Chapter 8: The Past (2)
The world held its breath.
Smoke curled into the sky like black vines. Broken buildings framed the battlefield, glowing with the flicker of nearby fires. Rubble, ash, and the stench of burning metal clung to the air.
Peter, Frank, and Francis stood side by side.
The last stand.
Across from them the Green Goblin, twisted by cybernetics and madness, armor cracked, veins glowing sickly green beneath pulsing skin. His teeth gleamed beneath the mask's shattered grin.
"TELL ME, PETER!" the Goblin roared.
"HOW MANY FRIENDS HAVE YOU LOST? WANT ME TO MAKE IT A FEW MORE?"
Peter didn't blink.
"Shut up and fight."
..
The battlefield trembled with heat and chaos.
The Goblin leapt a twisted blur of fire and armor, launching forward like a missile. Twin jets of blue fire erupted from his boots and wrists, shattering the ground in his wake.
His enhanced body tore through the air faster, heavier, more volatile than anything human.
But they weren't just human either.
They were Serum Soldiers.
Enhanced bones. Reinforced muscle fibers. Nerve responses tripled.
But still—
They could bleed.
They could break.
They could die.
Frank Castle moved first.
"NOW!"
He lifted the custom-built railgun his back muscles flexing with the sheer weight of it. The recoil alone would break a normal man's shoulder.
BOOM!!
The shot tore through the air like thunder—a sonic shockwave trailing behind the round.
It struck the Goblin center mass, snapping him mid-air and slamming him through a concrete pillar with a crack that echoed like gunfire.
"KEEP PRESSURE!" Francis barked, shifting into a tactical sprint.
Francis DeWitt wasn't the strongest among them but his reflexes were honed to perfection. The serum in his veins let him aim while sliding on debris, his heart rate steady like a sniper's.
He rolled behind wreckage, rifle up, and opened fire.
PEW-PEW-PEW!!
High-energy plasma bursts lit up the collapsed building, pinning the Goblin in smoke and fire.
Peter was already moving.
His legs burned from overuse, lungs tight but the serum surged in his bloodstream, keeping him upright.
He leapt over a flaming car, mid-sprint, boots kicking up shards of glass.
Two stun grenades in hand.
"HEADS UP!"
He tossed them just as he hit the ground in a slide.
FLASH—BOOM!
A white-hot pulse of light and noise erupted the air shook.
The Goblin screamed a metallic, garbled roar his mask blinding him, armor plates twitching from disorientation.
Peter didn't waste the opening.
He vaulted off a broken rebar beam, twisting mid-air, and brought his enhanced fist straight into the Goblin's jaw.
CRAAACK!!
The sound was sickening. Metal split. Sparks burst from exposed circuitry.
Even the Goblin's super-augmented armor couldn't fully absorb the blow.
But pain only made him angrier.
The Goblin snapped out of it instantly, hand lashing out with monstrous speed.
He grabbed Peter by the throat, the force crushing against his reinforced windpipe.
Peter gasped—his boots scraping uselessly at the ground.
Then—SLAM!
The Goblin drove him down like a hammer.
The impact cratered the concrete.
Peter choked on his breath his ribs fractured despite the serum. Blood trickled down his cheek, mixing with ash and sweat.
"I Fix everything!!" the Goblin howled, voice layered with madness and mechanical distortion.
Peter stared up at the nightmare hovering over him.
His throat strained, but his voice came out. Gritted. Bitter. Human.
"No… you destroyed everything."
Peter's body convulsed on the broken ground.
Breath ragged. Vision swimming. Blood trailing from his lip.
The Goblin tightened his grip on Peter's throat, when—
BOOM!
A blast cracked the air.
Frank Castle came in hard.
He sprinted through the smoke, enhanced muscles propelling him faster than any normal man. His shotgun, a modified close-quarters magnetic-breach loader—was already raised.
In one clean, vicious motion, Frank sidestepped the Goblin's massive frame, spun, and
slammed the barrel point-blank into the side of the Goblin's skull.
BLAM!!
The discharge detonated like a cannon.
The side of the Goblin's helmet shattered, shards of green armor and tech exploded off, exposing mangled skin and pulsing wires beneath.
The blast knocked the Goblin off Peter, sending him stumbling sideways with a distorted scream.
But he didn't fall.
Because monsters don't fall easy.
Francis was already moving.
Blood soaked his sleeve. His shoulder hung lower from a partial dislocation—but still, he moved with elite-trained precision.
He pulled his custom electric combat blade—sleek, humming, glowing blue—and charged.
"Move in!" he shouted.
The Goblin tried to turn, but Francis was faster.
SHHK!
He drove the blade straight into the Goblin's right side, under the broken plating—plunging through flesh and machine.
