Victor Cranston sat in his room, staring at the computer screen in front of him. He was slouched in his chair. The monitor was the only source of illumination in the darkened room. He wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Every once in a while, he would start feeling like this. Every so often, he would think about his father, and how little he knew about him. However, this time, he was going to do something and find the truth.
It was fairly late, but not terribly late. Victor had been searching for nearly an hour, and all he could find were blockades of some sort.
This would be easier if everything wasn't classified, or mysteriously missing.
Frustrated, Victor picked up the phone and called the one person he knew could help.
"Parker residence."
"Peter, it's Victor."
"What's up?"
"Can you come over right now? I'm having some computer problems."
"Okay. I'll be right there."
"Thanks. Bye."
Victor hung up the phone and looked at the clock. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long, since Peter would most likely take advantage of his webshooters.
Sure enough, the doorbell was ringing five minutes later. As Victor came down, he saw his grandfather inviting Peter in.
"How are you this evening, young Mr. Parker?" the elder Cranston asked.
"I'm fine, sir. And yourself?"
Lamont chuckled. "As good as I'll ever be at this age. What brings you here this late?"
"I called him," Victor said. "I'm having some computer problems that I thought he could help fix."
Lamont started walking back to his office. "You two don't stay up all night, you hear?"
"Yes, sir," Victor replied.
"What's the deal?" Peter asked.
"You should come upstairs and see for yourself."
The two returned to Victor's bedroom. Victor offered the computer chair to Peter, opting himself to sit on the edge of the bed.
"It's not really a computer problem, per se," Victor explained. "It's more like . . . well, I don't know what it's like."
"What are you trying to do?"
"I'm trying to find out exactly why my father is not here living with me. Why is he off somewhere else?"
"Let me guess. Internet search came up with nothing."
"Nothing useful. That's why I called you. I need someone with hacking ability to do some not-so-legal searching."
"Okay," Peter said, slightly hesitant. "But, fifteen minutes and I'm done. It's too risky to try to stay on for longer than that."
"I understand."
Peter started typing, fast and furious. About five or so minutes later, he stopped.
"No way. Not them," he said.
Victor looked up at the screen and groaned. "This can't be good. How exactly did you find yourself in SHIELD's private database?"
"I don't know," Peter replied. "I just clicked on a link."
"Come to think of it, that could explain a lot. SHIELD's involvement, that is."
"Yeah, it could. Especially with my little tour of the SHIELD helicarrier recently."
"You really should tell me more about that."
"No. The less told the better. Besides, I'm not sure exactly what all is fact and what isn't." Peter looked at his watch. "I should probably be logging off right about now. There's no telling how fast SHIELD can trace hackers." Peter closed down all of the programs running and then shut the computer down. "For optimum security."
Victor nodded. "So, based on what you know of SHIELD, should I be worried?"
"About your father?"
"Yeah."
"I would."
"Should I ask my grandfather about it?"
"Not a good idea. He'd want to know how you found that out."
"Point. I guess I'll sleep on it."
"You do that. I'll go back home. I have a test I need to study for."
Nineteen years ago, September . . .
It was a warm autumn that year. Monty Cranston was sweating in his Shadow outfit as he watched the drug deal take place in the warehouse below him.
I've been doing this for too long, he thought. I'm gonna have a kid soon, and I'm still running around chasing bad guys. If it wasn't for mom dying, I probably wouldn't be doing this any more.
The Shadow was getting ready to make his decent and take out the drug dealers he had been chasing for the better part of the year. Suddenly, the door to the warehouse blew inward. A man and a woman in stealth gear stood there.
"Nobody move! SHIELD!" the man shouted. "You're all under arrest for drug possession."
"Hey!" one of the druggies shouted. "Isn't this the guy who you thought was following us in China?"
"Shut up!" the other one said.
China? the Shadow thought. This appears to be much deeper than I thought. And if SHIELD is involved, that means I should probably be leaving. The Shadow jumped down, and made sure to cloud everyone's minds. He quickly made his exit through the front door.
The male SHIELD agent signaled for backup. Soon, the warehouse was full of SHIELD agents.
A black man with a white crew cut came up to the male agent. "Good job, there. You worked hard."
"Ah, it's not over. We've only just begun," the agent replied.
