Gripping his latest web, Peter also adjusted his grip on Matt, trying his best to keep him in a stable position. Though his ally's lack of consciousness gave away that the primary blow had been to his head, he couldn't rule out any potential damage in other areas, so he needed to keep the man as steady as possible, which wasn't the easiest thing to do using only one arm. Still, Peter pressed on, trying to go as fast as he could as he entered Harlem.
The only fortunate thing about the situation he was currently facing was that Peter at least knew of someone he could take Matt to that would both properly care for him while also maintaining his secret identity. Claire Temple was someone who had taken care of not only Matt and himself, but she'd also treated injuries for the likes of Luke Cage, Iron Fist, and she'd even given Captain America a quick patch job during the heat of an alien invasion once to help him keep going. The woman had seemingly become the go-to superhero repair lady without intending to, but she always seemed graciously willing to do so, no matter the intrusion on her own life. If Peter was completely honest, he'd call her one of the most selfless and inspiring people he knew.
Finally spying the building to her place, Peter quickly changed direction, opting to come in along the side. One thing he and Matt especially had always done as much as possible was to try and be as discreet as possible for the woman's sake. Granted, this was much harder to do in the daytime, but Claire's window facing the alley would still at least be more helpful than if she was facing the street, where prying pedestrians or even nosy journalists could more easily spot them.
Quickly entering the area as quickly but cautiously as he knew how to, Peter landed just to the side of Claire's apartment window, giving a few firm knocks against the glass. Almost immediately, he heard what sounded like a TV turning off followed by the sound of quick footsteps heading their way. A couple of seconds later, the window slid open, the woman poking her head out, her expression indicating she wasn't surprised by their presence.
"I saw what happened on the news," she said, moving back and allowing Peter to slip in. He then gently set Matt on the bed, taking special care as he laid his head down on the pillow.
"Do you know what happened?" Claire asked.
"He tried to get one of the cops out of harm's way from the explosion," Peter answered. "All I know is that he hit his head."
"Get his helmet off, gently," Claire instructed, her feet already starting to lead her out of the room. "I'll get my kit."
Peter did not hesitate to follow directions, carefully removing his friend's mask. It wasn't the easiest task; the material, though providing a thick layer of protection on the outside, practically stuck to the man's face on the inside. Eventually, however, he peeled it off without having to move Matt's head significantly. It was right as he'd finished the task that Claire returned, sitting down next to him. After checking his pulse, she placed an ice pack on his head and began doing her thing.
As he waited, Peter had to fight to maintain his patience. Multiple dumb, probably-not-tension-easing jokes or comments came to the tip of his tongue, but he withheld from uttering them, not wanting to do anything to break Claire's concentration. Fortunately, after what seemed like an hour to him but was likely only about five to seven minutes, the woman rose from her spot on the bed, turning to Peter.
"He hit his head pretty hard, but the swelling is already starting to go down," she explained. "There doesn't seem to be any damage to his neck or vertebrae. He likely has a concussion though, which for a normal person would mean they would have to take it easy for a while, but then again, when have any of you people listened to the sound advice of a medical professional?"
Peter let out a faint snort through his mask.
"Thanks, Claire," he said. "Tell Matt that I've got this for now, and I'll keep him updated."
"Which means that you'll probably not tell him anything out of a desire for him to get better, but you not telling him anything will only make him come find you instead."
"Well, I feel personally attacked," Peter said. "I'll talk to him, I promise. Thanks again."
"It's what I do," the woman replied. Peter then dived back out of the window, quickly swinging over to a further, higher perch spot overlooking most of the east side of Harlem. For the first time since everything had gone down, he took a moment to process the situation and its implications: it hadn't been Fisk's men trying to break him free, but the Goblin's men trying to take him for themselves. More importantly, the Green Goblin was now back in the picture, and was now holding the city's, possibly even the world's biggest crime lord hostage for who knew what purpose. This meant that anything was possible now, and his loved ones were in danger, not least of which was Mary Jane.