The energy surge exploded from the hilt, arcs of electricity frying circuits and scorching tissue beneath the armor.
"GRRRAAAAHH!!"
The Goblin exploded with rage.
He let out a guttural scream and then unleashed hell.
WHOOM!!!
A 360-degree firewave erupted from his armor. A burst of chemical-fueled plasma spiraling outward like a ring of wrath.
The heat turned the ground molten.
Peter was flung backwards, his body crashing into the hood of a totaled car—the metal crumpling beneath him.
Frank tumbled into a pile of jagged steel rods, his arm snapping back unnaturally.
Francis skidded hard across the concrete, coughing blood, scraping across the burning ground like a discarded doll.
The smoke churned.
And through it stepped—
The Green Goblin.
Chest heaving. One eye glowing. Half his face exposed—burnt, twitching, and smiling.
"IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?!" he bellowed, spreading his arms.
Francis groaned—clutching his side.
His rib was cracked. His arm nearly useless.
But still, he stood.
He raised his rifle. Aimed. Fired.
PEW!
The Goblin dodged barely. Sparks danced behind him.
Francis tried again a second shot.
The Goblin snarled and whipped his arm forward, ejecting a molten blade of shrapnel from his gauntlet launcher
SHHHHK!!
It sank into Francis' stomach.
Deep.
Francis froze eyes wide. He looked down at the smoldering metal piercing his abdomen.
"Ngh—!"
His knees buckled. He collapsed
.
"FRANCIS!!" Peter shouted, pushing himself up, legs shaking.
Frank Castle roared.
Covered in ash and rage, he charged the Goblin—no weapon but a glowing, half-melted steel beam, lifted with serum-enhanced strength.
He swung it like a titan.
WHAM!!
It cracked against the Goblin's shoulder.
WHAM!!
Again, a dent into the torso.
WHAM!!
The beam sparked, fire licking up its length.
"DIE, YOU MONSTER!!" Frank screamed.
He brought it down again until
The Goblin caught it.
Mid-swing.
With one hand.
His other arm twisted around, grabbed the opposite end—
And rammed the beam clean through Frank's shoulder.
"AGH—!!" Frank spat blood, but didn't fall.
His grip never loosened.
Through clenched teeth:
"Do it, Pete…!"
"NOW!!"
From behind them, a voice cracked with pain and fear—
"NO!!"
Harry.
On his knees. Tears staining his face. Watching his father impale his allies, watching Peter rise with hatred in his eyes.
"STOP!!"
"THIS ISN'T WHAT WE PROMISED!!"
Peter locked eyes with him.
Bloodied. Burning. Trembling.
A choice lay in his fists.
(Finish it… or forgive him...)
The air held still—for a moment.
Peter stood frozen, glowing energy crackling weakly around his trembling fist. His gaze flickered between Frank skewered but still standing and Harry, who knelt in the dirt, eyes full of desperate, broken hope.
He hesitated.
(What if he's right...? What if there's still—)
"TOO LATE!!"
The Green Goblin threw his head back and laughed
manic, triumphant, unhinged.
CLINK—
A small metal orb rolled to a stop right between Peter and Frank.
Peter's eyes widened.
"GRENADE—!"
BOOOOM!!!
A blinding shockwave erupted in front of them, ripping the ground apart.
Peter was flung backwards, crashing into a slab of broken road.
Frank was thrown into the wreckage, his body slamming through a half-crushed support beam, coughing blood.
Shrapnel tore through armor and flesh. Smoke and fire swallowed them whole.
"NOOOOO!!!!"
Harry screamed.
He sprinted forward, through flame and rubble, skidding into the crater where Peter had stood.
His best friend. His brother. Gone in a wave of fire.
And there through the smoke the Goblin emerged, limping, armor cracked and burning, one eye flickering yellow with rage.
Harry stepped in front of him.
His voice cracked not with anger, but with grief.
"Dad… please."
"Please come back…"
The Goblin slowed.
His clawed gauntlets twitched. His breathing mechanical and labored.
"You're not a monster… not fully. You're still in there."
"Remember Mom... remember me."
For a moment…
the fire seemed to quiet.
The world held its breath again.
The Goblin looked down at him.
The glow in his eye dimmed slightly. His jaw trembled.
Then—
His hand raised. Blades extended.
"Harry…"
His voice came split half Norman, half madness.
He thrust his arm forward.
But
It stopped.
Mid-swing.
Frozen.
The Goblin stared at his own hand.
"What—"
His whole body shook violently.
"N-NO... NO! NOT NOW!!"
He struggled, trying to move, but something inside him locked down.
A digital stutter of screams choked out of his throat.
"NORMAN OSBORN!!!"
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!"
