Norman Osborn tapped his index finger impatiently against the table in front of him as he awaited the prospects for the special ops team. It had been nearly eight hours since he had issued the order and already unrest was beginning to grip his tired and exhausted body. The stress of running a borderline terrorist organization while handling his own family industry and keeping tabs on his competitors on both fronts was truly exhausting work. Good thing he didn't have to be a father with his son off at college discovering sex for the first time, even if the college was a mere six blocks away. Norman sat back in his chair and reached under his desk and grabbed some alcohol and took a monstrous sip before settling the glass bottle down gently. The door to his office cracked slightly, letting a welcome light creep into the midnight black room.
"Mr. Osborn..." a female voice called. Norman looked up expectantly.
"Yes?" he replied.
"They're here," she replied simply. Norman raised his hand and beckoned for them to proceed forward.
For Curtis Connors, being interviewed for a high caliber special ops mission was old news. He had served in numerous special ops missions around the world, even in areas that the United States was supposedly allied with. At the "old" age of 27, he was still climbing towards his prime and was yet to be fully proven. His associates were very nearly the same story. Mackenzie "Big Mac" Gargan was one of the most experienced soldiers Curtis had ever met, knowing virtually every term in the book and was one of the best marksman he had seen fire a rifle in years. He was a very large man, larger than their supposed contractor, whom he had concluded to be at least 6'3. Mac was all muscle, even in the head.
The rest of the soldiers were no names. Curtis had never seen them before and their stories of their combat experience led to heavy skepticism in Curtis' mind. The most they had probably done was protect a news reporter covering the war, which was easy job, so long as the cameraman and the reporter kept their heads out of the line of fire. Curtis concluded on one thing, he was the smartest out of all the prospects standing before the multi-millionaire, Norman Osborn. Norman paced in front of the prospects and then began to speak.
"This is a two man job. Anything more will lead to government intervention. I've read over your records and I am only hiring the two I feel will be worth my time and my organization's money," Norman said in a strong and commanding voice that was reminiscent of an angry drill instructor who had been cheated out of his fifth star. Norman then stared at Curtis and Big Mac, causing a small smirk to run up Connor's face.
We've been chosen. Curt thought with confidence. Norman then confirmed his thoughts by waving the other five pretenders away. When the doors closed, Curt heard the faint chirps of silent pistols and screams of surprise... So that's how business is? Curt thought. Big Mac chuckled softly as Norman Osborn went over to his seat.
"Your records of service for this nation are quite impressive. Over 30 special ops missions completed between the two of you. Mr. Connors, a tour of duty in East Africa, where you cleared an entire building of insurgents under five minutes alone and Mr. Gargan, the lone survivor of a last stand between a squad of Green Berets and Al-Quada. Most impressive," Norman said. Curtis cleared his throat discreetly but loud enough to warrant Norman's attention. "Oh, I understand. You wish to be briefed on the mission at hand. It is quite simple, really. Search and capture," Norman said. Curtis' eyebrow raised.
"If I may, sir, search and capture what, exactly?" Curtis asked. Norman smiled.
"Have you ever heard of...the Super Soldier Serum?" he asked. Curtis nodded. He had most definitely heard rumors of a human enhancement program initialized during World War II, but any further information was pure speculation on his part.
"Yes, isn't it some type of human enhancement?" Curtis replied. Norman nodded.
"Yes. Supposedly, the last super soldier was the Captain, a legendary figure who halted German production of nuclear weapons by destroying their nuclear reactors. After which, he was rumored to have been seen flying towards the Atlantic Ocean, unconscious. He is supposed to have been frozen in suspended animation in a block of ice, deep below the sea...he was the last super soldier since the formula for the serum had escaped contemporary scientists for years...until sixteen years ago..." Norman said. He then turned. "What you are capturing is potentially the first super soldier in 45 years...a sixteen year old boy named Peter Parker. I want you to find him and capture him...and kill any witnesses in the area."
"Happy birthday, Peter!" yelled MJ over the phone as Peter cracked into a smile over his new Blackberry Torch. His aunt and uncle had surprised him with it and from their exasperated explanations came to realize they had saved enormous amounts of money to get the phone and had made it extremely clear what their rules were. Peter's first call, naturally, had been to his best friend, MJ.
"Thanks, MJ," Peter said with a smile. "Are you coming to school today?" he asked her.
"Of course, are you?" she asked. Peter nodded, although catching himself, knowing she couldn't see him.
"Yeah, but my Uncle Ben wants to give me a ride so we won't be able to walk together," Peter explained. He heard a slight sigh from MJ.
"Oh okay. Well, I guess we'll just talk at school and on the walk home," MJ said.
"You sure you don't want to ride with me and Uncle Ben?"
"No, you might be talking about 'coming-of-age' stuff," MJ said with a giggle. Peter laughed.
"Right, man-talk," he said jokingly.
"Exactly," MJ laughed.
"Peter! Are you ready?" Peter heard his uncle calling.
