Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoy this little double-bill I've written for all of you as a Christmas present.
I don't own Spider-Man or the characters. Please leave feedback, it's greatly appreciated.
The Leopard from New York.
Peter stood outside the abandoned house, gazing at the crumbling brickwork. The place had been empty for years, though Peter genuinely didn't care less what the history of the place was. He didn't know why the house had been abandoned and why it had been gutted, but it made no difference. It was perfect for his purposes.
He had endured another day at Midtown High, but thanks to his new abilities, Peter was able to avoid the worse of any potential pranks and anymore bullying whereas in the past each moment at the school was like being inside a harsh jungle where he would be likely to be attacked by a predator.
But now he was a predator, and he was amazed by how aware he was of his own environment whereas before he had been as closed off to it in the past.
Peter was surprised when he had likened himself to a predator, but it was true. He began to see himself as a predator, and he made a mental note to record this in the diary he planned to set up to detail what was happening to him.
Flash and the other bullies had tried to bully him, but he had managed to avoid them. It had crossed his mind to lash out at Flash, but he had resisted the urge to do just that. He was sure he had inherited many of the leopards' traits - speed, agility, strength, reflexes, but he still had no idea how much of his mind had been affected. The last thing he wanted to was to draw attention to himself and cause problems for himself further down the line. Everyone at school saw him as a geeky wuss who wouldn't say boo to a goose, the last thing he wanted was to injure Flash and land the neanderthal in hospital or something, but what really frightened the teenager was what would happen to his mind if he was pushed.
He was already seeing himself as a predator, and he had caught himself looking at Flash like he wanted nothing more than to injure the bastard badly for everything he had done. As he stood outside the abandoned house, Peter reflected on the rest of the day he'd had. He was just lucky he didn't have a gym class or anything to do with physical fitness. In the past those lessons had been his own personal idea of hell; him, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that no matter what didn't seem to fit him as they should, trying desperately to do the work while all the time struggling to run more than a few feet before his heart and lungs felt like he was about to collapse panting and wheezing while everyone around him laughed their heads off.
Peter pushed that aside as he looked up at the building. He had dumped his stuff at home and he'd come out here to this place in order to see what he could do with his new abilities so he could begin to experiment. Everything that happened here would shape his life for years to come. Taking a deep breath, Peter rushed towards the fence, wondering if the new-found agility worked just as well as it did before…. And he leapt over the fence, landing on the ground with his hands pushing down the overgrown grass in the same position an ordinary cat would find itself.
Standing up, Peter walked slowly up to the boarded-up backdoor. Placing a hand on one of the thick boards nailed to the door frame, Peter pushed down hard, and the board was split in two! It was enough to go through the remaining boards though one was still nailed to the doorframe. Peter lifted his foot and kicked it, splitting the wood just once, and reducing the plank into splinters.
Walking inside the house, Peter flinched. The stench inside was just awful, really, really bad. The walls were black with damp and the smell made his newly enhanced nose recoil, but it was mixed with a number of other scents Peter could not yet identify. As he stood in the gutted house, looking for anything he could use to test his abilities, Peter made the decision to just begin the tests here and then get out, maybe even venture over to the rail yard or something where there was a supply of materials there which could him gauge his new strength.
As he explored the house, looking to find something, anything, which could help him, Peter noticed just how barren the house was. The stairs leading upwards were falling apart. There were signs everywhere in the house there was a fire which had gutted the place - that made sense, but the years of the inside of the house being exposed to the elements had reduced what was left of the stairway to a set of rotten wooden planks.
Peter looked up and saw the balcony on the upper storey and he crouched down and leapt upwards, deftly catching the upper rail relieved to find it was made from metal and he swung himself onto the balcony, over the rotten wooden rail with elastic agility that would make any gymnast weep with envy.
