NORMAN OSBORN WAS SICK.
Crammed within a remote location within New York, the once-great scientist and CEO of a multi-billion dollar company was in a panic, forehead damp and mind aching. What had he done to that young girl?
Harry's friend, no less. That poor girl . . . what she endured from his colleague must have been inhuman. He practically watched Sophia Rambeau grow up alongside Harry. Why had he agreed to it?
It's for the good of all, Norman.
Norman staggered back at the sudden, gritty voice echoing inside the room, followed by a string of manic cackles. "Not again. Not again . . . " Gripping his head, Norman tried blocking out the voice that plagued him just as he'd done these past few weeks by locking himself away from the world ever since Oscorp was overrun by the police and he was proclaimed 'missing.'
Stopping against the wall, Norman wiped the sweat from his brow when he was assured the voice retreated. "No one is here . . . No one is here with you, Norman."
Stop pretending, Norman.
"Who said that?!" He screamed, crawling across the walls of the bedroom. "Answer me!!"
Silence followed. A lump in Norman's throat only grew larger, his gaze falling upon the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand. Rushing over, he raised a shaking hand to grip a glass, using his other to pour in an unsteady fashion, even spilling a little bit of the amber liquid on his worn trousers.
Throwing back his head, Norman downed the glass, bringing his face back to its neutral direction, right in front of a mirror where he was met with his own reflection--but a twisted, warped version of himself. One with the smile of the devil.
Don't play innocent with me, Norman. You've known all along . . .
Norman's reflection moved its lips, even changed its expression while the real Norman remained stunned. Was he going insane?
"W-Who are you?"
Follow the cold shiver that's running down your spine right now. Look--I'm right there.
"I don't understand."
Did you think it was a coincidence? So many good things . . . all happening for you--all for you, Norman.
Everything Norman had bottled within himself these past weeks finally began to overflow, bubbling to the surface in a hot rage. "What do you want?!" he screamed at the reflection, standing while the devil in the mirror remained sitting.
To say what you won't. To do what you can't. To remove those in your way that want to disrupt our plans.
As if on cue, a flash of memory rampaged itself through Norman's mind of flying through the air at the Unity Festival, gleeful that he had killed those idiots who thought they could snatch his company right from under him, only to come upon a young girl healing the wounded beneath his glider. The one girl with the gift to promise him immortality--or that was what his colleague made him believe she could give him. All he needed was to get the girl.
Until one Spider-man came and ruined everything.
"The board members. You killed them?!" Norman accused the reflection who now joined him in standing.
We killed them, Norman.
"Oh God . . . " Norman sobbed, pulling at his hair as he nearly collapsed to the ground--now fully realizing that it was indeed him on that glider. That the destruction he had cost so many was by his own hands. "God, no . . . I'm not a murderer. I'm a scientist. A respectable businessman."
Stop mewling. You sicken me . . you ooze weakness. Hypocrite! LIAR!
The onslaught of the reflection's venomed words forced Norman to sit on the bed, staring into the intense gaze of the devil before him.
Shut your mouth and listen. Try to understand the beauty of all this. YOU are still in full control of Oscorp Industries. You're greatest wish, granted by me. Now say 'thank you.'
Being more of a threat than a request, Norman replied, "T-Thank you." The reflection's words sank deep within his subconscious. He was still the sole CEO of Oscorp . . . he could still have it all. This wasn't over yet. "What will happen now?" he hesitated to ask.
We'll eliminate your rivals. With the help of that woman, we will become immortal. There will be no end to what Oscorp can accomplish. You'll have limitless wealth. Presidents and kings will court your favor. So don't be shy . . . take what you've always wanted. Power. The weak will serve you. The world will be yours and mine. Yes, you and I, we can have a hell of a time . . .
Norman rose from the bed, walking forward to stand before his reflection, somehow already growing more accustomed to the manic look in its eyes. " . . . I suppose the damage has been done, right?"
A nod was all it did to respond.
"Can we do it alone?"
Now that the serum has been molding alongside the girl's healing power, your friend will need to help us accomplish the transfusion of her skills to us--to complete our transformation. Then we will be perfect. There's only one who could stop us.
"Or . . . be our greatest ally."
Exactly! We need to have a little chat with you know who . . .
"But how do we find him?"
The reflection lifted a hand, pointing towards the chair shoved in the corner of the room. Laying on its armrest was an old newspaper, one that Norman rushed to open to the front page. Plastered there was an image of Spider-man fending off Green Goblin during the Unity Festival weeks ago.
The Daily Bugle.
☽ ☽ ☽
Peter Parker never felt so defeated.
After everything that happened with Sophia last night, it left him an emotional wreck. With her rushing from his arms, demanding to walk home alone after everything she had just endured, what kind of friend would he be if he'd let her wander the city alone?
So Peter threw on his suit and scaled the buildings that made Queens--always with his eyes on her as she cried the entire walk home. A few times, he almost missed the aiming for his webshooter and nearly fell to the concrete below. Whenever he did, he would have to perch on a rooftop and duck out of sight before taking off his mask to wipe the tears coating his vision.
Once he saw her home safely, watching as she passed through the neighbor's garden, making sure to be out of view before sneaking back inside through a window, Peter finally allowed himself to fully give in to his emotions.
Dropping into an alleyway, Peter grabbed the top of his mask and yanked it off, slinging the cheap fabric onto the damp ground. Everything that he had been feeling since he rushed to rescue Sophia that night so many days ago was finally boiling over, threatening to tear him apart.
