HOBGOBLIN RISING

Part I

By Tobias Christopher

New York

The twenty-foot face of J. Jonah Jameson stared down from the billboard it was plastered upon high above the city, promoting the Daily Bugle as the city’s #1 source for Spider-Man coverage. The very sight of it scared children more than anyone in Spider-Man’s rogue gallery.

It was finally starting to warm up in the city after a brutal winter and, on a night like this, it was perfect for going out to see family and friends. Of course, in New York City, it was also the perfect night for the thieves and robbers to go out, as well.

It was all planned right down to the last detail. Four men, one light blue getaway van, a ton of cash and a quick escape from the city; every detail had been accounted for. They figured the Avengers or the other top heroes wouldn’t give two spits about a bank heist, and the lower tier heroes could be taken down with a simple bullet.

“Alright,” Moe said as he looked at his partners as they got the explosives ready. They pulled out their ski masks and prepared to put them on. “Larry, you stay with the vehicle. Shemp, Curly, both of you help me carry the loot out once we blow the vault.”

“What do I do, boss?” came a voice from the other side of Moe.

“You can—” Moe started to say before he quickly did a recount of the men with him before realizing there was one man too many. “Wait a minute—”

He looked over and saw a man in a red and blue costume with spider-webs imprinted on it leaning against the van in a casual manner. A red mask with webs and two large, white eye circles stared back at the attempted back robbers.

“You knuckleheads do know bank hours are from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., right?” asked Spider-Man as he stood up straight while the robbers pulled out their guns. “I mean, I don’t do very much banking myself, but—”

As the robbers fired their bullets through the air, Spider-Man leapt up, dodging them with ease as his spider-sense easily helping him get out of the way before he could be hit. He leaped up, landing on top of the getaway van as the men continued firing, until their chambers were emptied. He sat in a crouched position as the they quickly tried to reload.

“Come on, now, stop wasting your bullets, boys,” said Spider-Man as he held out both hands, pressing two fingers down into each palm, causing a sticky artificial webbing to shoot out from two devices on his wrists. The webbing struck the guns of the men, pulling them away. “There are starving criminals out there who can’t even afford ammo.”

As the men realized that it was futile to try to fight, they started to run. Spider-Man sighed as he watched them take off. Why do they always run? He stood up and jumped off of the van’s roof, extending his arm up into the air as a long strand of webbing shot out of his wrist, attaching itself to the nearest building. Spider-Man swung off the roof of the van, flying towards the robbers, kicking Shemp in the back and sending him crashing to the ground.

Spider-Man landed on his feet, just in time to duck a punch from Moe before uppercutting him, knocking the man onto his two friends. He looked up as Larry came at him swinging a pipe; as he brought it down Spider-Man ducked, causing him to hit Moe, who was trying to get back up, effectively knocking him out.

“Thanks,” said Spidey as he head butted Larry, sending him to the ground. He did a quick body count and came up one short. “Hey, weren’t there four of—” he started to ask his spider-sense warned him of danger. Curly was about to attack from behind when Spider-Man held his fist up, letting the man run right into it, knocking him out.

As Spider-Man tossed the last robber on top of the other criminals, he held out his hands, shooting a net of webbing onto them. “Now you stooges play nice until the cops arrive.”

It was minutes later that the police pulled up, seeing four criminals strung up to the light post in a net made out of web, knowing who’d packaged them up for a trip to police headquarters. Spider-Man was already long gone, having swung off to his next adventure, all the while having this gnawing feeling he was forgetting something.

Not too far away
The MetroCourt Hotel

Rhett Carson opened his right eye, finding his left had been swollen shut. He looked down at his bruised body, finding his whole body sore and that it hurt to move. The last thing he remembered was being found by Roderick Kingsley, the original Hobgoblin. He’d been taken completely by surprise one day returning to the small apartment he’d been living out of. The next thing he knew, he’d woken up in a tiny cage, with the old man laughing at him, taunting him.

Kingsley had toyed with Rhett, slowly torturing the young college student for stealing from one of his hidden caches. The horror lasted for several days and, when Rhett couldn’t take the pain anymore, he finally blacked out. Now here he was, in a strange hotel room that looked like it cost more than his family’s entire house. The young man sat up, wondering who’d brought him here. He soon found a video with instructions to play it, along with a fully stocked fridge and a fresh pair of clothes.

