Spiderman 3 Read Online Free Page A

individual with a refined thought process, or some sort of animalistic thing operating purely on instinct. Either way, the result was the same. Its rapid slither brought it within distance of what appeared to be two biological forms, possibly native to the sphere, perched atop something perhaps designed to transport them. It scrutinized the both of them and was immediately drawn to one over the other: the one on the front of the vehicle. The one who radiated power and energy.
    The creature was no more than a few inches in diameter, so it wasn't noticed at all as it slithered up onto Peter Parker's shoe when his foot shoved down on the starter once more. This time the engine caught and the bike rolled forward. The abrupt movement gave the creature a brief moment of disorientation. It clung fiercely to the underside of Peter's shoe and settled in, basking in the power that Peter's molecular structure was generating.
    With Mary Jane holding tight, her hair whipping about in the wind, Peter maneuvered the motorbike down onto the road toward New York City, unaware that the city was under alien invasion, and equally unaware that he was the means by which it was happening.

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Chapter Two

     
    FATHERS

    When Harry Osborn had seen the desperate face of Peter Parker peering in through the window of the town car, something about the intensity of his sincerity had almost prompted Harry to listen.
    For a moment, he saw Peter not as the enemy who had destroyed his father or the rival who had snatched Mary Jane away from him. Instead he was the whiz kid who had taken a young Harry under his wing and had helped him succeed in high school science classes, an accomplishment that at least half a dozen tutors had sworn to Harry's father was an impossibility. Peter had seen hope when others had declared Harry to be hopeless. Unlike just about everyone else in Harry's life, Peter had been under no obligation to do so. Norman Osborn didn't own him, didn't pay him, couldn't compel him. Peter had just done it out of the goodness of his heart because he thought Harry was a decent guy who could use a friend.
    That was the man who was standing there at curbside, begging Harry to listen to him.
    What would it hurt? Really? Giving him five minutes to explain his side of the story? Harry was pretty sharp and could usually tell when someone was lying to him. If Peter tried to feed Harry some sort of bull, Harry would know. Harry would—
    Don't weaken.
    Harry couldn't tell if the voice was sounding in his head or was in the car with him, but the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. Harry was staring at the window, but it was not his own reflection he saw, or even Peter's image through the glass.
    Instead it was the face of his father, Norman Osborn, glowering at him.
    Don't weaken.
    Norman Osborn, who had thought so little of Harry during much of his life, was now counting on Harry to be strong. To remain focused and not lose sight of what had to be done… and to whom it had to be done.
    Lowering the window slightly, feeling as if an invisible hand were laid upon his throat, Harry said, "Tell it to my father. Raise him from the dead."
    He rolled the window back up, ignoring everything else Peter was saying, then leaned forward and rapped on the privacy partition that sepatated him from the driver. The car rolled away from the curb, leaving a frustrated Peter Parker in its wake.
    Good job, Harry. You had me going there. For a minute I thought you were going to listen to my murderer.
    Harry said nothing. Instead he put his hands to the side of his head as if battling a migraine.
    His father continued speaking to him, whispering into his ear, inside his brain. He saw Norman's image in the privacy partition.
    Harry had spent months wondering if he was going out of his mind. Then, one day, he'd stopped caring. He'd simply accepted this condition as his new status quo. He was to spend the rest of his life being haunted, like Hamlet, urged by the ghost