see how the boy falls from the sky. spider-man. (websanysize) wrote in thequadrangle, @ 2011-03-15 23:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | daredevil, echo, hulk, spider-man |
WHO: Peter Parker & The Green Goblin (and Matt Murdock, Maya Lopez and Bruce Banner)
WHERE: The Kemah Boardwalk in Houston
WHEN: 11 PM, Tuesday, March 15th
WHAT: MORTAL COMBAT! Shit happens. Peter nearly dies. Norman DOES die. Fun times.
Peter Parker had been stepping out lately. Matt woke to the sound of ticking. The insistent tick, tick, tick that wasn’t quite in unison with his watch. He could feel a light breeze, taste saltwater on the air. It was cool, no warmth of the sun on his face. Night. Outside. By the coast. Late enough for the area to be deserted. Someone had put tape over his ears, muffling his senses. When he moved his jaw, it tugged at his sideburns. He tried to get up----but he couldn’t. He struggled, tied with something heavy and cold. Cable, maybe. And the tick-tick-tick was coming from something weighing down on his chest. His hands were bound behind his back. Blind, half-deaf, and unable to use his hands, the only thing he knew to do was scream. But he didn’t dare. Maya, wherever she was, was making noise only because she didn’t really know how not to. She was whimpering involuntarily, her eyes covered and leaving her so vulnerable she’d just broken down at some point. Maybe it was better than she couldn’t see where she was, though. At exactly eleven, Spider-Man showed up. It was cold, but that didn’t seem to matter. The shiver down his spine could have been from the wind or the nerves, but Peter needed to move freely. And right then, the Goblin was nowhere in sight. Maybe hiding in the shadows, watching from a distance. Matt wasn’t that far from Maya. A hundred feet, maybe? He couldn’t hear her, not with his ears covered. She was just out of his earshot. But he flinched at Peter’s footsteps, scrambling back and hitting a post. He was right on the edge of the boardwalk over the water. “Shhh.” Peter went to Matt first, crouching before he reached to steady him. “You’re going to be fine. It’s all right, just … don’t move.” He was trying so hard not to let Matt know he was nervous, but … shit. Shit. Of course there was a bomb. Of course. “Peter---?” Matt scrambled back at first, but relaxed when he heard Peter’s voice. The bomb on Matt’s chest was ticking, glowing-----and there was blood soaking Matt’s chest. “It hurts, I don’t----” The bomb was not only chained to him, but affixed to him, latched to his chest with sharp little claws. “It’s okay.” It really wasn’t. “I will … find a way to take care of this, I promise.” Peter wasn’t sure about that, either, but he was determined not to make himself a liar. Matt jerked his head up when he heard heavy footsteps approach. The Goblin moved slowly into view. “Well, it’s about time.” Spider-Man looked up, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “You said eleven. It’s eleven.” “Maybe my clock’s a little fast.” The Goblin moved to Matt and tapped at the bomb on his chest. “You know, it might be. Tick-tick-tick, that means you have a little more time. Good for you.” “What did you do, Goblin?” Peter demanded. “You’re smart, I get it. Want to explain how smart?” Oh, what he would give for a Bond villain speech right about now. The Goblin chuckled, patting Matt on the shoulder----and then smacking him hard on the back of the head. “I found your friend. And his pretty girlfriend, who happens to be on my list anyway. You could do me a favor today. See... you tamper with this device here...” He lightly touched Matt’s chest again and Matt jumped. “And that one goes off. Remote triggers, very fun. So, you’ve got a few choices here, Spidey. Try to tinker, kill one of them. Or you could sit back and wait, have a soda, because in ten minutes they both go off.” “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” The Goblin stood and leaned back against the rail. He was masked, but his smile was obvious. “Because you’re just so damn brilliant, Peter Parker.” Ten minutes. Peter reminded himself that time was an illusion, that it was only as long as it felt, but … no, actually, that wasn’t helping at all. Never mind. “Okay. Okay, I can do this, I can do this.” Free one, kill the other. Hell of a choice, and Peter wasn’t going to make it. Sorry, Goblin. Twenty seconds later, Peter looked up at the Goblin and asked, “Can you get it off without blowing them up? Put one of them on me.” The Goblin snorted. “Sorry, what?” “Take the bomb off of Maya and put it on me instead,” Peter insisted. “Isn’t that what you’d want? I do something wrong with Matt’s and I blow up? If I lose, you really get rid of me.” “Why don’t you take it off her?” The Goblin jerked a thumb in Maya’s direction. “Go ahead, by all means, give it a try. You might tear her chest apart, but go ahead.” “You’re bright, Gobby. I know you have a way to deactivate these things and get them off without killing someone.” Nine minutes and fifteen seconds. “I’m bright, Spidey, which means I don’t. It also means I’m not going to change my plans because you decide you have a better idea.” The Goblin snorted. “Please.” “Except that you wanted to make damn sure that you forced me into this situation, which means you’d want absolute control over it. Your fun would have been spoiled if I’d been late.” Peter needed to keep himself talking to keep himself thinking. “So I flip the on switch at the right moment and there’s no off switch.” “There’s always an off switch. Control