Author's notes: Inspiration drawn from The Spectacular Spider-Man vol. 1 #189, 1992 and The Spectacular Spider-Man vol. 1 #146, 1989. Enjoy!
Summary: Norman Osborn and Spider-man tussle against a Hobgoblin while trying to save Harry Osborn. Too bad this Hobgoblin and Harry are one and the same. One shot. [Gift fic for SapphireQueen518]
Daddy's Little Boy
It all started with a shot. A cure. To put an end to The Goblin for good. No one ever imagined how wrong it would turn out. Not the S.H.I.E.L.D. superhero. Not the auburn teen who received it. And not the father who administered it. Each one only wanted to do his part in stopping the horrible monster from returning. But somehow each one played a role in its resurrection.
Several hours had passed after Spider-man and his teammate rescued the Osborns from Doctor Octopus. The owner of the Oscorp structure had called for a home renovating crew to rebuild the damaged room. He also needed to contact his usual interior designer. Considering where his type of business is located, he preserved those numbers on speed dial.
After the father made arrangements for his home and office, he needed to inspect his family. He noticed his son's behavior. The boy had been keeping to himself, appearing distant. The father drew concern. "Harry, are you alright?"
He reached over and took hold of the boy's arm.
The teen grew started. He hissed and broke away, as though he had been touched by acid. He angrily searched for who gripped him. He realized it was only father. He tried to relax his crumpled features.
Norman withdrew his hand, like he had touched a burning stove. He grew surprised from the negative reaction. He assumed the teen was merely still shaky from their capture. Not to mention the possibility of the return for a certain Goblin.
Harry looked at his parent. He realized he was only with his father. The man showed an interest, a concern, for his well-being. He had agreed to not restrain any secrets. He had to be open. Placing on a small smile, he answered, "Just feeling a little tired. I think I'll go lie down a bit before dinner."
Norman studied his son. The adolescent didn't seem to lose his stability. He did, however, appear wearied. "Very well. Let's go make your time off comfortable."
He led the teen to his bedroom. His son appeared distress. He merely assumed it came from returning to school and adjusting to all of their misadventures. He promised he would be present for his little boy.
The signs were all there. The clues leading up to the chaos were obvious. The red flags were upright and waving rigorously. How often warnings are overlooked.
The wheels of a delux limo pulled up to a mansion. The back door to the elongated vehicle opened. A tall man stepped out. He wore a suit and tie. Staying in place, his blue eyes coldly stared ahead. He held a half sheet of paper in his hands. The note was handwritten. Barely visible was the word "Dad."
His ears picked up a whipping noise. He turned around. His eyes traveled down a white web. Trailing back to the source, he spotted a costumed hero wearing red and blue threads. He silently watched as the masked champion flipped and landed near him. Once enemies, the two had joined sides from time to time. They were teammates once more for their current transaction.
"We were heading to the same place," the man gave as his greeting. "You could've come with me."
"Traveling by web is more of my style," the teen replied. He also carried a handwritten note. Barely visible on his paper was the name "Peter." He added, "Besides, Norman, I needed the time to think."
"You and me both, Spider-man."
Both the blue eyes and white slits in a mask looked back at the giant house. It was a two story structure. The luscious green grass was well-preserved. A clean pool and ornamental patio furniture in the backyard could barely be seen. Everything was in place. No bars over the windows were necessary for the neighborhood. The man looked at his luxurious wristwatch.
"Shall we?" Norman asked as he gestured to the front doors.
"After you," the wall-crawler replied. "I may be the guest, but it's your place."
The man took the lead. Keeping his back straight, he walked up the path his leather loafers had crossed many times. The web-spinner walked further back of him. His red boots weren't too far behind. After his long commute, he had to reserve the rest of his batch.
The house ahead blocked the setting sun. They arrived at the double doors. Norman placed his hands on the bronzed handle. Before he pulled them down, he looked to the web-head.
"Nothing," Spider-man assured. "I don't sense any traps."
The man nodded. Though he was guaranteed, he gently opened the doors. They were unlocked
The lights were out. It was almost as dark as a cave. The tall man and teen waited at the front for their eyes to adjust. The wall-crawler activated the flashlight hidden in his insignia on his chest. He slowly moved himself. A fireplace with wood was to one side. Furniture was set around it. An entrance to the den was on its opposite side. Large pane windows allowed the evening scene to be seen. A set of closed curtains lay motionless. The staircase was a straight shot to the doors.
Norman walked inside. Spider-man was beside him. The industrialist, already familiar with the setting, moved to one particular area. What was most prominent of the furnishings was a large picture frame. Inside the image was a father and son. It was an old photo, so the smiles weren't as genuine.
Meanwhile, the teen hero stayed near the couch and side table. He also noted a picture frame. This one held the same father and son, but they appeared much younger. Because Spider-man was the same age, he couldn't help but envision himself and someone else he lost.
"What exactly is he planning?" he asked himself. "Why make me and Norman come out all this way—"
His spider-sense went off.