The floorboards creaked under his weight, but Peter ignored it for the time being as he explored the rest of the upper storey. There were a few items left over from the original tenants, but they weren't good enough for his purposes. He walked into the bathroom and he checked the bathtub and the toilet and the sink. The sink itself was one of those old ceramic things that were incredibly heavy. Peter smiled and he walked over to it, and he ran his fingers over the ceramic finish before he slowly took hold of the edges. Once he'd taken a firm grip, Peter slowly started to pull before he decided to just get it over with, and he ripped the sink off of its housing. Residual water leaked and dripped from the tear, but Peter ignored the water, guessing it was just a collection from when the sink was last used or if it had just collected water over the years from all the rain or something.
Peter paid it no attention. He just lifted the sink and held it in both of his hands. If he had not been put through the teleport with the leopard there was no doubt in his mind he would not have been able to lift this thing up. But now he was able to lift the sink up with ease, and he took it to the landing.
Peter threw the sink over the railing and he threw it over the edge.
It landed on the ground with a crash. Some of the sink was smashed on the ground, but it was too strong to completely shatter. Peter looked down at the ground, taking in the white-grey chips, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed the test hadn't been as good as he'd hoped it would turn out to be.
Peter blew out a breath before he leapt over the rail and landed on the ground, and he continued his search of the place to see if there was anything else here he could use to his advantage.
Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp Industries, was under a lot of pressure and he was angry, not to mention embarrassed when he discovered that not only was a delegation from the US military in one of his testing sites, but they had been at the site for over half an hour already. Osborn immediately headed for the laboratory where the US military's precious super soldier contract was being studied and developed, and he paused with an angry growl as he spotted Dr Stromm speaking with the lead figure, General Slocum.
Blustering, dressed in the dark forest green uniform decorated with stars and medals, Slocum was a typical US soldier complete with a severe military style haircut he still maintained even if his hairline was receding. Slocum was surrounded by similarly dressed US officials, and Osborn could not help but notice that many of them didn't look impressed with whatever Stromm was telling them. Osborn growled under his breath as he wondered just what the old fool was telling them. Why was it difficult for Stromm to realise Slocum was deliberately probing the super-soldier program to find out if it was kosher? Why couldn't the idiot see he was making a big mistake by opening his mouth?
Unfortunately, Slocum was not like his predecessor. General McIntee had been a reasonable man, and Osborn had told him a dozen times over to give him time to develop the technology behind the program. Osborn and his organisation and the scientists that worked for him on this particular project had been hired to find an answer to Tony Stark's Iron Man armour, something that was both practical and superior at the same time since Stark simply refused to hand over his knowledge, so the US had decided to give the project to a number of other industries their military was attached to as part of the defence contracts.
Osborn knew his project was not unique. There were others, but thankfully his spies in various companies said they were having pretty much the same problems Oscorp itself was having with this one. McIntee had known that, but the US government was not happy with the lack of progress with any of the projects on the board. But it seemed McIntee was too reasonable, though Osborn didn't know all of the details. All he knew was he had Slocum on his back. The general treated him like a sergeant major treated a common soldier who had just recently enlisted, and Osborn didn't like that. He had guided his company for years through numerous highs and lows over the course of his career. He had given a great deal to the US military and to his government, yet he was being treated like a retarded soldier by Slocum.
Osborn walked slowly towards the general and to his entourage, hoping his anger was not apparent; a bad mood would not impress Slocum, though truthfully Osborn was starting to simply not care about the arrogant soldiers' views. Osborn tragically needed the fool in order to stall the government so he could continue with his researches. It wasn't his fault the US government had piled all the research and development contracts on his company since that mess in New York a few years ago, any more than it was on others. They seemed to believe studying alien technology was all about taking it apart, figuring out what one piece at a time did, and then conducting experiments for how it could benefit America rather than the whole world so then they could continue lording it over the planet with their arrogant superiority.
