Disclaimer: Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin, Spider-Man, et al. are property of Marvel Entertainment.  I don't own them....if I did, I'd be filthy rich. I just own Rachel Martinez and any other made up characters.

Some of the dialogue was used from the movie novelization by Peter David.  I would have went to see the film a million times, but then I’d be broke…^_~
 

The Man Behind The Mask

by Jen Richardson (padme_76@yahoo.com)
 
 

Chapter 3

It was cold.  That was the last thing Norman could remember feeling.  The cold sensation of metal against his skin.

He struggled to open his eyes and groaned when he attempted to roll over….

Roll over?  Am I on the floor?  He slowly moved his head and realized he was lying face down on the floor.  Norman pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around in a daze.  His vision was hazy, but he could still make out generalized shapes and colors.

He was in his den….on the floor, nonetheless....and wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.  When he realized the condition of his expensive Armani suit -- rumpled with a tear on his shoulder-- he winced.

What happened? He asked himself…not really expecting an answer.  Norman felt as if his head was splitting open. This is worse than a hangover, he thought.  At least he was safe at home….

Wait a minute…how the hell did I even get home?  His eyes squinted as he tried to recall last night.  Nothing came…just vague images.  The glass chamber.  Stromm.  And….

…a green haze.  Suddenly, the vapor wrapped its tendrils around Norman and began to squeeze the life out of him-

Norman gasped, and started to breathe heavier.  He reached for his neck, but there was nothing constricting his airway.  In fact, there was nothing at all. Was it a dream?  Norman shook his head, trying to rid himself of these frightening images.

You're not dreaming, Norman……

Norman's weary gaze turned toward the masks on his wall.  Looking at them didn't help matters....but still, he was entranced by one in particular. It was the green metallic goblin mask hanging by the far wall, cloaked in the dim light.

It called to him.... Norman gave a nervous laugh. That's ridiculous....it's just a mask.

That's what you think......

I must be tired…..I’m hearing things, now, Norman reasoned.  There was a perfectly logical explanation to all of this.  If he only knew what it was.  He groaned in pain as he tried to pull himself up.  Even sitting up was tiresome, and Norman slumped back to the floor. "What's wrong with me?" he wondered aloud.

“Dad?”

Harry.... Norman strained to hear his son call him. He heard footsteps approach the den, and turned briefly to find Harry staring at him.....You're probably wondering why I'm passed out on the floor.....the elder Osborn grimaced as he tried to move again.

"Dad!"  Norman heard his son beside him, and felt Harry's arms lift him onto the sofa.  "What happened?”

“Harry?” Norman was in a daze....he could barely remember his son's name. If he could see straight, he'd notice the concern written on Harry's face.

“What’s wrong, dad?  What happened to you?  You look sick….”

..look sick?  I FEEL sick....ugh, I feel like I'm going to vomit.... “I…” Norman started gasping for words, but none came.  “I….don’t know.”

“Where were you last night?  I didn’t hear you come in,” Harry interjected.

Norman wasn't used to this barrage of questions and was still trying to sort things out.  He was just trying to figure out how he got home.  “Last night?”  Harry nodded, staring at his father with a puzzled look.  Osborn groggily rubbed his eyes. Why can't I remember?

You're losing it, Osborn, a rather demonic voice chuckled in Norman's mind.....

.....who said that?!  I'm losing my mind, that's it, Norman thought frantically.  “Last night I …..I was….” The elder Osborn held his head as if he were afraid it was going to roll off his neck. “I was….”

Suddenly, an evil laugh interrupted his train of thought....and Norman shivered.   This is what absolute terror feels like? he grimaced.

“What?” Harry frowned.

Norman gave up. “I…I don’t remember.” Poor Harry....thinks his father's losing his mind...that or he thinks I'm an alcoholic, Norman mused.  I don't remember drinking last night.....

Just then, both Osborns heard a ruckus in the hallway. They heard the maid admit someone into the foyer.

“Who’s there?” Norman called out weakly.

Three people rushed into Norman Osborn's den with worried expressions written across their faces.  As if he had enough to worry about....first, his "hangover" and now this.

“Mr. Osborn.”  It was his assistant, Simkins, and two other people from the office.

God...it's only 7am.  Really....that woman needs to get a life, Norman shut his eyes in exhaustion.  What does she want now?

Harry stood between Simkins and Norman, as if he were trying to physically protect his father. “My father’s not well, Miss Simkins...”

Tell me about it.... Norman moaned.

Simkins ignored Osborn's son for the moment.  “Mr. Osborn…..Dr. Stromm is dead,” she blurted out.

Suddenly, his headache was gone.  All Norman could do was gape at her in disbelief.  “What?!”

“The lab technicians found his body this morning in the R&D laboratory.  He was murdered, sir.”

When he managed to find his voice again, he swallowed hard before questioning her theory.  “Murdered?!  What are you talking about?"

She didn't answer him directly.  Instead...she continued with the bad news. “And the prototype glider and flightsuit….”

“What about it?” Norman asked....although he was beginning to realize he knew the answer already.

“It’s been stolen, sir,” she answered flatly.

Norman was silent for a moment.  Then, a look of determination set upon his face. "Take me there."

Norman followed his assistant out the door and down the steps to her car, which was still running.  Norman stopped his brisk pace, only to have his son barrel into his back.  Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Harry looked a bit dejected at the tone of Norman's voice. "You...didn't look well.  I thought....I could help--"

"That's why I pay Simkins.  She'll help me.  I'll be fine....I...just had a headache," he said a little more harshly than he wanted.