"Looks like my guests got here right on time," a voice happily announced.
The man and hero froze. The lights flashed on. The duo searched for where the welcoming originated. They looked up to the top of the stairs. At the peak where the banister parted stood another adolescent. He had auburn hair and blue eyes. His smile made his visitors uneasy. He stood atop of a glider.
"Harry!" Norman and Spider-man called at the same time.
"I'm glad the postal service still works," the other boy continued. His ride swung him around the second floor. He controlled it with ease. "I could've sent a text. But that seems so informal. I wouldn't want to have taken drastic matters for a mere dinner party."
He reached the bottom of the staircase. "I know, I know. No riding the glider in the house."
Parking his machine, he stepped off. "It's good to see you both here and on time."
He looked at the two. "Dad… Peter…"
When the auburn came into a better view, both Norman and Spider-man gasped. They could see how much physically the other teen had changed. Splotches of yellow encompassed part of his face. His ears had grown longer, like an elf in Fantasy movies. He seemed so much like the original Goblin. But unlike The Goblin, he retained his rich auburn hair. He also kept his human eyes. However, a red flare appeared that was never present before.
Spider-man stood in place while Norman gasped once more, "Harry!"
The industrialist, ignoring all forms of caution, dashed towards his little boy. He grabbed his son by his shoulder. He could feel a hardening underneath the clothing. Worried eyes examined the teen. "Harry! Were you here this entire time?! Are you alright?!"
"Of course I'm alright, Dad," Harry calmly replied. "I was only chilling at home. You know the expression: Chillin' like a villain."
He chuckled at his own cleverness.
Spider-man remained intact. He observed the choice of words. He was just as concern as the father. Looking at the updated glider, he could accurately pinpoint his friend hadn't been the same since his shot.
"Done," Norman declared.
"Great," Spider-man replied. "Now me and Scarlet Spider can go back to taking down Ock and his Goblin army."
Two heroes and two family members stood in a damaged room within Oscorp. An old enemy, Doctor Octopus, had swarmed the city with his own invaders, a horde of Goblins. He declared war within the company. Norman assisted in re-creating the chemical compound that rectified himself from his Goblin half. He handed over the antidote. As the two arachnid-based heroes had their concoction, Norman looked at his son. There was something he had to clear up.
"Harry," he called. "I'm sorry I never told you that I cured myself. I didn't mean to worry you when Octavious tried to make me a Goblin again."
The auburn teen and his father were held captive. Harry attempted to show his gallantry by standing up to their enemies. He recalled how frightened he became. He greatly feared he would lose his only family. Finding his voice, he replied, "I'm just glad it didn't work."
Fear also encased the older Osborn. His own son could've become the next Goblin. Keeping his focus on his little boy, he would never forget what his foe wanted to accomplish. He knew the wall-crawler and his partner were preparing to leave. They had a city to save.
"Wait, Spider-man," Norman requested.
"Yeah?" the web-head asked. He could tell the topic was serious, for the older Osborn wasn't one for idle chitchat.
"I want to make sure you see this." The industrialist then turned to Harry. "Octavious almost made you a Goblin. I don't ever want to take that risk again. I need to squash any possibility of The Goblin's restoration."
Spider-man recalled his work in saving Norman as the man acted as The Goblin. He performed that duty because it was the right thing to do. He was also aiding his best friend.
Harry spotted the needle in the man's grip. He was terrified of what he could become, the same green monster. His father, having been locked up at the time, was unable to prevent an unholy transformation. He then looked at Spider-man. He was grateful the web-slinger had saved Norman. He was also grateful he saved him from Doc Ock.
"So let's put a stop to it," he insisted, turning back to his only family. "Let's not let The Goblin control us ever again."
Norman smiled at Harry's courage. He wanted his son to make the decision. As much as he wanted to safeguard him, he couldn't force it on him. He prepped the syringe as Harry rolled up his sleeve.
The white eyelids in the red mask watched as the needle sank into the young Osborn's flesh. Blue eyes clamped down in pain. The liquid was pushed out from the clear syringe.
"There," Norman announced. "Now it's one less Osborn to worry about."
Harry opened his eyes and smiled at his dad.
Spider-man was relieved. He was terrified that he would have to fight his best friend. But he would do so to comply with his responsibility. "Awesome."
He recalled how he needed to jump into action. After all his hard work, he couldn't risk his own best friend becoming the same terrible monster. He had hoped everything relating to The Goblin would end. He believed it had, for it was months before any adverse effects came. The adolescent in front of him was Harry Osborn. The web-head needed to stay cautious. His buddy had been dominated by symbiotes in the past. Now that he had Goblin features, it seemed Harry was in control of himself.
"Your invite said dinner," Spider-man recapped, trying to get him to talk. "It wasn't clear if it was a pot luck. I'd hate if I showed up empty handed."