He wasn't talking to Harry anymore.
He was screaming at himself.
Inside the armor. Inside the corruption.
Mary and Gwen stood behind the cover of a fallen pillar, watching the wreckage.
Gwen's voice broke.
"That… that was a grenade."
"Pete… Frank—"
Mary's eyes were wide. Wet with tears.
"No…"
Francis lay in the dirt nearby.
His hand still gripped his blade, eyes barely open. Blood soaked the ground beneath him. His other hand twitched toward the comm earpiece on his collar.
He never made it.
His breathing stopped.
Francis DeWitt was gone.
Peter stirred barely.
His arm was twisted. His torso burned.
He couldn't even speak just a rasp of breath.
Frank Castle, one eye swollen shut, rolled onto his back.
"Still alive…" he muttered, coughing.
"Bastard got us good."
In the heart of the battlefield…
Harry stood in front of his father.
One boy. One broken monster.
And somewhere inside the metal and madness…
Norman Osborn… paused.
"Harry..."
A strained breath. A human tone, buried beneath all the static.
"Go."
Harry's eyes widened.
"Dad...?"
"I can't... I can't hold him."
Norman clutched his head, falling to one knee.
"I told you to run—GO!"
For a brief moment, the fire dimmed in his chest. The light in his mechanical eye faded.
But then—
SNAP.
The light surged back.
The laugh returned.
That screeching, broken, animal laugh.
The Green Goblin was back.
Peter groaned, pushing himself up with trembling arms.
His eyes scanned the battlefield.
Burned corpses. Collapsed trenches. Francis gone. Frank barely moving.
And beyond the smoke
Rebel soldiers, some still alive, crawling, kneeling, struggling to stand.
Their faces were battered. Their bodies bruised. But they hadn't run.
They were still… fighting.
Peter looked at them.
At what was left.
He muttered more to himself than anyone else—
"Tsk… how many comrades did we lose in this goddamn war?"
His fists clenched.
(And how many more will die before it ends?)
The rebels rallied, raising weapons once more.
Some limped. Some had tears in their eyes. But they rose.
They aimed at the beast who'd taken everything.
"DIE, MONSTER!!"
They screamed together charging toward the Goblin.
But the Goblin just tilted his head.
Laughed.
And opened his mouth.
His throat burned orange.
And then—
FWOOOOOOOOSH!!!
A torrent of chemical flame erupted from his mouth.
Like a dragon's roar.
The heat swept out like a tidal wave.
The front line of soldiers were incinerated instantly.
Their screams vanished beneath the roar of fire. Armor melted. Bones blackened.
The rest scattered terrified.
Ash coated the ground where they stood.
Harry stood frozen, watching the massacre.
His knees buckled. He dropped, sobbing, his voice breaking—
"STOP!! PLEASE!! STOP!!"
But the Goblin turned his gaze toward him again.
No hesitation. No mercy.
Just fire.
Peter stood.
His body shook. His suit torn. Blood dripped from burns, from wounds that refused to close. One leg buckled but he stayed up.
He stood anyway.
Behind him, Gwen's voice cracked—
"Peter—your body—!"
He turned slightly, just enough for her to see the pain in his eyes.
"I don't care."
"Not anymore."
Mary's voice followed.
"Peter…"
He looked at her then.
The girl he never stopped loving.
And smiled broken and real.
"Gwen… Mary…"
He took a shuddering breath.
"Take care of them for me."
Behind him, Frank Castle or Francis Castle groaned as he pushed himself up, blood pouring from his shoulder, leg dragging.
"I'm coming with you, kid… augh…"
Peter turned.
"You're still not healed from the Octopus raid. You shouldn't even be standing."
Frank scoffed, wincing.
"Tsk. Since when do we care about 'should'?"
Peter faced Gwen again.
"Gwen…"
His voice softened.
"You've always taken care of me. Now… take care of them."
Gwen's lips trembled.
"Pete…"
Her fingers clenched around his jacket—but she didn't stop him.
She couldn't.
Peter turned to Mary. His gaze lingered longer.
He stepped toward her. Slowly. One step. Two.
"Mary…"
She met his eyes, and for a moment, the world faded.
Just them. Just silence.
She opened her mouth to speak.
But stopped.
She saw it in his eyes, the truth he wasn't saying.
She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Peter thought, his heart whispering one last confession:
(I'm sorry, MJ… I know what you were trying to say…
But Harry loves you. And you love him.
So I gave it up.
I gave you both up…
So, he'd have something left after this war.)
Peter walked forward.
His hand crackled with barely stable energy. Sparks danced across his burnt knuckles. The serum fought to keep his body moving but it was failing.
He knew it.
But he would keep walking.
Because that was who he was.
To be continue