As the young man made himself a sandwich to fill his empty stomach, he put the tape into the VCR, which was when the face of Norman Osborn appeared on the small screen.

“Hello, Rhett,” said the powerful head of Osborn Industries. “You’re probably wondering why you’re alive. The answer is simple: I have a job for you. Succeed and you’ll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. Fail, and Kingsley will be the least of your worries.”

Midtown High School
The Next Day

Peter Parker rushed through the school parking lot, his jacket on one arm that was trying to get his tie on straight, his other arm carrying his briefcase and his right shoe. He’d woken up late, having only minutes to shower, shave and brush his teeth before rushing out the door to catch the bus. This was Peter’s usual morning routine, waking up late because his nightly outings as Spider-Man only afforded him a mere four hours sleep, if he was fortunate enough, that is.

As he got through the doors, he immediately found a hand on his shoulder, startling him a bit. Peter turned, seeing the smiling face of his friend, Flash Thompson. While Peter taught science, Flash was the school’s gym teacher. The two former high school enemies had formed a friendship as they had become men over the time since high school.

“Missed you at the meeting last night,” said Flash as the two walked. Flash had been going to weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, trying to keep his addiction under control. If it hadn’t been for Peter, Flash would have fallen off the wagon long ago. It really made him regret the way he treated Peter during their high school days.

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” Peter told him. Dammit, I was supposed to be at Flash’s AA meeting. “I got caught up helping Aunt May around her house. You know, brittle hips and all.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” said Flash as he patted Peter on the back. “I know how much your aunt means to you. I mean, you’ve got your own things to deal with, what with Mary Jane leaving town—”

“We’re only on a break,” replied Peter as they reached his classroom. “After some time apart, we’ll see where we are.”

“It’s been three months,” said Flash as he looked down. “Pete, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you with all your free time, but…I really do appreciate what you’ve been doing for me. I don’t think I’d have made it this far without you. Who’d have thunk Peter Parker would have been the one to help me stop drinking?”

“You’re not out of the woods yet, you’ve only been sober fifty-eight days,” reminded Peter as they entered his classroom, where they found a surprise waiting for them. One of Peter’s students was making out with his girlfriend at one of the tables. Peter coughed to get their attention.

“Oh, damn,” said Drew Michaels, a muscular jock type with short sandy blonde hair as he pulled away from the head cheerleader’s lips. “I didn’t think it was that late.”

“Michaels, you’re supposed to be getting ready for my class so get your ass to the locker room,” said Flash as Drew smiled at the girl he’d been making out with.

“See you next period, Carol,” smiled Drew.

“Maggie,” corrected the girl.

“LIke it matters,” smirked Drew as he grabbed his book bag and rushed out the door.

“Young love,” said Flash sarcastically as he looked at the clock. “Gotta go, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sure thing,” replied Peter as he looked in Flash’s direction. “I promise I’ll make the next meeting with you. Nothing’s going to keep me from it.”

“Sure,” smiled Flash as he headed to the gymnasium. Peter set his briefcase on his desk and opened it, looking for the day’s lesson plan. As he looked through his papers, he saw the picture of him and Mary Jane that he kept with him, hoping that where ever she was, she was happy.

Happy…and not being hit on.

Flash walked into the gymnasium, blowing his whistle loudly as the students lined up. He walked past them, making sure they were all at attention.

“Listen up, ladies,” said Flash as he looked at his young charges. “Today being the first warm day of spring, we’re going to start taking activities outside again and—”

Flash stopped at Drew, who was dressed in his street clothes of a long sleeved red shirt, blue jeans and black sneakers.

“Again, Michaels? Look, I’ve been tolerating you not bringing your gym clothes up to this point, but now we’re heading outside into the sun,” said Flash as he looked at the young man. “Now I’m going to start issuing demerits and don’t think this lets you out of joining the rest of the class.”

“Sorry,” said Drew as he looked down at his sneakers. For a minute, the thought that something was wrong crossed Flash’s mind. Ordinarily Drew had a smartass remark to not only him but everyone. He shook it off as he looked at the rest of the class. “Michaels, I want to see you in my office after class. Now, everybody outside…it’s kickball season!”