"At least we confiscated the Scarecrow. Nice work, Parker."
"Thanks," Parker replied, "but it was really mostly due to the work of my wife here."
"I'm just glad that we have this drug in our control now," Mrs. Parker said.
"Don't be too happy," the black man replied. "I've been hearing reports that 'Scarecrow' is really just a catalyst that is mixed with other drugs for a something really powerful. There is no telling what could be done with it if mixed the right way."
"I hope to never find out," Parker said.
Present day . . .
It had been a while since the Osborn Industries plant blew up, but cleanup efforts were still going on. Spider-Man decided to take a late night visit to the remains of the plant. Ever since the plant exploded, he had been trying to find a way to research the Oz drug, which Norman Osborn had tested on his own son. This was the first free night he had that the Osborn site was mostly clear.
Spidey swung down and was looking through the wreckage. Based on what he remembered from the time he took a tour of the building, he was standing where Osborn's main office used to be. He lifted up a large piece of metal, and found a box. It looked like it had been used for secret storage. Spidey ripped the top off.
On top was a piece of SHIELD letterhead.
What are they not involved in?
Spidey continued to read what was written. It was a memo about a drug called 'Scarecrow'. Apparently, a large amount had been recently confiscated by two of the best agents.
Richard and Mary Parker.
Nineteen years ago, December . . .
Colorado.
Richard and Mary Parker had rented a cabin high on a mountain. No one was around for miles to bother them. They were cuddled up on the sofa. Mary was several months pregnant, only a month or so away from her due date. They sat there, enjoying the warmth of the fire, and the comfort of each other.
"I'm almost scared for the baby," Mary said. "With the work that we do, there's no telling how he'll turn out."
"More than likely," Richard began, "he'll be sheltered from most of it, and lead a rather boring and mundane life."
"I can only hope," Mary replied. "I would like to see this case closed before I go on maternity leave, though."
"You mean the drug case?"
"Yes. We've been on it for two years now, chasing it all the way across the globe. We finally busted someone, but it's not enough."
"Bridge says that it should be wrapped up in six months." As soon as Richard finished saying that, the phone rang. "Parker."
"Parker, it's Bridge. I know you're on vacation, but we have to call you back in."
"For what?"
"Scarecrow. There's been a major outbreak of a rare illness in Russia that we think may be related to that."
"Russia?"
"I know, it doesn't make sense, and it could be dangerous. But that's why you signed up for this, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good. You need to get back here by tomorrow evening. And, uh, you should probably leave Mary behind on this one."
"I understand. Is that all?"
"Yes. Bridge out."
Richard hung up the phone and sighed.
"That's not good," Mary commented.
"No, it's not," Richard replied. "It was Bridge. I've been called back."
"You mean we?"
"No, you're to stay here. There's been an outbreak in Russia. It looks like Scarecrow was involved."
Mary groaned. "I knew this would happen. Are you flying back to New York first?"
Richard nodded.
"Then I might as well start packing to go home."
"Mary, there's no reason you can't stay here and enjoy the cabin."
"We didn't get it for me to stay here alone. We got it to spend a romantic few days together."
The present . . .
Victor snuck into the spare bedroom. Stored in the room was a box with a lot of sensitive documents.
Documents that might lead him to his father.
Being careful to not wake his mother or grandfather, Victor carefully crept over to the box in the corner of the room, and lifted the lid. Fortunately, the squeaking was minimal. He sifted through the papers. There were a wide variety.
Finally, he found documents related to his father. There were many newspaper clippings dealing with the Shadow of the late Seventies and early Eighties. Victor found an article dated 1983. It was talking about the increase of crime, due to the disappearance of the Shadow. Victor looked at the backside of the clipping.
Interesting, he thought as he read the remaining portion of the story about the arrest of a drug ring. Apparently, it was a international thing, and SHIELD was involved somehow. Victor was unsure how, since that part of the article was cut off.
If SHIELD was involved with my father, then it's possible that he could have known or known about Peter's parents. I should definitely should this to Peter.
Peter and Victor were sitting in a corner booth at the Crib. Victor showed Peter the article clipping he found.
"SHIELD again," Peter mused. "This is too much to be a coincidence."
"I know," Victor replied.
"Actually, I was referring to the drug case," Peter said, handing Victor the memo he had found the night before. "I found this in what used to be Osborn's office."