"Absolutely," Harry replied. He fell for the trap, and yet he didn't. He heard the joke his friend made. Having worked alongside the teen hero, he began to observe his style. He could tell his heinous plot was in the right direction, for he made the other teen nervous. He broke away from his father's clasp. He walked to something hidden.
Norman had kept a good grip on his child. He became surprised with how easy Harry freed himself. His concern grew. He and Spider-man awaited to see what was next.
Harry didn't walk far. He journeyed only to the living room and stood in front of a curtain. Sustaining his smile, he turned around. "Before we get to the main course, I thought I'd start with the show."
He pulled down on the nylon rope. The velvet curtains drew together, spreading apart to showcase the display shadowed behind.
Norman's eyes widened. The exhibition carried belongings to a wealthy woman. There was an off-white female dressing mannequin wearing a pale pink dress and a fine pearl necklace. Behind that was an armoire. On top a round pedestal was a bottle of perfume and a booklet. The largest piece was a portrait hung on the wall. The subject was a woman. Her brown hair was set in a pixie haircut. She wore the same outfit as the mannequin. Her eyes crinkled from her smiling.
A rush of emotions swept through the businessman. A surge of memories bombarded his mind. His eyes widened, yet nothing came out of his mouth. He dropped to his knees. But his eyes remained on the presentation.
Spider-man observed the older Osborn. He had never known the businessman to show such vulnerability. The closest he came was whenever his son was in danger. He gazed closer at the painting. The features clicked in his mind. "Wait, is that…?"
"Emily Osborn," Harry proudly replied. "Norman's wife. My dead mother."
He was answered with silence. He looked at the portrait. "I know. You're probably thinking, 'Harry, where did you get these?' Well, I found these in storage. Packed away never to see the light of day again."
He turned to his father. "Why would you go and shut away all this stuff that belonged to Mom?"
Norman heard the question, examining the tone. Underneath pretension, he sensed a bit of hurt. But clearly the plot was to go against him. Wanting to give the truth, he gathered himself. He softly replied, "I had to move on. I couldn't keep living in the past."
The auburn heard the response. Perhaps it was normal, and healthy, to grieve properly but also move on. His eyes narrowed. "Funny how the past always shrouded your mind."
Spider-man noted the dark attitude. The Goblin he fought against was interested in physical power. This new version of the beast was also interested in power. But the other teen held his dominance over his father. Possibly keeping the man under his thumb, much like how Norman treated Harry all his life.
Before anymore could be said, the doorbell rang.
"Ah," Harry smiled. He looked at his phone for a notification. "Dinner's here."
Spider-man watched as the other teen left his father (and mother) behind. The auburn sauntered towards the main door. His dark features suddenly turned brighter. The web-head pondered the mood swings.
Harry opened the doors, and a pizza deliveryman was on the other side. The wealthy teen took out his wallet and paid the man.
"Looks like I only have a twenty," he said. "You know what? Go ahead and keep the change as a tip."
The face of the deliveryman happily smiled. "Thanks! You won't believe how many people snub their tips."
"Well, I'm not that heartless. Hard work should have its reward." Harry accepted the square box and closed the door. He turned around. "I wouldn't want to be rude to my guests. Follow me. Dinner is served."
He entered the dinning room. He positioned himself at the head for once. He placed the cardboard box on the long table. Place mats, fine china plates, stainless steel cutlery, and crystal goblets were set up. Even long candles in holders were present. He lifted the lid. Steam arose from the food. The red pepperoni interacted with the yellow cheese as that melted near the brown crust. The young host was ready to eat.
"Alright, Dad," Harry called to his father. "That's enough time with Mom."
The proud businessman kept himself on his knees. His face was crestfallen. He and his wife were childhood sweethearts. She supported him while he was rebuilding Oscorp. She reminded him to stop brooding. She was his best friend. Together, they had a son.
"If you don't eat," he heard a voice say, "your food will get cold."
It was his son. The woman had sacrificed herself to have their little boy. Norman had promised he would take care of him. The journey was exhausting. How difficult it was to lose one love while gaining another. Aiming to keep his word, he stood up. He pulled himself away from the exposition of his past. He sat down on one of the wooden chairs. With the head already occupied, he submissively sat on the side.
Harry seemed satisfied. Norman Osborn, a prideful man, was obeying his directions for a change. Maintaining a smug demeanor, he turned to the teen hero. "Room for one more."
The wall-crawler stayed in place. Witnessing what he did was difficult to bear. Even when Harry was controlled by symbiotes, he never acted this wicked. His best friend showed arrogance. But he never brought misery to anyone on this level. The web-slinger didn't want to pull any fists if he didn't have to.
"This isn't a trap," the young Osborn assured. "I haven't tampered with the food in any way. You saw it got delivered. If anything was off, your spider-sense woulda told you."
Spider-man couldn't argue with that logic. His pal had developed great fortitude. He knew Norman was a man capable of protecting himself. The businessman, however, carried no iron suit on him. Norman was in a vulnerable position. For now, Spider-man needed to follow orders to keep the peace. He took a seat as well, next to Harry, opposite of Norman.