Taking out his phone, Peter quickly found M.J.'s contact, dialing it hurriedly. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long, his girlfriend answering barely half a ring in.
"Peter, are you okay?" she questioned, her voice laced with concern. "I saw about the attack on the news!"
"I'm fine, yeah," he assured her. "Matt took the worst of it, but he'll be okay."
"That's a relief," M.J. replied. "So, are the reports true that it was the Green Goblin behind the attack?"
"Yeah," he said.
"I know you said that Norman lost his memory before," M.J. pointed out. "Do you think he remembers everything now?"
"Probably," Peter answered, "which is why I wanted to check on you. There's no way to know for sure exactly how long Harry's dad's darker side has been active, but he could have had plans in motion for a while now. Have you noticed anyone eyeing you when you're out? Have you felt like you've been watched at all recently?"
"No, I don't think so," she answered.
"Still, that doesn't mean it hasn't been happening," he replied.
"I'll keep a sharper eye out," Mary Jane assured him.
"That might not be enough," Peter explained. "He has nearly unlimited resources, M.J, especially if he's taken over Fisk's operation."
"Okay, so what are you saying?" M.J. asked.
"I want you to leave the city," Peter said, "just until I take care of all this. I'll talk to May and Harry, come up with a reason to get them to leave too."
"Peter, I have a show tonight," his girlfriend explained.
"That you might not make it to with him out there," Peter reasoned.
"Peter, we can't let some flying lunatic make us just drop everything," M.J. answered. "How many times would we have to do that if we did it every single time someone like this showed up?"
"The Goblin is different, M.J," Peter tried to assure her.
"And you'll get him, just like all the others," she said. "I know you will. Look, I'll be extra careful going anywhere, and I'll even check into a hotel for a few days so that he won't find me at home."
Peter sighed; he didn't like it, but he supposed she made a good point. The Goblin was who he considered the most dangerous, but at the same time, his girlfriend was correct in that this same situation could always arise again at a later time, and he couldn't live in fear, nor was it right to ask her to do so.
"Alright, I guess that's a fair compromise," he said. "I'll try and discreetly set up some kind of extra security with May, and I'll call and see if I can get Harry to come stay with me in the meantime."
"Sounds good, and you got this," she said. "I know you do."
"Thanks," Peter said. "Let's hope your faith is proven valid."
After hanging up, Peter then dialed his best friend. This time, it took several dials, but Harry finally answered.
"Hey, Pete; can we make this quick? I'm on my way out the door actually."
"Hey, man," Peter said. "Listen, I feel like we haven't really had some good best bud time in a while; how about you come over and we can hang out at my place? It'll be just like the good Ol' days!"
"That's tempting, but I have a big meeting with my dad soon," he said. "I think he might finally be ready to bring me into the fold at Oscorp. How cool is that!?"
Peter's fist instinctively clenched. Why did this have to be happening now?
"Come on, man, for old time's sake?" he asked.
"Wow, Mr. Responsibility trying to get me to ditch on something that could be big for my future?" Harry questioned. "What's gotten into you, Pete?"
"Look, I'll explain when you come by, alright?" Peter said, fighting to keep his frustration with the situation in check.
"Sorry, Pete, but like I said, it's going to have to be a rain check," his best friend replied. "Listen, I better get going; I'll let you know how it all goes, okay?"
"Wait, Harry!" Peter replied, but it was too late, as his best friend had hung up.
His eyes opening, the first thing Fisk saw as he came to was a familiar man in purple and green... the Green Goblin, his kidnapper. A powerful anger sent adrenaline surging through his veins, leading him to lunge towards the Halloween-inspired clown, only to find himself going nowhere, seemingly unable to move forward at all. Glancing down, he discovered metal cuffs wrapped around the middle of each arm, pinning him to the wall. Nevertheless, he struggled further, growling and fighting like a caged animal as he struggled with all his might for his freedom.
His kidnapper only smiled, eventually breaking into a laugh.
