![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficI went into a bit too much detail describing the Hobgoblin. On the other hand, would you rather picture him like Mechagoblin or X-TREME Goblin?
The Hobgoblin was clad in form-fitting scaled green armor with a ribbed flexible look that reminded Peter of the skin of an alligator. It was overlaid with complicated circuitry that imparted every motion with a demonic whine of servos. There were purple, stylized stripes on the segmented ridges covering the arms and legs, stitched together with the green like Frankenstein's monster. A tattered purple cloak covered his chest and hung off his back like a cape, while a hood obscured the top of his head. Purple leather leggings stretched over his thighs, as well as a purple leather jerkin over his chest. He wore a lightweight, super tight-fitting helmet, eyes protected behind big yellowish-green plastic bulges that made it look like an evil insect's head. Long, bat-like ears swept back.
Purple gloves came up nearly to his elbows. His boots had a subtle point upward at the toe. He wore a thick leather satchel slung over his right shoulder that hung to his left side. And both legs astride a small flying wing, big enough for one. Footholds on either side of a single jet engine, crescent shaped, almost like a bat. Red lights were glowing on the front of it, with an array of cabling and armature underneath, running between the two rings and connecting to what appeared to be some sort of control sphere. The center tube had a demonic head with ram horns on it, the leering mouth open to reveal a jet turbine inside.
”Your time has come, Spider-Man!” he announced in the dark timbre of the man who’d attacked Peter at Central Park.
”What time is that? Morphing time?” Spider-Man asked, riffing off the supervillain’s technological appearance.
He jumped backwards in a massive flip, being guided by his spider-sense, and landed on one of the tall stadium lights.
”Seriously, did a bunch of smaller Transformers that look like household appliances combine to form you or something?”
Hobgoblin hit the afterburners and accelerated after Spider-Man, knocking him off his porch with a well-placed kick as soon as Peter landed.
Spider-Man kicked off the pole of the stadium light, transferring his downward momentum into an angled descent. He quickly ripped off the bolo and hit the ground, sliding along it like a runner stealing home, coming to a stop right at the feet of the batter.
”Umm, am I late for the summer try-outs?”
The Hobgoblin hovered down into the stadium, lit dramatically by the stadium lights. The crowd was struck silent. Then his mask parted at the diabolically-grinning mouth to reveal his face in the mouth of madness, covered in hideous green make-up that made him look like a true goblin. The brow, cheek bones, nose, and chin were all more pronounced and exaggerated, rendering him unrecognizable. His chin was long, his nose was crooked. Contact lenses changed his eye color to a sinister yellow.
“Bases are loaded, Spider-Man.” The Hobgoblin took out a pumpkin bomb. “Bottom of the ninth inning.” He took out another. “Game 7 of the World Series.” And one more. “And you’re at bat.”
He began juggling the grenades like a clown, whistling that little circus theme.
”Anyone ever tell you that you’re nuttier than Mr. Peanut?” Spider-Man replied succinctly.
Hobgoblin threw a pumpkin bomb at Spider-Man, laughing wildly. Spider-Man grabbed the nearest player’s bat and swung. BAM! Right out of the park! The pumpkin bomb hit a stadium light, causing sparks to fly anywhere. Then it exploded, decapitating the pole.
Hobgoblin backed up in disbelief.
”Oh, you got millions of dollars’ worth of military hardware, bombs and machine guns and that little jet thing, but as soon as I’ve got a bat it’s time to go home? C’mon! Let's do this!”
Hobgoblin held a Pumpkin Bomb in each hand.
“Careful what you wish for, Spider-Man!”
He threw the Pumpkin Bombs. In mid-air they were cut open from the inside by Razor-Bats, which swarmed out and attack Spider-Man. Spidey swung the bat at them. It was quickly sawed down in length, again and again and again, until Spider-Man was left holding a stub. He tossed it aside and looked around as he acrobatically dodged the Razor-Bats… at long last spotting an aluminum bat in the dugout.
“Yoink!” he cried, webbing it to himself. Then he dashed in the midst of the Razor-Bats, weaving and dodging, knocking the Razor-Bats out of the air like a samurai warrior intercepting arrows with his katana. Finally, they were reduced to bits of metal and circuitry littering the ground.