"It's been awhile since we've all sat together," Harry began. He served himself first. "It's been hard, between S.H.I.E.L.D., Octopus, symbiotes, and Goblins."
He noticed the pie remained intact. His father kept his eyes down. He turned to the other boy and spotted one problem. "You can take the mask off, Pete. We all know each other. No secrets kept between us."
Even though the web-spinner had his full costume on, his pal continued to address him by his given name. Usually Harry, after learning about the different roles, respected the two identities. Everyone present at the table was already familiar with each other. Even between a once Goblin. The teen couldn't risk upsetting a second Goblin at the moment. He removed his mask. He exposed his brown hair and blue eyes. He withheld any smiles.
The auburn seemed content. "Just like the good ol' days, eh, Pete?"
He didn't hear his pal say a word. He continued, "Rays Pizza, like always. Every Rays believes itself to be the original. There are restaurants in other states with the same name serving the same dishes—pizzas, subs, salads, pastas. They all have pictures of New York buildings or newspaper clippings of local celebrities. Sometimes even superheros like Captain America. I had fun on those trips, sharing a meal with dear ol Dad. At least, when he wasn't drowning himself with work.
"Anyway, this is pizza as it should be—thin and crispy with the right amount of cheese and pepperoni. Nothing foreign like pineapple. Of course I'm not bashing anyone who likes the stuff. You never know what crazy combinations might hide a stroke of genius. An even stranger case is Midtown's own Professional Wall-flower being friends with one of the school's most popular students.
"They spent their weekends hanging out with each other—videogame tournaments, texting endurance, and bad movie marathons. One tutored the other in academics, and then the roles were reversed for anything socially related. In fact, when something terrible happened, a real tragedy, one supported the other in his time of need even when he didn't want it. Because that's what friends do. Best friends."
Harry looked at the brunet. He smirked. "We are best friends."
The two guests hadn't interrupted the host as he gave his monologue. They stayed in their seats. Not even picking up the plate or goblet. The last line was directed as the brunet. The two blue eyes looked at each other.
"Are we?" Peter questioned. He at last spoke.
"Huh?" Harry asked. He dropped his arrogant look. Not expecting a retort, he raised one eyebrow.
Norman heard what his son was sharing. He remembered those days when he and his son would travel—across the country and even to other countries. But often they didn't enjoy time together because of the industrialist's drive. Guilt weighed down on him, for his little boy held on to his faults. Upon hearing a contradictory, however, he snapped out of his trance. He felt tension. He looked onward as well.
"You claim to be my friend," Peter recapped. He kept his focus on the other boy. "You brought me here under a mysterious circumstance. You had me watch you psychologically torture your dad. You go on about friendship with some backhanded story. But is this what a friend would do to another friend?"
The older Osborn couldn't believe what he was witnessing, what he was hearing. He had seen the young Parker appear humble and meek. He respected the teen after learning of his other identity. He became astounded with him disputing his son, who had held the upper hand when they entered.
Harry had believed he had the two under his control. He knew Peter had submitted to their peers. Perhaps his time as Spider-man gave him courage to stand up for himself and others. Like those living in New York from villains. Taking the change slowly, he replied, "A friend supports a friend."
"That's right," Peter nodded. He understood what his pal was delivering. He remembered who he was before the mask, and why he reformed. He refused to become a victim again. "When I lost my uncle Ben, you were there for me. I was so caught up with that tragedy that I pushed you away. I was angry. At the world. At myself. But you still tried to be there for me. And I'll always be grateful to that."
He glanced at the older Osborn before returning to the younger one. "So you see why I can't let you do this to yourself or your dad any longer. I won't let The Goblin take any of us down."
Harry, poisoned by his Goblin side, turned disgusted by the hero's attitude. "Because you're the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man. Trying to be amazing, spectacular."
"Ultimate. With S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help."
"And as Spider-man, you've achieved a lotta great things. You've stopped car jackers and purse snatchers. You've become a real leader. And you've come across many villains. You put your energy into stopping Venom and even the original Goblin." Harry paused for a moment. While he was initially angry at his buddy for forgoing their hang out sessions, he grew to accept the boy's responsibility. He continued, "But that's the difference between Spider-man and The Goblin. Spider-man wears a mask. Underneath it was a teenager. No one would've ever suspected Midtown High's Professional Wall-flower Peter Parker."
His face turned grim. "The Goblin, however, doesn't have a mask. His green is much a part of him as his own flesh. In my case, it's yellow."
He tugged on his collar. He reveled more of his sickly skin.
Norman gasped. His blue eyes took in the yellow conquering the fair complexion. The transformation wasn't as quick as his own. It was a snail pace with an unknown time lapse. It was still dominating, nonetheless. He couldn't believe how unwell his little boy was.
Peter felt dread. He noted the spreading disease as well. From experience, he knew what to anticipate. The unknown factor, however, was dealing with evolution. Yellow instead of green. He tried to maintain hope. "You may have Goblin skin, but that doesn't mean you hafta take his path."
