Chapter Twenty-Two: The Consequences

Peter wasn't exactly thrilled about a Green Goblin threatening to throw one of the women in his life off a famous New York landmark. It didn't...uh, go too well the last time...so he wasn't going to take this sitting down. He was the kind of person that, when someone had the nerve to threaten someone important to him, it was no more mister nice guy.

First he started working leads...trying to figure out who exactly this new Goblin was...and whether it was Norman or not. Yes, I know what you're thinking. 'That is ridiculous, Norman Osborn is legit dead and you kind of set up Harry in the last couple chapters'. True. But Peter doesn't know any of that. You must remember, he fights a dude called Doctor Octopus fairly regularly and remembers the time when Captain America's dead best friend from World War II wasn't actually dead nor his best friend, since he was turned into a brainwashed, cyborg, communist assassin by...well, communists. So yes, let's forgive Spidey for thinking that maybe his worst foe, responsible for the death of his old girlfriend Gwen Stacy, had somehow come back to life.

And where did these leads go, exactly? Nowhere. The new Goblin was a ghost. Hadn't shown up anywhere or done anything before his attack on Burgatori.

Despite the immense urge he had to punch a hole in his apartment wall, he wanted his safety deposit back so he chose to not do that. Instead, he somehow managed to hold it together until his dinner date with the devil.

Peter scaled the Chrysler Building, sprinting up its surface like Usain Bolt. His mind raced...he could barely think straight. He didn't want it to happen again...he couldn't lose Annabelle. Every few seconds, the image of him cradling a lifeless corpse in his arms as he screamed filtered into his brain. Tears welled in his eyes. He could still remember Gwen's death so cleary...

The wall crawler finally leapt onto one of the bird-shaped ornaments towards the tip of the structure, and peered around with attentive eyes.

Right on cue, a streak of yellow traced through the night sky, accompanied by a screeching roar that gave Spidey chills. It was the same glider...same engine.

The craft arced downward from above and slowed to a hover several metres from the building.

"Where is she!?" Spider-Man screamed.

The Goblin stood tall atop his glider, his flight suit glimmering in the darkness. Everything...everything was the same. The mask, the suit, the explosives lining his belt...even the ghastly reflections in the gold eyepieces. He scoffed and replied "Safe."

Spider-Man clenched a fist. "Not good enough!"

"I'm going to gut you like a fish for what you did." The Goblin spat, not exactly helping Peter's uncertainty regarding his true identity.

Peter launched into the air, firing web lines with both hands onto the Goblin, yanking himself closer. He hurtled into the villain with a would-be bone crushing blow, grappling with angered rage.

The two, struggling against each other, spiralled out of control like a wayward firework. As they plummeted down, Peter bore his teeth as he slammed punch after punch into the Goblin's face. At that point...he hesitated. Norman wasn't a slouch in a fight, he always knew what he was doing. Peter instantly knew this wasn't Norman because he was fighting like he had no idea how to. Unfocused swinging...great strength, but no skill.

As the street grew larger, the Goblin managed to snap an elbow across Spidey's face, cracking his nose. Peter's grip loosened, and the Goblin took his shot. "I wanted to kill her in front of you so you could know my pain. Now that I have you...I'd rather just do this." The Goblin lashed out with a front kick, sending Peter backwards with a 'crack'.

Peter's breathing hitched as gravity sucked his insides toward the ground. He desperately shot a web out towards the glider, but it was slightly off mark.

Spidey plummeted from the clouds like a sack of bricks. He flailed, pushing the web shooters erratically; hoping to find something...anything, to grab onto. Finally, his web latched onto the side of an apartment complex, and he swung himself back up towards the Goblin. He kicked in mid-air, and finally the villain's feet broke free of the glider's straps.

The Green Goblin went plummeting through the air, but before he could hit the ground, Spider-Man swooped in and threw him onto a nearby rooftop. The villain groaned at the impact, but that was silenced with a quick punch to the jaw.

"Stop messing around!" The webslinger growled, and as the dazed criminal tried to recover from the sudden attack, Spider-Man punched him again. "Where is she?!"

A cackle filled the air, deeper than thunder and shallower than a footprint. The sound was completely hollow...as if it took all of his energy just to make that sound. "Go fuck yourself."

