Author's Note: Good God... x.x Fanfiction.net's actually allowing posting again? ::dies:: It's a mircale. Anyway here's another chapter... and since those of you reading this have probably been waiting forever, I'll post another chapter sometime this week. Well... that's assuming you continue reviewing.
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Norman Osborn sighed deeply, leaning back into the cool embrace of the chair's leather, once again confined to his former office. This time, however, he had not come back to hide from the world at his son's request. This time, his alter ego had locked him away, demanding that he first try to find out where Spiderman had hidden the flightsuit and glider when they had found it missing from Oscorp. Initially, Norman had told the Goblin that they would never find it... that the red and blue-clad hero had probably destroyed it. But he had been wrong. On one of the Goblin's attempts to find something he could use against the wall-crawler - such as a suitable battleground - demon and host had stumbled into an all but forgotten junkyard. Less than ten minutes later, fate had found him staring at the empty jaden shell that was the flightsuit. The glider and mask were a scant few inches away, covered in dirt.
That was a week ago.
With that done, the rusty-tressed Osborn tried to convince himself that he was off the hook, but the Goblin had other plans. And now, once again, he was sitting in his former office formulating a plan. This one to kill the little spider. Though about twenty minutes ago, both monster and man had gotten bored, unable to find anything that wouldn't end the same way it had last time they had attempted to trap Spiderman. So now Norman found his mind wandering, or more specifically dancing around the subject of his revival.
Where had his devious alter ego been when he had found himself in his old office at Oscorp nearly a week ago?
Nearly a half-hour of contemplating it, and the elder Osborn still couldn't come up with a solid answer. With a sigh, he let his eyelids flutter closed in hopes that something plausible would come to him. And as luck would have it, something -did- come. Death and then digging the two of them out of the grave had weakened the Goblin, obviously. And maybe that's why he had been a shattered, blank slate when his alter ego had gotten them back to Oscorp... Maybe that's why the Goblin had taken a sabbatical from the back of the auburn-haired man's mind. Hell, maybe his demon and savior had been weaker than either of them wanted to admit.
It made perfect sense.
* Or maybe, * the Goblin hissed in his ear, * you're the weak one. Maybe I knew your etcha-sketch of a psyche couldn't handle it if I came back full force - if I re-drew the picture all at once. So -maybe- I turned the picture into a puzzle... Something you could solve at your own leisure.
* And you sure as hell took your sweet old time. *
The elder Osborn made a face. "I only took two days."
* Two days too long, Osborn. If you weren't so fragile, so weak, we would have had the element of surprise and Spiderman would be dead at our feet right now. *
"As I recall, the element of surprise didn't work to well for us in the bed room. Or during our 'last' battle with Spiderman."
Anger crawled along the former CEO's spine, forcing a sneer to his face. * If I didn't need you, I swear I'd break your arms off and beat you with them. * the Goblin responded, sweeping a low growl past his host's lips. * Besides, I seem to remember something about you wanting to attack him too. *
"...It was a mistake..."
Norman's eyebrows arched themselves at the Goblin's command, his furious expression being replaced by one of mock surprise. * The great Norman Osborn admits to making a mistake? Quick! Someone call CNN! Mr. 'High and Mighty' finally came off his horse. *
And in response to his darker side's prodding, the auburn-haired man simply scowled.
* Fine, Osborn. You're right. It was a mistake. So what does that mean? *
"We need to fix it."
* How? * the demon that shared the elder Osborn's body pressed.
"We need a new plan."
* Yes. And I happen to have one... But I'll need a volunteer from our home audience. *
The former head of Oscorp furrowed his brow in confusion. "Home audience?" he asked softly, trying to figure out what his other half meant. And then it hit him. Slow apprehension poisoning his features he shook his head. "...Harry...?"
A smirk. * You're on a roll today, Osborn. *
Cold, almost dead, fear again. "What are you going to do?"
* I'm gonna use your son to make the little spider bleed. *
Great. His alter ego was going to use a plan that had failed them before - kidnap one of the hero's friends - with his son as the bait. He didn't like it, and yet, he had the sinking feeling that the voice that curled throughout the back of his mind wouldn't reconsidered. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try - he'd just have to be sly about it.
"...And if Spiderman doesn't show up to save Harry?"