Harry released his collar. He dismissed that retort. "You love science and your little rules. But not everything has a rhyme or reason. Sometimes things just happen. And sometimes those things are out of your control."
Peter continued to observe his pal. The serum had done its damage, chewing away at the auburn's sanity. While Harry served as Patrioteer, he learned how to think critically. Now he was unable to think clearly. A dose of rationalism should help dislodge the quarrel.
"It does make sense," Peter argued. He aimed to sound reasonable, straying from criticism. "Venom was created using my blood. That's why I became Carnage with that nasty attempt to make me a Goblin. Harry, you already had bonded with Venom. Maybe something added up later after you bonded with Anti-Venom. For you to have that cure, it musta given you that reaction. Give or take the delay. Like how some people are allergic to penicillin."
"So lo and behold the results," Harry responded, gesturing to himself. "The one who had a reaction had no one to turn to. His dad and his so-called pals were busy playing superhero. Who really cared about my absence when I left the penthouse? Staying inside such a big place makes a guy feel lonely. It's hard for anyone to exist without friends."
The two guests turned quiet. Of course the father was worried for his little boy. Norman already had plenty on his plate—businessman, superhero, and parent. As much as he tried to balance his personae, he seemed to have failed in one area again. And the teen's best friend had his own missions with S.H.I.E.L.D. He became involved once the young Osborn's bedroom appeared disheveled.
"Harry," Peter called. "You know that's not true. You had me, Mary Jane, and Flash."
"Flash is a loudmouth coward," Harry spat. "And a puddle has more depth than Mary Jane."
The brunet grew confused. He failed to understand why his pal was speaking ill of their companions.
"Flash had his own problems," Peter informed. "But he's changed. He's gotten more responsible now that he's acting as Agent Venom. And Mary Jane was with you while you were in that coma. Doesn't that count for anything?"
"You weren't always there in school," Harry answered, bitterness encasing his voice. "People act differently on campus than off it. Same applies to you. At first, I was wondering where you went whenever you disappeared. Then I wondered if you had actually had the backbone to skip classes and school assemblies. You had a habit of sending me to voicemail whenever I called. Now I believe I have the full story. Well, most of the story."
Peter listened. He did feel guilty whenever he needed to leave. He would give one unbelievable excuse after another. He was also aware of their shared social circle. A possible conclusion clicked in his mind. "All this smack talk doesn't have to do with Liz, does it?"
Harry turned stunned for a moment. He then angrily looked away.
Norman became confused. He had paid closer attention to those his son was associating with. He gave an honest try to actually remember their names. This one didn't sound familiar. But it was obviously a girl's name.
Harry tightened his fists. "She didn't have to leave me. She was trying to be there for her family. I tried to stand by her. She left, anyway. Vamoose. Gone."
The other boy could hear the hurt in his pal's voice. "Harr, I agree that you wanted to be with her in her time of need. It was her decision to go. None of us could've made it for her."
Norman listened to their conversation. He concluded the rapport between a boy and girl. Underneath his son's anger, he spotted hurt. He quietly gasped. He never realized how much his little boy had grown.
Peter knew the case. He kept his concentration on his buddy. "Her step-brother, Mark Raxton, is The Molten Man. I had to face him just before I got caught up in some instigated war between S.H.I.E.L.D. and The Inhumans. And again when I was being toyed with by The Collector and his brother The Grandmaster. Liz felt responsible for Mark's tragedy."
Responsibility. To accept one's place in a course or duties. It seems like a great cause and a great pain. How much easier it is to ignore or walk away from it.
Harry surmised a contrasting outcome. The unexpected breakup was another example of abandonment in his life. He believed his pal delivered a cheap shot. He had to send one of his own. "You and your dumb moral compass. You think it's a valid excuse to do the things you do. You covered your tracks so no one knew what you were doing—me, M.J., and, of course, Aunt May."
A red glove smashed against the table. The unexpected rumble caused the plate, silverware, and glass to clatter. Nothing was knocked over. No dent was made in the table. A pair of angry eyes centered on the auburn. "Don't you dare go anywhere near her!"
Norman became shocked by the tone of voice the brunet used against his son. Everything the teen had done so far was done with logic. The mere reference of the elderly woman must have truly riled him.
Harry took in the threat. He remained quiet.
"Look, Harr," Peter called, using a slightly calmer but still threatening voice. "I'm sorry with what happened between you and Liz. I thought you two were gonna make it after high school. It's more than what I can say about my own love life. But if you go anywhere near my aunt's house like this…"
"You'll what?" Harry challenged, leaning forward. "Web me to the wall?"
The heat was growing between the two boys. The auburn originally had no intent of bringing harm to the woman who had showed him great kindness. He didn't appreciate being told what to do, like he had been his whole life. And Peter only wanted to help his pal. But he couldn't risk his last remaining family.
