Snip to Chapter 39

It's very late in the night in the Big Apple. So late, it’s actually the next day. The only people out and about are society’s bottom feeders, drug dealers and homeless people.

One man in particular who appears homeless is pushing a cart full of cans across the sidewalk. His head was down and his hood was up, shadowing his face.

He turns into an alleyway where a dealer was currently making a sale. The homeless man lifts his head enough to eye the dealer to see if he’ll leave. Watching him and the buyer intently.

The buyer takes whatever product was given and leaves but the dealer remains. The homeless man glares at the dealer, angered at the nuisance. As subtle as he was being, though, the dealer felt eyes on his person and turned to the bum, who turned away from him.

“Hey!” The Dealer shouts at the bum as he menacingly walks up to him, “Beat it, ya bum.”

The homeless man does not reply, which angers the dealer.

He steps up real close, “Didn’t you hear me?” He says as he lifts up his shirt to reveal a gun in his waistband, “I said leave.”

The apparent homeless man eyes the gun before he calmly responds, “You should be careful. If I were a policeman, you’d have given me probable cause to arrest you.”

The criminal seems to hesitate to go further for a moment before he scoffs, “Cops are paid off.” He states confidently as he pulls out his gun and points it at the man's head, “You ain’t no cop.”

Again, the man goes silent before a smile creeps onto his face. “You’re right. I’m actually someone to be worried over.”

The homeless man’s hand shoots out from underneath the rags faster than the dealer can react. He grabs the hand with the gun and crushes them both together, eliciting an agonizing scream from the dealer. The bum's other hand flies out to the throat and tears the larynx out, effectively silencing the scream. The dealer drops to his knees as he clutches his throat in vain. He looks at the bum and can see a twisted smile, before his world fades to black.

The bum stares at the body for a moment, before he places his hand on the brick wall beside him and pulls out a single brick. He then reaches inside and tugs at something, there is a crack and then hiss as a section of the wall opens up. The bum grabs the dealer's body and easily tosses him inside before he pulls his cart in.

Once in, he closes the panel and the room lights up. Revealing a shoddy yet still highly functional laboratory.

The man pulls down his hood, revealing himself to be a bruised and battered Norman Osborn.

Norman smashes the cart over a table, sending cans and another body clattering across the room. His eyes are wide with fury, and his breath is ragged as he screams at the empty lab.

"Spider-Man!" he shouts, the name a curse of the worse kind.

He paces like a caged animal, kicking over chairs and swiping equipment off shelves. The miserable insect had once again defeated him. Even when he had the power to rival gods, the cretin had somehow stopped him. He was told the power he wielded would be enough to finish his nemesis off for good.

"The military at my beck and call," he seethes, "and still I lose to that—"

“Now what does this tantrum accomplish?” A smooth voice interrupts.

Norman whirls around to see Mephistopheles standing by the dead criminal Norman had to kill.

Norman glares at the demon lord, though there is a hint of fear and submission in his eyes, “Lord Mephistopheles.” He greets him.

The devil steps over the corpse and waves his hand to bring a chair over to him. “You’ve succeeded in your task. Why are you upset?”

Osborn wants to snarl and curse at the smirking demon lord but resists the urge to do so, “Respectfully, you promised me I would destroy Spider-Man!”

Mephisto raises a finger, “I said, I would provide you the means to contain power capable of destroying him.” He tells him in a condescending tone. “You were the one who failed to utilize it correctly.”

Norman's jaw clenches, the wild look in his eyes intensifying. But he does not let it out. For some inexplicable reason, he is afraid of the demon before him. As if the part that has driven him to commit his atrocities knows this demon is not someone to trifle with.

Mephisto leans back, casual, unfazed by Norman's anger. "The Enigma Force was never meant for one as…” He pauses, as if thinking about the word while he looks at the two bodies in the room, “unstable as you, Norman. It is a power meant to serve life, not aide in ending it."

Norman's fists tighten and loosen repeatedly. "Then why give me false hope? Why not help me destroy him?"

"False hope?" Mephisto chuckles darkly. "No, no. I gave you the very chaos you thrive on. A taste of what real power feels like." The demon lord's eyes burn with a sinister glow. "And now, I offer something far more suited to your particular disposition."

"What are you talking about?" Norman demands, though there's an edge of desperation in his voice now, a craving for what Mephisto promises.

Mephisto smiles smirks, “Most are not aware of this, but the Phoenix force has a polar opposite. An entity powerful enough to bring destruction to other cosmic beings.” He snaps his fingers, and in a puff of smoke, an box appears in his hand, “It was believed to be destroyed some time ago. But such a thing cannot be destoyed. Only… put to sleep for lack of a better term.

Norman, intrigued by this, steps closer, “What is it?”

Mephisto pulls open the lid and an orb is revealed inside. An ord with a swirling black mass, “It is called the Goblin Force.”