He could almost hear the Goblin shrug. * Then the kid takes the web-head's place. A cracked skull or two always sets a hero running. *
"You can't do that!" Norman protested loudly. "I won't let you hurt Harry."
A throaty cackle echoed off the walls of the elder Osborn's head. * I can do whatever I want. *
Norman's hand curled involuntarily at the Goblin's command, an over-confident smirk slipping unbidden onto the auburn-haired man's face. "That's why I'm in charge," he spoke aloud, despite his host's protests. Then, slipping back into the darkness of Osborn's mind, the darker half of the scientist continued.
* But I'm not gonna hurt the kid - he won't even feel it if I have to snap his neck. *
Fury building up inside of him, the former CEO of Oscorp opened his mouth to protest again, only to be cut off by an annoyed Goblin. * Can it. It's time to ante up and your son is our best chip. And our little hero won't fail us. It's his duty. * A calculating pause and then, in no more than a whisper, * ...His weakness... *
"I hope you're right," Norman responded with a sigh. This was pointless. His alter ego wasn't going to let him win, and he -did- want to get his revenge on Spiderman. So why bother?
* I'm always right, Osborn. *
*
"Peter?" Harry's voice called from across the small hallway that separated the two boy's rooms. "You in there Pete?"
Coming to stand just outside his roommate's door, a gray suit wrapped in dry-cleaning plastic draped over his arm, he sighed. His father had invited him to go out to lunch - despite his protests - at one of the two Osborn's favorite bristos in celebration of the clean bill of health Peter had given him. True, it was nice to be able to genuinely say that he had his father back, but Harry was still wary about his father wandering around in the places he used to frequent. It was like begging to be shot in the foot. And this was about as frequent a place as his father could've chosen. This was bad news. In fact, the only thing Harry could honestly say was good about this whole situation was the fact that his father had invited Peter along.
Maybe his best friend could talk his father into something simpler. Like take-out.
Had his name just been called? Lazily raising his head from the books he'd fallen asleep on, paper stuck to his head, Peter looked around the room slowly, eyes glazed and red from lack of sleep. Finding no body for the voice, the struggling college student went back to his new bed, head finding it's comfy pillow of paper. When his name was called again, Peter, still half-asleep, stood up and walked to the door slowly, fumbling for the knob.
"Yeah," He yawned, as he opened the door. Shielding his eyes from the light that now invaded his room, Peter stepped out to stand next to his roommate, running a hand through his tousled chocolate hair as his eyes finally adjusted to the light. "What can I do for you Harry?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Were you still sleeping?" Harry asked, a grin finding its way to his face as he momentarily forgot his problems. "Jeeze Peter, it's nearly noon."
"Yeah, I was just taking a little nap," Here he yawned, stretching his full body out in a failing attempt to wake himself up. Yawning always made him sleepier. "I got back from work late and I've got a test in Atomic Physics tomorrow morning, so I've been studying." He blinked a few times, trying to stop his vision from fading in and out.
"Is it really twelve?" That was a first, Peter Parker sleeping in past eight in the morning. He had to laugh at that. Aunt May would have killed him if she'd known. "But what do you need Harry?"
"Oh," the younger Osborn started, the smile that had been on his face being replaced with a worried expression. "Dad wants to go out for lunch. At one of the places he used to take me all the time when he was..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to touch the subject of his father being dead in the first place. Alive now or not, it was a still a sore spot for him.
With a faint sigh, he gestured to the outfit draped over his arm and continued, "Anyway, I came by to pick up a suit. And to ask if you wanted to come with us... It was dad's idea."
"I don't think so Harry," Just the mere mention of Norman Osborn had Peter on full alert. The way he tensed up, it was as if he expected a pumpkin bomb to come flying in at any moment. But that was foolish. He'd disposed of the flightsuit and the glider himself. There was no way for Norman to get a hold of such weapons. At least, this was what Peter told himself.
"I really need to get a good grade on this exam. If I don't get at least a 94.5%, I could wind up with a 90% average. That doesn't get me a good job after I graduate." Hey, old habits died hard. "But tell your dad I'm sorry that I wasn't able to attend. Oh, and Harry, make sure you be careful."
With a shrug Harry turned away from the door. "Suit yourself Peter. But when you die of studying, don't blame it on me," he teased, but in truth he wasn't feeling so joking. What had his friend meant by 'be careful'? This was lunch with his father. Nothing to be worried about. Unless of course Peter meant it as 'be careful not to let anyone see your dad'. That seemed more plausible.
