The Goblin Knocks
|The Goblin Knocks|
|Date of Cutscene:||01 October 2017|
|Location:||Manhattan, New York City|
|Cast of Characters:||Green Goblin|
In the penthouse suite of a non-descript Manhattan high-rise, a man battles with a series of puzzles. Questions about the previous day, about what it MEANS for his future plans. His bastard daughter, still seemingly under the impression she is his niece... good. She can NEVER know the truth. Perhaps more troubling, however, is the introduction of a more... random element. Two, in fact.
One, the very forces of chaos gives 'human' form on this earth. A Clown Prince with unreadable motives and unpredictable methods. The one thing that poses a real threat to his grand schemes to regain power and prestige: an uncontrollable force, bent on carrying out whatever whims strike it's sick brain at that moment. And for once, for just this evening, he's not thinking about The Goblin or PARKER ruining things.
And yet, there was that other individual... the costume, oddly familiar, though there was no way to discern more from their brief encounter. Some kind of... guardian angel?
<I'M the only GUARDIAN ANGEL you're likely to see, Norrrman...> comes the slow, taunting, giggling voice back into his head - his last dose of medication was hours ago, and it's been... a stressful day. He grits his teeth, sitting behind his large oak desk in the office suite of his penthouse. A too-bright light from his LCD monitor - displaying the usual business and financial figures and company names - the only real light in the room. But he's not looking at the screen in front of him.
He's looking at a playing card, resting on the table. The one he found when taking off his suit jacket back at the office... A JOKER, in fact, but with a large 'J' letter instead of the usual picture-face.
<What'd he say, Norrrrmaaaan? Loooook under the -J-...> - more subtle mockery, from a voice that only Norman can hear.
"What do you take me for, an IDIOT?" he mutters back, thankful that the few staff members even allowed on this floor of the building are long departed for the evening - he'd hate to have to disappear a few employees for spreading slander about Norman talking, even laughing, to himself... It's not HIS fault, after all...
Reaching out with one hesitant, trembling hand, Norman begins to hold his other arm slightly in-front of his face. He pushes the chair back from the desk as he reaches forward with his right hand. He is immune to most of his OWN toxins, but the Joker is a chemist of an altogether different form. There is no immunizing oneself against an insanely unpredictable threat, after all.
Pulling his right hand back, Norman takes a moment to compose himself, deep breaths in and out as he wipes sweat from his forehead and dries his clammy hands on the side of his suit-pants.
<Yesss... yess...> come the gleeful whispers, growing more and more manic as Norman unlocks THAT drawer in his desk. Pulls out THAT relic, the one possessing the built-in gas filters he first constructed all those years ago...
Quietly convincing himself it's the only way to be completely safe while still delving deeper into this mystery the Joker had dropped, quite literally, into his suit pocket... he moves to slip THAT face over his own, to the incessant PLEADING of the Goblin in his ear. But, Norman pauses at the last second, quickly realizing nothing is worth unleashing that THING that is in his brain... forever waiting for it's chance to take control again.
With a too-swift-to-be-human movement, he jams the Goblin mask back into the drawer and SLAMS it shut so hard the wood nearly splinters, quickly locking it back up and tossing the glimmering, metal key across the room.
"No. Anything but that."
Standing up and grabbing the Joker card off the table, he mutters to himself, "Best to let the boys in the labcoats take a look..." he says - after all, lab techs are cheap. Sanity... isn't.