Osborn was a patriot, but he was too smart to not be blinded by the arrogance that stated America must always be trying to make little versions of their own country. He himself had seen on so many occasions how his own countrymen caused problems in countries which were none of their business, and to be honest, that kind of arrogance spread to how they constantly breathed down the necks of their researchers who were trying to make things work. Look at Latveria. How many times in the past few years had Doctor Doom himself pleaded with America to stop meddling in his countries affairs? How many times had SHIELD and the Fantastic Four poked and prodded in Dooms' work all because they believed Doom was an evil dictator? In truth, Osborn knew the true story was not the same old "black and white, all it takes is a few good men" line the government used to paint Doom as a bad guy. In truth, Doom was actually more interested in ensuring his small country was well fed and watered. He had brought in builders from other countries to build schools while he tried to find parts of the country which could be opened up to tourists to bring in trade, but thanks to American meddling it hadn't gone too far. Was it any wonder Doctor Doom lashed out?
Slocum was just another depressing reason why Osborn had become cynical about working with the government. At first working for the US government had been fun. He had supplied them with weapons, brought in the top minds in order to develop weaponry so then Oscorp was on the near top of the ladder of industries which supplied the military with the weapons they needed. Norman had worked long and hard to ensure he had a niche, but unfortunately, he had fallen into a trap.
Like Stark, Hammer, and a number of other industrialists, whenever the military wanted something new, some new war machine, some new weapon, some new type of armour, they came straight to him. After that it was a case of win some, lose some. The government always applied a vast amount of pressure to make sure he gave them what they wanted, but sometimes it didn't happen whereas for his competitors it was easy for them to do and they won the contracts.
That was why Osborn had begun to rely on good old-fashioned industrial espionage in order to gain some degree of leverage over his competitors. In the past, Osborn had baulked at using spies unless as a last resort, though he had never done it on a large scale before since it caused more problems than he could afford. But for the last few years, Osborn had needed to fight dirtier and harder than he had in the past in order to remain on top. Matters were helped when Iron Man appeared when Tony Stark had touched god, and he'd started being a hero. Osborn had never liked Stark. He'd always believed the man to be too much of a playboy to be a serious businessman despite his extraordinary engineering and scientific skill, and he liked the man even less.
It was because of Stark the US military was determined to get on top. Stark had devised a unique body armour that enabled him to fly, to attack and defend. Was it any wonder the US wanted the technology for themselves? Unfortunately Stark refused, and so the US decided that if it couldn't have the original, then someone else could develop a technology that was similar and yet different.
Osborn was not the only industrialist working on the program. The US government had been generous in this case. They had created a kind of competition for the industrialists in order to see what their pawns could do.
In the laboratory, Norman could see the full extent of his work.
The laboratory was large. It was built into an underground bunker designed for maximum space. Dominating the room was a massive circle, overlooked by an inner control room where scientists and technicians could monitor the experiments taking place, and inside the circle was the Wing.
The Wing, as it was called, was Norman Osborn's pride and joy. It was inspired after he had worked out for himself he couldn't duplicate Starks' flight technology, not without proper study which the government refused to allow, so he'd been depressed and took a brief break. During that time he caught himself watching something over his sons' shoulder, not that Harry knew it at the time. Harry had been watching a surfer clip on Youtube. Watching the way the surfers balanced themselves on their surfboards as they rode the waves, it had inspired him and since he was not going to get too far with the effortless way Stark flew, he decided to use something different.
The Wing was the result of three years of development, as was the battle-suit. The Wing was essentially a glider, using a combination of simple air technology and electromagnetism to allow the operator to fly while wearing a suit that would allow the soldier to control it with his mind. It was a cybernetic dream, but while it sounded easy it had taken a lot of time and research in order to develop it to this level. Osborn watched as the current operator stood on top of the glider and flew it slowly around the room, the engine humming like a living thing throbbing with power.
"We've solved the balancing issues and we've modified the suit's cybernetic headset to allow greater control," Stromm said to Slocum while Norman walked closer so then he could confront Slocum, already mentally preparing himself for the worse.
"I've already seen the glider," Slocum said, "it's not why I'm here."
Osborn sighed. The performance enhancers. The bastard was here to find out what was going on with the enhancers. The battle suit was a cybernetic wonder that allowed the soldiers to fly as the next breed of soldier, but the suit's ability to increase human strength was shockingly limited. By itself, the suit was able to double the strength of an ordinary human, but the US government quickly changed its mind after they'd said it was a good thing.