Victor read over the memo. "You know, this is too weird," he said. "Somehow our parents were involved in a case involving a drug called 'Scarecrow.' And now, we've had to both deal with a drug - "
" - called Oz," Peter interrupted. "I don't believe it."
"They can't be related, can they?"
"Why else would Osborn have had the memo? Scarecrow must have been a component of Oz."
"We could be getting ourselves into something bigger than we can handle here, Peter."
"I know. But there's nothing we can do about it. The mysteries surrounding our parents have been around too long. It's time we uncover them."
"Can I join you?" a female voice asked.
Peter looked up and saw the most attractive redhead he had ever seen. "Sure, MJ, take a seat."
Mary Jane sat down beside Peter, and Peter put his arm around her.
"My shift just ended. I figured I'd see what you two were up to before I went home." MJ said.
"Uhh, we're just talking," Peter said.
"Sure. Someday, I'd like to know what these deep conversations you guys have are about."
"Deep conversations?" Victor asked.
"Yeah," MJ replied. "Every so often, you two come in, get in the most isolated booth you can, and have a secretive conversation."
"I just don't like people hear what I have to talk about," Peter said. "It makes me uncomfortable."
"Whatever." MJ stood up. "I need to be getting home. Need a ride, tiger?"
"I'd be stupid to turn it down," Peter said. "But can you give me a minute?"
"Sure, I'll just go warm the car up."
As MJ left, Victor gave out a low whistle. "You haven't told her yet."
Peter shook his head.
"I think you might want to do that. It'll make it easier on all of us. After all, she's the only one in our little 'group' that doesn't know."
"I'll tell her," Peter said. "I just need to wait for the right time."
"Don't wait too long, or you could end up in loads of trouble. And you better go now. Don't want MJ waiting in a cold car."
"Of course not," Peter said, grabbing his coat and stepping out of the booth. "I'll catch you later."
Nineteen years ago, December - Russia
Richard Parker stepped out of the car. The cold Russian air almost took his breath away as snow crunched under his feet.
"Russia. I hate everything about it," he said. "The cold, the communism. It's nothing but trouble."
"Hopefully, you won't have to be here long," Bridge said, getting out of the other side of the car. The car sped away.
"So, you say that this is where the first case of the outbreak was documented?"
"That's what I've been told," Bridge answered. "We're here to find out exactly what happened."
Parker knocked on the front door. There was no answer. The two agents waited. After a minute, Parker checked the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he opened the door.
"My god," Bridge muttered as he saw the horror inside.
Bodies were sprawled everywhere. It was as if the entire neighborhood was gathered together, and quarantined with a deadly virus. Parker took a step in.
"Painful sight, isn't it?" a man with a Russian accent asked.
Parker looked up. A Russian was pointing a gun at him.
"You are Parker, your friend is Bridge. You work for SHIELD. I have a message from the boss."
"Who's the boss?" Parker asked.
"Why, he's the one who made this charming little home into a death house."
"What's he want?" Bridge asked.
"He wants the US to know that he means business, and that he's done playing by the kid rules. And, to make sure you understand, he told me to give you another message." The Russian aimed the gun at Parker's right leg and fired.
Parker cried out in pain, and the Russian ran past him.
"You son of a bitch!" Bridge shouted. He wanted to chase after the Russian, and shoot him, but couldn't risk the exposure, and couldn't risk Parker's life. He looked at the wound. "You should be okay, but we need to get you to medical attention immediately!"
Cassandra Queen opened the door.
"Peter!" she exclaimed. "What a surprise!"
"Get me Bridge," Peter said. "He knows stuff. I want to know what he knows."
"You never back down from a challenge, do you?" Cassandra asked. "Look, I don't know if I can get in touch with him, and there is absolutely no guarantee that he'll even tell you anything."
"There's always a chance. And that's all I need. A chance. Something happened to my parents nearly two decades ago, and I think it might be having repercussions in the present."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. If I can get ahold of him, I'll have him contact you. If not, then I'll call you in a couple of days letting you know."
"Thanks," Peter said. "It means a lot."
"I know. Just don't get yourself into trouble because of this."
"I'll try not to, but like you said, there's no guarantee."
Next issue: Peter faces new challenges as he tries to solve the mystery of his parents.