Harry sat on the edge of his immaculate, overpriced leather sofa. He gripped his knees, his knuckles white. The phone call with his father played on a loop in his head.
I'm sorry for everything that happened after your mother passed away. Had Norman's second personality—this "Green Goblin"—really been manipulating his dad all this time? Was his father innocent, or was Norman Osborn the Goblin King the Avengers had just arrested?
Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn't know how much time had passed in the silent apartment.
A harsh, crackling hiss broke the quiet.
Golden sparks flared in the center of the living room, spinning rapidly into a blazing, fiery ring. Harry jumped off the sofa, stumbling backward until his spine hit the wall.
A figure stepped through the glowing hoop. He wore a sleek, pitch-black Spider-Man suit.
"Uh, Peter?" Harry stammered, staring at the portal. "Is this... a new spider-power?"
"I've been dabbling in the mystic arts," Peter said, pulling his black mask off to reveal a tired, bruised face. "This is literally the second time I've ever opened a sling-ring portal. Turns out, as long as I focus really hard on 'finding Harry Osborn,' it works. Honestly, I feel exactly like Ned from the MCU movies right now."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Don't worry about it," Peter said, waving a hand. "Look, we have a massive problem. Did the Green Goblin AI try to access your home network yet?"
"No," Harry said, his heart hammering against his ribs. "What's going—"
The massive flat-screen television on Harry's wall violently flickered. The screen went black. A jagged, low-resolution green goblin face materialized, bathing the room in a sickly emerald glow.
Ah! Magic! the synthesized voice cackled through the surround-sound speakers. I didn't account for that in my algorithms. I must admit, Spider-Man, just when I think I have your limitations mapped, you pull a rabbit out of a hat.
"Harry, is anyone else in the house?" Peter snapped.
"Just me—"
Peter didn't wait for him to finish. He fired a webline, snagged Harry by the center of his shirt, and violently yanked him forward. Harry flew through the golden ring. Peter dove in right behind him. The portal snapped shut, severing the connection before the Goblin AI could overload the house smart-home grid.
Harry hit a hard, metallic floor and rolled. He groaned, rubbing his shoulder as he sat up. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent lighting.
He wasn't in his house anymore. He was surrounded by high-tech server racks, holographic displays, and several very intense-looking people. He recognized Reed Richards and Tony Stark immediately. He also recognized Dr. Hank Pym. And standing by the main console was a massive, inhuman figure covered entirely in blue fur.
"Is this... Avengers Tower?" Harry asked, scrambling to his feet. He looked at Peter, wariness creeping into his voice. "Spider-Man, what the hell is going on?"
Peter didn't sugarcoat it. He rapidly explained the situation: the memory-modification machine, the biological Goblin overriding Norman's brain, and the digital AI Goblin running loose in the world's networks.
When Harry realized his father was currently trapped inside his own skull, fighting a losing battle against a psychopathic alter ego, the color drained from his face.
"What... what can I do?" Harry asked, his voice cracking.
"Nothing," Peter said firmly. "Our top priority is keeping you safe. The AI Goblin is hunting for a biological host compatible with the original Goblin serum. You have Osborn DNA. You're a prime target."
"Actually, he can be of immense help," a cool, aristocratic voice interrupted.
Emma Frost stepped into the light. The White Queen of the Hellfire Club wore her signature pristine white coat, her blonde hair perfectly styled. Peter shot her a sharp, displeased look.
Emma ignored the spider. She locked eyes with Harry. "Your father is losing his internal psychic war. Frankly, his mental architecture is crumbling. I have navigated the Green Goblin's mindscape. It is an independent, terrifyingly lucid consciousness. Norman cannot defeat it alone. Neither can I. But an anchor—a son pulling him back to reality—could tip the scales."
Harry didn't even hesitate. "I'll do it." He turned to Peter. "I know you're trying to protect me, Pete, but that's my dad. If I can save him, I have to try."
Peter gritted his teeth. He hated it. He looked at Emma. "Can you guarantee his safety?"
"I can shield his mind from the Goblin's psychic backlash," Emma stated calmly. "And considering Rogers and Logan are currently standing guard over Norman's physical body in the lab, his physical safety is relatively assured."
Peter sighed. He raised his hands and began tracing the complex, sparking geometry of a sling-ring portal for the third time today. He had tried going to Dr. Stephen Strange an hour ago. Strange had flatly refused to help, citing that an artificial intelligence and a chemically-induced psychotic break were "science problems," not mystical threats. Typical.
Harry and Emma stepped through the golden sparks, vanishing into the Oscorp lab.
Peter let the portal collapse. He turned back to the assembled geniuses.
"Okay, let's run the logic," Peter said, pacing. "If the AI Goblin isn't targeting Harry or Barton Hamilton for its permanent host body, who is it after? It can't just download into a random civilian. The biology wouldn't survive the neural load. It needs someone already modified."
Tony Stark dragged a hand down his face. "We can profile targets later. Right now, we need a software countermeasure. We need a program capable of boxing this Goblin AI into a corner so we can kill it. Ideas?"
Hank Pym stared at the floor. He swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses. "I... I already built one."
Tony froze. "You what?"
"I upgraded the Ultron architecture using my own mapped brainwaves," Pym said, his voice defensive but steady. "I know it sounds drastic, but we are out of time. Ultron's processing power rivals the Goblin AI. He just hasn't had the requisite time to run predictive learning algorithms, so he might lose a brute-force engagement."
"Hank, what the hell did you do?!" Tony yelled.
"I gave us a fighting chance!" Pym shot back. He tapped a command into the central holotable. "Listen to me! Ultron just successfully bypassed the NYPD's scrambled network. He intercepted the Goblin's routing data. The AI tagged multiple individuals who received the modified serum."
A series of digital profiles materialized in the air.
"Most of these people are already brainwashed Goblin thralls," Pym continued, swiping the profiles aside until only one remained. "Except for this one. The AI flagged him as a prime, unoccupied vessel."
Peter stared at the floating hologram. It was a young man with a cocky smile.
"Phil Urich," Peter read the name aloud. He recognized the guy. He was the Daily Bugle freelancer who had been trailing Jonah Jameson all day.
Across town, inside the chaotic bullpen of the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson was pacing holes into the carpet.
"It's textbook police brutality!" Jonah roared, slamming his fist onto a filing cabinet. "Except Spider-Man isn't even a cop! He's a masked menace! Ripping Roderick Kingsley out of his own office like a common thug! It's pure, unadulterated violence, and I won't stand for it! I condemn him!"
Mary Jane Watson sat at a nearby desk, organizing her reporter-track internship notes. She opened her mouth to argue—to point out that Kingsley was literally wired with a biological bomb—but the words died in her throat.
She looked past Jonah, staring out the massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
The Manhattan skyline was suddenly bathed in an ominous, sickly green light.