#11 - New Beginnings

By John Stevenson

It was Monday morning when Peter Parker got out of his cab, payed the driver, left him a generous tip, and walked towards the main entrance of the TriCorp building. While this would seem like a normal routine for any person, for Peter Parker it was a rare occasion.

His monumental battle with one of his many arch-enemies, Venom, had taken place only two days earlier. Although in a sense, he had won the battle, there were many indicators that pointed to the contrary. For one, although Eddie Brock had been delivered to the police, the mysterious Monster Hunters had made away with the Venom/Carnage symbiote. In addition, there was the fact that the battle had been so taxing that he limped when he walked, was too sore to web-swing and was forced to wear large aviator sunglasses to cover the bigger part of a pair of painful-looking black eyes.

On the upside, taking a cab meant that he was actually on time for work. A nearly unheard of occurrence.

Peter moved to the elevator and tried to avoid the gazes of as many people as possible. He was thankful that the lobby seemed to be empty as he hit the button for the top floor.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close he heard a voice cry out, "Hold the door!"

Reluctantly, Peter shot out his hand and caught the door before it closed completely. It didn't take him long to realize that even such a basic movement could make him wince.

The doors bounced open and a blonde in her early twenties stepped in. Peter tried to avoid looking in her direction but found it very difficult. She had a very cute face that included pouty lips and vibrant green eyes. She wore wire frame glasses and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that gave her a very professional look. This beautiful face stood atop a slender, but curvaceous frame. This was evident despite the finely-tailored business atire she wore. Her skirt stopped just above the knee exposing muscular calves leading to black pumps.

"Thanks," the blonde said, "I didn't want to be late for work on my first day."

The words pulled Peter out of his gawking not a moment too soon. He stumbled trying to find his words and finally came up with, "My pleasure."

The elevator doors shut, and it began moving upwards. Peter noticed first that the blonde had not selected another floor and next noticed that she was staring at him intently. When he looked back at her, she seemed to almost jump startled.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," she began, "It's just that your sunglasses got me curious. Sorry."

Peter had to laugh. "It's alright. It is a little dark for sunglasses."

The blonde cocked her head to one side and looked pensive. "I'm really sorry, you don't even know me or anything, but I have to ask, if you think it's dark, why are you wearing them?"

Peter had to chuckle while at the same time shifting uncomfortably. He was married to a supermodel and he was feeling uncomfortable being alone in an elevator with this woman, but at the same time, her forthrightness was both amusing and refreshing. He decided that revealing the reason for the sunglasses to her would do no harm, so he slid them down his nose.

A look of surprise crossed the blonde's features for a split second. "Ouch."

Anticipating her next question, Peter simply said, "I got hit by a car door."

The blonde nodded, although Peter doubted she believed him. "I'm Lara by the way."

"Peter. I'm in R&D."

"Aren't you going in the wrong direction for that?" she asked pointing at the display of floors.

Peter chuckled inwardly at the barrage of questions. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was flirting with him. Rather, he rationalized that it being her first day, she was nervous and trying to make friends.

"Actually, I have to meet with Mr. Dall's secretary to make an appointment."

The blonde laughed out loud and Peter became puzzled.

Reading the man's expression, Lara clarified, "It's a good thing you held the elevator for me, otherwise you would have been waiting anyway."

Peter was now wondering if the fight from two nights previous had not maybe killed a substantial number of brain cells because he was not following at all. Again, he said nothing and just kept the same puzzled expression.

"I'm Mr. Dall's new secretary," Lara said, finally.

"Ah," was all Peter could manage to say as the elevator doors finally opened to the top floor.

Lara stepped out first and Peter followed her down the hallway. They took a right and came up on a big open space with a large teak desk. Behind the desk was an office, the blinds to which were closed while the large oak door stood open. A middle-aged Pakistani man stood next to the desk going over the contents of a manila folder. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up.

"Good morning, Lara," the older man said warmly.

"Good morning, Mr. Dall. Am I late?"

Mr. Dall chuckled, "No, not at all. You'll learn very quickly that my job keeps me here at odd hours, and it won't be uncommon for me to be in before you." And, as if noticing for the first time, the man behind his secretary, Mr. Dall scratched his balding head. "Good morning, Peter."