Norman grew distraught with what he was witnessing. The two boys had been good friends. They supported each other with and without masks. To see it crumbling, because of the return of The Goblin, was heartbreaking. Norman knew of the difficult task Spider-man endured while facing him as the original Goblin. He had to give a hand to the other young man.
"Harry," Norman called as he stood up. "I've listen to your grievance this whole evening. I can see being left alone has caused you to feel alone. Especially by me when I was The Goblin."
The auburn lost focus on the brunet. He glared at his father. His eyes appeared redder.
Norman was thrown off by the recoil. He caught his mistake. He had to move forward. "Yes, I also did the same thing even before that. But, please, you're not well, Harry. Let me take you home."
"I am home," the boy fiercely replied. "This is where we were together, as a family. At least until Mom died and we moved to the top of Oscorp a few years later."
Hearing the death of his wife greatly injured the older Osborn. But it was all true. The industrialist was unable to continue living in the same house he had shared with his dear Emily. The memories were too much for him to handle as he was working as head of Oscorp and raising a son.
Peter saw how much hurt his best friend was holding. He tried to control his own rage after the mentioning of his aunt. He knew that she would want him to do what he could for a friend. He stood up as well. "Harr, we get it. You were left in the dark for a lotta stuff. The shot you got had some unintentional consequences. Please, let us help you."
"Help me how?" the auburn questioned. "I got the strength and the speed of The Goblin. I don't need to maintain a suit of armor. I won't go back to being powerless against my enemies. Like Ock. You already took away the symbiotes."
"You willingly gave them up," Peter reminded. "You didn't want to use Venom as a joyride or help you take down your dad when he was The Goblin. You also used Anti-Venom to destroy Carnage. You then became Patrioteer. What happened there?"
"My true calling. Being a Goblin."
"With your shortcomings?"
"Fine, Hobgoblin. Whatever."
"That's not the path you should take."
"And why not?"
"Because you dad rejected it!"
A silence came down. All three remained in their place. A division occurred because of The Goblin. A father was separated from his son. And that same boy was separated from his best friend. Their bonds slowly repaired over time. Now they were reunited, but it was for the return of a smaller Goblin.
Peter chose to show his own susceptibility. He had to place on his own discomforts. He confessed, "I still remember all the fights I fought while facing the green monster. I couldn't bear seeing my best friend fall down that path. Remember, Harr, your dad with his own will cured himself of his Goblin."
The young Osborn heard the brunet upheld him as his closest companion. Peter discounted his transformation and yet placed it forward. It sounded like genuine concern. Harry looked at his father. The man no longer contained green skin. Still, the fact Norman had healed himself without a word to his son left him feeling disregarded, like many of their private information. His paranoia gained control.
"Shut up!" Harry demanded. "You're trying to confuse me!"
He grabbed a candle from the table. He hurled it in the direction of the wall-crawler. His aim was completely off. Nowhere near Peter, the candle smacked against the wall. The delicate decoration broke upon impact. The wax stick snapped in two.
Norman became dumbfounded. The throw of the candle happened in an instant. The teen hero didn't bother to move. He understood his son wasn't truly motivated to physically harm him at the moment.
Harry huffed. The other boy could have webbed the candle and hurled it back at him. Peter didn't. Harry had crafted a plan while he retreated to the Osborn manor. He refused to lose. "I brought you both here for a reason. To get a home advantage."
He stormed away from the table. He ventured to the armoire that belonged to his mother. "I doubt Dad packed everything up and never came back. I found something interesting in my rummaging. I noticed not everything was covered in dust and cobwebs while taking shelter here."
Crossly, he opened the armoire and moved aside. "Look at what's been hiding all this time!"
The armoire wasn't filled with clothing on hangers. Shelves had been added. Resting inside were Pumpkin Bombs and Razor Bats.
"Norman?" Peter called, turning horrified. He stared at the man in disbelief. "Did you really have these here all this time?"
Shame grew over the older Osborn. In the time he had stayed hidden as The Goblin, he resided in his mansion. He kept his weapons. Like the arsenal, he had kept so much away from his little boy. He became Iron Patriot to atone for his misdeeds as The Goblin. But it took Oscorp being besieged by Doc Ock and his Goblin Soldiers for Harry to learn of his new identity. The same could be said about his cure for The Goblin. He wanted a close relationship with his son, yet he was the one who deceived him.
Peter turned back to the younger Osborn. He wondered if Harry wanted to shove his father his past sins in his face. He questioned why he received an invitation to the dinner party, too. He asked, "What are you planning for these?"
"You think the shot is making me act bizarre," Harry recapped. "But it really opened my eyes. I came back home once I started becoming this Hobgoblin. Now I can see that some people never really change. Not when they hide so much from you."
He glared at his father. The man in front of him withheld so many secrets. The man in front of him chose to poison so much of their lives. His blood overrunning with anger, he lunged for him. His enhanced strength allowed him to reach a great distance. He could see the panic filling the businessman. Before Hobgoblin could tackle his father, the S.H.I.E.L.D. hero placed himself in between the father and son. The two boys fell to the floor.
