The younger Green Goblin's breathing and heartbeat almost came to a standstill in that instant, his face filled with shock and astonishment.
Then, he came to the verge of an emotional breakdown. His body writhed on the ground as he struggled to rise, wanting to land a punch on Batman.
It looked as though he wanted to tear a chunk of flesh right off Batman. "It was you?! All of this was you?! You watched me turn into this? You've been deceiving me from the very beginning?"
In this moment, his hatred for Batman—and his rage over Peter Parker's disappearance and deception—all converged upon Batman.
"Let me go! I'm going to fucking kill you! Hypocrite! Liar! Monster!"
The younger Green Goblin struggled desperately on the ground, oblivious to the muddy water filling his mouth and covering his face:
"Harry would rather down a bucket of poison and die with me than let me kidnap Aunt May to lure you out!"
"And you, Peter Parker!"
"You threw my father in prison, caused his disappearance, and now what do you want to do to me? Kill me? Let me reunite with my father in hell?"
"Come on! Do it! Peter! My best brother!"
Coming from the Green Goblin's mouth, Harry Osborn sounded like a separate person, yet in the same breath, he referred to Norman Osborn as his father.
Even as the Green Goblin screamed at him in an emotional breakdown, Batman remained calm, like a stone devoid of emotion.
Batman's voice was as cold and hard as rock: "Norman Osborn's disappearance had nothing to do with me."
The Green Goblin merely sneered, tilting his head to expose his neck, waiting for Batman to take it off.
But Batman didn't do that. He couldn't possibly do that.
"Look at me, Harry," Batman said. "I have been looking for Norman ever since he disappeared. It wasn't until recently that I found traces of his potential whereabouts."
"He was imprisoned somewhere. Used. Modified. Treated as a test subject."
The Green Goblin looked at Batman with suspicion, watching the rain soak Peter Parker's hair. His voice remained shrill:
"Is that right? Am I next in line for modification? To become a test subject?"
Batman shook his head slightly:
"No. I brought him back."
Batman didn't mention a word about how he had exhausted almost every means at his disposal in New Mexico, how nearly every bone in his body had been broken countless times, only to be repaired countless times with the help of the Venom symbiote.
Batman also didn't mention that to save Norman Osborn, he had forced Venom—who called him "Dad" with every breath and loved to whine for chocolate—into a deep slumber, with no idea when it would wake up again.
Nor did Batman mention how he had faced the Gamma Green Goblin, Red Hulk, and The Leader simultaneously, falling into desperate peril multiple times, hovering on the edge of life and death countless times in the span of a single night.
His voice held no fluctuation, as if bringing Norman Osborn back was a trivial, leisurely task that required no effort at all.
Yet, the Green Goblin's world still crumbled.
"Brought... back?" All of the Green Goblin's shrillness, suspicion, and aggression instantly froze.
He had assumed his father was long dead, which was why he was so aggressive and filled with such hatred for Batman and Peter Parker.
But the one who saved his father was the Batman he had just been hating and questioning—the very best friend he thought had alienated and betrayed him.
He wasn't stupid.
After going to the Ravencroft Institute and discovering Norman Osborn was missing, Harry had frantically investigated every possible clue.
But aside from the fact that "Valentine" was Peter Parker in disguise, and that the people who took Norman Osborn were soldiers armed with guns and wearing tactical gear, he had found nothing.
A living person, a major entrepreneur subject to intense scrutiny from all sides, and the "Green Goblin" Norman Osborn responsible for a string of murders, could not simply vanish into thin air.
The fact that no clues could be found meant that the people or forces who took Norman Osborn were beyond his imagination.
Batman's understated phrase, "I brought him back," sounded like a thunderclap in the Green Goblin's ears.
He tried his hardest to picture the scene of countless guns pointing at Peter Parker, his mind racing to imagine the unfathomable price paid behind the scenes.
"If Peter has been going to such lengths for me, for my father all this time... then what was my resentment for? My reason for becoming the Green Goblin... what was the point of it all?"
The Green Goblin felt everything turning unreal; even the raindrops falling from the sky seemed illusory.
Yet the green in his eyes did not fade. Instead, it grew more intense, and his voice remained shrill, like fingernails scratching against glass:
"You brought him back? Then what about me?!"
"Why didn't you tell me everything sooner? Why didn't you show up sooner?! Why tell me now with this... this tone like you're giving me charity?"
"You're lying, aren't you? Just like you deceived me before?"
Batman said no more, gazing into the Green Goblin's eyes, which were so emerald they looked almost demonic.
Batman had long held a theory, and only now did he confirm that this theory had become reality:
The Harry Osborn of the past had completely merged with the Green Goblin. He was no longer split into two personalities like Norman Osborn.
A full two liters of the stimulant had thoroughly twisted Harry Osborn's mind. Now, the Green Goblin was Harry Osborn; there was no distinction between them.
Morbius still lay dazed on the ground, staring at the letter, the handwriting on it long since washed into a blur by the rain.
Even with the Green Goblin's frantic screaming just moments ago, Morbius seemed unable to hear a thing, lying in the mud with unfocused eyes.
"I didn't lie to you," Batman said. "But his condition is poor..."
The Green Goblin interrupted Batman with a roar:
"Shut up! Shut up! Let me think... Where is he?! Take me to him! Now!"
The penthouse of Stark Tower.
"Drink?" Tony Stark raised his glass, looking at Max Dillon.
Max Dillon had already shed the beggar-like burlap cloak. He was now wearing a bathrobe brought from home, which looked rather incongruous against his body that faintly glowed with golden electricity.
"I can't consume anything." Max Dillon waved his hand.
"You don't just survive on current, do you? Should I get you some electricity? Do you prefer direct current or alternating current?"
Tony Stark had already removed the Mark IV armor, wearing a dark brown shirt as he circled Dillon, sizing him up.
"The act I put on for you is over, Tony Stark." Max Dillon's body slowly floated into the air. "It's just the two of us here. Speak."
"Speak about what?" Tony Stark took a sip of his drink, then turned his head and spat the alcohol into a trash can.
"How were you able to find me? How did you know where I live? What do you want?" There was a threat in Max Dillon's voice.
Tony Stark paused. Only then did he realize that Max Dillon had maintained his vigilance the entire time; he hadn't actually let his guard down just because they had been chatting happily.
At this moment, Tony was out of his Mark IV armor. Facing "Electro" Max Dillon, who was crackling with electricity and ready to strike, he didn't stand a ghost of a chance.
If he said a single word wrong, Tony Stark had no doubt that a powerful current would scorch him from the inside out.
Faced with this situation, Tony Stark turned around, grabbed a fresh bottle of wine, opened it, poured himself a full glass, and downed it in one go.
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