New York City hummed with its usual midnight neon glow. Peter clung to the freezing brick exterior of Ned Leeds' apartment building. He slid the window up an inch, intending to slip inside and intercept the reporter before he could strap on the Goblin armor.
His spider-sense hummed—a low, buzzing warning in the back of his skull. He froze.
Rigged to the window frame was a tripwire attached to a pumpkin bomb.
Peter carefully deployed a micro spider-drone from his wrist. Thanks to the data Norman Osborn had provided, Peter knew exactly how the firing mechanism worked. He directed the drone to sever the chemical fuse wire. The bomb's internal light died.
"All done," Peter whispered, checking the frame again. "Perfect."
Peter dropped silently onto the bedroom floor. He moved straight to the closet. He systematically deactivated the remaining pumpkin bombs on the shelves. He linked his suit's AI to the hidden backdoor tracker he'd planted earlier, wirelessly shutting down the gray exoskeleton and the bat-glider.
"Alright, V," Peter muttered. "Give me something brooding and DC-style."
The black Venom symbiote surged out from his collar, wrapping around his spandex and turning him entirely pitch-black in seconds. Peter sat in the corner shadow, waiting in absolute darkness for Ned to come home.
Half an hour later, the front door unlocked. Ned Leeds trudged into his apartment, dragging his feet. He felt completely hollowed out. A bizarre, heavy fog had been clouding his brain for two days. Even Jameson had noticed and ordered him to go home and get some sleep.
Should I just ask for medical leave? Ned thought, rubbing his temples.
He opened his bedroom door. Before he could reach for the light switch, a low, gravelly voice echoed from the corner.
"Ned Leeds. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Ned stumbled backward, his heart leaping into his throat. "What? Who's there?"
"You went to that restaurant," the shadowed figure rasped, stepping forward. "You found the fragments on the floor. You picked them up."
It hit Ned like a physical blow. The mental fog instantly shattered. The suppressed memories crashed over him. He wasn't just a reporter. He was...
"Calm down, Ned," the voice commanded sharply.
Ned pressed his back against the doorframe, his eyes wide as he stared at the black-suited figure. "You... you're... are you Batman?!"
Peter immediately dropped the gravelly voice, breaking character. "What? No! I'm Spider-Man!"
"Where did you get the gear, Ned?" Peter asked, stepping into the ambient street light filtering through the window. "Where did you get the bomb that leveled that restaurant?"
Ned clutched his head. Thick, dark veins suddenly began to bulge across his neck. His skin rapidly drained of color, turning a sickly, ashen gray. Peter lunged forward, grabbing Ned by the shoulders.
"Ned! Did someone inject you with the Goblin serum?" Peter yelled.
"I am... the Hobgoblin!" Ned roared.
Ned swung his arms, throwing Peter across the room with superhuman force. Peter flipped backward, hit the wall feet-first, and fired a wide web-net. The silk slammed into Ned's chest, pinning the reporter flat against the opposing wall.
"Spider-Man! I'm going to—" Ned thrashed against the webbing, his eyes rolling wildly.
"Listen to me, Ned!" Peter shouted, walking closer. "You are not the Hobgoblin! Someone brainwashed you! They're using you as a puppet! Fight it! Who is the real Goblin?"
A flicker of clarity passed through Ned's eyes. He gasped, remembering something buried deep in his mind. Then, pure terror washed over his gray face.
Peter's spider-sense screamed. A massive spike of danger.
"Hello, Spider-Man! I heard you were looking for me!"
Outside the bedroom window, hovering on a steel glider, was the real Hobgoblin. A pumpkin bomb rested in his hand.
The bomb detonated. Blinding heat shattered the glass, engulfing the window frame in flames. Peter grabbed a desk chair, wrapped it in a web, and violently hurled it through the inferno. The heavy chair smashed through the fire, forcing the Hobgoblin to bank his glider sharply to avoid the impact.
Peter dove headfirst through the shattered window, plunging into the freezing night air.
The Hobgoblin accelerated away from the building. Peter fired a web-line, swinging fast to keep pace. The Goblin glanced over his shoulder and tossed a sparking pumpkin bomb directly at Peter's chest.
Peter released his web, twisting in mid-air to let the explosive sail past his shoulder. The bomb detonated behind him, lighting up the sky.
"You know what, Spider-Man?" the Hobgoblin cackled, his voice carrying over the rushing wind. "I know how smart you are! So I prepared a special gift for you! Ned Leeds! And you fell for it right away! You just couldn't wait to rush into the trap!"
"A trap?" Peter yelled, firing a web at a water tower and swinging upward. "You mean your cheap Halloween costume? Or the plastic pumpkins? Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but Halloween was months ago!"
Peter fired a rapid burst of web pellets. The Hobgoblin anticipated the strike, rolling his glider out of the path. The villain reached into his satchel and hurled another pumpkin bomb.
Peter's spider-sense spiked, but the warning wasn't for him. The Hobgoblin wasn't aiming at Spider-Man. He threw the bomb straight down at the crowded sidewalk below.
Peter plummeted. He fired a thick web-line, catching the bomb mid-drop. He violently yanked the web, whipping the explosive in a wide arc and hurling it right back at the Goblin. The villain threw a second bomb to intercept. They collided in mid-air, creating a massive, concussive fireball above the street.
Through the smoke, a swarm of razor-bats shot out from the front of the Goblin glider, tearing through the air toward Peter.
"Is that all you've got?" Peter mocked. "Throwing bombs and cheap batarang?"
Peter twisted his torso. Two razor-bats sliced through his suit, scoring shallow cuts across his ribs. He ignored the sting. He launched himself forward, landing boots-first on the front of the steel glider. Peter grabbed the Goblin by the collar and delivered a brutal right hook across the jaw. "I said, is that all you've got?!"
The Hobgoblin reeled backward. Then, he burst into a fit of hysterical, manic laughter. "Hahaha! Of course not, Spider-Man!"
Peter grabbed the front of the Goblin's mask. He stared into the darkened, hollowed-out eye holes.
Peter froze. Through the lenses of the mask, Peter saw the man's real eyes. They were wide, bloodshot, and completely filled with absolute terror. Tears were actively streaming down his face beneath the rubber mask. The man was laughing, but his body was trembling with fear.
"You... you're not the mastermind," Peter whispered in horror. "You're a victim."
"Oh, he is absolutely a Hobgoblin, Spider-Man!" the voice mocked.
But it wasn't the man speaking. The voice was transmitting through a hidden earpiece wired into the man's cowl.
"Arnold Donovan is fulfilling his destiny! Just like Ned Leeds!" the voice in the earpiece laughed.
The crying man threw a desperate punch at Peter's face.
"The Goblin King sends his regards, Spider-Man!" the voice mocked. "Are you ready?"
Peter caught Donovan's fist effortlessly. The horrifying realization settled in Peter's chest. These weren't just mercenaries in stolen suits. The mastermind was forcibly injecting ordinary people with the Goblin serum, twisting their minds and turning them into his personal suicide squad.
The glider spiraled out of control. Peter wrapped his arms around the weeping, terrified Arnold Donovan as they both plummeted out of the sky, crashing hard onto a snowy rooftop below.