As the final rays of the setting sun slipped below the horizon, the Green Goblin felt his heart plummet, as though he'd been torn from the vibrant chaos of New York City and hurled into the depths of hell itself.
Half-coaxed, half-herded by Batman, he found himself on the western edge of Queens, mere meters from the East River. Across the water, Roosevelt Island loomed, its darkened silhouette unlit and ominous, like a colossal beast slumbering in the night.
The Green Goblin tore his gaze from the island, scanning his surroundings. He stood in a clearing, hemmed in by dense bushes and gnarled trees, their shapes twisting eerily in the fading light. Batman had vanished, but the Goblin's heightened senses prickled under the weight of a cold, unrelenting stare boring into him.
Rustle, rustle… The evening breeze stirred the low, tangled shrubs, their faint whispers filling the air.
"Show yourself!" the Green Goblin bellowed, his eyes locked on the bushes. For a fleeting moment, he thought he glimpsed a pair of sharply pointed ears among the leaves.
He reached back, fingers closing around the hilt of the green longsword concealed within his suit. The Green Goblin armor, sabotaged by Batman, no longer hummed with power, and the blade had lost its electric charge. Still, it remained a razor-sharp alloy, deadly in its simplicity.
Gripping the hilt with both hands, he edged toward the bushes, then lunged, thrusting the blade's tip forward with precision.
The strike met nothing but air. Batman wasn't there.
The Green Goblin squinted, realizing the "ears" were merely two clumps of leaves, mocking him in the dim light. He exhaled, tension easing for a moment—until a sudden splash erupted from the dark waters of the East River.
Whirling toward the sound, blade raised, he saw only ripples fading into the calm surface, as if a fish or frog had disturbed the water.
"Show yourself, Batman!" he shouted, clutching the sword before him, eyes darting across the landscape. Trees, bushes, weeds—objects so mundane in daylight now loomed like grotesque, shadowy creatures in his mind.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine, and he swallowed hard, his throat tight. Batman remained unseen, yet the predatory weight of that unseen gaze pinned him, sharp as daggers, leaving no room for respite.
"Stop hiding! I know you're there!" His voice wavered, betraying the fear creeping into his bravado.
He'd rather face Batman in a brutal, head-on brawl than endure this suffocating pressure. His senses, amplified by the Super Soldier Serum, confirmed Batman's presence nearby, but the exact location eluded him. From the moment he'd entered this clearing, an inaudible low-frequency hum had pulsed through the air, scrambling his enhanced perception and fraying his nerves.
The sky deepened to a starless black. Distant skyscrapers and bridges glowed with artificial light, but to the Green Goblin, they felt impossibly far, as if he were marooned in some forsaken void.
"Norman Osborn."
Batman's voice, low and resonant, cut through the silence.
"You worked with General Ross, abducting fifty homeless souls for your twisted experiments."
"Shut up! Come out and face me!" the Green Goblin roared, his face contorting with rage.
"You diverted nearly all of Osborn Industries' research to perfect the Super Soldier Serum, leaving Dr. Otto no choice but to pursue his own reckless methods. Thirty-one police officers died in the Brooklyn sewers because of him."
"Dr. Otto has spent these last days drowning in guilt, while you, the true architect of this chaos, walk free."
The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. The Green Goblin spun, blade slashing at empty air, unable to pinpoint its source.
"You murdered eight researchers in Osborn's third sublevel."
The Green Goblin swung his sword wildly, desperation mounting. He could sense Batman drawing closer, an inhuman predator baring its fangs, ready to tear into him at any moment.
"You slaughtered the Spencer family."
Batman's tone carried no trace of emotion, as if the Green Goblin's frantic flailing left him utterly unmoved.
"You could have been a respected innovator, a father Harry could look up to with pride."
"But you chose a darker path, becoming a fugitive hunted by the police, a murderer reviled in every headline."
"Your son, Harry Osborn, will live forever in the shadow of 'my father is a monster,' burdened with atoning for your sins."
Each word was deliberate, a calculated strike against the Green Goblin's unraveling psyche.
"Stop it! Don't say another word! Don't tell Harry!"
With a clatter, the sword slipped from his trembling hands. He tore off his Green Goblin helmet, clutching his hair as he screamed, his voice raw with anguish.
Whoosh!
A deafening rush filled the air as countless bats descended from the sky, swirling around him. A cold, damp chill drifted from the East River, seeping into his bones.
The Green Goblin's spirit shattered. He collapsed to his knees, body trembling uncontrollably. When he finally raised his head, the manic, sinister gleam that defined the Green Goblin was gone. In its place was Norman Osborn—pained, broken, and drowning in regret.
"Take me away," Norman whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Batman."
Amid the chaos of circling bats, Batman's silhouette materialized beside him, silent and imposing, gazing down at the defeated man.
Whoosh!
In a desperate gambit, Norman lunged for the fallen sword, thrusting it toward Batman. It was a ruse—feigned surrender to lure Batman close for a sneak attack. A cruel smirk curled his lips, already imagining Batman's legs severed, writhing in agony on the ground.
The blade struck true.
Rip!
It sliced into Batman's cape, the cheap, flimsy fabric no match for the alloy's edge. But in the next instant, the cape seemed to come alive. As Batman twisted, it billowed like a dark cloud, enveloping the Green Goblin's vision.
Before he could shift his swing into a stab, Batman's hand shot out, seizing his wrist with unyielding strength. With a single, fluid motion, he swung Norman through the air, slamming him into the ground with bone-rattling force.
"Your madness, your strength, your schemes—they mean nothing to me."
Batman pressed his boot against Norman's chest, the weight like a mountain, pinning him immobile.
In every way—strength, strategy, cunning—the Green Goblin had been utterly outmatched.
He struggled, but Batman's final words crushed what remained of his will:
"You're not even worthy of the Joker."
Not even as formidable as that deranged clown? The Green Goblin faded entirely, leaving only Norman Osborn, a bitter taste in his mouth. Before he could speak, Batman's fist connected, and darkness claimed him.
Hours later, Norman Osborn awoke in a reinforced cell at the new police station, where George Stacy served as director. The iron cage, originally built to contain the Squid Man, now held him.
"Batman… Batman!"
George Stacy stared at a bat-shaped Batarang embedded in Norman's suit, his mind racing to comprehend the terrifying force behind it.
Meanwhile, across the city in the quiet Forest Hills neighborhood of Queens, a man in a plaid shirt, clutching a bouquet of flowers, knocked on the door of a modest townhouse.
Creak.
The door swung open almost immediately, as if the person inside had been waiting.
Batman looked at the elderly woman who loved him unconditionally and spoke in the warm, youthful tone of Peter Parker:
"Aunt May."
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