It was obvious to most everyone at Midtown that Sophia was noticeably absent that week. Peter tried calling before he threw on the mask to go patrol Queens, but she never picked up. By the fifth day, he thought to go over to her home--coming up with some excuse to help her go through her missing homework. But in reality, he just wanted to see her face. Hear her laugh or call him 'Pete.'
So it felt like the world crumbled beneath his feet when he saw the patrol cars light up the street outside the Rambeau home with Chief Rambeau rushing out, yelling into his com.
"All units report to Oscorp Industries NOW! We have evidence of a 207 for fifteen-year-old, Sophia Rambeau. 207 with a possible 10-35! All able bodies to Oscorp NOW!"
Peter listened in on enough police radios to understand what those codes related to.
207. Kidnapping.
10-35. Major crime alert.
Peter never ran faster in his life.
Ducking into an alley, Peter didn't care what happened to his things as he slammed down his backpack by some dumpster, his mind going through the police chief's words on a loop.
Fifteen-year-old Sophia Rambeau.
Evidence of a 207.
Sophia Rambeau.
All able bodies to Oscorp.
Sophia Rambeau. Sophia Rambeau. Sophia Rambeau--
Peter aimed and shot through the buildings at a speed he never dared to reach before. Police sirens could be heard somewhere in the distance behind him--wherever they were, they wouldn't make it before he got there.
God help whoever stood in his way once he did.
Oscorp's neon lights were a beacon that Peter sped towards like an animal. If anything happened to her . . . If Sophia was hurt in any way. . .
With one mighty swing, Peter sprang across the air, flipping to bring his feet down upon the class of the 60th floor, crashing through with shards of glass littering the floor. Like a bullet, Peter dashed through the room, moving through the floor until he arrived at the stairway.
"Sophia is not your property."
With his heightened senses, Peter could hear Harry's voice clear as day a few floors above. Raising his hand, Peter webbed, latching onto the walls and propelling himself upward until he made it to a floor with two hulking guards and a scientist.
Without hesitation, he took them out swiftly while dodging their bullets. Though he was just a second too late to reach the woman who disappeared somewhere deep within Oscorp. His anger and frustration bubbled forth in an enraged scream, but every bit of rage was quelled at the sight of Sophia falling to her knees.
"SOPH!"
And he couldn't get everything that happened afterward out of his mind ever since.
Peter fell to his knees in the alley after watching Sophia walk home, pulling at his hair as he sobbed into the concrete. If he had gotten there sooner. If he had somehow realized the danger she was in then maybe he . . . He still didn't know what exactly they did to her within those walls. But it changed her. He saw it in her eyes when she looked at him in the hallway.
He was going to do everything in his power to find out who made her look at him that way.
So the added benefit of reporting to the Daily Bugle that next morning to face an argument with J. Jonah Jameson over the twisted article he released this past week was the last thing he wanted to do.
Peter was on edge as he sat across from Jameson chewing on a cigar and looking pleased with himself at the front page of the newest edition of the Bugle. He slung the paper before Peter so that he could take it all in.
"You like that? Ever since Spider-man, it seems the rest of the bad guys get a name too. I say it's a waste of time for criminals terrorizing our city."
On the front cover was a photograph of Spider-man and Green Goblin--a photo that Peter had taken during that day at the Unity Festival by webbing up his camera against a building. Had he known it would result to this, he never would have done it in the first place.
"Spider-man wasn't terrorizing the city--he was trying to save it! It's slander!"
It was slander like this that made officers like Emanuel Rambeau wary of accepting Spider-man's help. If the police weren't so against him from headlines like this, they could actually work together to make the city safe.
"I resent that! Slander is spoken. In print, it's libel."
"You don't trust anybody. That's your problem, Mr. Jameson. Why is it so hard to believe that Spider-man just wants to do good?" Peter couldn't listen to this anymore. There were more important things to do than argue with Jameson. Like finding the culprits who hurt Sophia.
Walking out of the office, Jameson threw his cigar against the door just as Peter shut it. He beamed with pride at the front page again, reaching for another cigar to light.
"What is up with that kid? What is he? Spider-man's lawyer? Let the masked freak sue me and get rich like any normal person. That's what makes this country--"
In a shower of glass and flame, Jameson was thrown across his oak desk as a metallic, horrific beast sailed on a glider across his office. The Green Goblin tilted his head as he took in the shriveling creature cowering on the floor.
"I'll ask this once. Who is the photographer that takes pictures of Spider-man?! I need to have a word with him about his favorite subject. Where is he?"
Jameson stared in horror at the devil gliding closer and closer, the sharp points of the machine aimed right at his face. "He's a free-lancer--I don't know who he is! His stuff comes in the mail."
Like the hiss of a snake, Goblin accused, "You're lying."
A clawed hand struck against Jameson's throat, threatening to break the delicate windpipe there. Oxygen was cut off almost instantly as Jameson struggled to breathe. "I s-swear!"
"Please . . . air--s-stop . . "
"HEY!"
Goblin twisted, dropping Jameson to the ground as he took in Spider-man hanging from a webbing just outside the falling brick wall.
"You know, you could have just called," Spider-man spoke, gesturing towards Jameson. "Though I guess this is one way to reach me."
"Speak of the devil," Goblin hissed. "Let's have a chat, Spider."