Spider-Man followed through by throwing the bat at Hobgoblin like a spear. Hobgoblin raised his hands to catch it, then realized it was coming in too low to threaten him. He laughed out loud at Spider-Man’s marksmanship… then saw the bat hit his glider’s turbine. It jammed for a moment, causing Hobgoblin to drop before the glider worked through the bat.
Spider-Man took advantage of the opportunity to lunge at Hobgoblin, who simply fired a compressed net from one of his glider launchers. It unfurled in mid-air, hit Spider-Man, pinned him against an advertisement for toothpaste.
”I can tell you’re having an off night,” Hobgoblin mocked. “Maybe I’ll go find someone else to pay back while you get back your edge.”
He flew off as Spider-Man struggled to get free.
”Come back here! I’ll bite your legs off!”
He tried to pull the steel-mesh net open, but wasn’t strong enough. The baseball players, the coaches, and even the mascots ran in to help him. Finally, the net ripped open.
”Thanks,” the freed Spider-Man said. “Now go score a goal for the Gipper or something.”
He dashed across the field, jumped into the stadium seating, ran up the staircase at record speed, and jumped out into thin air, where he started swinging. Spider-Man immediately spotted a shape hovering high above. He quickly swung around a horizontal flagpole and let go of the webline, launching himself upwards. He landed on the wall of a skyscraper to find Hobgoblin facing away from him.
Peter couldn’t believe his luck. He pointed his spinnerets at Hobgoblin and…
The glider spun around, revealing Hobgoblin. And the small boy riding on his shoulders.
”Glad you could join us. I was just giving junior here a little ride. I promised him he could meet Spider-Man.”
”You’re the greatest!” the little boy gushed.
”Let him go.”
Hobgoblin grabbed the boy by his shirt, dangled him over empty space.
”Care to rephrase that? Headphones.”
The boy puts his hands over his ears.
”To be honest, I was thinking about snatching one of your loved ones. But kidnapping Mary-Jane? Or even Aunt May? What’s the point, when all you do-gooders would do the same thing for any hostage, whether it be Mother Teresa or Paris Hilton.”
Peter forced himself not to react, for the kid’s sake as much as his own. ”Okay, why don’t you put the kid down, go get Paris, and we’ll test that theory!” Ulcer, party of one…
”And spoil junior’s fun?” The Hobgoblin set the boy down on a nearby radio tower, then pulled a small leather-bound book from his Goblin Bag. “I think it’s story time! Here’s a yarn from Norman Osborn’s private journals. ‘Dear diary, today Jessica Drew said hi to me at lunch. I think she really likes me…’” Spider-Man was clenching his fists in impotent rage. ”Let's skip ahead a bit to the real juicy stuff, shall we?”
”Yay!” the boy cheered.
The Hobgoblin flipped through the book, stopping at a dog-eared passage. ”Ah, here we are. ‘Dear diary, today I found out that Spider-Man is in reality just a college student named P…’
Without warning, Spider-Man launched himself at Hobgoblin and stunned him with a fist to the face. ”You forgot your library card!”
He grabbed the boy and the book, then leapt away. Spider-sense blaring, the Hobgoblin rocketing after him, only enough time to hit the ground running and abandon the boy on the roof top, then another leap… didn’t save him. The Hobgoblin raked his back with metal claws, a painful hit. Spider-Man landed on another rooftop; the Hobgoblin fired metal stakes from two shotguns at the wingtips of his glider. Spider-Man ran for it, keeping just a step ahead as the stakes embedded themselves where his feet were just a moment ago.
Hobgoblin tilted his glider, leading Spider-Man like a clay pigeon. A stake shot right at Spidey’s face. At the last second Peter held up the diary, which blocked the stake. He pulled it out and threw the book into the glider's mouth, letting the turbine turn it into so much confetti.
”He shoots, he scores!”
Hobgoblin looked behind him at what was left of his proof of Spider-Man's identity. “No!“
He turned back to see the stake flying toward him. Hands slapped together, catching the stake in front of his face, but then he saw that Spider-Man was behind the thrown stake. The superhero landed in front of Hobgoblin on the glider and pounded into him with a series of vicious blows.
