Everywhere Norman Osborn looked, the demon stared back. Puddles on the street, windows in his office, the mirror in the bathroom; it was there, laughing it's horrible laugh.

Even when Norman wasn't looking at a reflection, he heard the Goblin laughing. For a brief moment after the first time he saw the Goblin, he pondered the thought of telling somebody.

But he couldn't tell somebody. If he did tell somebody about the green, long-eared creature he saw instead of his own reflections, they would put him in the asylum. And he couldn't let that happen. It would affect Oscorp's PR far too much.

*X*

It was around ten in the morning on Saturday when a man walked into the mansion. He was a small man with messy hair, and he had an undeniable air of ferocity around him. When he entered the mansion, he headed straight to the office of the Professor. Where he walked, everyone went silent. It was if everyone knew this man, and either feared him or respected him greatly.

*H*

"Who was that guy?" Peter said, sitting on the couch in the rec-room. Piotr sat to his right and Sam sat to his left.

"That man is Wolverine, comrade." Piotr replied. The television blared in front of them, and a reporter went on about how billionaire industrialist Tony Stark finally returned home after five months of captivity.

"Wolverine? I've heard some of the younger kids talk about him. They say he's a mighty warrior with long claws who can smell a cigar burning twenty miles away." Peter replied. "I would've thought he'd be taller or at least look tough."

"He's one of the toughest mutants ever." Sam replied. "We've worked with him a couple times in the past. One time, the Professor sent us to destroy a factory making smaller versions of these robot-hunting mutants. He sent Wolverine along too."
"What happened?" Peter asked.

"It was insanity, comrade." Piotr said. "Wolverine was slicing all over the place."
"He was cutting off robot's heads like a knife through butter. One of them picked up a small fuel tank at him and it exploded. Fire burned all over his skin. And the skin grew back! It was like he was never burned in the first place!" Sam said.

"Wow." Peter said. "He sounds like a guy I wouldn't want to annoy."
"Who sounds like a guy you don't want to annoy?" Peter heard a girl ask. Turning his head to the entrance, he saw Kitty enter the room.

"Wolverine." Samuel said.

"Ah." Kitty said, sitting down on the couch next to Piotr. "He still owes me for saving his life. One time, we were in South America fighting off these androids meant to replicate mutants. One of them collapsed part of the roof, and rubble crushed Wolverine."

"What happened then?" Peter asked.

"I phased into the rubble, grabbed him, took him out of the rubble, and phased out." Kitty said.

"He could've cut his way out of there." Sam said.

"He was unconscious!" Kitty protested. "He would've suffocated or something if I didn't pull him out!"
"I'm flattered to hear people still talk 'bout me," Wolverine said; entering the room. In his left hand was a can of soda with the top sliced off. In his right was a bacon sandwich,

"Greetings, comrade!" Piotr said.
"Hi, Wolverine!" Kitty said.
"It's good to see you, Wolverine." Sam said.

Wolverine nodded at them, and sat down on the armchair. After setting his can on the floor and his plate on the left arm of the chair, he grabbed the remote from the couch and changed the channel to a football game.

"Hello." Peter said. "I'm Peter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Wolverine."

Wolverine sniffed the air. "You smell musty, like old cobwebs. What's your power? Do you shoot webs out of your rear?" He said the last part jokingly.

"Good guess." Peter said. "But wrong. I shoot webs from my wrists. I can also climb on walls."

"Peter's a new member of the team. He replaced Proudstar." Kitty said. "He's been very good, so far."

*X*

"Leave me alone!" Norman told the laughing reflection of the Goblin in the window in his office. "You're not real! Stop laughing!"

"Maybe the problem isn't I'm laughing." The Goblin said, knowingly. "Maybe the problem is that you're not laughing."

"Damn you!" Norman said. He picked up a clipboard from his desk, and with a might he never knew before, threw it at the window. The window broke as soon as the clipboard hit it. Splinters of the glass hit the floor; one wayward one cut Norman's arm.

Ten stories below, a passing pedestrian narrowly dodged a clipboard falling from the sky. Seconds later, he and several other pedestrians were dodging falling pieces of glass.