Chapter Fourteen
Beneath the mask of the webbed wonder, Clark Kent was sweating bullets.
How in the world did I get into this mess, he thought. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? He actually talks like that? He'd cribbed the line from Mary Jane, who'd told him that the real Spider-Man had said it to her once.
"Impossible," the Goblin sneered. "I've seen beneath Spider-Man's mask. I know he and Peter Parker are one and the same."
"Um… well… I can explain that," Clark-as-Spider-Man said, trying to disguise his voice, and yet not really knowing how it should sound. "You're crazy."
MJ had told him that Spider-Man likes to crack jokes to keep his enemies off guard. Clark wasn't sure how well he was going to do at that… He'd gone up against some powerful enemies himself, but he tended to let his fists do most of the talking for him. He wasn't used to keeping a running dialogue going during a battle.
That, and the fact that he and Spider-Man didn't really have a lot of the same powers. Sure, they were both very strong and very fast… but Spider-Man didn't have heat vision, and Clark couldn't climb walls or shoot webs. In all likelihood, this wasn't going to be a very convincing performance.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," the faux Spider-Man said, hoping he could intimidate the Goblin into giving up, and this wouldn't even have to come to blows. "Just let everyone go, so uh… I won't have to get my costume dirty. You, um, wouldn't believe how much dry cleaning costs in the city!"
Clark looked at Peter, hoping to get some kind of cue as to how he was doing. Peter was just staring up at him, wondering if he was having an out of body experience, or if maybe he never really was Spider-Man and he was the one who was going crazy.
The Goblin just looked blankly back and forth between Peter and this apparent Spider-Man character. Then he raised his blade.
"Honestly? I don't care who the hell you are! I'm still gonna kill you!"
Then he charged blindly at Clark, thrusting his blade forward as he ran. Time to make this look skillfull… as the Goblin ran towards him, Clark used his super speed to sidestep his charging adversary, grabbing his arm as he ran by. Then he spun him around and redirected his path, sending him reeling into the wall. The blade stuck into the wall and the Goblin staggered, nearly falling over.
As Harry struggled to pull the embedded blade out of the wall and free himself, Clark ran to Peter Parker and ripped the ropes off his arms and legs.
"Peter," he said. "You free the others while I take care of the Goblin."
"Okay… Spider-Man…" Peter said, slowly, still a little confused. He then got up and ran to his Aunt May, and began to untie her as well.
By now, Harry had freed his wrist blade from the wall. He retracted it back into the armor.
"All right, web head… let's do this properly." He picked his latex mask up off the floor where he'd tossed it earlier, and put it back on, hiding the face of Harry Osborn once more. Then he pressed a button on his forearm, and the familiar whine of the glider's engine filled the room. A hatch in the ceiling dropped open, and the glider sprang forth from it, swooping down to its master.
The Goblin leapt onto the glider and it rose back to the ceiling. He then began to toss pumpkin bombs at Clark, laughing like a hyena as he did.
Clark ran around, deflecting the bombs as best as he could, trying to knock them into areas of the room where they'd do the least harm when they went off, as Peter was still trying to free the rest of the captives. He'd untied Flash Thompson next, who was helping him free the others. The room shook with each explosion, and was slowly starting to fill with smoke.
"Goblin! Let's take this outside! I'm the one you want, not them!" Clark yelled.
"Spider-Man, you're so thoughtful," the Goblin said, tilting his head to the side in mock admiration. "You never want anyone else to get hurt, do you?" Another pumpkin bomb popped up into his hand. "Cry me a river… build a bridge… and get over it."
Flash was helping Liz Allen and Betty Brant to the passageway. The Goblin reared back and threw the bomb straight at them.
Clark crossed the room between ticks of the clock, stepping through the wisps of smoke as they froze in the air around him, making it to Flash and the girls well ahead of the bomb. He caught it like it was a football pass.
The Goblin was stunned. He'd never seen Spider-Man move nearly that fast before. "How did you…?"
"I've picked up some new tricks," Clark said. "You should try it sometime."
He threw the pumpkin bomb back at the Goblin. It hit the glider and exploded. The flaming glider came crashing down, Goblin and all, and hit the ground with a loud metallic thud.
Clark looked back over his shoulder. Flash and the girls had made it out, and Peter was just helping his Aunt May into the passageway, with Mr. Jameson, Mr. Robertson and Mr. Urich all close behind them.
He turned his attention back to the flaming mess that used to be the Goblin's glider. The Goblin pulled himself from the wreckage and leapt forward out of the fire, screaming with rage and clawing at Clark through the smoke.
Clark grabbed the Goblin's arm as he swung at him. He hoisted the raving madman high above his head, then tossed him against the wall.