They wanted a soldier who was super strong. Iron Man strong, preferably. But strong enough to overpower any enemy. Norman knew the government wanted contingencies in place should the Avengers or any other super-powered individual went out of control, to do that they needed a soldier who was exceptionally powerful.
Unfortunately, the battle-suit was a trap. In order to make it capable of controlling the glider, they'd had to sacrifice many of the cybernetic systems which would have allowed the soldier to be capable enough of combating Captain America. The immediate solution while R&D worked on developing a battle-suit design after the prototype which could control the suit and yet allow the wearer to be incredibly strong. The immediate solution was to use a kind of performance enhancer while R&D worked on producing a suit that allowed both super strength and flexibility when using the glider.
The only problem was for this experiment to work a new type of performance enhancer had needed to be developed, and it was not easy to do since this type of enhancer worked in two ways. The first was it affected the serotonin levels in the brain to give the user confidence in their own abilities while the second way enhanced human speed and power.
Slocum wanted both parts of the super-soldier project to be brought together so he could present it to the government.
Well, he was going to be disappointed.
"General Slocum, I had no idea that you were here," Osborn greeted the general, announcing his presence while he ignored the members of his own board; it was rude and not good business procedure, but he didn't care. They had not told him they were coming with the general, and if he had to hazard a guess, they had deliberately kept it from him. He wasn't about to waste politeness on them today.
Slocum turned his unimpressed face towards Osborn. "I want to see the progress report on the human performance enhancement project," he said without preamble. Norman cursed, knowing only too well Slocum was not going to like the results of the tests.
Unfortunately, Stromm seemed to be oblivious to the danger. The stupid old man opened his mouth and began babbling. "We used vapour inhalation on one ground rodent subjects, and they showed an eighty per cent increase in strength and intelligence. Another group simply had it injected into their bodies, and they showed a similar increase in strength. Up to about seventy-five perfect."
Slocum grunted grudgingly. "That doesn't sound too bad, but why did the vapour inhalation work more effectively on the rats and mice than injection?"
Osborn cut in before Stromm could do any unintentional damage. "We believe the formula works better in a gaseous state, though we're still a long way off from figuring out why," he answered.
Slocum gave a gruff sarcastic chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?" he sneered at Norman.
It was impossible for Norman Osborn to take that and not react badly, but he managed to stop himself unleashing hell on this arrogant, blustering, swaggering dictator with delusions of grandeur, but only just.
But Slocum turned to Stromm when he saw the scientist was easier to speak with than Osborn. "Were there any side-effects, vomiting, sweating, things like that?"
Once again Osborn groaned and wished Stromm didn't have such a big mouth. "Yes, in one group, the subjects-," the scientist began, but Norman quickly interrupted since he knew that nothing good would come from Stromms' report. "But only one group, General. In the other tests, the enhancers were successful, with increases in strength, durability, endurance and intellect."
Slocum sighed and turned to Stromm, deliberately ignoring Osborn. "Go on," he instructed.
Stromm suddenly hesitated and looked at Norman when he suddenly realised for himself the way the wind was blowing, but the industrialist glared back furiously at his old friend, furious with him. You did this, you old fool! Osborn hoped his glare was relaying, not caring anymore about what Stromm through about him. Now you can pay the price!
He wasn't going to help.
"Well, doctor?" Slocum prodded when he became impatient as he glanced at the elderly scientist. "In the trial that went wrong what happened? What were the side-effects of the experiment? If we're to accept the performance enhancers on delivery, the last thing we want is to tell the soldiers' families they were killed by some chemical that caused their deaths which we could not screen out."
Stromm licked his lips when he realised he was now alone. "The rodents were driven insane," he confessed, "they became violent, aggressive. In the end, they tore each other apart."