"Anyway, see you later."
And with that, the younger Osborn turned and descended the apartment's stairs.
Peter watched his roommate go with apprehension, waiting until he was fully out of sight before he turned back to his room and the task before him. He tried to focus, he really did, but the more he tried, the more his mind wandered back to Harry. Or rather, Harry alone with Norman.
"Don't be an idiot. Even if the guy is a psycho, he'd never hurt his son." He nodded to himself as if to assert what he was saying was true. "Besides, it's you he wants." And with that, he returned to his studying and memorizing all the formulas he needed.
Several moments later, there was a small, mechanical noise outside of Peter's window and with a shower of glass something the size of a softball flew through the newly created hole in the apartment's window. A pumpkin bomb.
There it was. A symbol of the nightmare that was unfolding before him. The shattering glass, the small device that grinned at him wickedly. It was a horror, a horror with no voice or face. And it needed none. He knew the power of this small object. He knew what it did to buildings, and what it did to flesh. His hand reached for his cheek instinctively, remembering the searing pain that had rushed through him when the pumpkin bomb had exploded during his final battle with the Green Goblin.
But why hadn't it exploded? Moving hesitantly over to the ball, that was now glowing a vibrant green. A note attached, written in large, scrawling handwriting that could only have been the Green Goblin's answered Peter's questions.
"I've kidnapped Osborn's son," it read. "If you want him, come to the place where you thought you put me to rest. See you soon, hero."
"Damn it!" Peter shouted, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room along with the ball. A crash met his curse, but he didn't care. He was such a fool. How could he have possibly believed that the Goblin would not hurt Harry? He was demented, he was insane. Nothing would stop him from getting at Peter. Nothing, not even the death of his own son.
"Where I put him to rest... I'll make sure you stay there this time." It was here he noticed what had broken when he threw the pumpkin bomb in his fit of rage. The picture he had taken with Harry after graduation lay cracked on the floor, and Peter bent, picking it up with delicate hands.
"I'll stop you Goblin. You won't rise from the grave again." Moments later, the super hero spider launched himself from his balcony, latching onto a pole with his webbing before swinging to the one place he never thought he'd visit again.
The junkyard.
---------------------------------------------------
Norman Osborn sighed deeply, leaning back into the cool embrace of the chair's leather, once again confined to his former office. This time, however, he had not come back to hide from the world at his son's request. This time, his alter ego had locked him away, demanding that he first try to find out where Spiderman had hidden the flightsuit and glider when they had found it missing from Oscorp. Initially, Norman had told the Goblin that they would never find it... that the red and blue-clad hero had probably destroyed it. But he had been wrong. On one of the Goblin's attempts to find something he could use against the wall-crawler - such as a suitable battleground - demon and host had stumbled into an all but forgotten junkyard. Less than ten minutes later, fate had found him staring at the empty jaden shell that was the flightsuit. The glider and mask were a scant few inches away, covered in dirt.
That was a week ago.
With that done, the rusty-tressed Osborn tried to convince himself that he was off the hook, but the Goblin had other plans. And now, once again, he was sitting in his former office formulating a plan. This one to kill the little spider. Though about twenty minutes ago, both monster and man had gotten bored, unable to find anything that wouldn't end the same way it had last time they had attempted to trap Spiderman. So now Norman found his mind wandering, or more specifically dancing around the subject of his revival.
Where had his devious alter ego been when he had found himself in his old office at Oscorp nearly a week ago?
Nearly a half-hour of contemplating it, and the elder Osborn still couldn't come up with a solid answer. With a sigh, he let his eyelids flutter closed in hopes that something plausible would come to him. And as luck would have it, something -did- come. Death and then digging the two of them out of the grave had weakened the Goblin, obviously. And maybe that's why he had been a shattered, blank slate when his alter ego had gotten them back to Oscorp... Maybe that's why the Goblin had taken a sabbatical from the back of the auburn-haired man's mind. Hell, maybe his demon and savior had been weaker than either of them wanted to admit.
It made perfect sense.
* Or maybe, * the Goblin hissed in his ear, * you're the weak one. Maybe I knew your etcha-sketch of a psyche couldn't handle it if I came back full force - if I re-drew the picture all at once. So -maybe- I turned the picture into a puzzle... Something you could solve at your own leisure.