"Hello, Sir," Peter said noting the man's look of surprise. He prepared to tell his story of walking into a car door.

Instead, Mr. Dall looked at his watch and laughed. "What is wrong with you these days, my boy? You leave at 5:30 and you show up on time? You're beginning to worry me!"

Peter didn't have time to come up with a reply as his boss continued, "I see you've already met Lara. That's good. But you won't need to make an appointment. I'll talk to you right now, if you'll step into my office."

With that Mr. Dall stepped through the open oak door and into the office. Peter looked over at Lara who was assuming her post at her desk and smiled at her as if to say, "Thanks anyway. Nice meeting you."

The blonde returned the smile and winked at him, which for some reason, made him almost stumble as he made his way to the door.

Peter had taken a seat across from his superior's desk. It was the first time he had ever been in this office, and he had to admit that it was quite the sight.

In many regards, it was much like that of J. Jonah Jameson, his former publisher. Windows from ceiling to floor, spacious and various pieces of paper and folders strewn about in an orderly mess.

Where it differed was the view. The Daily Bugle was in the heart of Manhattan, one large building among an entire herd of large buildings. The view was cut off by all of the skyscrapers.

The TriCorp complex was situated in a district that was composed mainly of research facilities and warehouse. As a result, from Mr. Dall's office, Peter had an outsider's view of Manhattan. The kind of view that one normally saw on postcards. Even for a man who spent much of his time in the air, this view was still amazing. It almost succeeded in calming his nerves.

Mr. Dall had been scurrying around the office looking for something or other when he finally muttered, "Ah ha!" and took his place behind his desk.

"Peter, why do you think I asked you here, this morning?" he began.

Peter had a lot of hypotheses, but he really didn't feel like venturing the wrong one, so he simply said, "I don't know, Sir."

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, Peter. You're a good kid. I like you. That's probably one of the main reasons you got this job."

Peter shivered involuntarily. He was waiting for the, "but."

"Now, not only do I like you, but you're good at what you do. Admittedly, your organizational skills could be better ,"

Peter regarded the mess around Mr. Dall's office and had to keep from chuckling at the irony.

" but regardless of that, I still think you're one of the best that I've got. So, did I bring you up to my office just to shower you with praise? No, not quite.

"This company's not very old, only about thirty years old, but it's coming to a turning point. You see, a lot of the men and women who were here in the beginning are getting on in age and are looking at retirement. That means that a lot of our higher positions are going to be opening up in the next couple of years. A whole new generation is going to be taking over. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Peter had unknowingly leaned forward in his chair. He was intrigued, but still his answer was, "I'm not sure."

"You see, Peter, a lot of people are going to be moving up the ladder in this company, every time a person in one position moves up, his old position needs to be filled as well. I'm not particularly worried about filling up the executive positions, because I have a lot of very competent supervisors and team leaders who can do the jobs well. What I do worry about is how THOSE people are going to be replaced.

"I have two options here. I can bring people from outside with experience in the field or I can do this in-house. Bringing people in from outside doesn't bring the loyalty that I like to see in this company, so I'd rather see it done in-house. This means that I've got to find young guys who are doing the grunge work right now who are capable of becoming leaders and leading by example.

"Peter, I told you there's going to be a lot of spots opening up soon, among them, I'm going to need new people to head up research teams. I know you're really new here, but I really think this is something you can do and be good at."

Peter's jaw dropped slightly before he caught it and snapped it shut again.

"Now, I think you know where the hiccup in all of this comes in. The people that usually occupy these positions are guys with PhD's and tons of experience."

Peter finally managed to speak. "But, Sir, I don't even have a Bachelor's degree right now."

"That's what I'm getting at, Peter. I want you to get this position. But, I'm also going to need you to want this position. Do you want it?"

Peter didn't need to think too much. Heading up a research team was the kind of thing he had always dreamed of doing as a child. Calling the shots and learning on the fly. It was everything he ever wanted. "Of course I do, Sir."

"Then you're going to have to work for it. I'm talking about long working hours and night courses to get your doctorate. I have a friend at NYU who's willing to let you write an exit test. If you pass it, then you'll automatically earn the extra credits you need to get your undergraduate degree. It's sort of like you completed them while working here by acquiring hands-on experience. With your talent, I have no doubt you'll pass it."

