Manhattan, New York: 80 Stories Above
Harry Osborn lay, dying, on the hard metal floor of a tall skyscraper.
Two people knelt before him. One person he trusted. One person he had given his life for.
He lay there, shivering, as the one he had given his life for was off. For another person was approaching.
A Security Officer lifted the one he trusted and carried her away on an unnecessary stretcher.
He was now alone. Yet another figure approached, and knelt before him.
"I always warned you." Said a voice, chillingly familiar. "He caused the death of me, and now he's caused the death of you. He's won against us."
"I saved his life." Said Harry, barley able to speak.
"But he didn't deserve your help. You said so, yourself. I'm always there and I'll always be there to listen."
"I didn't know the truth."
"And you think you do, now? Use your brain, Harry, use your instincts!"
"What he said was true. He didn't. He didn't kill you."
"But he caused my death, none the less. He caused yours, too. You are also dying from your own weapon. I loved Peter like a son and look what it did to me. You loved him like a brother and look what's its done to you. We both gave our lives for an ungrateful beast who didn't deserve them. Once your dead, Harry, he'll deceive the people to think you were the villain. He did it to me, he can do it to you, too. The only thing he cares about is the masked wall-crawler alter ego. Parker was never popular. "Spider-Man", to his twisted mind, must be. Fame is his only virtue. Twice the fall of the villain: Double the bounty of the hero."
"I-I don't trust you. I never will!" Harry rasped, but his half-scarred face managed a look of hatred.
"If you don't trust me, Harry, who can you trust? I'm your father! No matter what goes wrong in this world, you always have family to look to. Please. Please don't make me lose my own son. No matter what you do with your life; at least live, Harry, at least live."
The hand of Norman Osborn reached out to him.
"My son," He said, "My only son: Take my hand. Take my hand."
Harry's weak fingers stretched out to the ghost before him.
He hesitated, then, touched and took hold of it.
But it wasn't a hand he was holding, any longer. It was a green container of liquid from his glider.
He downed the substance without needing a machine, since he had already used it once before.
As his strength increased, as his immunities doubled, as he was no longer dying, the person who called himself 'Harry Osborn' left his own body. And a being only called the 'Green Goblin' took absolute control of it.
No conflict. No mental weaknesses. No one to hold him back.
---
Harry Osborn had a small funeral for such a rich man.
All were told he had simply been one of the many victims of that night.
Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson, being good friends of Harry, had reported finding his body under a broken car after searching for him, many days.
It was only the butler who they told the truth. That no body had been found, but said they still knew he was dead.
The butler had claimed to have seen the body and claimed it appeared he had been scratched or bitten to death.
They buried an empty casket. Next to the grave of Norman Osborn.
One thing that was true, was that both Norman Osborn and Harry Osborn were both dead.
Something that no one living knew, was that the Green Goblin still lived on.
Though this wasn't true, either. Since the Green Goblin was far more alive than ever before
---
Still very weak, the Goblin retreated into his own mansion.
With no will made, and no close relatives, the Osborn inheritance would be debated over for many months.
The Butler, no longer having the job, was forced to leave the mansion. Not even allowed to enter to clean.
For many months, the Goblin rested.
He heard many things. About how a new villein had arrived called Constrictoro.
Once he returned full energy, he had to prepare his return.
He took a silver Goblin mask instead of a green one. Let the city fear a new face.
He also matched it with a coat of silver armor. Let the city fear a new being.
He kept the gliding stick he had used as the New Goblin. He couldn't easily design something new, when the person's body he wore was dead, of course.
When planning his first attack, he heard of a man sized lizard which roamed the city.
He heard announcements that Spider-Man had made a deal with the military to destroy the one called Constrictoro.
Now was the time for the Green Goblin to make his return.
With the death of Spider-Man. And, perhaps, the deaths of the Lizard and Constrictoro.
Show the world that once he arrives, none can stand up.
He loaded the stick glider with many weapons. Including lots of "pumpkin bombs". An orb sized weapon designed for the military.
He road forward on his glider, breaking out threw window. He didn't need this place, anymore.
It was night by now, and something interesting was going on.
Fog was flowing up from the streets.
And then he looked up to see what seemed to be an entire roof ablaze with blue flames.
And there, on the edge of it, was Spider-Man.
That man made of shiny crystals, next to him, must be this 'Constrictoro'.
He glided over the blue flames and saw Spider-Man choking.
It didn't madder. But, Spider-Man was his kill. However; Constrictoro was his kill, too, so why shouldn't he just hurry while there distracted.
He ejected a pumpkin bomb into his hand.
He rotated the switch on it, and it beeped as he waited for the perfect time.
He dropped it into the fire clad roof, and it exploded just before the flames would have destroyed the bomb, itself.
The roof was no more.
Pieces crumbled into the night air as Spider-Man and Constrictoro were left with nothing to stand on, and fell.
He couldn't see where they went, but as he turned around the building, again, he saw Spider-Man there; clinging to the side of the building like the insect he was.
He was no longer even Spider-Man, at all, however. His true identity as Peter Parker was displayed to the sky.
He threw another bomb.
Parker let go of the building, and fell, just in time.
The Goblin grinned as he turned his silver mask down at the pathetic man before him and cried out the simple words he had longed to speak for almost six years.
"We meet, again, Spider-Man!"