adarkflash (adarkflash) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-12-21 01:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | door: marvel comics, flash thompson, norman osborn, spider-man |
Who: Green Goblin, Spider-Man and Venom
Where: A forest outside of the city
When: Before the Christmas party
What: Venom saves Spidey. Goblin is not pleased.
Warnings: Some heavy Flash swears. Violence.
No one who knew Norman Osborn in any regard would list patience as one of his more predominant qualities, but as all wise men did, he realized that good things came to those who waited. A minute, an hour; what was time to someone like him? He had an abundance of it, even with the interference of his idiot man through the door. Wealth had given him power, influence, the ability to control his little world like puppets on strings, and centuries ago men like him might have ruled as tyrants over those beneath him. Surely, waiting for his god-like friend to follow through on his promise would prove worthwhile in the end. The infamous Spider-Man was on his way, the Big Apple’s valiant little hero.. and he’d have him all to himself. Of course, aside from taking down Connors and slamming Oscorp’s reputation in the process, the spider hadn’t done anything to him personally, but then again, maybe his very existence was a personal insult. He was practically destined to be a pain in the ass, wasn’t he? Why not get a head start on the pest control, and really, New York deserved better than a hot-headed, cocky teenager in spandex.
The location he’d given Loki to drop off his present was certainly well out of the way, a veritable cabin in the midst of trees and nature, which no one would ever trace back to Norman or his company. The day might come when the world would know the kind of man Norman Osborn truly was, but that day was still far, far off in the future, and for now, he preferred to keep his image untarnished. It was only fair, after all, to give the voice and his recently acquired skill some time to truly shine, and this was the perfect opportunity. Countless tests had been conducted, endless tests and careful analysis of data, ever since that fateful night when he’d tested the serum on himself, a side project seemingly gone wrong, and all had concluded that in the end it hadn’t gone so horribly wrong after all. Money could buy a great deal, but physical power, the sort he’d never had, came with a price. He might not have been a god, but the serum had made him so much more than a man, and who better to test his newfound gifts on than a superhero with a few tricks of his own?
Therefore, it wasn’t quite Norman who waited for his prize to be delivered. He’d thought his costume in the comic books was rather ridiculous, like something found in a cheap party store, and so he fashioned one of his own, a product of this new world. Green Goblin may have seemed childish as well, but the voice was ever so partial to it, and thus he had created his suit with that name in mind. It wasn’t yet complete, bits and pieces of sleek, darkened green visible beneath a black jacket and similarly coloured boots, but what mattered was the mask. A face from a nightmare, wide laughing jaws, eternally mocking, sharpened features, and eyes like fire, hard to the touch; no one would ever imagine Norman’s face might be beneath it. Which, of course, was the point.
Through the trees, the Goblin heard approaching footsteps. Ah, good. Loki had followed through in the end.
Peter and his captors broke through the trees, moving at a brisk pace over the winter-hard forest floor. He was smaller than almost all of them, a comparative sapling to the hulking trunks of each man on either side of him, and he looked even smaller and skinnier in his canvas coat and ruffled hair. There was only one man shorter than Peter, the seventh man with the clearest eyes, who hung back two steps and wore an army surplus jacket that turned him into a shadow in the trees. He was the only one besides the captive that didn’t look murderous. The other six kept glaring at Peter, attempting to trip him and sneaking in blows. None of these attempts worked, as Peter kept avoiding them by seconds, guided by a split-second defense that warned him when one was coming.
Peter himself was walking easily, almost strolling, acting as if he was on a country field trip and talking nonstop, entertaining himself by theorizing aloud about the kind of losers that were hired by Loki, and whether or not they were likely to be turned into cows or something before the year was out.
