The camera's at an incredible down shot, the buildings on either side tapering toward the center of a darkened, rain-soaked alley. The atmosphere dark, desolate. This is truly the place where those with no hope come to waste away and die. Two goblins descend upon the hapless criminal below, leaping upon him as swift and sure as justice itself! The young tough has twisted his body in fear, firing wildly! Good thing you are just a reader to this scene, because the bullets are heading right toward you!
***
If a few lucky bullets do hit, they are absorbed by the Gremlin's costume. The criminal turns tail and runs away from the Gremlin's crouched position, but he runs right into the Green Goblin! The Goblin, through his eerie grin, makes a comment about FEAR-- about how easy it is to instill into others, until one must deal with it himself! The once-tough youth falls back, then curls into a ball, the only reaction that seems safe. The Goblin snaps the gun into pieces, and the pumpkin bombs from his pouch glob the victim in green slime. Secure enough for the police to find and apprehend.
But what strange figure stalks the Goblin from the hidden vantage of the sewer grate? All you can see is the two beady, baleful eyes. He speaks to something unseen (or is it to himself?), and his voice rasps with glee, foreseeing his revenge, his newfound plaything.
***
Norman Osborn runs through the gray fog, the world black as void if not for the grayish mist. There is something after him, something that can only be seen by the way the mist swirls and churns, as if the mist, too, is trying to avoid the touch of the Something. But as Osborn runs, his expression changes. Osborn is not one to run because of something behind him. He changes his mind, and he continues to run, but this time because he is determined to do it, determined to push himself, determined to become greater than some victim. The Something is no longer able to be seen. Instead, it switches tactics, too. It sets itself up so that it is the very thing Osborn runs toward! A giant, demonic snake looms above him, rearing its head, moving to strike! And Osborn awakes from his nightmare.
***
"Dad!" the Gremlin yelled. He had the Green Goblin by the shoulders, and finally was able to talk sense into him. The Goblin came out of his stupor, and the Gremlin had to point out they were in a secluded, wild area of Central Park-- after the Goblin had flipped out and traveled through the city like a wounded animal, crawling up buildings, terrorizing tenants, and scuttling through the streets. The Green Goblin hoped his displeasure didn't show through his mask. Somehow he had lost control, and that, for Norman Osborn, was the most frightening thing he had ever experienced.
Later the next day, when Gwen and Harry were walking to class, she grew a more than a little upset that Harry wouldn't give attention to her story about why she was late this morning. (It involved bad service from a donut shop employee, a lipstick, the glass display counter, and several scandalous drawings.)
It wasn't the first time that Harry would be too preoccupied for his own good, especially with something his dad was doing. It wasn't the first time, too, that Gwen's advice was to just blow him off, to forget about his dad and just do what HE wanted instead. But Harry liked his dad's work, right? He enjoyed it and couldn't think of his life without it. But Gwen wasn't convinced. Was it really Harry's choice if he couldn't think of his life without it, or was it his dad's? Why couldn't he do his dad's work, but do it on his own terms? Harry was taken aback. Was such a thing even possible?
Norman, for his part, tried to spend the day at work, although his body was certainly railing against such a decision. Exhaustion even forced him to stumble in front of his secretary and vice president of operations, and Norman dropped his files across the floor. Excusing himself, he fell into his elaborate chair. He would sleep, if he could, but that throbbing … in his head … like the drums of some ancient ritual …
***
One man, respected doctor, world-renowned surgeon-- what need for self-discipline when the fun, the fine things of life came so easy? The world was at his fingertips, so there's no need to reach in order to grasp. (Picture this same doctor making his surgical incision, but out of the patient's body comes lizards, snakes, skinks, geckos! Nonchalant, the same doctor simply raises his drink, which has a thin, coiled water snake inside. Down the hatch!)
Ah, but that was until his accident! A car accident that left his nerves shot, his hands shaking. (Notice the crocodiles smiling at the man's revelation at the scene of the crash.) Control! He must learn control! But no, his hands would not respond, and who has need for a such a surgeon? He was abandoned, on the streets, growing into his homelessness with the bottles and booze (and the creepy crawly reptiles!) as his only companions.
But another doctor could save him, right? A scientist discovered the secret of 'reptilian regeneration.' He must have it! If he could but control his hands, he could be saved! The scientist wouldn't give it to him, but perhaps spurred on by the tempting serpents that plagued him, the man stole the formula! Yes, his hands were healed! But, horrors upon horrors, he was now like unto a lizard himself!