"Oh, Fisk!" the Goblin yelled as he began to stroll towards him. "You're so used to being able to get out of any situation, aren't you? Yes sir; sometimes it's your girth, sometimes it's a bribe here or a threatened family member there, but you always find a way, don't you?"
Coming within an arm's length of Fisk, the Goblin closed that gap, lunging and gripping the man's cheekbones in his right hand. It was just enough for Fisk to feel it, the discomfort only outweighed by his increased blood pressure at the sight of the Goblin's disgusting, evil smirk.
"That's why this must be killing you," his kidnapper continued, "as it dawns on you that, for the first time, there is no escape, no way for you to weasel your way out of this one, big guy!"
The Goblin then squeezed a little harder, causing Fisk to feel his cheekbones beginning to crunch somewhat, causing him to groan in both pain and anger. The Goblin leaned his face closer to his, the freak's smile only growing wider.
"And soon, everything that you have, all of it will be mine!" he whispered, finally releasing his grip. Fisk gathered himself, looking his enemy straight in his mask's yellow eyes.
"I remember you," he growled through gritted teeth. "You talk a big game, but do you really think my men will work for a freak like you?"
"You know, I believe your former number one stooge said those exact words," the Goblin commented. "It's funny how one can eventually listen to reason when they're, shall we say, persuaded enough. I'll admit, he impressed me with how long he held out, but eventually, he gave me exactly what I needed to submit anonymously to the authorities to bring you in..."
Fisk's brain reeled, his mind taken aback at the notion that the man who'd once been his most loyal follower and right-hand man would betray him. That shock quickly turned to more anger though as he struggled against his restraints again.
"WHERE IS HE!?" he yelled.
"Oh, don't worry, I already took care of him for you," the Goblin replied. "Think of it as me saving you the trouble. After all, I can't have a squealer as part of my new empire."
"You're new... what?"
Fisk then burst into laughter, rearing his head back and forth before looking back at the Goblin.
"You are a fool!" he insisted. "You think you can just takeover just like that!?"
The Goblin only smiled, raising his right hand and snapping his two fingers. The room, which had been mostly dark except the area between Fisk and his kidnapper, suddenly became brightly lit, causing Fisk to avert his face momentarily. Once his eyes adjusted, he glanced ahead, observing that not only was the room significantly larger than he'd assumed before, but it was also filled with over a hundred men, all of them wearing makeshift Goblin masks. His jaw dropped as he looked around, eventually coming back to the Goblin.
"Even the scum of this city are smart enough to recognize opportunity, Fisk!" the Goblin boasted. "Admittedly though, there are a few others that require a little, well, motivation to accept my leadership... and that's what THIS is for..."
The Goblin then gestured upward, Fisk following in that direction to discover that all of this was being recorded.
"What are you talking about?" he questioned.
Instead of answering, the Goblin then pulled out a remote, tapping a button at the center. Instantly, Fisk's restraints rescinded, the man soon finding himself completely free.
"You see, I thought about just using some resources of my own to get them to see reason," the Goblin explained, "but then, I realized something: I planned on killing you at some point anyway, so I might as well make your death mean something! In this case, it will be the final straw that will break the will of any in the underworld who oppose me! But I'm not an unreasonable man; I recognize that I possess physical and intellectual advantages, so to make this a fair fight, I will give you three chances to come after me first. Use them wisely though, because once you use them up..."
His fists clenched, the man charged angrily at his opponent, not even waiting for him to finish. The Goblin only stood there, smiling wickedly. He then lunged with everything he had, both hands intending to take hold of the throat of his opponent. Instead, he suddenly felt a powerful blow to his gut, sending him tumbling along the ground.
"Strike one!" the Goblin goaded him before turning to the crowd. "Is this your so-called 'Kingpin'!? Is this the one who struck fear into the hearts of the city!?"
"You little..."
