Chapter 9: Kidnapped
Two icy blue eyes darted rapidly back and forth as Norman Osborn read over lab reports in the back of his Town Car. Consuming a cup of strong coffee as the car crawled its way through the busy Manhattan traffic. The rain was pounding on the tinted window, 'it's one hell of a day out there' Norman thought as he briefly looked out the window. Those icy blue eyes turned and coldly fixed on the person in the seat beside him. His son, Harry, was uncomfortably dressed in a suit and tie.
Drumming his fingers nervously on his knee, Harry was a picture of (In Norman's opinion) weakness. Norman's jaw clenched as his mouth formed a tight line. Tucking his papers into a file Norman began to openly stare at his son.
"Are you going to disappoint me?" Norman asked directly.
Harry turned towards his father's 'hurt' clearly showing in the young man's eyes. Looking deep at his son for a moment Norman recalls his late wife. It was evident that although Harry received the majority of his features from him, he was very close to his mother in personality. Disregarding those thoughts for the moment, he paid attention to his son once more.
Harry's mouth moved, in an attempt to answer, but it was obvious he was too afraid. 'Pity' Norman thought internally if Harry had gotten angry or shown any emotion besides fear... he would have likely respected his son more. Although it wasn't that he hated him, far from it actually. This was Norman's attempt at making Harry stronger… If Harry snapped and actually told him what was on his mind instead of cowering, he would be very close to becoming a man… a man likes him.
Suddenly, both rear doors flew open, Norman's security guards stood dressed in suits beside them. Without another word, Norman bolted sharply out of the car. Harry following closely behind him, dreading whatever was to come.
Outside of Oscorp.
Harry and Norman walk briskly from their car, parked at the curb, to the front of the Oscorp building. Immediately a sea of umbrellas covered them, carried by office workers who'd raced out to meet them.
Norman turns to Harry over his shoulder as they head for the building. "Walk beside me, not behind." Harry stepped up his pace to fall in beside his father.
As they reached the elevator, the glass shut behind them. Once the doors close, Harry turns to his father a look of helplessness in his eyes "Please don't make me do this."
"You wanted to learn. You'll learn."
After a hesitant moment, Harry said "I'm begging you." the words escaping from his lips in a whisper.
Indignant at his son's words, Norman reached past him and pressed a button on the panel next to the glass door. "Please don't. I just ate." Norman's voice came out full of distaste. At times, Norman really disliked his son.
As the Elevator moved large red and white horizontal stripes whipped past the glass doors as the elevator dropped far into the ground beneath the streets of Manhattan. The scene would be spectacular for most people but the Osborn pair had seen this more times than they care to recall. The silence stretched out between them, much like the father and son's relationship.
"I abhor weakness. I don't permit it in myself and I won't tolerate it in you. Running a company is a lot more than handing out paychecks." Norman patiently explained to his son, hoping this time he would truly understand.
Suddenly, the elevator stopped and the doors zip open. Entering a security code Norman then turned to his son. He briefly considered putting a hand on Harry's shoulder in a comforting gesture but pushes that idea away after consideration.
STACY HOUSE
Her hand trembled, Gwen Stacy, set down her phone. In a vain attempt to keep her composure she clasped her hands together. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the shaking, believing that this was the end of the line for her, she searched the surroundings for anything that could save her. Guessing what might or would happen to her she sat down on the floor as the banging on the bathroom door continued. This was a nightmare. Her father's enemies littered her usually neat home, and they were here for revenge. To settle some score that probably happened when she was just a little girl…
Gwen was trapped by four people all of them men. Three of which looked like thugs, they were dressed in an array of blue jeans with biker vests and dark sun shades. The one she was most afraid of wore a fine black suit adorned with a red tie, he was the leader.
A while ago, Gwen was listening to some music on her new IPhone and applying for an apprenticeship at Oscorp when four guys busted in through the door. From there, they threatened Gwen, in fear, she locked herself into the bathroom and attempted to call her father. But when he didn't answer the call, it wasn't long before that door was broken down as well.
The man in the suit sighed mockingly with a look of complete contempt on his face as he stepped into the bathroom. Shaking his head he said, "Its a shame" Standing with the posture of a high-class person he continued to taunt Gwen with his words. "Sad really, your father spends every day punishing people for their 'crimes' and he cannot even answer a call from his beloved daughter."
Remaining quiet Gwen tried not to cry, but she still found water leaking from her eyes.
Looking down at Gwen huddled on the floor, he smiled at her, "You know, there is someone that will pay a pretty penny for you…"
"You won't get away with it!" Gwen shouted at the man. She knew the words were cliché but she wanted to attempt anything to get away even threats.
"Gwen, he won't even know I took you," he explained. Turning he walked away from her she heard him say towards the thugs, "Capture her, then… Burn it!"
A few hours later - Stacy Household-
Police Captain George Stacy had to fight the sensation of being frozen as he stood in front of his burnt house. His 'own house' that was now... a crime scene. Yellow police tape was sectioning what was left of it's burnt husk. Trying to regulate his breathing, fear gripped his heart.
A burnt house was horrible but what made him pause was that she was missing. His little girl was missing and he didn't know what happened to her. Two of his best detectives, Arthur Zimmerman and Jose Carlos, approached him as he stood inside the house.
George was smoking a cigarette but at their approach, he threw it down and stamped it out. A Bad habit, he knew. It was one that Gwen hated, but this 'cancer stick' as she called it was the only thing that kept him from going completely crazy at the moment.
"Boss, we are asking the Neighbors now about the incident, and we have reason to believe..." George's head turned side to side, looking at his neighbors' houses, "What is it? Did they see something?"
"Not much, they noticed when Gwen got home but nothing until the house was burning." Carlos explained, "They said a car came but didn't stay long."
"What are you trying to say, Carlos?" George said suddenly angry.
"Nothing, Boss" Zimmerman attempted to smooth Carlos's words, "It could have been an accident, she could have left the oven on or..."
George sighed, he wasn't actually mad at the detective, the man was just doing his job, 'Pull up the traffic cameras in the area see if we can get the car on camera, Carlos get a good description."
"On it," Carlos said
"Get forensics in here and... Zimmerman." George's face was a mask of calm as he went into what was left of his home, "Get the last known location of my daughter ASAP."
His team of detectives, forensics and other specialists were very busy. But before long it became apparent that they were not going to find anything.
Sighing George, pulled another cigarette from the package.
"Sir," Carlos called out hesitantly approaching him, "Should we alert the press? or keep this quiet?"
"Contact them," Captain Stacy instructed, "We have no leads. Let's try to get some"
"Any idea who did this?" Zimmerman asked from behind Carlos.
George didn't answer for a few moments, "No, but right now, all that matters to me is finding my daughter."
QUEENS-PARKER HOUSE
Peter sat in his old room contemplating what he had done... He had indirectly murdered his uncle. He knew it was wrong when he stepped away from the thief, it was like a weight in his gut the moment he did. Without much thought, he had just dismissed it all away. If he had done something... Anything. But he hadn't.
Peter miserably recalled his uncle's favorite phrase... "With great power comes great responsibility"
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