Norman looked down at his feet, cursing Stromm for being so stupid but unfortunately even he had to admit to himself it was only a matter of time before Slocum discovered that little side-effect of the performance enhancers. Either one of the board members said something or one of the scientists who were too interested in other things to really check their words, but sooner or later it would be found out.
Slocum turned his unimpressed visage in Osborns' direction, seeing for himself the industrialist had known about it but had not bothered to bring it to his attention. "Well Osborn, nothing clever to say?" he challenged. "What do you plan to do now?"
Osborn looked up, knowing not to expect any kind of sympathy from the almighty board members but unlike Stromm, he wasn't stupid enough to babble. "It was only one test," he said quietly, "but I should remind you of something important. I stressed strongly when I decided to use a new performance enhancer as part of the program there would be difficulties in mixing an enhancer strong enough to make the subject strong, but not strong enough to overwhelm the cybernetics of the suit."
Slocum waved a hand. "Spare me, Osborn," he said brutally, "I've heard nothing but excuses since I was assigned to supervise your work. My predecessor may have been patient, but I am not. I want results. My superiors want results."
Then maybe your superiors should come here and do the work, though with their brain capacities it would be a miracle not to wreck the place, Osborn thought to himself privately, though he wasn't suicidal enough to say it out loud. "I am aware of that, but my staff, with the exception of a few," Osborn sent a deadly look at Stromm, "are sure we can begin testing the enhancers on humans soon enough."
Slocum closed his eyes, wishing that someone else was here and not himself. He wished he was on a lower rung of the rank ladder, that way he would have simpler duties to attend to. But he wasn't. He was still here. "Dr Stromm?" he said, speaking over Osborn.
Stromm looked down himself now, realising he had dug for himself a massive pit he couldn't get out of because of his mouth. "The performance enhancers are too unstable," he said quietly, knowing as soon as this meeting was over he was going to be chewed out. "We need to take the entire line back to formula."
When Slocum walked away, visibly frustrated, Osborn snarled at Stromm. "Back to formula!?"
"I'm going to be frank now, Mr Osborn," Slocum said bluntly while Stromm recoiled, "I was never supportive of your project. I always thought you were promising far too much. We have given you so many chances to make delivery, but each time you have failed. You have also failed to deliver satisfactory results to your other genetic projects involving the teleportation and conventional methods of gene therapy."
Osborn was quiet, but inwardly he was getting angrier and angrier at Slocum's honesty. He had always guessed where the soldier's opinions laid. He had worked with the government and the soldier types too many times over the years to not be able to tell the differences between hidden interest and urgency for the project to be finished quickly and sheer disinterest.
"My predecessor gave you too much leeway, but I am not him. If you had simply kept things simple by giving us the suit and the glider without the performance enhancers, it would have been adequate even if the suit only doubles the strength of the soldier," Slocum went on.
"Don't blame it on me, General," Osborn said just as harshly as his temper began to snap, "blame your superiors. They wanted a super-soldier technology that allows them to match Iron Man since Stark refused to give his technology to anybody else even despite that mess caused by Hammer. They also wanted an equaliser in case the Avengers or anybody else as powerful as the Avengers caused problems down the line. I have done everything in my power to give it to them.
"And as for the other projects you've given to me, there have been a number of successes, but we are still trying to understand how the teleportation technology works, but we have a long way to go."
Slocum conceded the points, though he ignored the one about the genetic teleportation work since in his mind it was all the same. "True enough, we have put a lot of pressure on our industrialists to conceive of a way to make our soldiers strong enough to defend this country, but I am afraid I have neared the end of my patience with you."
Osborn frowned in surprise. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
Slocum turned to a senior member of Oscorps' board, and Norman clenched his fists angrily. He was furious with this whole mess; Slocum for doing this to him when he'd had it in mind the whole time, but he was furious with Stromm for making it easier for Slocum to get this all out in the first place. But he was furious with his board for playing into Slocums' hand. Didn't they have any kind of common sense? Didn't they have any loyalty beyond to their own wallets? Actually, he didn't know why he was bothering to ask. He knew the answer only too well.