Peter fell silent as the jeering face of the Goblin materialized out of the trees. He stared incredulously, obviously without recognition, at the bizarre face and mask. “You’ve really got to be ugly if you think that mask improves your face,” he said, raising both eyebrows in supreme teenage mockery. His guards yanked him to a stop, and the metal chain that linked the shackles on either wrist rattled. Peter gave an involuntary wince, and the peculiar smell of charred flesh and burnt cloth briefly moved over them all. So far, that was his only sign of discomfort.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, his prize was led to him in chains and shackles. Loki had truly outdone himself. There was something to be said for the thrill of the hunt, of course, but a present all wrapped up and ready to go could be just as satisfying. As for the men accompanying the human arachnid, they were hardly worthy of his attention. Seven in total, overkill for someone who was still trapped in the seemingly endless cycle of teenagerdom, but oh, the Goblin knew better. This was no ordinary teenager. It was rather entertaining, in fact, to watch the futile attempts to trip the unmasked Spider-Man up, only to watch them fail miserably. The only man who appeared to have any semblance of brains was the one who hung back, and he earned himself a long look (not that it could be seen from behind his grotesque mask) before attention was returned to the guest of honor.
The boy’s reaction wasn’t the least bit surprising, and the Goblin clasped gloved hands together and laughed. It came out sounding odd, the sound, even aside from the fact that the mask altered his laugh, and after a moment the reason why might dawn on them; it sounded inhuman, more monster than man. “Oh, good,” he declared. “You still have your sense of humor. I hope you have more of those witty wisecracks stored in that noggin of yours, my creepy-crawly friend. I want to hear them all.” He took a step forward, just one, before shifting direction and stepping side to side, setting a slow pace like a predator sizing up its prey. “You don’t recognize me. I expected as much. We have quite the future together, you and I,” he explained. “Why, we’re practically destined.” He paused, as though just realizing they still had an audience, and waved a careless hand at the guards. “Thank you, boys, but I think I’ve got it from here.”
Peter gingerly turned his wrists and took hold of the chain that linked them. His wrists hurt, and it felt like the skin had burnt into the metal of the shackles, so every time he moved he imagined he could hear the bacon-like crackle of it separating. He jammed his teeth together. Whatever. Loki wasn’t here, so maybe they wouldn’t burn again. And if it did, he could take a few guys out first. It would be good to see what Ugly was made of anyway. He had absolutely no idea who he was, and he was starting to feel a paradigm shift coming on--he might need to demand more info from Billy than either of them really wanted to give. Oh well. Had to live in the now. Maybe that cabin had a phone in it.
Peter looked up at the man to his left. “Never a good sign when the bad guys think your jokes are funny.” Peter brought up one leg and kicked the man. He didn’t have any training, but he was several times stronger than he looked, and it didn’t matter. He felt a bone snap, and it might have been a pelvic or a femur. Either way, that man went down. “I guess I need new jokes.” Peter ducked under the next clumsy attempts to grab at him; these guys must be ex-military or ninjas or something, but Peter was faster, and what he couldn’t see coming he relied on his spidey sense to gauge the level of danger. “Oh, nice, that one almost got me.” He wove out of the way and flipped over his head to land on the next guy’s shoulders, balancing on his feet. He kicked the side of that guy’s head and flipped to the next before he fell. The remaining men were backing up and drawing guns.
Any normal man would have reacted much, much differently than the Goblin did. He stood, motionless as a statue, and watched as the teenager sprang into action. Comic books and blurry news footage was one thing, but this was a rare opportunity to see the Spider-Man in action, up close and personal, and get a real idea of what he was capable of. There was no real skill in terms of training; instead, he possessed raw potential and strength, but it was messy. He lacked discipline. A hypocritical observation, perhaps, as the Goblin was no martial arts expert himself, but he had spent a great deal of after-hours in the depths of Oscorp learning the limits and extent of the abilities gifted to him by the serum he’d tested upon himself. Insanity was only a minor side effect, and really, depending on one’s perspective it might even be considered an added bonus.
When the remaining men began to draw their guns, however, he saw fit to intervene. “No,” the Goblin hissed, real anger entering the serpent’s tone of his voice. “Leave him to me.” Loki may have ordered these men, but the boy was his now, and he would not have him gunned down so soon. No, not when there was so much time stretched before them. “Oh, Spider-Man,” he drawled, louder, as he began to advance. “Do you think you’re the only one of your kind, hm? The only one with a gift? Tsk, tsk.” And then, he lunged. Speed which was most certainly not human propelled him forward, and there was an equally inhuman sort of strength in the curl of his fist which, as he yanked the boy off his most recent target, came swift and merciless as an uppercut to the underside of his chin.