Forcing himself up, Fisk again went for the Goblin, this time opting for a series of punches and strikes. To his surprise and growing frustration, his opponent avoided each and every one of them, his same smug smile maintained throughout, even some laughter escaping from his throat as well. This only served to drive Fisk to fight harder, but it still, it wasn't enough, as he suddenly found his own throat the one that was being squeezed, his whole body suddenly being hoisted into the air. The Goblin then delivered three hard smacks to his face with his free hand before slamming him into the ground.
"That's strike two!" the Goblin taunted. "Care to use the third one, or should we just cut to the chase already?"
As badly as Fisk wanted to get up, his body didn't initially cooperate. He was HURTING, something he hadn't truly been able to say for many years now. Not since his years as simply an overweight teenager bullied by his fellow youth had he felt this way, his head pounding and his face feeling as though it had been hit repeatedly by a sledgehammer rather than a man's hand. Still, the cheering of the crowd and the taunts of the Goblin produced still more red-hot rage and adrenaline in his veins, allowing him to summon just enough strength to stagger to his feet.
"What?" The Goblin questioned as he turned to him, seemingly disgusted. "You get up again? Who do you think you are, Spider-Man?"
Fisk simply responded with a wave of his hand, gesturing for the Goblin to come to him.
"Ooh, bold move!" the Goblin said. "Let's see if it pays off!"
The creep then rushed Fisk, leaping into the air with both fists reared back as he prepared to pound him into the ground. Fisk was ready this time though, snagging him midair and slamming him straight into the ground in one slick motion. Immediately, he pinned his opponent with his weight and began driving his fists into the Goblin's face, yelling and screaming as he put everything he had into the blows. At first, it almost seemed to be working, his enemy's head going from side to side with each impact. Eventually, however, the Goblin straightened his head despite the blows, his nastiest, most wide-eyed expression of glee coming over his face yet. Fisk went harder still only for his opponent to let out a laugh that chilled even his bones.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Next thing Fisk knew, he had suddenly been launched several feet into the air by a punch to the gut, crashing to the floor in a pathetic heap. He didn't even have a chance to get up before the Goblin pressed his attack further, delivering blow after blow to his face. It all piled up quickly, as Fisk could soon taste his own blood, and he could tell which punch it was that broke his nose. Still, his opponent kept coming, striking him in the face and the midsection. At one point, he felt himself go flying again, only for his enemy to come at him still, landing several more blows until he finally relented, standing over him.
"Well, that sure was fun, but perhaps it's time we close this out," the Goblin said, hoisting Fisk up into the air. "How about it, Wilson; any last words before your grand demise?"
Forcing himself to focus as he fought through the pain, Fisk spat out a tooth before glancing up, fighting to look the creep in the eyes through the blood seemingly coated over them.
"Whatever you think you're building, it won't last. I know your kind; I've seen it many times over the years. You're powerful, and ambitious, certainly, but eventually, both will go to your head. You're also the kind to take things far too personally. You'll choose to take on those who oppose you yourself, but eventually, you'll come across someone you cannot defeat... and I already know who that will be.
"Really?" the Goblin questioned. "And just who is that?"
Fisk just stared his opponent in the face.
"You know."
The Goblin sighed, glancing down to the side... before sending one more punch to Fisk's face.
At last, it was done: Wilson Fisk, the former Kingpin of Crime, was no more. Still, the Goblin's thoughts remained on Fisk's last words; part of him wanted to laugh, but he also found himself angry. Did Fisk really think that their greatest mutual enemy could really put a stop to him this time? Oh well, that would all be dealt with in time; all he needed to do was stick to his plan, and everything would pan out exactly as he was anticipating.
Calling down men from nearby, they hurried to him.
"You know what do to with the body," he reminded them. They simply nodded a wordless reply before going over to the man, struggling at first before finally managing to begin dragging the Fisk's lifeless form away. The Goblin was then approached by another one of his subordinates.
"Sir, the Osborn boy has arrived."
Hope you're still enjoying it!
Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!
"Do not those who plot evil go astray? But those who plan what is good find love and faithfulness." Proverbs 14:22