"Norman," Mr Bowles said, "the general has already given the go-ahead to the QuestAerospace exoskeleton project. They've already had a number of successful trial runs. Their final prototype begins testing in a few weeks."
Osborn couldn't help himself. He laughed. "QuestAerospace? That exoskeleton does not make someone super-human. It is basically a stripped down fighter plane."
Slocum nodded despite the argument. "Nevertheless it works; granted, it may not be as versatile as some of the other projects out there. If your so-called performance enhancers," Slocum sneered at the term, "do not work in the next few weeks, we shall give our contract to them, and I shall pull the funding you have at the moment, and give it to them."
With that, General Slocum turned and walked away, followed by his entourage. "Ladies, gentlemen," he said, nodding at the board. Osborn turned his searing eyes to them, promising that they would all pay the price for what they'd just done.
Peter looked at the computer screen in front of him, writing down the notes he had mentally compiled since making notes on paper was too risky since anyone could find them and after that anything could happen. He wasn't worried about his uncle or aunt trying to break into his computer since he regularly changed his password in accordance to what computer geeks did, but to be honest they weren't the type to poke their noses into that extent.
As he went through the notes he'd compiled, Peter began writing slowly so then he had everything in mind. He had organised his diary in a typical diary format while he added a number list.
One thing he had made sure to add to the diary was to write down his impressions of everyone at the school and how he'd likened the atmosphere to that of a jungle where everybody else were predators themselves. But as he wrote, Peter kept in mind that his writing would be pretty dry-reading, but truthfully he didn't care since he didn't have any intention of letting anyone else read it. Storywriting was not Peters' forte. He preferred writing things down in a fairly scientific, detailed manner.
Still, it allowed him to organise his thoughts.
As he read through the notes he'd just written, Peter reflected on what he had learnt at the abandoned house. In truth, he found the whole experiment rather disappointing - there was just so little at the place there to test him, not like he'd hoped. There were no piles of junk that would take at least two people to lift, there was just an upper storey with a heavy ceramic sink for him to lift up. That was hardly a test of his new abilities.
Once he was finished writing up his notes into the diary entry, Peter switched to the internet and started looking to see if there was anything nearby he could use to test just how strong he was, but he also wanted to test his agility. The last thing he wanted to do was try it out at school. Everyone knew he was simply incapable of doing a backflip, never mind a handstand. He didn't want anyone to know what had happened to him.
But that didn't mean he couldn't break into a gym and try it out, but as he considered it he instantly disregarded it since the gym would be no different from the abandoned house. It would have more than the house, yeah, but it wouldn't be enough for him to test his agility or his strength. All of the weight lifting equipment was not designed for people with super-human strength, and he had a picture of himself trying out his speed on a treadmill and going so fast it burnt the machine out.
With that in mind, Peter searched the local area for warehouses that were either in use or had been abandoned just like the old house.
The Wing testing laboratory was in night mode but Norman Osborn was still working in the part of the laboratory where the performance enhancers were being held. As he worked at the terminal, Norman was trying to hold onto his nerve, but he was helped because of his anger and frustration and his embarrassment over what had happened earlier.
Norman hadn't bothered to lash out at Stromm after Slocum had left, and he hadn't bothered to speak to any member of the board either. As far as he was concerned, the board members were traitors who were more interested in their own wallets, but he had needed them in the past. As he typed his instructions into the computer, Norman went over what had happened after Slocum had left.
He had gone back to the office he had kept on-site - he had offices in each of his sites that enabled him to organise himself no matter where he was in his organisation - and he had brooded. Norman had stayed inside his office all day, thinking about the surprise visit from Slocum and what the arrogant bastard had said to him while the board had just stood there, and Stromm had babbled without giving a thought about discretion.
He had made sure he was unapproachable all day long.
Occasionally Norman would check on the reports of the aspects of the glider project, but he had just become numb as his mind went back to how Slocum had zeroed in like a guided missile on the performance enhancer side of the project and how Stromm had opened his big fat mouth and revealed what had happened to the rodent test subjects.
