The Sinister Six (Harry Osborn FanFiction)

Chapter two- Call Me

''Quentin Beck. An academic major in SFX. Twelve courses on acting for film, an amateur in robotics, a master hypnotist and magician? Blacklisted in all movie-making branches? See? We--We can't use this"

"What do you mean? I got all the qualifications, don't I?"

"You're blacklisted-"

"In California. Not in Manhattan. So then it doesn't count, right?"

"Look kid, it's really-"

"Don't call me kid. I'm 28. I want to be taken serious for once!"

"Err-- Okay--It's just not gonna work out. You've been blacklisted for a reason. Let's see. Err..Here it is. Catastrophic accident caused by malfunctioning smoke projector. See, this is why it's not gonna work out. You got talent, I get that, but you're just too big a risk taking on our plate. Besides we were just looking for anfive-seconds executive director for our new channel. You're just not the one we've been looking for. It's probably for the best if you just leave while you still have some dignity left"

"Please, I'm walking on thin ice. I need this job! Otherwise I'm done for it-"

"You got five-seconds to get out of my office or I'll call security. This is the Daily Bugle! We don't have time for punks like you. Warner Bros. might though, but they are nothing compared to us"

"You don't say..''

''Get out''

''Please, if you just give-''

''Out!''

''Fine, but you'll regret the day  you said no to my talents! And just to be crystal clear. The Daily Doodle isn't even close to be comparable with Warner Bros.''

And with that remark Quentin Beck shut the door of New York's very own Daily Bugle office. He walked through the yellow tinted hallway to the elevators. ''To hell with this company! They don't deserve me anyway. Should've never moved to New York. I should haveve moved to Europe instead. What am I gonna do now? My rent of my lousy apartment is already late, how am I going to get away with it this time?'' Quentin thought to himself as he waited for the elevator to reach the floor he was on.

He nervously tapped his right foot up and down while a million questions still ran through his mind. A small bell rang and the elevator doors opened, he went in and lent against the cold steel door of the elevator. He effortless moved his hand towards the control panel and pushed the ground floor button. ''Maybe I shouldn't have gone to Film academy. Why did I ever think that I would succeed anyway. I should've done a major in mechanical engineering instead'' He thought.

The small bell rang again and the elevators open once again. He got out of the elevator and walked into the lobby. It was just like any other lobby, couched, coffee machines and a desk, nothing more and nothing less. That was of course is you thought that the three enormous self-portraits of J. Jonah Jameson.

Quentin held his head down and his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. He walked out of the building and faced the cold spring breeze, he stood still for a few seconds and took a filled his lounges with the cold air. ''Don't you just love the scent of late spring?'' A voice coming from Quentin's right said.

Quentin turned his head to the right and saw that a man in a beige trench coat with a matching hat. ''Piss off'' Quentin snarled and he turned around and walked away from the man. ''One of those days, ain't it?" The man asked with a smile. Quentin took great strides and walked as fast as he could away from the man. He looked down at his black polished shoes on the with chewing gum covered pavement.  "How did your job interview go?" The man asked again. "How did you--Are you stalking me?" Quentin asked and he stopped with walking and turned around. He nervously looked around and then back at the man. "Listen, I said I'd pay next month. I ain't got his money yet. I ain't even got a job" He said.

The man smiled widely and took out a small card in the pocket of his coat. He held the card between his index finger and thumb and flipped is around. "Well, what if I told you I can solve both of your problems?" The man asked with a somewhat leery smile. Quentin shook his head and looked confused. ''You can't fool me. There ain't no sanity clause'' He said with a straight face. The man looked beyond confused and tried to grasp what he was saying. ''What?'' The man asked. Quentin sighed, he held his right hand on his head. ''A Night at the Opera. C'mon, man it's a classic'' Quentin said in disappointment.

The man chuckled and looked up at the top of the Daily Bugle building. ''I'm sorry. I thought that you needed a job. Must've been someone else'' The man said. He put the small card back in the pocket of his coat. He tilted his hat with his right hand, turned around and walked away from Quentin. ''What are you doing? This guy is willing to help you out and you just wave him aside'' Quentin thought.

''Wait!'' Quentin yelled making the man stop walking. ''Changed your mind?'' The man asked and walked back to Quentin. ''I don't know, maybe'' He said full of doubt. The man grinned and once again took out the small card. ''Take this and if you're still interested you'll call this phone number. I'm going to make you an offer can't refuse--See I know my movies. Moreover, call. My people will call your people'' The man said with a leer smile pressed onto his face. He handed the small card to Quentin and held his hands in the pockets of his coat. Quentin shook in confusion and flipped the small card around. ''I don't have any people..'' He whispered. ''Just call the damn number'' The man said grumpy and he turned his back to Quentin.

Quentin looked at the small card the man gave him, it was a small business from a company named Kingsley Internationals. ''Kingsley? Isn't that--'' Quentin said softly. He gaspingly looked up at the man who was only a few feet away. ''Aren't you Roderick Kingsley, the fashion designer?'' He asked quickly. The man turned his head slightly and smirked. ''Kingsley. Roderick Kingsley'' He said sniggering and he vanished into the New York's everyday rush hour. Quentin was left speechless and stood between the hordes of people who walked straight past him.

''What a class-A jerk'' Quentin thought and turned around as well. He took one last look at the small business card and put it away in the pocket of his jeans. He looked up at afternoon sky. ''It's never a little too early for a drink'' He thought as he walked to the hottest dance club in New York City, the Wake.