This wasn’t easy without Gwen. Venom had expected her to do all the thinking for him, as was usually their agreement. But, now he was stuck holding two alive and blipping trackers. Blipping trackers that were starting to go in completely different directions. So, the choice was simple: keep following Thor like they planned or fuck that noise and go after Parker’s signal. Well, if Flash was a super villain, he’d probably stash Parker in some fucked up lair just in case Thor didn’t keep his Norse word, or whatever. Which meant Parker was probably just sitting on his ass waiting to be tortured.
So, Venom was off. He hadn’t had a whole lot of practice in the suit, but it was easy for a football star like him to make it work. The black goop worked on instinct and gut feelings, so if he needed to swing, it would shoot out dark webbing. If he misjudged a jump, it would slide through the air like water so he could attach to a building. Everything was so natural and awesome that Venom knew he could have really enjoyed his first day of crime fighting if Parker wasn’t in trouble. No, he had to focus. Gwen would kill him, MJ too. But, mostly Gwen. In some messed up mad scientist way.
Trying to stay focused, but mostly thinking of messed up ways the girls would murder him if he fucked this up, Venom found himself hoping trees way outside of the city towards the Spidey blip. The hell kind of messed up sex dungeon did Loki have out here? This was practically bear country wasn’t it? In the distance, he could hear the scuffle and slowed his pace a little, his liquid limbs gently reaching for branches and tree trunks like smoke in a forest fire. Below, some asshole in a green suit (aww shit is that Goblin?) and some thugs were trying to fight Parker into a pulp. Parker was actually doing just fine and Venom even considered packing up and going home until Goblin took a swing. Fuck.
From the ground, something black shook from the trees and then a black blur dropped and swung right into Goblin as hard as it could as it yelled, “SURPRISE COCKFAG.” Rolling to his feet, Venom stretched his arm out as it morphed into an oversized mallet. “I’m going to crack you open like a big green lobster.” It was all teenage dirtbag with a mix of liquid and hiss. His suit covered his entire body with black and had spiked, football shoulder pads and white circles around where his eyes should be. Venom was massive in comparison to Peter, muscle and rage stuffed into one motherfucker.
As soon as a few tense seconds passed and the shackles didn’t start to heat up again, Peter began to relax. For just a little while he thought maybe everything was going to be okay, and even as he turned to face the remaining men and their weapons, his slight smile of concentration was firmly in place. People had drawn guns on him before, and the adrenaline was running so high that the fear just came out in a few amused taunts about people’s mothers. Then his spidey sense went technicolor. It rattled off in his head like a gong, but it still wasn’t fast enough to give him any more warning than the time it took to turn around and meet a fist that hit him so hard he went twenty yards to one side and hit a pine tree that rained frost and pine needles down on them all.
Peter tried to get up twice, completely rattled, and fell down again twice. He heard something shout and twisted to lie flat on his back on the cold earth as a black blob of... of something came down out of the trees. Peter’s aching jaw went loose as he stared in stunned surprise as this new... whatever it was... joined the fight.
There was no time for the Goblin to gloat over his success, which tossed the spider aside like the tiny pest he truly was. Everything had been going so well up until that point, and he felt confident indeed that they would have continued on as such, had it not been for the ill-timed (or perfectly timed, for Parker) interruption of something big, black and ugly. He had only the briefest of moments to register the threat, and even less to react. He went flying, much like Spider-Man had, but unlike the boy, he managed to land on his feet. Now, that wasn’t very nice at all. Hadn’t anyone ever taught this oversized monster wannabe any manners?
“No,” he hissed, eyeing the newcomer from behind the fire-bright lenses of his mask. “I don’t think you will.” Spider-Man was down, within reach, and he swiveled to glare at the few men who remained, and were eyeing Venom with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Now would be the time to fire, imbeciles.” The Goblin had no idea what this thing was, but judging by the expression on the spider’s face, he hadn’t been expecting company. Hm. This warranted further investigation, once he had the time, of course. “Looks like you have a fan, Spider-Man,” he taunted, his grin audible in his tone even if it wasn’t visible behind the perpetually bared maws of his macabre visage. “How do you like that, huh? The superhero needs saving.” That mallet-arm of the big black thing’s was troubling, yes, but dodging would be key until he could get close enough to find a weak spot beneath that suit. He moved in a zig-zag pattern, ensuring that he kept up a steady range of motion; feigning right, dashing left, circling around mister hulking and hideous with dogged determination.