So be it, he would force the scientist to perfect his process, and take hostage anyone who got in his way! The Man-Lizard could summon and control the lizards and reptiles around him as an army at his bidding-- why not control the scientist in the same way! It could have worked, too! If it wasn't for that Goblin…
But the more he reached out for control, the more he could command the spirits of the reptiles themselves! Like the voodoun priest commanding the spirits of the Loa, this strange doctor unlocked the door to a world of black magic. With Loa spirits at his command, he no longer wanted to abandon this body! He was Brother Voodoo, capable of controlling this world in ways beyond his earlier dreams! And it would begin with… his revenge!
***
Dr. Curt Connors suddenly found his lab plunged in darkness. He stopped his experiment half-way, slightly unnerved by the unexpected change. That's when he noticed two beady, baleful eyes staring at him in the darkness. Now panicked, Connors ran. The eyes moved forward, revealing… the grinning Green Goblin!
The Goblin proceeded to thrash the laboratory. An overturned lab table upset a burner, and an explosion of flame cast the scene in an even more desperate, harrowing atmosphere. Connors, with but one arm, tried to run away, tossing things aside, but the Goblin threw goblin-bombs of his own, with more destruction, explosions. Finally cornering Connors, the Goblin stopped only when Connors offered the petty cash from the lab's offices. Ripping the safe apart with his bare hands, the Goblin's grin spread even wider.
"Goblin!" a familiar voice called out from behind. It was the Gremlin! The young hero tossed another figure as if discarding a piece of trash. Brother Voodoo scrambled about the floor, a skittering, frightened animal. "Think! Is this really what you want?"
The Goblin then stopped. Clearing his head, the Goblin staggered back. If only he could see the spiritual coils of a serpent finally releasing its grip on his body. Instead, he looked around at the destruction and carnage as if for the first time.
The Gremlin continued, "Looks like I wasn't the only one following you. And good thing, too." "Bah," the man-lizard spat, "Behold, it iss the power of the voodoo ssspiritsss that ssshall prove your dessstruction!" Rolls of gray fog poured into the damaged lab, and a steady drum could even be heard! The floor began to crawl with lizards of all kinds, and the ceiling began to writhe as lizards and newts clawed their way into being. Those that couldn't crawl upon the ceiling dropped below. "Uh! Ick!" was the Gremlin's flinching reaction. But he couldn't stagger backwards-- not with a crocodile emerging from the mist!
"You!" the Goblin was no longer grinning now. He attacked Brother Voodoo head-on, both physically and verbally. The Goblin was incensed that he could be taken advantage of, that his base nature had superceded his control. Control! The very thing he prided himself on! The very thing he fought for, from the very beginning! He would never succumb to fear, for he would never allow it!
Brother Voodoo held his own as best he could against the onslaught. His lizard-born strength and agility nearly on par with the Goblin-enhanced physical abilities. The Gremlin's flying Broom-board kept him away from most of the creepy reptiles, and his pellet-explosions assured they would be at bay. The Gremlin checked on Dr. Connors, who was too bewildered by fog and smoke and fire to fully understand what was going on. Yeah, the Gremlin kinda sympathized, and was glad it wasn't just him.
Slash! Hack! Pounce! Pummel! The two enemies vied for superiority over the other. Brother Voodoo struck a blow with his observation that he had found the Goblin's weakness-- fear! He was afraid of losing control, of losing himself! The Goblin disagreed, with another zap of electricity from his gloves. The distinction was subtle, but it was there. The control wasn't over himself. It was because he desired only the best for his family, his city, the weak and oppressed. To demand the best meant to work for it, and to work for it meant control, discipline, and dedication. If people gave in to loss, to lack of control, to mere acceptance of circumstance, then we would be no better than the mindless creatures that Voodoo controlled. He desired better. He demanded better! He would defy anyone who would take that away!
Brother Voodoo was tossed backward into a cabinet, and chemicals spilled over him. The salt! It burns! The creatures and lizards mewed and moaned, retreating back into the grey mist, until it, too, rolled backward into itself, and the drums that dominated the scene grew faint and distant. Brother Voodoo, on a second look, was nowhere to be seen.
***
The night started earlier, it seemed, and Norman Osborn just shouted "turn it off" as he and his son witnessed the umpteenth news report that speculated on the "fabled New York Goblin" that many claimed to see that day.
As if he was still recovering from his headaches, Osborn wanted to just go to bed. Harry reminded his dad, though, that he was a great scientist, a great hero. Why not be a public hero, like the members of 4-Victory or the Avengers? Why insist on working only at night, perpetuating a legend that would never allow people to know the truth? Harry grew bolder as he spoke, because he knew what his father would say. It was easier to control, wasn't it? Easier to control the public perception and the criminals' fear. Or was it fear? What was his dad afraid of, to not let anyone know the truth?
Norman Osborn paused. But he said nothing, and continued into the gloom of the hallway.
cover and text by Danny Wall
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