The Hobgoblin absorbed the punishment, a sinister plan brewing in his mind. As he blocked like a heavyweight boxer, protecting his face with raised arms, he ascended. Then, at the upper reaches at the atmosphere, he caught one of Spider-Man’s punishing attacks and headbutted the webslinger right off the glider! Spider-Man twisted and shot webbing upwards, forming a parachute.
”He floats through the air with the greatest of ease…” Spider-Man sang as he landed safely on another rooftop, this one a short bank wedged between two skyscrapers.
The Hobgoblin pulled another two pumpkin bombs from his bag. He depressed the ‘stems', which lit up like fuses. As the sparks traveled down the stems, the pumpkin bombs grew brighter and brighter, like jack o’lanterns.
“Oh boy,” Spider-Man said to himself.
Hobgoblin threw. Spider-Man dodged, but the shockwaves from the blast still buffeted him. He fell onto the cornice, head swimming. Swooping in for the kill, the tips of the glider’s ram horns spinning like drill bits, Hobgoblin came on. Spider-Man rolled out of the way at the last moment, tricking Hobgoblin into kamikazing into the neighboring building.
It worked, only too well. Hobgoblin blasted through the building at top speed, smashing through a window on the other side. He looped around to find Spider-Man, who had disappeared from view.
Spider-Man reappeared, jumping Hobgoblin from behind and straddling his shoulders. The webslinger tapped out a drum beat on Hobgoblin’s head.
”Stop it, you’ll distort the interface!”
”That's the power of rhythm, mon!” Spider-Man said with a bad attempt at a Jamaican accent.
True to his word, the tapping interfered and the Hobgoblin lost control of his glider. It rocketed down the street, spinning over and over as it passed a news helicopter. A video image passed from the cameraman’s lens to the television set at Octavius’s annexed house.
***
Octavius leaned in close, very, very interested as the Hobgoblin regained control and fired his glove blaster at Spider-Man. He was maneuverable, athletic.
“Looks like I'm not the only one with upgrades...“
***
“See how pretty my goblin sparks are?” Hobgoblin asked, stabbing his finger at Spider-Man with each sparkling blast. “Would you like a closer look at them?”
”No, I don’t want to pull your finger!” Spider-Man leapt to avoid another blast. Hobgoblin fired with his other glove, a deceptively fairy-like sparkle that caught Spider-Man in the chest. Spider-Man sailed through the air and smacked against the side of a building. Appropriately enough, he spider-webbed the window.
Weakly, he lifted himself off the wall like a reverse push-up, just in time for his spider-sense to detect the Hobgoblin closing in. Spider-Man flipped upward, his belly facing the wall. Hobgoblin hit the brakes, the exhaust from his retro-rockets scorching the cracked window black. Hobgoblin looked up and Spider-Man looked down, facing each other.
“Does one of those fancy cannons shoot Windex? Because if you’re going to be an irresponsible driver like that, you’re gonna need to clean up your messes…”
Hobgoblin’s hand shot out, closed around Spider-Man’s throat. “I am. Starting with you!”
Spider-Man let go of the wall and did a handstand on Hobgoblin's shoulders, using him like a gymnastic 'horse' to flip onto the glider behind him. Like an arresting police officer, he pulled Hobgoblin's hand from his throat and put it into a hammerlock, slamming Hobgoblin through the window. It shattered impressively.
No sooner had the shards of glass landed then Hobgoblin, his feet safely locked into the glider like a snowboarder’s, tilted the whole shebang backward. Spider-Man slipped off, somersaulting downward. Hobgoblin caught him by the ankle. Then, with only a sharp cackle, he spun the glider around like a top, with Spider-Man along for the ride!
“Feel the blood rushing to your head, Spider-Man. Your equilibrium is shattering, your balance is already shot. And when you’re disoriented enough, I’m going to let you splatter against a wall like the insect you are! Look at it this way, Parker, you’re finally going to be a big hit!”
