?” asked May.

“That’s probably what’s different,” said Ben. He sat down in a recliner. “All that beer and pizza, the kid’s probably on his way to the freshman fifteen.”

May turned to him with a condescending stare. “Peter doesn’t drink.” She snapped her gaze to Peter. “Do you?”

“No,” said Peter.

“Told you,” said May.

“May, how many times did you tell your parents about your drinking habits in college?” asked Ben, eyes pointed directly at her. She moved towards him and playfully slapped him on his shoulder.

“We don’t talk about that,” she said.

“Sure we don’t,” said Ben. He pretended to cough, disguising his words. “Hypocrite!”

“Hush, or you sleep on the couch,” said May. She looked at Peter. “So what are your plans?”

“I thought I’d check out the homecoming game,” said Peter.

“Since when do you go to the homecoming game?” asked May. Peter shrugged.

“May, leave the kid alone. Homecoming games are only fun when you’re an alum.”

“When are you going to be home?” asked May.

“May!” said Ben.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” said May. She smiled at her nephew and ruffled his hair. “He’s a big-time college boy now.”

“Thanks Aunt May,” said Peter with a smile, pulling away from her hand. “I’ll try not to be too late.”

“You’re smart, you obviously got that from your father and not your uncle,” said May with a glance and grin at her husband. Ben shrugged.

“I was always the pretty one, anyway,” he said. “I guess this means you’ll wanna borrow my car, huh?”

“No, that’s okay,” said Peter.

“No?” asked May. “How are you going to get there?”

“I’ll walk,” said Peter. “I’ve kinda gotten used to it since being at college. It’s not that far.”

“Just remember if you walk there, you walk back—I’m unplugging the phones at eleven, so no calls saying you need a ride,” said Ben.

“I’ll be fine,” said Peter. He glanced down at his watch. “I should get going, though.”

“Have fun,” said Ben. “Say hi to MJ.”

Oscorp

Mendel Stromm poured over the paperwork Osborn had him access. Most of it were just details of the money Oscorp had given Empire State University’s science department. Particularly the field of genetics. But of particular interest were the files of Professor Curtis Connors. Those were the files Stromm was surveying for the umpteenth time when the door to his office opened.

“Good evening, Doctor Stromm. I trust my money is being put to good use,” said Norman Osborn. He walked into Stromm’s office and closed the door behind him. Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat in a chair before Stromm’s desk.

“It has, Norman,” said Stromm. “I think I may have found what you’re looking for.”

He held out the file and Osborn took it. The CEO began flipping through the pages inside. “What exactly am I looking at, Doctor Stromm?”

“Reports filed by a genetics professor by the name of Curt Connors. The man was a genius in his field. One of the leading scientific minds.”

“Was?” asked Osborn.

“Apparently, Connors went a little mad,” said Stromm. “His final reports read like science fiction and his funding was cut. But with the emergence of this Spider-Man, maybe they weren’t fiction after all. Maybe Connors really was much, much further ahead of the pack than any of us cared to admit.”

“So get me Connors,” said Osborn. “He can find me Spider-Man.”

“He probably could, but there’s just one problem,” said Stromm.

“If it’s a matter of money, I’ll pay Connors top dollar,” said Osborn. “State of the art technology at his disposal, full benefits, I’ll even throw in housing costs. That should be far better than what he’s getting at Empire State.”

“You’d be right, but money isn’t the problem, Norman.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Curt Connors is missing,” said Stromm. “No one’s seen him since this Spider-Man incident. His wife has no idea where he is. Neither does the university. His classes have been taken over by adjunct faculty until a more permanent replacement can be found. Seems Connors took the rejection of the scientific community pretty hard.”

“There has to be some way we can find Spider-Man through him. He had help with his research, right? Colleagues, assistants, anything?”

“Well… he did have a lab assistant,” said Stromm. “A freshman by the name of Peter Parker. Seems he was the recipient of a full scholarship to ESU that included assisting Connors. Chances are he assisted Connors in most of the research and testing.”

“Good, very good. I’ll find Parker and we can go from there,” said Osborn. “Meanwhile, I have another job for you.”

“Which is?” asked Stromm.

“Find me an antagonist,” said Norman.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Stromm.

“An enemy, someone this Spider-Man can fight once we discover him,” said Osborn.

“I thought you were just going to have a reality show with him,” said Stromm.

“I am, but sooner or later, viewers will get bored of watching him beat up pimps and drug dealers,” said Osborn. “Every hero needs a villain, Doctor. And I want you to provide him.”