Peter's jaw had fallen open again. He was speechless. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. Except for Mary Jane and May, nothing this good had ever happened to him. Things like this never happened to Peter Parker. It just didn't work that way. Peter Parker was a man of responsibility and burden. He didn't get luck. It just didn't work that way. This was too good to be true. It just didn't work that way.

"Th thank you, Sir." Peter managed to spit out. "You can be sure that I'll give it my all."

Mr. Dall smiled from ear to ear. "Excellent, that's exactly what I wanted to hear! I'll have Lara e-mail you all of the instructions for the test and then immediately afterwards, you can start working towards that doctorate. It's going to take some time, but the position isn't open yet, and when it does open up, I intend on trying to keep it open for as long as I can. In any case, you'll be working with a great doctor in the field of biochemistry. With him as your mentor, I have no doubt that you'll be ready in the minimum amount of time.

"Actually, you may know the man. I believe he taught at ESU while you were there."

Peter raised an eyebrow and then immediately wished he hadn't. Black eye hurt. "Who would that be, Sir?"

"Brilliant man by the name of Curt Connors."

For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Peter's jaw dropped.

A loud hacking cough filled the small dark room. The old man lay in his bed, curtains drawn and door closed. The doctors had no doubt that this was where he would spend his last days. They were certain of it.

The only illumination in the room came from a reading lamp and the digital alarm clock by the brass bed.

As the old man's body stopped spasming from the coughs, he righted himself painfully. His posture was terrible, but at his age, being hunched over was considered normal.

He adjusted his seating position so as to be more comfortable, but the two pillows they had given him were so soft that he merely sunk deeper into them. The old man cursed in ways much more imaginative than any youths would have been able to come up with. He grabbed the newspaper that he had dropped on his lap and re-read the front page headline for the thirteenth time.

"Spider-Man Ends String of Murders. Venom in Custody."

The old man howled in rage and flung the paper across the room. Later, he would have to call an aide to retrieve it for him.

The headline flashed through his mind. The fools. They were all fools. How could they do this? Didn't they realize when a monster was living among them? Spider-Man was not to be hailed as a hero. He was to be hated. Hated the way that only the old man had hated him all these years. Or so he thought.

This was unacceptable. This propaganda had to be stopped at the source: the media. The old man looked at the paper on the floor and read the title: "The Daily Bugle." Jameson had always been an idiot.

This had to be stopped. The old man started his coughing again. 78 seconds later, the coughing subsided and he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the phone that lay there. This was unacceptable.

Peter Parker inserted his key into the lock of his penthouse apartment. It was the first time since he had started his new job that he had been home early on a weeknight. A special exception so that he could start studying immediately for his exam. Apparently, he had one week.

Peter nudged the door open with his shoulder, while pulling the key out with his left hand and balancing a stack of textbooks in the right.

From another room in the apartment, a voice called out, "Peter?"

Immediately Peter knew that MJ wasn't home yet. She had a dinner meeting with her agent. or something.

From the kitchen stepped a black-haired woman holding an infant.

"Hey Jill, how's it going?" Peter asked his nanny. The woman was at once one of MJ's closest friends and the cousin of Peter's first love, Gwen Stacy. She had been through hard times recently, with her father leaving the family to pursue an obsession with putting away the criminal mob boss known as the Kingpin. Of course, Peter had tried to help with that situation.

"Hey beautiful girl, wanna come see Daddy?" Peter asked slipping into baby-mode and speaking in the ridiculous voice that all adults are guilty of when addressing anyone under the age of three. He dropped his textbooks on the couch and scooped his daughter out of Jill's hands. He tossed her into the air once and caught her, which got him an appreciative giggle.

Jill, too, laughed. "I need to find me a decent man, so I can get my own."

"Don't worry, Jill, it's just a matter of time before you find Prince Charming," Peter said, his gaze still locked with Baby May.

For a few moments, there was silence, and Peter couldn't tell if it was his Spider-Sense or something else, but something told him that Jill was examining him. Peter was beginning to feel an awkwardness settle in.

Finally, Jill broke them out of it. "So, what are you doing home so early? And what's with all the books?"

Peter chuckled, "I'm going back to school."