The Hobgoblin was clad in form-fitting scaled green armor with a ribbed flexible look that reminded Peter of the skin of an alligator. It was overlaid with complicated circuitry that imparted every motion with a demonic whine of servos. There were purple, stylized stripes on the segmented ridges covering the arms and legs, stitched together with the green like Frankenstein's monster. A tattered purple cloak covered his chest and hung off his back like a cape, while a hood obscured the top of his head. Purple leather leggings stretched over his thighs, as well as a purple leather jerkin over his chest. He wore a lightweight, super tight-fitting helmet, eyes protected behind big yellowish-green plastic bulges that made it look like an evil insect's head. Long, bat-like ears swept back.
Purple gloves came up nearly to his elbows. His boots had a subtle point upward at the toe. He wore a thick leather satchel slung over his right shoulder that hung to his left side. And both legs astride a small flying wing, big enough for one. Footholds on either side of a single jet engine, crescent shaped, almost like a bat. Red lights were glowing on the front of it, with an array of cabling and armature underneath, running between the two rings and connecting to what appeared to be some sort of control sphere. The center tube had a demonic head with ram horns on it, the leering mouth open to reveal a jet turbine inside.
”Your time has come, Spider-Man!” he announced in the dark timbre of the man who’d attacked Peter at Central Park.
”What time is that? Morphing time?” Spider-Man asked, riffing off the supervillain’s technological appearance.
He jumped backwards in a massive flip, being guided by his spider-sense, and landed on one of the tall stadium lights.
”Seriously, did a bunch of smaller Transformers that look like household appliances combine to form you or something?”
Hobgoblin hit the afterburners and accelerated after Spider-Man, knocking him off his porch with a well-placed kick as soon as Peter landed.
Spider-Man kicked off the pole of the stadium light, transferring his downward momentum into an angled descent. He quickly ripped off the bolo and hit the ground, sliding along it like a runner stealing home, coming to a stop right at the feet of the batter.
”Umm, am I late for the summer try-outs?”
The Hobgoblin hovered down into the stadium, lit dramatically by the stadium lights. The crowd was struck silent. Then his mask parted at the diabolically-grinning mouth to reveal his face in the mouth of madness, covered in hideous green make-up that made him look like a true goblin. The brow, cheek bones, nose, and chin were all more pronounced and exaggerated, rendering him unrecognizable. His chin was long, his nose was crooked. Contact lenses changed his eye color to a sinister yellow.
“Bases are loaded, Spider-Man.” The Hobgoblin took out a pumpkin bomb. “Bottom of the ninth inning.” He took out another. “Game 7 of the World Series.” And one more. “And you’re at bat.”
He began juggling the grenades like a clown, whistling that little circus theme.
”Anyone ever tell you that you’re nuttier than Mr. Peanut?” Spider-Man replied succinctly.
Hobgoblin threw a pumpkin bomb at Spider-Man, laughing wildly. Spider-Man grabbed the nearest player’s bat and swung. BAM! Right out of the park! The pumpkin bomb hit a stadium light, causing sparks to fly anywhere. Then it exploded, decapitating the pole.
Hobgoblin backed up in disbelief.
”Oh, you got millions of dollars’ worth of military hardware, bombs and machine guns and that little jet thing, but as soon as I’ve got a bat it’s time to go home? C’mon! Let's do this!”
Hobgoblin held a Pumpkin Bomb in each hand.
“Careful what you wish for, Spider-Man!”
He threw the Pumpkin Bombs. In mid-air they were cut open from the inside by Razor-Bats, which swarmed out and attack Spider-Man. Spidey swung the bat at them. It was quickly sawed down in length, again and again and again, until Spider-Man was left holding a stub. He tossed it aside and looked around as he acrobatically dodged the Razor-Bats… at long last spotting an aluminum bat in the dugout.
“Yoink!” he cried, webbing it to himself. Then he dashed in the midst of the Razor-Bats, weaving and dodging, knocking the Razor-Bats out of the air like a samurai warrior intercepting arrows with his katana. Finally, they were reduced to bits of metal and circuitry littering the ground.