freaks like off switches.” Okay. Okay, everything was going to be all right, everything was going to be fine. Suddenly turning away, Spider-Man quickly started wrapping Matt up in webbing, determined as a spider capturing its food. “Don’t panic. Keep breathing.” Matt was starting to panic. He was already restrained and unable to touch, and now all he could feel was being restricted even further. Suffocating. And that smell. “No---no, no, no, no, what are you doing---” “Keeping you from getting blown up, don’t squirm.” He was too fast for Matt to really resist. Maybe it was instinct. Weird. Less than a minute later Matt was covered in a thick layer of webbing and---it had been hard, Peter had been particularly careful---so was the bomb, cushioned all the way around. This would either work perfectly or someone would get blown up. Cross your fingers. Leaving Matt, he dashed over to Maya to do the same. She was … less than cooperative. Maya understood even less than Matt, and Peter had the unfortunate job of holding her down while he wrapped her up. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise,” he said, knowing she couldn’t hear him. The Goblin didn’t bother to attack Peter. He watched. It wasn’t possible to read his expression with the mask. “That’s disgusting.” “Pots and kettles, psycho.” Once Maya was wrapped up, Spider-Man turned on the Goblin, jumping at him before he had time to react and pinning him to the ground. “Where. Is. The switch.” The Goblin slammed into the ground. He tumbled and flipped, kicking Spidey in the stomach and throwing him off. He was strong. “Are you sure the explosion’s what you’re worried about and not suffocating your friends there?” Peter rolled, grunting in pain. “They’re going to be fine. I just wish I could say the same about you!” He was up and throwing himself back at the Goblin with barely a pause, his rage and worry channeled into adrenaline. He was not going to lose Matt and Maya to this. People were not going to die for him again. “Six minutes!” snapped the Goblin, slamming the heel of his hand into Peter’s mouth. When he drew his hand back, there was a distinct metallic noise. A blade shot out from his wrist, over the top of his hand. Another punch would turn into a stab wound. Spider-Man choked as the blade sank into his side He was quick, but he was inexperienced and the Goblin was fast. “Son of a---” He stumbled back, using both hands to web the Goblin’s face and tug him forward for a clumsy headbutt. The Goblin was stunned for a moment. He had a helmet, but Peter was damned powerful. He faltered, swaying, and then bent back to kick Peter in the chest----but that webbing was still on the mask, obscuring his view and pulling him along with the force of the kick. He shoved at the helmet and pushed it off. Peter shouldn’t have been surprised. It should have been obvious, really, but even after the way Norman had acted, Peter certainly didn’t want to think that … well, this would happen. This had been just a little easier when Peter wasn’t looking Norman in the face. His heart hurt (or maybe that was the kick to his chest), and all Peter could manage was, “You almost killed Harry and MJ.” “Having a martyr for a son would have been better than the embarrassment I have now,” snapped Norman. He didn’t sound quite like himself. There was more of a growl to his voice, something far more unhinged. “And MJ.” Peter had always known that Norman was weird, but Peter would never have thought he’d do this. He wasn’t all right in the head---he’d never been all right in the head but this was … different. “What happened to you?” Norman didn’t comment on MJ. She was inconsequential, a piece of trash who got mixed up with some Osborn tech and was all handsy with his son. He didn’t care whether she lived or died. “I’m better. Stronger. Faster. Less fragile. And I’m not letting anyone control what I do. Or what OsCorp does. It’s my company. And if you’re not going to join me, Peter... then you’re going to have to die. And I hope it doesn’t go that way.” “I’m not helping you do this, Norman.” Not Mr. Osborn. Norman. Peter had his hands out, protectively hovering between them. “This is costing you. You’ve never tried to hurt your son before---or me. Or anyone. You’re losing yourself. Let me help you; there are people at the university who can put this right.” Norman laughed. “What, I’m ‘losing myself’? I was weak. I let bureaucratic nobodies trample my scientific genius. I made a name for myself through my work. They push a few numbers around and think they’re clever. I’m taking control of my business. And if you need to see things the hard way, then that’s how it is. Five minutes.” “You can’t take your company back if you kill everyone, Norman,” Peter said gently. “You don’t have to murder people to get what you deserve. You and me, we can get it back. We’re both smart enough. You want me to join you? Deactivate the bombs, and I’ll come with you.” Norman chuckled, taking a step forward. He reached to his belt, and came back with another bomb. “I told you. No off switch. Either they live or they die, thanks to your little cocoon thing. If you really wanted to join me, you’d have done it.” “Well, I tried.” Peter glanced once at the bomb before he cocked back a fist and punched Norman full in the face. There was a sickening crack as Norman’s nose broke. He staggered back, took a breath, and then activated the bomb as he threw it at Peter. The problem was that Peter was between Norman and Maya. He automatically dodged, the bomb flying past