The ceiling lights buzzed, flickering over sealed steel lockers, broken glass, and a single operating chair. Norman stood barefoot on the chilled tile floor, shirt discarded, dress pants stained. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. He had stared at the goblin mask, and it had stared back—smiling.
In front of him, the vials stood waiting. Goblin Serum V8—his last loyal creation. In a world that had turned against him, mocked him, and exposed him, it was the one thing still waiting to make him more.
He remembered the gala—the humiliation, the theft. Peter Parker in a suit, laughing behind his back. His money gone. His empire torn apart by whispers and wires. His legacy stolen by a hacker, a thief, and a spider in disguise.
He raised the syringe.
The serum hissed as it entered his vein.
It felt like being skinned alive.
His body convulsed, hands clawing at the air as blood pounded like molten steel through every artery. Muscles spasmed and bones realigned, but worse was what unfurled inside his mind.
Laughter. Familiar. Deranged.
The hallucination stepped forward from the dark—a twisted reflection in a green cloak and yellowed teeth, the Goblin mask grinning without mercy.
"You made me hide."
"I kept us safe."
"You made me weak."
The voice echoed from his own throat as he doubled over. The mask dissolved into his skin. The hallucination became his face.
Norman Osborn collapsed to the ground, screaming through a smile.
Tuesday Morning
Midtown, Manhattan
Peter perched on the edge of the Daily Bugle billboard, Spider-Man mask in hand, watching the scene unfold.
The city hadn't taken the news of Oscorp's downfall calmly. Yet today, multiple media companies received anonymous footage and intel. The footage revealed a shocking new truth about Osborn.
The footage had gone viral within minutes: Norman Osborn, revealed as the Green Goblin. His financial empires linked to military-grade black-ops programs, illegal experimentation, and the quiet deaths of whistleblowers. The image of him in partial costume from years ago—blurred, once dismissed as a conspiracy—was now confirmed.
And alongside it: evidence clearing Spider-Man of Joey Z's murder, showing altered security tapes, faked reports, a web of misinformation.
It should've been a victory. But the city was still torn.
Crowds gathered below. Some cheered, waving crude signs with web logos and "Spidey Was Right." Others screamed betrayal—"Where were you when we needed you, Spider-Man?" "Why didn't you stop him sooner?" "Hero or Hack?"
Jameson was on air nonstop, practically foaming, "Just because Osborn's dirty doesn't mean Spider-Man gets a free pass! This city needs order, not masked anarchists pretending to be heroes!"
Peter's eyes closed. His name was being chanted by both sides. It made his skin crawl in a good way.
Back at the safehouse, Felicia stood beside the window, arms crossed. The TV behind her was muted, the screen flashing footage of Oscorp Tower cordoned off, swarmed by press and drones.
"You're going, aren't you?" she asked, not turning.
Peter slid the mask into his backpack. "I have to."
"No, you don't," she said sharply. "I know what the kid said and all, but you don't have to go. Osborn wants you out there alone. He wants you distracted, away from the people you care about."
Peter zipped the bag. "That's exactly why I need you here. Watching over them… and yourself."
Felicia turned now, eyes sharp beneath the platinum curtain of her hair. "Don't pull that protector-of-the-weak crap. You're not sending me away because you care. You're sending me away because you don't trust me."
"That's not true. Felicia…"
"Isn't it?" she stepped closer. "You think I'll get in the way. You think I'm too reckless. You think I'll distract you."
Peter shook his head. "It's not about that. It's about Norman. He knows me. He'll come for the people I love—May, MJ. I need you to keep them safe. I'm only asking because I trust you."
She paused, looking at him for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. "Just don't die, Spider… Peter. If you do, I'll kill you."
"I'll try not to," he said, already climbing out the window. "But no promises."
Later That Evening at Oscorp Tower, the sky above Midtown turned sulfurous green.
Oscorp Tower's rooftop, once a sterile corporate helipad, had become a warzone.
Flames licked the antennae. Drones fell from the air like swatted insects. The sound of manic laughter echoed through the concrete canyons below.
Spider-Man landed on the edge of the rooftop, wind slicing past him.
The Goblin stood at the center—his suit reconfigured with the mask changed, more deranged and sharper. His glider circled like a bird of prey. Smoke curled from the edges of pumpkin bombs lined along his belt.
"You came," the Goblin crooned. "The prodigal pest."
Peter stepped forward. "This ends tonight, Norman."
"Norman is dead!" the Goblin bellowed. "You killed him. You and that smug little cat—tore him apart, piece by piece. Now all that remains is the Green Goblin. And now you want mercy?"
"I want you to stop. Turn yourself in."
The Goblin chuckled, low and broken. "Your justice made me. Your mercy created this. Every time you spared me, you made me stronger and them weaker. Every time you refused to finish it, you let me dig deeper. Now I can never be removed from this city."
Peter's fists clenched. "I never wanted anyone to die."
"But they did," Goblin whispered. "Joey Z. The techs you never saw. The whistleblowers who were silenced while you played nice. So many have died for your morals, haven't they?"
"You don't get to put that on me!"
"I get to do whatever I want!" the Goblin shrieked. "I'm free now! You could also have this freedom, but you choose to shackle yourself to morality, a sickness really. Now die!"
He hurled a bomb. Peter jumped.
The explosion split the rooftop.
Webs shot, pulling debris aside. Peter lunged forward, dodging the glider's wings as they tried to slice him apart. They exchanged blows—Goblin with razor-edged seekers, Peter with lightning-fast counters.
"You know where this ends," Goblin hissed, grabbing Peter by the throat mid-air. "I'll take everything from you. Like you took from me. And I'll make you watch as I do it."
Peter yanked a hidden taser Felicia had given him—jammed it into the Goblin's side.
Electricity arced. The Goblin screamed, flung him away, and leapt onto the glider before throwing another pumpkin bomb that exploded near Peter.
"I'm not done yet, Parker," he called out, rising into the sky. "You're going to feel what real loss tastes like."
And then he vanished into the clouds.
Back on the rooftop, Peter staggered to his knees, breathing hard, suit torn and body aching.
He looked out over the burning skyline.