The Goblin wearily picked himself up off the floor, dazed and bewildered. "Whoo! What'd they put in your coffee this morning, Spider-Man?"
Clark towered over the Goblin. "You're outmatched, Goblin. Let's stop all this before someone gets hurt."
The Goblin rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the wall. "Too little too late for that. Besides, why should I throw in the towel when I still have the home court advantage?"
The room was already filled with smoke from all the pumpkin bombs, and it was getting worse due to the burning glider. The Goblin pressed another button on his arm, and dozens of explosives that had been hidden all over the room all detonated at once. Clark was actually thrown off his feet, and the Goblin burst into fits of violent laughter.
The room was ablaze now. Clark could survive it, but Harry couldn't. He grabbed the frenzied Goblin and made a break for the passageway, plowing through the flames and the smoke as the room was engulfed.
They charged up the passageway as a rush of smoke and heat followed behind them, racing upwards close at their heels. Clark made it out through the fireplace and into the living room of the Osborn mansion just as another explosion went off, destroying the passageway behind them just as they exited.
The Goblin reached around and grabbed the hand Clark was holding his arm with, and released an electric charge. This created feedback within the armor, and blew the Goblin free from Clark's grip, destroying the electric glove and part of the chest plate in the process. Clark was unfazed.
The Goblin got back to his feet and popped the blade out of his other wrist again. He lunged at Clark and jammed the blade into his stomach. The blade bent backwards and broke off, and pain shot up Harry Osborn's arm the likes of which he'd never known before. He screamed and fell to his knees.
"Harry, you need help," Clark said. "Let's get out of here, before the fire spreads to the rest of your house."
The Goblin held his wrist, moving it slightly back and forth, trying to tell if it was broken or not. He was pretty sure it was.
"Come on," Clark said, trying to help the Goblin to his feet.
"Go to hell," he said, pulling away. He pressed another button on what was left of his armor.
The skeletal remains of the glider charged up the burning passageway, still on fire and falling apart as it flew. It managed to launch a missile from somewhere inside its scorched innards just as Clark's fist connected with it, breaking the wrecked glider in two.
The missile hit Clark's chest and exploded, throwing him across the room and into a glass cabinet of fine china.
The Goblin took off running down another hallway. Clark pulled himself out of the broken cabinet frame, brushing the shards of glass off of himself.
Clark zipped down the hall after the Goblin and saw him run into another room. He followed him.
They were in what looked like a master bedroom. The Goblin ran to a large dresser and fumbled in a drawer for something.
Clark approached him cautiously. "Harry, listen to me. The fire is spreading, we've got to get out of the house, now. Come on, let's go."
Harry ripped off the Goblin mask once more, and threw it on the ground. "Hey, asshole," he said. "This one's for my father."
He pulled his hand out of the dresser drawer, holding a small handgun. He aimed it at Clark's face, and fired.
He could have dodged it, but he didn't. For some reason, he just took it. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he could see the pain that Harry was obviously in, his eyes filled with tears, his whole body shaking. Clark had been shot before, but never in the face. It always stung, just a little, when a bullet would hit him… less and less each time, but he always felt it to some degree or another. Getting shot in the face stung quite a bit, actually. But for some reason, he took it, instead of dodging it, as if taking that little bit of pain was almost obligatory, given how much pain his adversary was obviously trying to shoulder all by himself.
Harry blinked in disbelief, as he saw Spider-Man remain standing after taking a bullet to the face. He looked at the gun, then back up at his enemy. Slowly and sadly, he shook his head.
"Sorry dad," he whispered. "I guess I failed you."
He put the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger.
Clark knew from experience that he was faster than a bullet. He sprang forward the instant that Harry's finger began to apply pressure to the trigger, reaching for the gun. His hand inched closer to it… closer…
He closed his eyes.
BANG!
He opened his eyes.
The gun was in his hand. The bullet was embedded in the wall behind them. And Harry Osborn was wondering why he was not dead.
"Oh… God…" he said, his voice no longer sounding like the Goblin's, but rather like his own voice again. "I can't even do that right."
He put his face in his hands and began to cry.
Peter Parker walked into the room and stood in the doorway for a minute. Clark walked over to him.
"The fire department's here," Peter said. "They've got the fire under control."
They both looked at Harry.
"Peter," Clark said. "I think what Harry needs right now is a friend."
Peter nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right." He put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "Thanks for being there when I needed one."
Peter walked over to Harry Osborn, and just sat down beside him. Harry just kept crying.
"I'm sorry, Pete…" he kept saying. "I'm so sorry…"
"I know, Harry…" Peter said. "I know."