"Harry!" Norman gasped. "Peter!"
He swerved around the dinner table. He didn't have his armor. But he had to do something. As a parent, he had to control his son.
With his back against the ground, Peter strained himself in keeping the other boy off of him. Harry's hands had began to grow claws. Peter tilted his head back to prevent any serious scarring. He barely spotted Norman heading towards them, looking to intervene. Peter shouted, "No! Stay back!"
The man stopped.
"You idiot!" Harry barked to the other boy. "You're always in the way! Why would you go and intrude?!"
"To give guys like you the boot!"
A red boot kicked the young Osborn in his petrified torso. The amplified muscles sent him flying across the room. He crashed into the dress mannequin, knocking it over. The armoire rattled. Pulling himself to his side, his front and back ached. His changing body was unequipped for the powerful retaliation.
Norman gasped. Seeing a brawl between friends was harrowing. He was worried for the last remains of his wife, including their son. He was set to dart towards his child.
Harry heard someone coming his way. He spotted someone he didn't want anywhere near him. He growled. "Don't take another step closer!"
He held up a Razor Bat that dropped to the ground.
Peter came to his feet. He had to catch his breath. He knew the other boy could be more accurate compared to the candle. He advised, "Better do as he says."
The older Osborn obeyed. He saw the feud between the two boys, between friends. He knew what he had instigated, what he was at fault. Throughout his life, he always sparred for himself, for what he wanted. He couldn't allow someone else to fight his battle. That was never his style. Norman knew he had to take charge. He had to take care of his little boy.
"Harry," he called, using an authoritative voice.
The auburn looked at him. So did the brunet.
"When you first got the shot," Norman began. "I was worried for your safety. I should've done more to keep you safe. I had hoped that if something went wrong you'd tell me. You can't imagine how horrified I was to see your room a mess when you left. I was the one who contacted Spider-man, thinking someone had kidnapped you. When you went missing from the penthouse, I placed on the Iron Patriot armor to search for you. I never dreamed you'd come back to the manor, this house of memories.
"Now as I see you becoming this Goblin—Hobgoblin—it's breaking my heart. You're having this war with your own best friend, even after he's done so much for us. I want to correct this mistake. You're not making it easy. But I can't blame you. I was the one who pushed you away, even when I was afraid of losing you."
He lowered his eyes. "With all that I have and haven't done, I can only think of the shame your mother would have over me. I had promised her I would take care of you. I had promised to be a better father to you. It seems like I've broken my vows to the most important people in my life."
He lift his eyes. He could see the bruises and the developing yellow skin. He figured how frightened the growing adolescent must be. He had to be the parent. "So, please, Harry, let me help you. Let me take you home. You are your mother's last gift to me, my little boy."
The teen grew stunned. He listened to what the man was confessing. It was all soaked with regret and truth. To him, however, the words didn't match the man's actions. He was unable to control his emotions.
"Enough!" Harry demanded. "I'm not falling for that again!"
He tossed the Razor Bat. The sharp metal flew past Norman and hit the door frame. He heaved. His reddening eyes stared directly at his father. "You can forget about me submitting to your will. I'm not going back. I'm not going to be Daddy's Little Boy anymore."
He turned to his buddy. "Don't think I'm only pissed off at him! I know you've been babying me all this time! This past hour has been proof! Just like before, you've been holding back your strength!"
He darted towards the other teen. "As Hobgoblin, I'll do what The Goblin couldn't do: Beat Spider-man!"
Peter had listened to the father and son. He placed up his guard. He didn't wish to bring harm towards his best friend. It seemed like that was the only option. "Alright, Harr. You want my full strength? You got it!"
The two exchanged fists. At times, they only punched air. At other times, they managed to slug each other. Fierce eyes remained on each one. Young bodies slammed against the stately furniture. Harry, though he was feeling the pressure, persisted in waging war against his best friend. As Spider-man, the brunet usually cracked a joke to anger his enemies but also release his own hardship. Peter kept his lips tight. Harry leaped for his foe, but he missed and crashed into the kitchen table. The cold pizza plopped to the floor. He brought himself to his feet and dashed back to the young hero.
The web-spinner watched the other boy. He knew Norman wished to prevent the battle. Using his arm, he shoved Harry away. He knocked the young Goblin to the dresser. The picture frame and the armoire fell. Peter stood on his guard as his current attacker struggled to stand up. The young Osborn had been controlled by symbiotes and barely begun his training as Patrioteer. His body was straining to become accustomed to his growing Goblin body. He was still a stranger to fights.
Peter felt a part of himself hardening. He tried to aid his best friend and his father during their turmoils. He couldn't allow a past foe to shatter his hope. "I didn't want to do this the hard way. But damn it, Harry, you're not making this easy. I can't let another Goblin wreck havoc on anyone."