Flash knew two things. One, that he couldn’t take the Green Goblin down himself. Two, that the priority here was saving Parker and bro hadn’t even gotten his shit back together. After a couple unsuccessful swings at Goblin, Venom’s arms and legs seemed to burst with black liquid and he lunged forward at the confused (and honestly a little scared) goons. Video games had taught him to take care of the little guys before going after the boss and in this case the least amount of bullets flying, the better. He landed feet first on one man, knocked him to the ground before clobbering him in the face and jumping onto the shoulders of the next man as black goo seemed to squeeze and drip like he was slowly melting.
“SPIDER-MAN!” Venom yelled over the screams of the next goon who needed to have his fingers broken in order to let go of his gun. “WE HAVE TO MOVE. NOW.” Somehow it seemed like shouting orders at Spidey was kind of fucking useless considering how hard Goblin clocked him. “Hey Gobstopper. Wanna race?” The black of Venom’s mask seemed to almost break open to reveal a sharp set of smiling white teeth. In moments, he was at Parker’s side, picking up the small spider and heaving him over his shoulder as he shot out grey webbing and swung up towards the trees.
Spidey had just managed to get his weight up over his knees, the thick chain tangling with the carpet of cold mud and dead needles, when he saw the men still standing converge on the thing made of black muck. The seventh man, the smart one, had disappeared back into the woods long since, and Peter was too disoriented to do any more than that. It wasn’t just the blow, it was his Spidey sense. It couldn’t seem to decide whether or not the black sludge thing with the familiar voice was a danger or not. It kept flickering, and Peter reached up to clutch at his head with his fettered hands.
The flickering stopped abruptly, and Peter had just staggered to his feet when something picked him up like a rag doll. “What the--”
The Goblin was downright gleeful as he dodged the ugly monster’s swings, so very pleased with the way his serum had turned out, despite the unfortunate circumstances, and he fully expected to come out the winner in this little scuffle. No one was going to steal his little spider away, oh no, and he clapped his hands together as the black thing changed course and went after the poor, pathetic armed men who apparently hadn’t been chosen for their courage, or amount of brains. By the time their fingers found the triggers of their guns, well, bullets weren’t going to save them. That black goo dripping from the creature, that was interesting, and he wasn’t altogether keen on finding out what it could do, but by then his focus had shifted to Spider-Man. If he could just get his claws on the arachnid, and fetch his handy little glider from the cottage and get away... as impressive as the beast was, surely it couldn’t fly. He had his yellow gaze on the spider, he was right there...
And then, suddenly, he wasn’t. The damned pile of goop had him, his prize, and the Goblin screeched in fury. He had yet to perfect the technology which would summon his glider to him wirelessly, and so he was forced to rely on his own strength and speed, but he had no webbing, and climbing certainly wasn’t as quick. “This isn’t over, Spider-Man,” he shouted, even while he gave pursuit, leaping from branch to branch in a frenzied effort to keep pace. “You’re mine, and you, you ugly, meddling monster, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
“Yeah right, dumbass!” Flash called from the trees, all teenage bully arrogance that honestly was like a different shade of teenage smart ass arrogance. Green Goblin didn’t have a chance. Flash was fast just on his own (duh, that’s why he was called Flash), but with the Venom suit he was impossible to catch. The black liquid shadow moved through the tree branches in a random pattern, swinging and leaping in the general direction of the city. Had the meeting out here in the woods. Doesn’t want to be seen as Goblin in the city yet. Adam observed out of nowhere, ending their tentative silence. Flash didn’t respond, too busy focusing on the big green monster chasing him, but somewhere deep down he appreciated it.
“I’m dropping you off with Banner.” Venom told Spidey once Goblin seemed far enough away that he’d never catch up, though he wasn’t sure if Parker was awake enough to hear him. It didn’t matter. Banner could check up on Parker, make sure he didn’t bruise his brain or some shit and then send Spidey back home in time for Christmas. And, Flash? Flash was going to get the fuck out of town. Venom had just painted the biggest target on his own back. All for one puny little Peter Parker.