his head---and at the last second he twisted, webbing the bomb and jerking it away from her. It exploded by his side, throwing Spider-Man across the dock. The wood of a pole (and his rib) cracked as he slammed into it. Peter groaned, grabbing the pole and painstakingly dragging himself to his feet. The bomb had burned off part of his suit, exposing burnt skin on his left side and face. And Norman was right there again, punching him in the face, grabbing his throat and throwing him several feet away. If they were going to do it like this, one of them wasn’t going to get it out alive. Peter skidded across the wood, shoving himself onto his side and raising his hand to shoot a web. Norman rolled out of the way. He was in far better shape than Peter, despite the blood running down his face. “Do you really think you can come here and take me down? You think you can put on a suit and save the world? Doesn’t work that way, Peter. You’re young and you’re stupid. I would have shown you how the world really works.” Despite the broken rib, the stab wound and the burns, Peter dragging himself to his feet as if out of the grave. “I’m not dead yet,” he said heavily, choking on his breath. “And I’m not stupid. You … you’re insane, and you will not kill me.” He probably could have been more impressive, but this superhero thing was still new. Norman pulled something from his belt. It was blinking orange. “But I will kill them.” And he pushed the button, detonating the bombs on Matt and Maya. The bombs went off, ejecting debris and shoving them both back. And yet, when it was over … nothing. They would be bruised, but the webbing had taken the explosion, burning away all but the very last layers of the webbing. And Peter grinned. “No. You really won’t.” Norman looked stunned. “You have to tell me what that’s made of,” he said. “You want to see more of it?” Peter raised both hands, using both to web Norman in the chest and pull. Norman was caught off guard. He was tugged forward off his feet and slammed down into the ground. Just for good measure, Peter kicked Norman in the side. It was hard to move at all, and Peter was panting, covering the wound on his stomach with his hand. His head was starting to swim. “Told you,” he coughed, webbing Norman’s foot to the ground. Norman struggled to get up. The tables were turning, but Norman still had a belt full of dangerous toys. And blades jutting out from his arms. He swung out at Peter’s feet with one hand, going for his Achilles tendons, and with his other hand he grabbed for another bomb. Peter jumped out of the way, stumbling when he hit the ground again as his broken rib shot pain through his body. He fell to his knees, his hand snapping out to grab the bomb before Norman could throw it. The bomb was locked between their hands, Norman’s finger just over the button to detonate. With his free hand, he punched Peter across the jaw. “We could be incredible together, Peter----why waste time fighting?!” Peter grabbed the Goblin’s wrist with his free hand, digging his feet into the ground. “No thanks, Gobby, I already have a girlfriend.” “You’re losing the greatest opportunity of your life,” snapped Norman. He leaned back and kicked Peter, right in the stab wound. And in losing this great opportunity, Peter would probably lose his whole life. Peter choked, stumbling back but stubbornly holding onto that bomb, keeping it from detonating. “Because spending the rest of my life with you was such an opportunity!” “Then you’re a liability to OsCorp and you have to be destroyed.” Norman grabbed Peter’s face, like he could crush Peter’s jaw with his hand. And with his strength level, he could come damn close. Crying out in pain, Peter lashed out blindly. The pain was so overwhelming his vision blurred so hard all he could see was green. In his struggle, he caught Norman hard in the throat. Everything froze for a moment. Norman didn’t really move. He let go of Peter, blinking hard. A piece of his armored collar had broken off with Peter’s blow, and it was lodged in his neck, cutting off his airway, making blood bubble up from his mouth. He took a staggering step back. Peter took long, dragging breaths, stumbling back with the bomb in his hand. Doubled over in pain, the bright yellow of the bomb consuming his vision as it slowly cleared. “Shit---” Standing painfully, he hurled the bomb into the water so it detonated (hopefully) harmlessly under the surface. The bomb went off, sending shockwaves down the boardwalk and a splashing wave across the water. Matt screamed in panic. A second later, Norman Osborn collapsed in a heap. “...Norman?” Oh. …Oh. Peter stumbled toward him, falling to his knees. “Norman? Hey. Hey.” He gently smacked Norman on the cheek. “Norman!” Nothing. Norman’s face was smeared with blood. He wasn’t breathing. “Norman, come on, not funny.” Peter fumbled around, prying his phone out of his belt and hitting Fury’s speed dial, leaving the phone open and on the ground. Fury would find them, they could track the call or something, but as soon as he let go of the phone Peter was opening Norman’s mouth. The pain had all congealed into one person-full of hurt, but that didn’t seem to matter. Norman wasn’t the Goblin right now; he was Harry’s father, and Peter was breathing into his bloodied mouth before pumping his chest, the pain in his own abdomen sending a shot through his every time he pressed down. “Really. Not. Funny. Come on. Norman----Norman---please. Please. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Get … get up. Get. Up.” |