Harry reached for the car door as his father jumped into Simkins' car.  "But dad, I ...."

"You what?" Norman frowned.

Harry sighed, letting his arms drop from the car door.  "I....thought you might...need me," Harry mumbled.

"I do.  But not for this....I'll be alright," Norman squeezed his hand on his son's shoulder before closing the door.  As the car headed for the OsCorp facility, the weary CEO couldn't help but feel guilty about something......

Norman clenched his hands as he contemplated what Simkins told him.  Something happened last night....by God, I'm going to get to the bottom of this....

--------

The sight that welcomed Norman Osborn almost made him vomit.

The lab was in ruins.  The test chamber was destroyed, and glittering shards of glass covered the floor.  The largest of the lab equipment - the mainframes - were smashed and their pieces scattered throughout the room.

But the worst sight was that of Dr Stromm.  The evidence of his horrific death lay on the floor in front of Osborn.  The blood stains were still there, smeared on the floor and along the huge pillar his body had been lying against.

If he could, he would have screamed. But that wasn't like him.

"Excuse us, sir." Two officers were wheeling a stretcher in, and Norman was standing in the way.

"Oh, sorry...." He stepped aside and bit his lip in worry.  At least Norman didn't have to see the body, which was sealed in a black body bag as officers loaded the body onto the stretcher.  He shuddered, and it wasn't even cold in the lab.  He just desperately wanted to go home and stay in bed.

"Mr. Osborn?"

Norman turned wearily to the new voice behind him. It belonged to a young woman with hard slate eyes. Then he noticed the badge on her belt. Detective badge.  Homicide.  Norman tried not to groan and gave a wan smile.  "Yes?"

"Hi.  Lieutenant Rachel Martinez, NYPD," she grasped Norman's hand in a firm handshake and grinned slightly.  "I've always wanted to meet you, sir.  I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances."

Norman appreciated her candor. "Thank you, lieutenant.  If you don't mind...I'd like to get this over with."

Martinez smiled with empathy. "Oh..I totally understand, Mr. Osborn.  I'll make this very brief."  She reached for her pen and notepad.  "Umm....according to the coroner's report, we have reason to believe he was killed between 9pm and 6am." She gave Osborn a questioning look.

Norman grinned slightly. "You want to know where I was at the time, right?"

The detective grinned back.  "Yes."

Shit!  I can't even remember last night!  Ugh...what should I say?  ....uh.... "I was at home, working on a presentation for the board," Norman said rather convincingly. Damn...that sounded terrible....

"Was anyone with you?"

Norman thought frantically. Of course!  "My son was there....he had to be home around, umm...seven or eight."

That seemed to satisfy Martinez.  She finished taking notes and clicked her pen.  "Okay.  I guess that's it for now.  Oh!  Wait....I did mean to ask you something else...."

Osborn suddenly felt nervous. What did he have to hide?  "What is it?"

"Would you happen to know why Dr Stromm was alone down here at night? Was he working on something?"

Norman ran a hand through his hair, thinking.  "Hmm...I don't know.  Maybe he was finishing some experiments he was running earlier, and .....oh, I don't know what could have happened.  I really don't know who would want to kill him.  He was a pretty likable man."

Martinez nodded in understanding. "I take it he was a colleague of yours."

Norman grinned sadly. "Yes....Mendel and I went a long way back.  We were business partners for a while...." he trailed off.  "I'm sorry.  The...shock of what happened hasn't worn off, yet..."

She smiled.  "I understand.  I don't think I'll have to bother you again, Mr. Osborn.  I have everything I need.  If I have any questions, may I contact you?"

Norman just nodded in acknowledgement.  She shook his hand again and offered a sympathetic grin. "Again, I'm sorry." She joined the other officers in gathering evidence while Norman exhaled in relief, heading for the elevator.  He couldn't think about Stromm anymore; it sounded cruel, but he had to concentrate on the company first.  And the one thing he wanted to know was who had stolen their prototype glider.

When he arrived at his office, he told his secretary that he didn't want to be disturbed and hesitated near the doorway.  He trembled uncharacteristically.  Maybe I should have some coffee, first.... he reasoned to himself.

He tried pouring himself a mug, but his hands were shaking so furiously that he spilled the hot liquid on himself.

"Damn!...ugh..." He clenched his hand in pain, and his secretary rushed to his side.

"Mr. Osborn! Are you all right?" she said worriedly.

"Do I look all right?" Norman growled.  He suddenly sighed and just sagged his shoulders.  "Ah, just...don't worry, I'll be fine.  I'm still wound up after seeing...."

His secretary nodded. "I know."  She paused.  "Well...I'll go get the first aid kit."

He watched her go off in search for the medical kit as he held his scalded hand.  Norman frowned at his strange behavior lately.  He felt so jumpy and nervous all of a sudden, especially around that detective. Wait...why should I feel so guilty?  I didn't kill him....

Oh really?

Norman flinched as he registered the voice.....it had spoken to him before.  And it sounded so damn familiar......

What's happening to me? He asked himself fearfully.
 

TBC
 

Author's note: I didn't realize how hard it'd be to write this from Norman's POV.  lol  A lot of scenes are going to be included that weren't in the movie.....

And no....I don't intend to make the Goblin and MJ a couple.  That's not the twist I had in mind.....this is just from a different perspective. ^_^<

So...it's review time!

~Jen
padme_76@yahoo.com
 
 

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