Oscorp, originally called the Osborn Corporation prior to a company-wide rebranding shortly after its founding, had one of the largest corporate/research and development headquarters in the world. Oscorp Tower was a sleek, black, and immense monolith atop the crown of the New York skyline. Of its many levels and sub-levels, there was only one that was entirely free of human presence.
This place, sub-level 24B, was Harry Osborn's current destination as he rode the elevator up his building. Ever since his father's death, 24B was shut down and all its projects left there to gather dust. There was too much legal fire due to the attempted tying of the Green Goblin to Oscorp's various R&D projects that were being pursued on 24B. Although nothing was ever proved, Harry was forced to shut it off and retask all of the personnel there. He was always too haunted by rage and sorrow to ever have it cleaned up...so now, he finally welled up enough strength to go there.
The elevator came to a halt and opened its gates to the dark beyond. Harry trailed outward and saw nothing but pitch black nothingness. It infuriated him. This nothingness, this eternal oblivion, was what Spider-Man sentenced Norman Osborn to when he impaled him those years ago. That year, Peter lost Gwen Stacy...but Harry lost his father. No one seemed to remember that, Harry believed. They all remembered Gwen, though.
He grasped a lever on the wall and tugged it downward, tearing asunder the wealth of cobwebs that had been woven around it in the absence of workers. Harry gritted his teeth at this reminder.
Lights bathed the massive room in the weak, white glow...and Harry's eyes beheld sights that confirmed his suspicions.
Rows of extremely advanced, High-Shrapnel Compact Grenades lined an entire wall. Their orange, globular surfaces seemed to flicker like jack-o-lanterns. Harry stepped forward and laid a hand onto one of the grenades. The voice of his father returned with that small touch.
Take up my arms, Harry. Strike down he who robbed you of me.
Harry shook his head and moved onward. Next were several developmental and prototype models of Norman's pride and joy, the 'Glider' Personal Flight System. At a time when the only person who could achieve reasonable combat flight was Stark, Norman designed the first alternative. It was more agile than Stark's armours, was capable of remote operation, and housed on-board weaponry. It was a success...but when people started accusing Norman of supplying the Green Goblin, its funding dried up. No one wanted anything to do with it.
Atop these blackened wings, rain fire down on he who ruined your life.
The young business man clenched a fist and winced as his mind began racing ever faster. Lastly, past all the flight gear and handheld gadgets, was a case of green chemicals within isolated canisters. Harry knew that the rumours were true. The US government backed several pharmaceutical companies years ago to try replicating the super soldier serum used to give Captain America his strength. Oscorp's attempt was the G7 Performance Enhancer; a chemical substance that would be ingested in a gaseous state, but stored in a compressed liquid form. This case held several doses of G7.
Harry's fingers trembled against the container. It was meant to enhance the human physiology...but it was never perfected. They had never made it to human testing, at least, not that Harry was aware of.
Do not fear, my son. Fear is for the ill of mind, and it will dominate you if not kept in check. Take the canister to the chamber... Avenge me.
Harry's hand steadied. His father's voice soothed all fear from his mind; stitching the pulsating scar that had buried itself deep within his psyche. Spider-Man had taken everything from him...it was time to return the favour.
Harry dropped the canister of G7 into a slot just outside of the chamber. It clicked, deafeningly, then disappeared. His legs trembled as he stepped towards the nearby terminal, tapping in the starting sequence and displaying the countdown. He had two minutes before the gas was released into the chamber...and the last remnants of his sanity thumped against his skull.
"What am I doing?..." He found himself asking. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with this...he couldn't overcome the strong feeling that this would be the end of him.
Cowering away already, Harry? You were always a disappointment to me.
The hesitance of Harry's mind vanished, replaced with a life-long urge to make his father proud. Even in death, he had a vice-like hold on Harry's heart. That voice seemed to push him forward, step by step, until he was secured inside of the chamber. He watched each second count down on the small monitor above him. Those moments felt like they extended into infinity and then, finally, the green-tinted gas started leaking into the chamber.
The substance clouded Harry's vision...then it grabbed the inside of his skull and squeezed. It felt as if it was twisting and turning his brain all up and down and inside out. It stabbed at his body like millions of tiny needles, sending him into a series of fits. He collapsed onto the cold floor and his body seized; it shook, and shook, and shook until his every muscle felt like it might disintegrate.