Hobgoblin struggled to get up. His scheme was dashed. He didn't know if his adversary packed more of a punch because he was defending someone in the immediate vicinity. He would have to separate them, the ones who kept secrets from him. Grunting, his eyes spotted a Pumpkin Bomb. "There's no way this Hobgoblin is losing to Spider-man!"
He chucked the Pumpkin Bomb in the fireplace. A fire erupted. Sparks escaped the fireplace and landed everywhere—the carpet, the flooring, the furniture. Anything they touched quickly inflamed them. No matter the original color, everything was enveloped in red, orange, and yellow.
"No!" the brunet yelled. Smoke began to sting his eyes.
Harry moved from his spot. He activated the glider. The machine neared him, and he hopped on it. He tossed the dress mannequin towards the window. Shards fell to the floor. The glider and its rider rushed out of the broken pane. The young Hobgoblin escaped.
"Harry!" Norman cried. His little boy was long gone. Knowing he couldn't match the speed of the glider, he sped in the opposite direction. He snatched a small booklet from the fallen pedestal. His eyes frantically looked at the rest of the belongings. He couldn't bring everything with him at once.
Peter never expected a dirty trick. He had to get himself and the older Osborn out of the flaming building. His arm wrapped itself around the man's waist. He shot a web. He pulled himself and the industrialist from the first story window.
Norman watched with terror as the fires were creeping closer to his deceased wife's belongings. "Emily!"
Peter and Norman were outside the burning mansion. The teen was standing while the man was sitting. Each one was brooding over what took place over the hour. There was no containing the fire. A home fire extinguisher couldn't match the growing blaze.
Aged blue eyes stared at the pages in the booklet. He spotted a photo of a loving husband and wife with their newborn son.
"He's gone," Norman mumbled forlornly. "He's gone, and I have no idea where he would go."
"You're surprised?" Peter snapped. "After everything Harry said? What he showed us? How could you have left Goblin gear at a place likes this?! What if someone else found this stuff? There'd be a whole lotta Hobgoblins roaming the streets! And who do you think has to clean up that mess?"
"It would've been me," the businessman replied. He stood up. "I don't remember everything I did as a Goblin. Perhaps my memories are still wiped because those Pumpkin Bombs and Razor Bats were in my wife's belongings. How could I have ever stored something so vile in something so pure?"
He turned and faced the teen. "I have no interest in letting The Goblin control me. You came to Oscorp to help out when you could—"
"I did more than just do a little here and there! I did what I could to save you!" Peter yelled. "You created so much destruction as The Goblin! You caused all the students at Midtown High to go in lock down! You destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier! You turned my teammates into Goblins! You turned me into Carnage! Harry became Venom to get your attention! And then you go and poison him!"
Norman heard his sins stacking against him. Some of them were caused by The Goblin. He also knew what he himself was responsible for. He never wished for harm to be brought to Harry. "Peter, please! I would never do that my own son! I love him!"
"You sure have a funny way of showing it."
Norman turned quiet. He was aware of his mistakes. Although he aimed to do better, Harry was distrusting him more than ever before. At one time his only pride in Harry was when he was controlled by Venom. He carried no experience in needing to bring in a Hobgoblin.
"I need your help," Norman pleaded to the wall-crawler. "To save my son, your best friend—"
"He's not my best friend," Peter declared. "Not anymore."
He ripped the dinner invite. He placed his mask back on. The red fabric with the black webbing perfectly covered his entire head. It matched seamlessly into the rest of his costume. "I will bring him in. If other S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives get involve, I won't stop them. They can lock him away for all I care. I'm done helping the Osborn family."
Sirens sounded off in the distance. Horns blared. Multiple firetrucks and police cruisers were arriving to the devastating scene. The stench of burning wood and other materials poisoned the air. Spider-man accepted his cue to leave. He shot his webbings and took off without a word.
Norman couldn't believe what the web-slinger had told him. He had seen anger delivered towards him when he was migrating as The Goblin. He also sensed something else was lingering in the web-head's voice. There was hurt and betrayal. Unlike himself when he discovered the identity, Harry was aware of who Peter became.
As the older Osborn turned around, he saw the fire spreading. He clutched the photo album. He watched in disbelief. All that he worked for was burning up. It was hard to gather but easy to lose. Unable to withstand the pressure, he fell to his knees. The photos fell out. His little boy was gone. Helplessly, he watched as the flames consumed the Osborn mansion.
The End
Emily Osborn-Lyman, for initial appearance in a photo, see Spectacular Spider-Man #180, 1991 ("The Child Within: Part 3 of 6"). For full appearance, see Spider-Man: Revenge of the Green Goblin #1, 2000. For her possible return as Emma, see Amazing Spider-Man vol. 1 #789, 2018.
Elizabeth "Liz" Allan-Osborn, see Amazing Fantasy #15, 1962. (Properly named in Amazing Spider-Man vol. 1 #4, 1962.)
Mark Raxton/Molten Man, see Amazing Spider-Man vol. 1 #28, 1965. For his USM cartoon appearance, see S3E18 "Inhumanity" and S3 "Contest of Champions".