Osborn Industries

“Happy birthday to you,” the employees who were gathered in the employee lounge sang. It was Stan the security guard’s birthday. He was 88 years old, but no one in the company had the heart to retire the kindly old man. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Stanley. Happy birthday to you.”

The employees clapped as the old man blew out the candles on his cookies & cream ice cream cake. As the cake was being cut up and passed around, the head of the company, Mr. Norman Osborn, made his way to the employee lounge.

As the recently returned head of Osborn Industries, Norman was doing everything in his power to regain his position as the most feared, and respected, businessman in town. His black hair with streaks of red was slicked back; his tailor made suit sat comfortably on his body, and the tie around his neck was meant to provoke both respect and fear from anyone who saw it.

As Norman Osborn stepped into the employee lounge, the party came to a complete stop. One eyebrow raised as Norman spotted the ice cream cake. Cookies & cream. His enhanced senses could taste it from the hallway.

Everyone stared at the man in fear. One wrong move and any one of them could end up losing their job that day, if they were unlucky enough to risk Norman Osborn’s wrath. Norman’s face showed a smile, which struck even more fear into his employees. He stepped forward towards the kindly old man everyone loved so much.

“It’s good that you’re still with us, Stan,” said Norman in an unusually humane tone. Of all the people who worked for Osborn Industries, Stan was the only person Norman knew he could trust. If the party had been for anyone else, everyone involved would have been fired…or worse. “You’re as much an institution at this company as the name Osborn.”

Norman approached the cake, taking a slice for himself. He turned around as everyone in the room took a step back, fearing the next words out of his mouth would be that someone was fired. Norman raised the fork to his mouth, taking in the taste of the ice cream cake. After a minute, he looked around.

“I’m not paying all of you to party,” Norman said, his normal, gruff tone returning. “I want this lounge spotless and everyone back at their post by the time I return to my office.”

Setting the remainder of the cake down, he walked out of the lounge as everyone there breathed a collective sigh of relief. As Norman walked out of the lounge, he knew that his employees were still fearful of him.

Fear. Respect. Power. These were the things Norman Osborn craved. In all of his years, only one man had dared to deny him all three of these things, and that man was named Peter Parker.

At one point Norman had commanded Peter Parker’s respect and, as the Green Goblin, he had put fear into Spider-Man’s soul. But that was before his ‘death’; it was his intention to reclaim these things, and to do that he needed help. He walked down to the lab, using his access code to enter the high security private area where he was greeted by the few researchers and scientists who had access this particular lab. This was Osborn’s own private playground, where he was intent on making all of his dreams come true.

Strapped upright to a table sitting within an enclosed glass dome was a young man in his early twenties with light red hair. He had electrodes and monitors attached to his forehead, as well as his bare chest. A scientist was holding a vile of green liquid to Rhett Carlson’s mouth as Norman approached, leaving as soon as he saw Mr. Osborn.

“Mr. Carson,” said Norman to the young man as he entered the dome. “I’m so glad you agreed to this. I’d hate to have rescued you for nothing.”

“You promised you’d protect my family,” said Rhett nervously, beads of sweat falling down his face. “If this kills me–”

“I always keep my word,” replied Norman as he looked to the scientists behind the glass window upstairs for confirmation that they were ready to start, “and this procedure is relatively harmless. You lack the strength and skill to do your job properly, which is why you have failed up to this point. Which is why the Pride let Kingsley have you. Soon you’ll have all the tools you need to prove yourself, as well as defend yourself from the old man when he inevitably targets you again.”

“We’re ready,” a voice from a loudspeaker stated.

Norman left the young man strapped to the table as he headed upstairs and joined the other scientists. The glass dome became airtight as the doctors started the procedure. An orange gas started to filter into the dome, filling up the space as Rhett closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. The electrodes monitoring his heartbeat and brainwaves remained steady at first, then they started dropping rapidly.

Rhett’s heart flatlined as his life flashed before his eyes. He relived his parents telling him that the wrong child had died after the accident; He relived the tragedy that had sent him spiraling into a deep depression his first year of college; He relived the reason he stole the weapons from the Hobgoblin’s hidden cache; He relived the reason he took a vow to never kill while wearing the Hobgoblin mask. His entire twenty-two years flashed before his eyes as he felt his life slipping away.