* And you sure as hell took your sweet old time. *
The elder Osborn made a face. "I only took two days."
* Two days too long, Osborn. If you weren't so fragile, so weak, we would have had the element of surprise and Spiderman would be dead at our feet right now. *
"As I recall, the element of surprise didn't work to well for us in the bed room. Or during our 'last' battle with Spiderman."
Anger crawled along the former CEO's spine, forcing a sneer to his face. * If I didn't need you, I swear I'd break your arms off and beat you with them. * the Goblin responded, sweeping a low growl past his host's lips. * Besides, I seem to remember something about you wanting to attack him too. *
"...It was a mistake..."
Norman's eyebrows arched themselves at the Goblin's command, his furious expression being replaced by one of mock surprise. * The great Norman Osborn admits to making a mistake? Quick! Someone call CNN! Mr. 'High and Mighty' finally came off his horse. *
And in response to his darker side's prodding, the auburn-haired man simply scowled.
* Fine, Osborn. You're right. It was a mistake. So what does that mean? *
"We need to fix it."
* How? * the demon that shared the elder Osborn's body pressed.
"We need a new plan."
* Yes. And I happen to have one... But I'll need a volunteer from our home audience. *
The former head of Oscorp furrowed his brow in confusion. "Home audience?" he asked softly, trying to figure out what his other half meant. And then it hit him. Slow apprehension poisoning his features he shook his head. "...Harry...?"
A smirk. * You're on a roll today, Osborn. *
Cold, almost dead, fear again. "What are you going to do?"
* I'm gonna use your son to make the little spider bleed. *
Great. His alter ego was going to use a plan that had failed them before - kidnap one of the hero's friends - with his son as the bait. He didn't like it, and yet, he had the sinking feeling that the voice that curled throughout the back of his mind wouldn't reconsidered. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try - he'd just have to be sly about it.
"...And if Spiderman doesn't show up to save Harry?"
He could almost hear the Goblin shrug. * Then the kid takes the web-head's place. A cracked skull or two always sets a hero running. *
"You can't do that!" Norman protested loudly. "I won't let you hurt Harry."
A throaty cackle echoed off the walls of the elder Osborn's head. * I can do whatever I want. *
Norman's hand curled involuntarily at the Goblin's command, an over-confident smirk slipping unbidden onto the auburn-haired man's face. "That's why I'm in charge," he spoke aloud, despite his host's protests. Then, slipping back into the darkness of Osborn's mind, the darker half of the scientist continued.
* But I'm not gonna hurt the kid - he won't even feel it if I have to snap his neck. *
Fury building up inside of him, the former CEO of Oscorp opened his mouth to protest again, only to be cut off by an annoyed Goblin. * Can it. It's time to ante up and your son is our best chip. And our little hero won't fail us. It's his duty. * A calculating pause and then, in no more than a whisper, * ...His weakness... *
"I hope you're right," Norman responded with a sigh. This was pointless. His alter ego wasn't going to let him win, and he -did- want to get his revenge on Spiderman. So why bother?
* I'm always right, Osborn. *
*
"Peter?" Harry's voice called from across the small hallway that separated the two boy's rooms. "You in there Pete?"
Coming to stand just outside his roommate's door, a gray suit wrapped in dry-cleaning plastic draped over his arm, he sighed. His father had invited him to go out to lunch - despite his protests - at one of the two Osborn's favorite bristos in celebration of the clean bill of health Peter had given him. True, it was nice to be able to genuinely say that he had his father back, but Harry was still wary about his father wandering around in the places he used to frequent. It was like begging to be shot in the foot. And this was about as frequent a place as his father could've chosen. This was bad news. In fact, the only thing Harry could honestly say was good about this whole situation was the fact that his father had invited Peter along.
Maybe his best friend could talk his father into something simpler. Like take-out.
Had his name just been called? Lazily raising his head from the books he'd fallen asleep on, paper stuck to his head, Peter looked around the room slowly, eyes glazed and red from lack of sleep. Finding no body for the voice, the struggling college student went back to his new bed, head finding it's comfy pillow of paper. When his name was called again, Peter, still half-asleep, stood up and walked to the door slowly, fumbling for the knob.
