"Stop here," Norman ordered.

The large van, towing a black moving truck, parked alongside a barbed wire fence surrounding a military warehouse. Norman opened passenger-side door and got out.

"Wait here," he said to the men in the van as he closed the door.

He walked up to the fence. The warehouse was usually guarded during the day, and at night, the fence was electrified. It was early in the morning, too dark for anyone to see him, although that soon wouldn't matter. Norman jumped over the fence gracefully, landing on his feet, next to the security panel beside the gate. Opening the panel, he typed in the security code from memory, and the gates opened.

"How'd you open the gate," one of the men asked. Norman grabbed the man's arm as the others headed toward the warehouse.

"Don't question me. I'm paying you to move equipment, not to think," Norman snarled.

The man, a 6-foot, 4-inch ex-convict, winced. From his grip or from the menacing look in his eye, Norman didn't know, and didn't care. He entered a second security code beside the warehouse door, then waved to the driver. The van drove into the warehouse loading area, behind the other men. Norman immediately headed for the next room, where the equipment he was looking for was kept.

"Holy ," the ex-con whispered.

In front of them was a full collection of the Green Goblin's equipment and weaponry.

"What are you waiting for? Pack it all up," Norman ordered.

The men reluctantly began to load everything into the moving truck. After the bombs and special ammunition for the glider had been packed away, the ex-con turned to face the task of removing a Goblin suit from its case, one different from what he'd seen in the paper. Just looking at the mask, so life-like and mocking, gave him the shivers.

"Hey, Tom, what do you think this is," a man asked, holding a case full of stacked tubes containing green liquid.

"No idea, and I don't care. Hurry up. This place gives me the creeps," Tom responded.

The man nodded, and Tom turned back toward the Goblin suit. As he looked at the case, he stumbled back, barely catching himself on an empty crate. The suit was gone.

"Where's Mr. Sinclair," he called out.

"Right here," Norman answered, rising up from behind the steel-backed case on the glider.

"But that's Goblin to you. The Green Goblin."

The other workers had stopped what they were doing, staring.
One of them suddenly ran for the door. The Green Goblin fired off a round of bullets into the man as he pressed a button on a remote he had in his hand, and all of the exits closed. The man was knocked into the wall behind him, his blood drenching it as he slumped to the ground, dead. They were trapped.

"Fools," The Green Goblin commented.

The others scattered in all directions, trying to hide behind cases and crates. Norman laughed as he grabbed one of them by the shirt, opening fire on the others. He flew right by the glass case, extending his arm. Glass pelted down on Tom as the man smashed through the case, landing on a large, jagged peice that had become wedged into the stand for the suit. His eyes glazed over in horror, blood dripping from his mouth.

Tom had fallen as the first shots had been fired, sitting against the case with his hands around his knees. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of screaming and gunfire. Suddenly, it stopped. Everything was silent except for his own terrified, ragged breath.

He waited for a few moments, deciding what to do, then got up and ran to the door, banging on it and trying to find a way out. He heard the crackle of glass beneath a foot, and turned.

Before he could even take a breath, a hand wrapped around his throat, and he was lifted off the ground. The Green Goblin, now off of the glider, laughed at him.

"Did you really think that you could get away," he asked, amused.

Tom clawed at the hand in vain, black dots starting to dance across his eyes.

"Let me go," he croaked in desperation.

"After what you've seen," Norman replied.

"Please. I won't tell anyone, I promise," Tom pleased, starting to cough.

"I can't do that. Sorry. I have great plans for this city, and they're not about to be ruined by some low-life street thug like you."

Norman squeezed, and there was a loud crack as Tom's neck broke. Norman dropped him on the ground like a defective toy, and walked over to the glider. He picked it up and pressed a button on his remote. The doors opened. He threw the glider into the back of the moving truck. He took off the Goblin armor, his clothes underneath it, and placed the armor on the floor of the van's passenger seat. He got into the driver's side.

It was the anniversery of his supposed death, and it would be the anniversery of his return to his rightful identity; that of the Green Goblin.

'It's good to be back,' he thought, and drove away.