Spider-Man followed through by throwing the bat at Hobgoblin like a spear. Hobgoblin raised his hands to catch it, then realized it was coming in too low to threaten him. He laughed out loud at Spider-Man’s marksmanship… then saw the bat hit his glider’s turbine. It jammed for a moment, causing Hobgoblin to drop before the glider worked through the bat.
Spider-Man took advantage of the opportunity to lunge at Hobgoblin, who simply fired a compressed net from one of his glider launchers. It unfurled in mid-air, hit Spider-Man, pinned him against an advertisement for toothpaste.
”I can tell you’re having an off night,” Hobgoblin mocked. “Maybe I’ll go find someone else to pay back while you get back your edge.”
He flew off as Spider-Man struggled to get free.
”Come back here! I’ll bite your legs off!”
He tried to pull the steel-mesh net open, but wasn’t strong enough. The baseball players, the coaches, and even the mascots ran in to help him. Finally, the net ripped open.
”Thanks,” the freed Spider-Man said. “Now go score a goal for the Gipper or something.”
He dashed across the field, jumped into the stadium seating, ran up the staircase at record speed, and jumped out into thin air, where he started swinging. Spider-Man immediately spotted a shape hovering high above. He quickly swung around a horizontal flagpole and let go of the webline, launching himself upwards. He landed on the wall of a skyscraper to find Hobgoblin facing away from him.
Peter couldn’t believe his luck. He pointed his spinnerets at Hobgoblin and…
The glider spun around, revealing Hobgoblin. And the small boy riding on his shoulders.
”Glad you could join us. I was just giving junior here a little ride. I promised him he could meet Spider-Man.”
”You’re the greatest!” the little boy gushed.
”Let him go.”
Hobgoblin grabbed the boy by his shirt, dangled him over empty space.
”Care to rephrase that? Headphones.”
The boy puts his hands over his ears.
”To be honest, I was thinking about snatching one of your loved ones. But kidnapping Mary-Jane? Or even Aunt May? What’s the point, when all you do-gooders would do the same thing for any hostage, whether it be Mother Teresa or Paris Hilton.”
Peter forced himself not to react, for the kid’s sake as much as his own. ”Okay, why don’t you put the kid down, go get Paris, and we’ll test that theory!” Ulcer, party of one…
”And spoil junior’s fun?” The Hobgoblin set the boy down on a nearby radio tower, then pulled a small leather-bound book from his Goblin Bag. “I think it’s story time! Here’s a yarn from Norman Osborn’s private journals. ‘Dear diary, today Jessica Drew said hi to me at lunch. I think she really likes me…’” Spider-Man was clenching his fists in impotent rage. ”Let's skip ahead a bit to the real juicy stuff, shall we?”
”Yay!” the boy cheered.
The Hobgoblin flipped through the book, stopping at a dog-eared passage. ”Ah, here we are. ‘Dear diary, today I found out that Spider-Man is in reality just a college student named P…’
Without warning, Spider-Man launched himself at Hobgoblin and stunned him with a fist to the face. ”You forgot your library card!”
He grabbed the boy and the book, then leapt away. Spider-sense blaring, the Hobgoblin rocketing after him, only enough time to hit the ground running and abandon the boy on the roof top, then another leap… didn’t save him. The Hobgoblin raked his back with metal claws, a painful hit. Spider-Man landed on another rooftop; the Hobgoblin fired metal stakes from two shotguns at the wingtips of his glider. Spider-Man ran for it, keeping just a step ahead as the stakes embedded themselves where his feet were just a moment ago.
Hobgoblin tilted his glider, leading Spider-Man like a clay pigeon. A stake shot right at Spidey’s face. At the last second Peter held up the diary, which blocked the stake. He pulled it out and threw the book into the glider's mouth, letting the turbine turn it into so much confetti.
”He shoots, he scores!”
Hobgoblin looked behind him at what was left of his proof of Spider-Man's identity. “No!“
He turned back to see the stake flying toward him. Hands slapped together, catching the stake in front of his face, but then he saw that Spider-Man was behind the thrown stake. The superhero landed in front of Hobgoblin on the glider and pounded into him with a series of vicious blows.