From a certain point of view, Osborn could see and even understand Slocums' desire to not drive soldiers insane on the battlefield, but the insanity was just a simple side-effect, and besides that in the other tests the insanity issue was non-existent. As he had gone over it again and again, combined with Stromms' betrayal and Slocums' arrogance and how the board members had just rolled over and allowed the soldier to just take away the funding because his own superiors wanted miracles and made demands time and time again, Osborn had snapped.
The performance enhancers worked.
He knew it.
The results were there.
The insanity factor could be worked out later without it being taken back to formula again for the fourth time running.
In the end, frustrated with the lack of results, the constant pressure and the demands from the military to do the work while they were constantly shoving things on his shoulders, the formula taken back again and again, tested again and again in order to perfect it when the basics were already perfect though the insanity was a hundred to one risk by whining crybabies like Stromm, and the betrayals all around him, Osborn had decided to make an ultimate choice.
Osborn was going to prove this super-soldier project as a success even if he had to test the performance enhancer on himself. His decision was not easy to reach, it had taken him hours to make it. But the tragic thing was if Norman had been thinking rightly, used his common sense then he would never have made that choice, but he was too tired of his lack of success with this project despite having taken it so far, to really think straight.
As he worked at the terminal, preparing the enhancement chamber and selecting a jar containing the poisonous green fluid that was the performance enhancer and slotted it into the injection unit. Once he was done, Norman reached out for the small vial containing a clear liquid like water. It was a stabiliser designed to prepare his body for the vaporisation process.
He lifted it up, about to make a toast about human potential, but he decided to just do it, and he swallowed the liquid and threw the vial down in frustration after everything he'd been put through recently, and he set the timer on the vaporisation system to activate in one minute, and he stepped into the vaporisation chamber and closed the door.
As he stood there, shivering in the cold glass and metal framed chamber, ignoring the bench with the restraints designed to hold the test subjects and stop them from lashing out in case something went wrong during the process, Norman took a number of deep breaths. He relished the feel of cold air being taken in by his lungs as he stood there, waiting for what seemed like an eternity before the first signs of the vapour appeared in the chamber.
The moment he breathed the performance enhancer into his body, he immediately began to gasp even as he remembered how the rodents being tested in the labs with the same formula had reacted in much the same way. He forced himself to calm down even as he took painful breaths before he began choking as his lungs suddenly felt as though they'd just inhaled molten lava.
Osborn was grasping his throat as his vision began to slip away and he collapsed onto the grilled metallic floor of the test chamber, panting and coughing for clean fresh untainted air before everything went dark…..
He awoke on the floor of the testing chamber. For a moment he wondered where he was before his memories returned. A feral smile crossed his features though it looked more like the kind of contorted smirk you'd expect to see on a serial killer who enjoyed his work, and even then it was full of madness.
He didn't care what he looked like as he stood up, breathing in the leftover vapour into his lungs, mentally recalling how his lungs had felt as though they'd burn even as he inhaled the vapour. But now his lungs felt as strong and as fit as they had been before, perhaps even better.
He stood up slowly, mentally noting just how he felt as he did. He felt….. powerful, stronger. He felt as if he could take on anybody in the world and win simply because of who he was.
He threw his head back and laughed. The harsh sound reverberated around the air, making it sound as though there were a million people laughing in the same manner. If anybody else had heard that laugh, they would have likened it to cackling witch. Once he finished, he calmly opened the door of the testing chamber and walked out of it. He looked around the laboratory, his eyes picking up each and every feature as if he were a newborn child looking at his mothers face for the first time ever.
It didn't take too long before his eyes picked out the sight of the glider and the battle-suit, and his eyes gleamed at the sight of it….
Author's note - The Green Goblin has just been born, but unlike in canon Peter will have little to do with him though they will be enemies though with his abilities and how the mutation might affect his brain, I don't think Peter will stand for Osborn's interference. Most of the dialogue was derived from the 2002 movie, but there are differences.