“He’s-he’s dead,” the scientist said as Norman’s eyes remained fixated on the dome, where the gas was being filtered out.

“Wait for it.”

“But sir—”

“I said wait for it.”

After a few seconds, the heart monitor gave a single solitary beep. A few seconds later came another, then a few more. Rhett’s heart started beating again and, little by little, his brain activity started picking up. Rhett felt a surge coursing through his body as he became aware again, like a newfound power that he was starting to tap into. His eyes started fluttering as he groaned, lifting his head, his brain not quite fully aware of the situation yet. Until that happened, all Rhett could feel was rage. He started to stretch his arms, easily breaking the straps holding him down.

Smashing his way out of the glass dome, Rhett looked for something to take his rage out on. Seeing the scientists behind the glass, he took a giant leap, bounding up the wall and jumping up towards the room, smashing the glass easily as the men started to panic. Rhett stood up, a murderous gleam in his eye…the gleam of the Goblin.

Norman smiled as he stepped forward.

“Take a deep breath, Rhett,” said Norman calmly. “Let your mind adjust before you do something that you’ll regr—”

Norman was cut off as Rhett punched him with enough force to snap any normal man’s neck. But Norman Osborne was no normal man. The force of Rhett’s punch did nothing more than cause Norman’s head to turn slightly. Norman looked back towards the young man, raising his outstretched hand to smack Rhett back, smashing him into the wall with enough force to leave a human sized dent. Picking up a tranquilizer gun with specially made tranqs strong enough to take down an elephant, he pumped Rhett full of darts until the gun was empty and the young man was unconscious.

“Don’t just stand there, get him to a bed until he wakes up; he should be docile by then,” ordered Norman.

Midtown High School

Peter stood at the front of the classroom, his back to the class as he wrote a complicated scientific theory on the blackboard, one that normally one wouldn’t try to teach to a group of high school students but, then again, Peter Parker wasn’t the typical high school science teacher.

“And as you can see, the positronic inflow of the negative particles proves that—” As Peter turned around, he saw a single hand raised in the air. Dammit, not him. Anyone but him.

The arm belonged to the boy dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. His hair had been dyed solid black, which was hanging down into his eyes, and there was an earring hanging from his left ear. His eyelids seemed to be permanently in a state of being half open.

Peter sighed as he relented the floor to the young student. “Mr. Connors, do you have something to add?”

“Yeah, you got the theory all wrong,” said Billy Connors in an unexcited tone. “It should be a negative outflow of positronic particles. Your theory would cause a nuclear chain reaction that would blow up half the city.”

Peter raised an eyebrow as he double-checked his equation…little bastard was right. He must have written the notes down wrong. That’s what happens when you try to do your lesson planning while hanging upside down from a building in the middle of the night.

“And once again, Mr. Connors has proven me correct,” said Peter as he erased the equation. This wasn’t the first time Billy had shown him up, nor would it be the last. Billy was the smartest kid in the class but he was also the most surly, bitter and all around emo kid that Peter had ever come across. Of course, that might have to do with the fact that Billy’s mother had died of cancer and he was estranged from his father, who just happened to transform into the villainous Lizard on occasion.

Just as Peter was about to rewrite the equation, the bell rang as the students filed out of the classroom, all except Billy. Peter sighed, knowing that he’d played his part in Billy’s current situation by continually fighting the Lizard as Spider-Man.

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Connors?”

“Yeah, tell my dad to go to Hell,” replied Billy as he stood up. “I know he’s back in town and I don’t want to deal with him.”

“At least talk to him,” said Peter as he walked toward the young man. “Your dad cares for you and—”

“Bullcrap,” replied Billy bitterly. “If he cared, he wouldn’t have let the Lizard…” Billy’s eyes shifted downward, ashamed of what the Lizard had done to him. “I don’t want anything to do with him. I know you and him still talk, just…tell him to not come near me.”

Billy gathered up his books and left as Peter sighed. Of all the things he had to worry about, now he had to worry about Connors and, by extension, the Lizard being back in town.