"Yeah," He yawned, as he opened the door. Shielding his eyes from the light that now invaded his room, Peter stepped out to stand next to his roommate, running a hand through his tousled chocolate hair as his eyes finally adjusted to the light. "What can I do for you Harry?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Were you still sleeping?" Harry asked, a grin finding its way to his face as he momentarily forgot his problems. "Jeeze Peter, it's nearly noon."
"Yeah, I was just taking a little nap," Here he yawned, stretching his full body out in a failing attempt to wake himself up. Yawning always made him sleepier. "I got back from work late and I've got a test in Atomic Physics tomorrow morning, so I've been studying." He blinked a few times, trying to stop his vision from fading in and out.
"Is it really twelve?" That was a first, Peter Parker sleeping in past eight in the morning. He had to laugh at that. Aunt May would have killed him if she'd known. "But what do you need Harry?"
"Oh," the younger Osborn started, the smile that had been on his face being replaced with a worried expression. "Dad wants to go out for lunch. At one of the places he used to take me all the time when he was..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to touch the subject of his father being dead in the first place. Alive now or not, it was a still a sore spot for him.
With a faint sigh, he gestured to the outfit draped over his arm and continued, "Anyway, I came by to pick up a suit. And to ask if you wanted to come with us... It was dad's idea."
"I don't think so Harry," Just the mere mention of Norman Osborn had Peter on full alert. The way he tensed up, it was as if he expected a pumpkin bomb to come flying in at any moment. But that was foolish. He'd disposed of the flightsuit and the glider himself. There was no way for Norman to get a hold of such weapons. At least, this was what Peter told himself.
"I really need to get a good grade on this exam. If I don't get at least a 94.5%, I could wind up with a 90% average. That doesn't get me a good job after I graduate." Hey, old habits died hard. "But tell your dad I'm sorry that I wasn't able to attend. Oh, and Harry, make sure you be careful."
With a shrug Harry turned away from the door. "Suit yourself Peter. But when you die of studying, don't blame it on me," he teased, but in truth he wasn't feeling so joking. What had his friend meant by 'be careful'? This was lunch with his father. Nothing to be worried about. Unless of course Peter meant it as 'be careful not to let anyone see your dad'. That seemed more plausible.
"Anyway, see you later."
And with that, the younger Osborn turned and descended the apartment's stairs.
Peter watched his roommate go with apprehension, waiting until he was fully out of sight before he turned back to his room and the task before him. He tried to focus, he really did, but the more he tried, the more his mind wandered back to Harry. Or rather, Harry alone with Norman.
"Don't be an idiot. Even if the guy is a psycho, he'd never hurt his son." He nodded to himself as if to assert what he was saying was true. "Besides, it's you he wants." And with that, he returned to his studying and memorizing all the formulas he needed.
Several moments later, there was a small, mechanical noise outside of Peter's window and with a shower of glass something the size of a softball flew through the newly created hole in the apartment's window. A pumpkin bomb.
There it was. A symbol of the nightmare that was unfolding before him. The shattering glass, the small device that grinned at him wickedly. It was a horror, a horror with no voice or face. And it needed none. He knew the power of this small object. He knew what it did to buildings, and what it did to flesh. His hand reached for his cheek instinctively, remembering the searing pain that had rushed through him when the pumpkin bomb had exploded during his final battle with the Green Goblin.
But why hadn't it exploded? Moving hesitantly over to the ball, that was now glowing a vibrant green. A note attached, written in large, scrawling handwriting that could only have been the Green Goblin's answered Peter's questions.
"I've kidnapped Osborn's son," it read. "If you want him, come to the place where you thought you put me to rest. See you soon, hero."
"Damn it!" Peter shouted, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room along with the ball. A crash met his curse, but he didn't care. He was such a fool. How could he have possibly believed that the Goblin would not hurt Harry? He was demented, he was insane. Nothing would stop him from getting at Peter. Nothing, not even the death of his own son.
"Where I put him to rest... I'll make sure you stay there this time." It was here he noticed what had broken when he threw the pumpkin bomb in his fit of rage. The picture he had taken with Harry after graduation lay cracked on the floor, and Peter bent, picking it up with delicate hands.
"I'll stop you Goblin. You won't rise from the grave again." Moments later, the super hero spider launched himself from his balcony, latching onto a pole with his webbing before swinging to the one place he never thought he'd visit again.
The junkyard.