Unbridled rage spiked in the pit of Peter's stomach. All he could think about was Annabelle's safety...and the horrid thought that she may suffer the same fate as Gwen. He didn't know if he could bare it happening again.

He couldn't stop himself. Peter brought his fist against the Goblin's helmet once more...then twice...then a dozen more times until the night was riddled with the sound of metal against bone. Blood seeped through his glove and his knuckles threatened to break with each punch, and yet he couldn't stop.

The metal mask buckled with each impact, and finally it cracked. One more fist was all it took before that piece snapped off - revealing a pair of familiar blue eyes. Spider-Man's fist halted.

"No..." He muttered, but his voice was weak...broken. Denial consumed him almost completely as he positioned both hands over the crack, and tore the mask right open. "Harry..."

For a few seconds Peter did not move, or even breathe, apparently. He was consumed by a sorrow so heart-wrenching that he thought it might destroy him. Then, at last, he gave a sorrowful gulp and tried to suck in a mouthful of oxygen for his empty lungs.

"So, you know me? Was that before or after you killed my father." Harry hissed, and a fresh supply of blood coated his teeth.

"I...didn't kill him." Spider-Man croaked, almost pleadingly. This was all just a bad dream. It had to be. The world couldn't be cruel enough to expect him to arrest his best friend. "You have to believe me..."

"You killed Gwen Stacy too, didn't you?" Harry growled. "That's what the papers said. My best friend could barely cope after her death. You might fool the rest of the world, but I see right through you. I'll avenge every single person that you've hurt."

Peter could barely think, let alone speak. Harry had been the very first friend he ever had. They had helped each other through the worst parts of High School and moved in together for a small period of time afterwards. They had the kind of unbreakable bond that Peter could only imagine brothers to have...and now he was being forced to watch Harry follow in his father's footsteps. It was one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.

"Listen to me, Norman was sick. Really sick. He wasn't in control of himself when he became the Green Goblin. He-"

"Don't talk about my father. You don't have the right." Harry grabbed something out of his pocket and pressed his thumb over it. "I can't kill you yet, but I can hurt you. I can make you feel my pain...one person at a time."

Finally, Spider-Man managed to decipher the device in Harry's hand without his head spinning. It was a bomb, or more accurately, the trigger for one. Peter's breath hitched.

Annabelle...

"N-No! Please, don't." He begged, voice cracking and breaking until it was barely a whisper. "She's innocent. You wouldn't kill her. That's not who you are."

"You don't know anything about me."

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry lifted his finger and the city was consumed by an almighty boom. The sound rang in Peter's ears, painfully, and yet it was nothing compared to the yell that tore itself from his own throat. A thick cloud of smoke was whirling in the distance - tormenting him with his failure.

Spider-Man didn't even bother incarcerating Harry. He couldn't. Every single thought was outweighed by an agonising grief. Instead, he jumped off that roof and swung towards the smoke, eyes stinging with tears with every second that passed.

When he arrived, he found an abandoned warehouse that had been rendered to nothing but debris. Hoping against logic that she had survived such a blast, Peter clawed through the ruins on his hands and knees. "Annabelle!" He yelled until his throat was raw. "Annabelle! I'm here! P-Please, answer me!"

He was greeted with nothing but an eerie silence that ripped through his chest like saw. Still, he continued searching until his hands stung and the crystalline tears in his eyes had started to fall; soaking through the mask until it was riddled with wet patches.

Something stuck itself to his gloves like tar, and when he finally regained his vision through the blur of tears, he looked down to see that the substance was yellow. It had adhered itself to many of the bits of wood and rock that he had been digging in.

"What the hell?..." He brought the goop to his mask and sniffed, long and deep. It had a very distinct smell. Peter would recognise it anywhere. It was cheese.

Upon making this astounding discovery, Peter took a second look at the debris. It was filled with everything from horse shoes to a giant trombone. There was only one person stupid enough to make all that junk. Protonslaught.

So, if Annabelle was there...

And Protonslaught was there...

Inside this relatively unknown warehouse...

At the same time...

That could only mean one thing...

Protonslaught...

...

...

Had saved Annabelle!