AWOKEN

chapter two:

The Monster Within

HAHA!

The insane laughter exploded in his brain like a nail being driven into his skull. He gasped and his eyes flew open at the pain. His heart started to race in panic. Where was he? How did he get here? It was dark, and wet, the small dark space he was in closed in on him even more as claustrophobia and pain overtook his freezing body. He began to shake, coughs racked his thin form and strange things were scratching outside the wooden box he was in.

"Son..."

He stilled as the voice reached his ears like an old friend reaching for a hug.

"Father?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, son, I'm here. Lie still, you are almost healed."

He looked down to his chest where he felt the pain. Unbuttoning his suit jacket he ripped away his white shirt. His eyes widened and he let out a gasp of air in panic as he watched the skin start to knit together. What was happening? He started to struggle. Where was he? His father was dead... how was he hearing his voice? How did he know the voice belonged to his father? He didn't remember anything; how he got there, who he was... what was his name?

"You know who you are," the voice of his father echoed in his head. You know how you got here... murdered. You were killed by a man you thought was your best friend. Betrayed... tricked into fighting for a cause that was false, against a villain who was really only misunderstood. He was trying to help you get our revenge... Son, don't you remember? The pain? The suffering? The betrayal? He killed me, he took away Mary-Jane, he tried to kill you."

The man squeezed his eyes shut and cocked his head, as if trying to listen harder. He tried to remember; tried to remember the pain and betrayal his father was talking about. But the folds of his memory were black and distant. The only think he could remember was his father, the voice inside his head; talking to him, guiding him. He remembered a man full of ambition, pride, love. He remembered a father who strove to do the best for him, even if at times it put them at odds. He didn't have many memories of their time together or how he died, all there was was emotion, feeling. What was past and done, his relationship with his father squirmed itself into his brain one tiny feeling at a time.

But the rest of his life... his memories... his friends... it all remained frustratingly blank.

But then, a small flicker, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Yes, it was coming back! The light was getting brighter, soon, small images made themselves known to his sore head... Growing up in complete wealth and comfort... his father driving him to school... and later high-school... laughing about girls... And then the memories fluttered by rapidly and were replaced by more foreboding images and feelings. A dark room full of vials and machinery... weird, insane laughter echoing through the house... a man all in red and blue lying his dead father on the sofa... Mary-Jane kissing his best friend... no, his former best friend... the need for revenge... asking a man with many arms to bring someone to him... the red and blue man lying on the same sofa... ripping his mask off... Peter Parker... Peter Parker had betrayed him! Explosions burst into his tortured mind. Pain, rage. Peter had told him his father hated him, he was a failure. Agony erupted on the side of his face... mangled, disfigured.

He screamed as the memories kept coming, filling his empty head until it was near bursting, like blowing a balloon until the elastic is stretched to its limits.

Burning, pain, suffering... rage... Peter did this... no, he needs help. Mary-Jane is in danger! Venom. Fighting, more pain. Calling Peter to help. To free himself... knocked off his glider, pain exploding in his head. No, the villain was going to murder the trapped Peter with his glider. Wait! No! Without thought or hesitation he throws himself at his old friend. He was suddenly in front of the glider. The blades were in his chest. White hot, agonizing pain. He was dying. Faces, blurry and distorted, trying to say something. Nothing. More pain, rage. They had left him. He had died trying to save a betrayer. And then... nothing.

The young man gasped in shock, his eyes flying open as the memories stopped, to be replaced by anger. He had died because they had been weak. But, where was he? In hell?

"No, son, not dead, but in the grave," his father hissed.

"What?"

"That last Goblin ambrosia you took," he continued. "It was my masterpiece. A genetic enhancer. A mutation. Enhanced speed, strength... healing. It takes many days for the mutation to complete. But it is done now. You are healed."

He shook his head. The drug...

He looked down at his chest again as the skin finished covering the wounds on his chest. And then, he felt something similar, but harder, more scalelike, wrapping around his heart as well. A yellow reptilian hide covered his heart and he felt feeling melt away. Suddenly, a wide, crazy smile spread across his white face. He was hole again.

"Now, get yourself out of this hell hole... it is time to take revenge on the ones who made your life miserable and allowed your death. Revenge son, you have been brought back to life! Don't waste it."

"Yes father," he hissed. "I won't."

And then, the drug finished its cycle through his thin body, staining every tissue, every cell, every bone yellow. His blood boiled.

A sudden, insane laugh exploded from his lips and he smashed his feet against the lid of the coffin. It shuddered. With another kick his feet kicked through the lid, shattering the wood. With new, crazed energy he began to dig. His hands tore through the wet earth, pulling it down to pile around him in the coffin. He began to move upwards. His nails peeled back and blood began to pour down his arms. His face and neck were laced with bulging purple veins as he strained against nature, against the call of the dead itself. Worms dug into his skin and decay began to claim his body again, but he mustered strength and will and his cells began to regenerate, mutating into the fast healing zombie he had become.

xXx

The cemetery outside was cold and as the storm clouds finally found their place and hovered over the graves, a white, sickly hand suddenly forced itself out of the earth. The fingers curled, as if trying to catch the moon above and wring the light out of it.

A murder of ravens sitting in a tree suddenly took to the air in fright as icy rain started to fall and lightning struck the ground near the ghostly hand. And then, more limbs started to follow that hand; an arm, a shoulder, a head half covered in long dark hair. And then, a man was crouching in the grass. His knees bent up past his neck and eyes alert like a small venomous creature... a monster... a goblin.

A small cat hunting for mice suddenly came upon the grave. It let out a frightened yowl as a figure suddenly arose from out of a ground. With grey skin, back hunched and teeth glittering white in insanity, he looked like a sickly character from a ghost story. If the cat had had the intelligence to know what had just taken place before him, it would have tucked its tail between its legs and fled to the protection of the nearest trash bin. But instead, he regarded the man slowly for a moment before attempting to lick away the rain from its fur.

The man's gaze turned toward the stone at his side. His bloodshot eyes narrowed in hate as he looked at the name engraved on it. With a blood curling howl he stood up and ripped the headstone out of the earth. With muscles straining and heavy breath, he threw the stone with all his might. It landed a couple of yards away and shattered in a cloud of grey dust which quickly dissipated in the rain.

The cat, startled by the noise raced up the nearest tree. It sat there hissing quietly.

The man turned back to the grave he had just risen from and then lifted his face to the sky. The rain beat upon his warn face and his eyes fluttered shut. Small tendrils of red and brown water began to trickle down his face and neck.

"Son," the voice of the Goblin was still insistent. "Do you know who you are now?"

The man smiled. "Yes father." He looked at the shattered grave stone.

"I am Harry Osborn."

"And what are you going to do?"

Harry lifted his crazed filled eyes to the moon once more as insane laughter exploded from his cracked lips.

"Kill Peter Parker..."

Many thanks to all of you readers who are now following my story. There is only one more chapter left so keep an eye out for that!

I'm also writing a full length story for Star Wars entitled 'EarthLing.' It's about a Star Wars geek who gets transported to the galaxy far, far away with only her wits and a few old and new friends to help her. Rated T, Romance/Sci-Fi.

Visit my blog at blogspot: tyzeiter