As the gas faded, Harry finally saw the truth - in plain sight, yet hidden all along; the world was made of blood and bone. All instruments of vengeance and virtue. This truth held him close, rocking him like a child in a mother's arms. It bound him in its love as insanity swallowed him in its grasp. His body hurt, it was pumping blood through bright green veins and restructuring his muscle, but it didn't matter. He could finally see the horrible world for what it was; a plague that needed to be medicated.
Harry finally stopped shivering, and as he sat up he could see a shadowy figure lingering in the corner. It stepped forward and Harry's heart stopped. The visage of his father stared through an empty gaze, blood dripping from his stomach where the last remnants of his life had poured out.
"F-Father?" Harry gasped, scurrying against the glass chamber wall like a rat recoiling from a flame.
Norman's face twisted into a malicious grin, and finally emotion flared in his eyes...vengeance, anger, and cruelty. The ghost was so real as it stood before Harry. It wasn't transparent, nor was it clouded with a kinder representation of Norman's features. It was him, just as he had always been...and he stared at Harry through the same disappointed eyes that haunted his every dream.
A scream tore from Harry's throat as he dashed out of the chamber. He ran as fast as his trembling legs would take him, and for so long that he didn't make it home until the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. He locked all the doors and hid in the only secure place in the entire mansion...his father's study.
Harry was bundled into a ball in the corner, whimpering and scanning the room for any signs of movement. He found it in the mirror opposite him. His father's face grinned at him and sent Harry's head spinning. The dwindling man grabbed the first thing that he could reach, a desk lamp, and threw it at the mirror with a roar.
Norman's face shuttered into hundreds of little pieces, but still that smile remained; untouched as it fell to the carpeted floor. That wasn't Harry's main concern anymore...his father's mean grin was forgotten when he saw that there was a hidden room behind that mirror, and he had just made an entry.
Harry slid back up to his feet, shivering as he cautiously stepped towards the entrance. The glass crunched beneath his shoes, and he swore that he could hear his father's laughter cracking through the air like thunder.
The room consisted of a dark corridor with small spots of brightness lining the walls; like a walkway leading him to his goal. As he reached the end, the entire room flooded with light and the sight sucked all oxygen from Harry's lungs. The same gadgets and bombs that he'd seen in Oscorp were laid out on a table. They were modified...like the equipment that the media suspected Oscorp of selling to The Green Goblin...
He turned, and right there, was a mask. The Green Goblin's mask.
Fear jolted through Harry's heart like a dagger. He wanted to scream but the sound adhered itself to his throat and refused to find air. Adrenaline flooded his system; it pumped and beat like it was trying to escape his body. He glanced over his shoulder, and was met with The Green Goblin...no, his father. Norman Osborn was wearing the mask.
I built Oscorp from the ground up...and yet any important research I attempted was immediately buried. The benefactors were going to fire me from my own company... Harry, you must understand. I only wanted what was fair; revenge on the people that tried to ruin my life...our life.
"You...killed innocent people." Harry's breath hitched. It took every ounce of his courage to speak.
Not at first. My only goal was to prove that the G7 worked...but Spider-Man got in my way. I did questionable things to defeat him, but you know why I did it. You see the truth now. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
"The...greater good?" Harry stammered.
Yes, Harry. Spider-Man killed me...he killed Gwen Stacy... The public don't see his true nature, but we do. This world would be a whole lot better without him in it. You'll help me with this, won't you? You'll take my place...you'll make me proud.
Harry's wide eyes suddenly dimmed. His fingers clutched around something solid, and as he glanced down he saw that he was suddenly holding the Green Goblin mask in his grasp. He didn't remember picking it up, but it's green sheen carved its way into Harry's mind...and it's yellow eyes reflected his blue ones like a mirror. It was like looking at his father...and himself at the same time. The image of who he was meant to become.
A twisted smile screwed itself onto Harry's face, revealing the sharp canine teeth that put most others to shame. "You're right. Spider-Man should be punished...and so should the rest of the world for believing in him."
He brought that mask to his face, and it fit so perfectly that Harry fancied that he might always keep it on. Forever. In death, and beyond. He finally felt fulfilled with that wicked goblin's smile resting against his face. Maybe...it wasn't the goblin's smile at all. Maybe it was his smile. Maybe Harry's true self was trapped within that mask, scratching to break free.
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