The Hobgoblin absorbed the punishment, a sinister plan brewing in his mind. As he blocked like a heavyweight boxer, protecting his face with raised arms, he ascended. Then, at the upper reaches at the atmosphere, he caught one of Spider-Man’s punishing attacks and headbutted the webslinger right off the glider! Spider-Man twisted and shot webbing upwards, forming a parachute.
”He floats through the air with the greatest of ease…” Spider-Man sang as he landed safely on another rooftop, this one a short bank wedged between two skyscrapers.
The Hobgoblin pulled another two pumpkin bombs from his bag. He depressed the ‘stems', which lit up like fuses. As the sparks traveled down the stems, the pumpkin bombs grew brighter and brighter, like jack o’lanterns.
“Oh boy,” Spider-Man said to himself.
Hobgoblin threw. Spider-Man dodged, but the shockwaves from the blast still buffeted him. He fell onto the cornice, head swimming. Swooping in for the kill, the tips of the glider’s ram horns spinning like drill bits, Hobgoblin came on. Spider-Man rolled out of the way at the last moment, tricking Hobgoblin into kamikazing into the neighboring building.
It worked, only too well. Hobgoblin blasted through the building at top speed, smashing through a window on the other side. He looped around to find Spider-Man, who had disappeared from view.
Spider-Man reappeared, jumping Hobgoblin from behind and straddling his shoulders. The webslinger tapped out a drum beat on Hobgoblin’s head.
”Stop it, you’ll distort the interface!”
”That's the power of rhythm, mon!” Spider-Man said with a bad attempt at a Jamaican accent.
True to his word, the tapping interfered and the Hobgoblin lost control of his glider. It rocketed down the street, spinning over and over as it passed a news helicopter. A video image passed from the cameraman’s lens to the television set at Octavius’s annexed house.
***
Octavius leaned in close, very, very interested as the Hobgoblin regained control and fired his glove blaster at Spider-Man. He was maneuverable, athletic.
“Looks like I'm not the only one with upgrades...“
***
“See how pretty my goblin sparks are?” Hobgoblin asked, stabbing his finger at Spider-Man with each sparkling blast. “Would you like a closer look at them?”
”No, I don’t want to pull your finger!” Spider-Man leapt to avoid another blast. Hobgoblin fired with his other glove, a deceptively fairy-like sparkle that caught Spider-Man in the chest. Spider-Man sailed through the air and smacked against the side of a building. Appropriately enough, he spider-webbed the window.
Weakly, he lifted himself off the wall like a reverse push-up, just in time for his spider-sense to detect the Hobgoblin closing in. Spider-Man flipped upward, his belly facing the wall. Hobgoblin hit the brakes, the exhaust from his retro-rockets scorching the cracked window black. Hobgoblin looked up and Spider-Man looked down, facing each other.
“Does one of those fancy cannons shoot Windex? Because if you’re going to be an irresponsible driver like that, you’re gonna need to clean up your messes…”
Hobgoblin’s hand shot out, closed around Spider-Man’s throat. “I am. Starting with you!”
Spider-Man let go of the wall and did a handstand on Hobgoblin's shoulders, using him like a gymnastic 'horse' to flip onto the glider behind him. Like an arresting police officer, he pulled Hobgoblin's hand from his throat and put it into a hammerlock, slamming Hobgoblin through the window. It shattered impressively.
No sooner had the shards of glass landed then Hobgoblin, his feet safely locked into the glider like a snowboarder’s, tilted the whole shebang backward. Spider-Man slipped off, somersaulting downward. Hobgoblin caught him by the ankle. Then, with only a sharp cackle, he spun the glider around like a top, with Spider-Man along for the ride!
“Feel the blood rushing to your head, Spider-Man. Your equilibrium is shattering, your balance is already shot. And when you’re disoriented enough, I’m going to let you splatter against a wall like the insect you are! Look at it this way, Parker, you’re finally going to be a big hit!”
The_Lurker
Date: 2009-09-01 03:52 pm (UTC)I can totaly buy it though.
If it weren't for the bad guys gloathing, the world would have been taken over so many times and all the heroes would be dead. Except Squirrel Girl. Cause she his JUST...THAT...AWESOME!!! LOL (Buck teeth rules!) :)