Getting Up, Giving In - Just Please Don't Give Up On Me

The Prodigal Son

When Peter wakes up, the situation is less than ideal.

His body aches from the meticulous beat-down Goblin's electric gloves gave his nervous system. Every joint creaks and he feels like he's been barbecued from the inside out, but it's not the worst electrocution he's endured.

In fact, it's quite tame compared to what Electro dishes out—Peter doesn't even have much of an electric burn as far as he can tell, so Goblin must've really been holding back the voltage.

Still, it's electricity, and electricity hurts like a bitch.

Peter groans as he gradually floats back to consciousness. He blinks several times before realizing the green hue cast over the entire room is on purpose and not a trick of his eyes. It's gaudy in a villaine-eque type way, but at least Gobby is loyal to his color scheme.

The second thing he notices is that he's completely immobilized—which probably should be higher on his priority list, or at least above Goblins home decor. He grunts, pulling on the metal clamps pinning him to the slanted table, but even with his super-strength they're sturdy.

Not that he can't bust out of them right here. They're sturdy, but with just a little more strength they'd break easily enough, but Peter can't do that because across the room, Goblin's immense shoulders walk among shelves of chemical vials and equipment. He'd probably notice it if Puny Parker crushed a metal table with his bare hands.

Peter doesn't recognize the room he's in. It's all low-lights and shadows, most of the light coming from the green-hued lights illuminated from panels and the hexagon-shaped screens taking up an entire section of a wall. An expanse of equipment is placed neatly around the room too, from microscopes and flasks organized on tables, to smoothly-running generator's and engines stacked in the corner. For all his love of violence and chaos, Goblin sure has his lab safety down.

It takes Goblin a few minutes to notice Peter is awake and struggling, and quickly changes direction towards him.

"Ah," he says, his deep, hair-raising voice booming off the walls like a mini-bomb as he opens his arm in a gesture. "Welcome home, son."

Peter presses himself into the table, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Despite the many calming techniques Danny has tried to teach him, his heart spikes with every step closer Goblin takes.

"What do you want?" Peter asks, not even needing to fake his nervousness. He doesn't need to pretend when he's literally shaking in his shoes. Nothing good ever comes from spending time with Goblin—Peter can only imagine the things Goblin would do if he realized he had Spider-Man pinned down, not just Peter Parker.

"Let me go!" Peter tugs on the clamps again, forcing himself not to break them even as every cell in his body tells him to run away. Goblin's words finally sink in and Peter stares at him in bewilderment. "Wait, did...did you say son?"

"The son I've always wanted," Goblin says, coming to a stop next to Peter—why is he so fucking huge—"Harry and I share a few recessive genes, but nothing more," he drops the tools he'd been carrying on a small, mobile-table nearby, "You're smarter, more driven, and as a wimpy defenseless kid, you'll appreciate power. You can be a greater creation than the late, great Spider-Man!"

Peter tries not to choke on his tongue.

Don't be suspicion. Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious.

When Goblin turns to face him, Peter doesn't think he understands the irony of what he just said, but it still hits too close to home to be comfortable. His spider-sense is a spasmodic jerk up and down his spine and skull, but he doesn't need it to know something bad is about to happen. He can feel it in the air. See it in the all-too creepy way Goblin keeps looking at him.