"Wow. When did you decide this?"

"Uhhh. this morning."

"Does MJ know yet?"

"Not yet, nope."

Jill's eyebrows raised and her hands went to her hips. Peter recognized that pose. It was never a good pose. It meant he had done something wrong.

"You're telling me that you decided to go back to school and you didn't discuss it with your wife first?"

Peter thought about his response for a moment. "Yeah, that's about right."

"Pete, don't you think that you should have? I mean, you're going to be spending a lot less time at home with MJ, and maybe more importantly with May. This is going to require a lifestyle change on both your parts."

Jill's speech hit Peter like a ton of bricks. He probably should have thought about that before jumping on the opportunity. But it was a great opportunity. How could he pass it up? And then there was the fact that he was in shock when Mr. Dall mentioned Dr. Connors' name. and. and. He was rationalizing.

Peter must have been standing there speechless for longer than he had thought, because Jill said, "So you really didn't think of any of that, did you? Well, good luck with MJ, Pete. Since you're home, I'm gonna go and pick up some stuff."

Peter did his best to prevent himself from watching his nanny walk out of the room, but only half-succeeded. Peter Parker had to wonder what kind of cruel joke God played on him. Growing up, he was the least popular, least attractive, dork that ever existed. He had no clue how to act around women, much less around attractive women. Not all that much had changed. He had grown out of his dorkiness, and he had filled out, but he still never considered himself an Adonis by any means. Despite all of this, Peter Parker's life was and always had been filled with gorgeous women. Women such as Gwen Stacy, Felicia Hardy and Mary Jane Watson, to name a few. Jill was yet another. No, she didn't have the drop-dead gorgeous look that his super-model wife had, but she did have the cute girl-next-door look that men seemed to love almost as much.

Peter was trying to figure out whether that was among the good aspects of his life or not when the phone rang.

Checking to make sure that Jill was actually in the guest room getting her stuff, Peter cleared the distance between himself and the phone on the other end of the room with a single jump, May in his left arm the whole time.

Picking up the receiveer, he greeted, "Hello!"

"Peter?"

Peter recognized the voice instantly. "Hi Mr. Jameson. What can I do for you?"

"To be honest, m'boy, I didn't expect you to be home. Everything alright?"

Mr. Jameson never expressed concern openly. Something wasn't right. It seemed like he was buying time. As though he needed to say something, but couldn't bring himself to.

"Everything's just fine. I got off work early today, that's all," Peter replied becoming anxious to find out just what the publisher needed to tell him that was so important he would actually call him.

"Ah. I see," Peter could almost hear the chomping on the cigar. "Well, Parker," he was using his last name again, he must have been steeling himself for something, "I need to have a talk with you. Any time we could meet this week?"

Frankly, Peter needed to study all week for his exam, but if the conversation was going to be about what he was afraid of, he needed to find time. "Sure, Mr. Jameson. How about ,"

Peter cut his sentence short as a loud crashing sound came from the other end of the line. "What the ," Jameson could be heard on the other end of the line. This was followed by another, deeper voice that was more distant and whose words Peter couldn't make out. What Peter could make out was JJJ's cursing just before the line went dead.

Peter hung up the phone and screamed out Jill's name. The young woman rushed into the living room quickly looking concerned. Peter moved to meet her and put his daughter into her arms.

"Jill, I'm sorry, but I really need you to take care of May for a couple more hours. An emergency just came up and I've got to run."

Jill didn't have the time to respond as Peter dropped a kiss on his daughter's forehead and ran out the door to the apartment. Seconds later, he had shed his clothes and was wearing the Spider-Man suit that was always beneath his street clothes. He ignored the complaints of his aching body as he web-swung his way towards the Daily Bugle.

Author Notes

It's a well-known fact that my writing is sporadic. It usually consists of two to three months of great activity followed by six months of near-nothingness. Well, the period of activity has started once again, and this time I aim to have it last longer than usual.

Next issue is the last before the Annual which will be a part of the Stark Invasion event. After that, it's back to business as usual, and hopefully a more regular publishing schedule.

Many thanks to those who have hung on thus far, but believe me when I say that the best is yet to come. Drop me a line with your questions, comments and criticisms at (devilsadvocate450@hotmail.com).

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