"Yeah, I'll be down!" Peter answered. "I'll see you at school, MJ," Peter said.
"Okay, bye and Happy Birthday again," MJ said, sweetness in her voice. "I have a present for you." she added before hanging up the phone. Peter sighed softly and then headed down the steps to meet his uncle.
The drive to Midtown High School was taking an abnormal amount of time and Peter noticed but didn't exactly care.
"So...Peter...what do you know about your father?" Uncle Ben asked. Peter shrugged slightly.
"Not much. I've just seen a few of his science projects when he was my age and I've memorized the few things I've heard from you," Peter replied. Uncle Ben smiled.
"Well, today I believe you should hear the truth about your father. Your father was...". In an instant, Peter's head vibrated like a phone, sending a shock through his nervous system and his muscles causing him to spaz slightly and jerk back as he held his head.
"AAGH!" he yelled out. Uncle Ben reached for him but then glanced out of the window.
"No..." he said. The next thing Peter felt was the sound of metal crashing against the passenger side of the car, throwing it towards a tree rooted on the side. He saw Uncle Ben's head bounce against the window, causing blood to spray on Peter's clothes. The window was slightly cracked and Peter gasped in tears as his uncle slumped to the floor, blood pouring from his head as his face became pale and cold. Peter was barely paying attention as gasoline began to drip from the burst gas chamber and sparks from the metal friction began to come into contact...
"We hit his car," Curt reported as he put the car in reverse and backed away about twenty feet.
"What?" Norman asked. "You hit his CAR? I didn't pay you 3.5 million dollars each so you could do a hit and run! Get that boy!" Norman carped angrily.
"Yes sir," Curt said as he reconnected to Mac's headset. "The guy's such a bitch." Curt said as he got out of the battered car with Big Mac. As they walked towards the car, it suddenly erupted in an explosion, blasting car parts into the air. As he looked on, he saw something even more surprising. There was a shape that leaped from the smoke...a boy carrying a middle-aged man.
Peter looked at his hands with uncertainty at what he had just done. At a mere whim, he had kicked the car door from it's hinges and leap from the car with his Uncle Ben in his arms. Never had he displayed such strength or coordination in his life. The very fact he had even gained composure enough to execute such a feat left the boy in shock.
Peter gathered himself and looked ahead as two men, muscular and fit, headed in his direction, carrying metal rods.
Who the hell are they? Peter thought as they approached. Suddenly, the largest of the two ran towards Peter and swung the pipe at full force and speed at Peter's head. In an instant, Peter bent backwards to avoid the hit and did an involuntary flip that put space between the two. Peter's mind began to race as thoughts entered and departed from his brain. How did I do that? Did I do that? Why did my body react so quickly? What's going on? Peter asked himself. The muscular man was clearly surprised but his stoic facial expression didn't show a thing as he pressed forward again, swinging huge and numerous shouts towards Peter.
Peter felt his body move right, left, and back to avoid the shots coming towards him. The muscular man then swung his rod at Peter's feet and in an instant, Peter jumped up onto the rod and then flipped over the muscular man. As he landed, his head vibrated again, however it was much less painful as the last time. He turned his head and noticed that the second man was running towards him and he swung his rod quickly. Peter couldn't duck fast enough and reached out his hand and grabbed the man's hand. Peter then instinctively grabbed the man's arm with his other hand and squeezed as hard as he could possibly muster. In less than a second, there was a sickening crack and pop followed by a shout of agony.
Peter stared in shock as he saw what he had done. The man's humerus had been shattered and now protruded through his bicep and tricep. The man's entire arm went limp and blood gushed his wound. Peter's head vibrated again and Peter threw the soldier's body at his incoming attacker, knocking him down with ease. The muscular man rose from the ground and continued towards Peter and swung an angry but concentrated barrage of fists at him. Peter ducked and dodged under everyone of the man's shots. The man was clearly frustrated as he brought down a double hammer fist to smash in Peter's skull. But strangely, Peter's confidence had grown unnaturally. He reached his hands up and easily blocked the hammer fist. Peter then flipped off the man's chest, kicking him in the face and breaking his jaw. Teeth were sent flying and Peter watched as the man's head crashed against the pavement.
Peter then glanced towards his uncle, who still laid on the pavement, cold and unmoving. Peter raced over to him and as he touched him, his uncle's face brightened as he gasped for air.
"P-Peter," he said in a wheezing tone. Peter stared at his uncle's bloodied and broken face. He had lost massive amounts of blood.
"Uncle Ben...I need to get you some help," Peter said. His uncle's hand touched his shoulder.
"No...no, Peter. I'm...I'm done...but listen...your father had a set of...morals...his number one being...'With Great Power comes Great Responsibility', something he followed in every facet of his life. Promise me...promise me that you'll live by that code of honor, Peter," Uncle Ben said as he trailed off weakly. Peter gripped his uncle's hand tightly before shedding an abundance of tears as his uncle's hand grew cold.
"I swear...I swear I will. I swear..."