Norman Osborn stared out the window of his penthouse apartment, overlooking the city. The sun was going to be setting soon and he was expecting a call from Rhett to inform him that things had gone well. But first he was expecting the call that all the people involved in giving Rhett Carlson the Goblin treatment had been liquidated. Pouring himself a glass of wine, Norman walked past a portrait of his son, Harry, which was hanging over the fireplace.

“We never really saw eye to eye, but I was very proud of you,” Norman said as he looked at his son. “You carried on in my absence and made a damn fine head of Osborn Industries. But you can rest now, son. Through me, you’ll have your vengeance against Peter Parker. We’ll have our vengeance.”

“Get a hobby,” said Drew to himself as he kicked a can down the sidewalk, repeating Flash’s words from earlier. Flash suggested joining the basketball team, or joining an after-school activity to direct his misplaced anger. “Join a sport. Who does that jerk think he is, telling me how to run my life?”

Flash’s conversation with Drew after class didn’t go quite as well as either hoped. Drew had been purposely forgetting to bring his gym clothes to school, but he couldn’t tell anyone why. He had to carry his burden alone…that was just the way it had to be. As he kicked the can along, he inadvertently kicked it down the sewer grate, losing his one thing of interest on the walk home. As he put his hands in his pockets and sighed to himself, that’s when Drew spotted it just laying in an empty parking lot between two buildings.

A disposable camera, still in its package and complete with an unused roll of film. He thought about just leaving it there; after all, what did he know about taking pictures? But it was something to do and he knew he couldn’t go home just yet. His little brother was at band practice and his stepfather was there alone, probably drinking. What the hell, Drew thought as he took the camera, wondering what kind of pictures he’d get.

A line of webbing shot out, attaching itself to a building as Spider-Man swung through the cityscape, going from building to building, trying to clear his head. A good websling through the city was usually good for thinking out his problems.

First, there was Flash to think about, his current best friend, who struggling to keep sober. One slip up and he could fall off the wagon. Peter couldn’t allow that to happen, not after he’d been struggling to stay clean for this long. He had to make a better effort to get to those meetings; it was only an hour a week, after all.

Then there were his students. For the first time in his life, Peter Parker found himself being respected by people. Granted, they were all high school students, but they were looking at him like he mattered. All except Billy, that is. He hoped that the poor kid could patch things up with his father.

And finally, there was his wife, Mary Jane. Or rather, estranged wife. It had been three months since he’d heard from her. The day she told him they needed time apart and headed to L.A. Ever since the death of their baby, things had just gotten too difficult. They both agreed they needed space to think, but that was three months ago and Peter Parker realized that he needed Mary Jane in his life. But what if she realized she didn’t need him?

As Spider-Man swung through the city, he wondered if any of his other fellow superheroes had these kinds of problems. The sun was starting to set as the hero decided to stop off on top of the Empire State Building and enjoy the view for a little while. He loved watching the city from the tallest building in New York, especially at sunset.

Spider-Man took a seat on the ledge of the building, removing his mask to breathe in the night air. It wasn’t like anyone could see him from way up there. As Peter Parker stared out into the horizon, he started forgetting about his troubles. For now it was just him and the city.

After a half hour, Peter saw the sun had set and realized he had a city to protect. As he stood up and prepared to put his mask back, his spider-sense kicked in. Before he could react to where the danger was coming from, a series of small pumpkin shaped bombs went off around him, forcing Peter to drop his mask as he was knocked off balance. Before he could retrieve it, a powerful force hit him from behind, knocking him over the edge of the building. As he fell, he shot a line of webbing that attached itself under a ledge, hearing a laughter coming from somewhere…but not just any laughter.

The Goblin’s laughter.

As he hung there from his webbing, Peter realized he’d left his mask on the roof of the building. Hanging in the shadow of the ledge, his face covered in darkness, Peter heard the hum of a rocket glider. As it lowered the orange and yellow form of what Peter thought was an old enemy came into sight. Then he saw the rubbery ghoulish mask of the Hobgoblin, who was standing on the similarly colored glider…holding Spider-Man’s mask.

“Come on out and play, little spider,” the Hobgoblin laughed, teasing Peter with the mask.

To Be Continued…