Not So Friendly Anymore

Chapter 12: A Call For Help

The night air was thick with the stench of smoke and the distant wail of sirens, an ever-present reminder of the chaos the Green Goblin had caused. Peter stood at the edge of the ruined square, his fists clenched, his body tense with fury. The city had become a battlefield of emotions, and the Goblin, as always, had managed to twist the knife even deeper.

The Green Goblin's laughter echoed down from the rooftop of a nearby building, an unsettling sound that sent shivers down Peter's spine. The Goblin was savoring every second of his torment.

"Spider-Man," the Goblin sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Look at what you've done. Look at all the pain you've caused. This city is a reflection of your weakness. And all of this, everything, happened because of you."

Peter gritted his teeth and fought to control the surge of anger rising in him. He had no time for this. The city still needed him. There were still people to save, still families to protect. But the Goblin was relentless.

"You remember Gwen, don't you?" The Goblin's voice cut through the darkness, twisting the air with its venomous edge. "Poor, sweet Gwen Stacy. All it took was a little push... a little nudge, and she was gone. And you... you couldn't save her. You failed her, Spider-Man. And you always will."

The words were like poison, seeping into Peter's mind. Gwen's face flashed before his eyes, the helpless look in her eyes as she fell. The sickening snap as the whiplash of her fall killed her in his arms. His fault. His failure. He should have done more. He should have saved her.

The Green Goblin laughed again, this time louder, mocking Peter's anguish. "That's right, Spider-Man. You couldn't save her. And you couldn't save your little girl either. Mayday. Such a tiny thing. And still, you failed her too."

The memory hit Peter like a hammer. Mayday. His daughter. He had never even had the chance to hold her in his arms. The Goblin had taken that from him, smothering her with a pillow the moment she was born. Peter had felt her loss like a black hole in his chest, a weight that never left him. He had never even seen her smile, never heard her laugh. And it was all because of Osborn.

"You know," the Goblin continued, his voice almost gentle now, as though he were sharing a secret, "I did it so easily. It was almost too easy. A little pressure on the pillow, and she was gone. No struggle. No fight. Just... silence. And now, she's nothing more than a memory. Your daughter. Your failure. You let them both die. And now you're left alone, Spider-Man. No one to save. No one to love."

Peter's fists trembled, his rage bubbling beneath the surface. The guilt, the self-loathing, it was all coming back in full force. Every ounce of blame, every piece of his shattered soul, screamed in protest. It's your fault. It's all your fault.

"Why don't you just give up already, Parker?" the Goblin taunted. "You're not a hero. You're just a broken man. A shell of who you once were. You have no purpose. No future. You're just... done."

Peter closed his eyes, trying to shut out the Goblin's voice, but the words still echoed in his mind. He couldn't escape them. The memories. The guilt. It was suffocating. And Osborn knew it.

Peter's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the weight of the endless turmoil within him. The Goblin's words had pierced him to his core, reopening wounds he had tried to bury beneath his resolve. Gwen. Mayday. It was all his fault. The twisted part of him that had once been the hero was barely hanging on, battered by the onslaught of Osborn's cruel, biting words. And yet, in the depths of his anguish, a feral rage began to take hold. He could hear Osborn's laughter still echoing in the air, taunting him, goading him to the brink of madness.