Disclaimer: It's been a while since I did a Spider-Man story. I tried doing one following the origins and maturation of the web head but it fell through. But here I am working on a story based on one of the most, if not, THE MOST controversial storyline in Marvel history. Since this is a 2014 update of sorts, expect some differences between this story and the comic and I can't promise I'll stay faithful.

I want to also note that, embarrassingly enough, I've never actually read the comic on which this story is based. Please, don't hate me. Please.

I don't own the rights to Spider-Man or any supporting characters.

Are you ready? Good! (laughing maniacally)

With great power comes great responsibility… those were the words Uncle Ben told me. Words I didn't appreciate at the time and ultimately didn't heed. And it cost me.

I made a mistake the night I let some random thug with a gun get away. I had the power to stop him without so much as breaking a sweat. But I didn't care; I just… let him go. I watched him slip by my and our eyes met. He was a desperate looking guy, beady eyes, a skull-cap a graying beard. He looked at me and probably saw only a young teenager in a red and blue outfit. If he was wondering why I wasn't trying to stop him from getting away, it was obvious… I didn't care. It wasn't my problem to catch him; I wasn't a cop or security guard or even the damn fight promoter who cheated me out of my earnings. So, why should I have cared if some random, desperate man got away? Well I didn't know it at the time, but that little thing called karma was about hit me harder than anything I could imagine.

When I got to my house in Forest Hills some time after, the police were at Aunt May and Uncle Ben's doorstep and I knew something was wrong when I rushed inside. Aunt May was there with another officer consoling her while another officer told me that Uncle Ben tried to stop a burglar… with fatal results. I knew right then that I had to confront the killer myself. I searched across the city for the bastard that took the life of an innocent man was just trying to protect his family, to do the right thing. Me? I wanted revenge, pure and simple. So when I cornered that murderer in an abandoned warehouse, man, I wanted to make him squirm. I wanted to see him suffer. I wanted to hear him beg for his life. When I hoisted him up against the wall in my hands, he did just that.

"Please, please don't hurt me, man." he said to me. I could tell he was crying crocodile tear under the winter mask he wore, but I was in no mood to forgive.

"Beg all you want; It won't keep me from wiping the floor with you," I snapped back at him, even punching him square in the gut so he knew I was dead serious. "You feel that? That's for the old man you murdered in cold blood. A man with a family; do you understand that?"

I hoisted him higher in my hand and I could feel the breath leaving his throat. "So I killed some old guy. What's it matter to you?"

That comment alone was the last straw and I snarled from behind my own mask, "EVERYTHING!"

I reached for his mask, wanting so badly to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my Uncle Ben before I made him suffer. Instead, reality slapped me in the face and karma did indeed bite me in the ass. Recognizing the same graying beard and beady eyes, I was looking right at the very same burglar that I could've stopped. Instead, I let him escape and Uncle Ben died because… I didn't care. It was then in that moment that I made the decision to leave that scumbag burglar to the cops. But the damage was already done. My thirst for revenge was quickly replaced with guilt over my own inaction. Uncle Ben was dead because of me… because I didn't act when I could.

That night, that moment in time was a turning point in my life. I vowed never to turn away from my responsibilities, to use my abilities to help others in need. With great power comes great responsibility… that's what Uncle Ben taught me and I've lived by those words since then. I've swung high above the busy New York City streets, battling low-level criminals and big time super criminal alike. I've fought twisted multi-armed scientists, electrified lunatics, crazed big game hunters and even symbiotic aliens. I've fought them all, and through thick and thin, I beat them.

But there was one above them all that caused me more pain and more suffering than I could've ever believed possible. He learned things about me and I learned thing about him. I beat him too… barely. But like a bad dream or a waking nightmare, he always came back. I didn't know at the time, but when he next reemerged, it would cost me even more than I thought possible.

THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN
TURNING POINT

Chapter I

((Under the moonless night coupled with veils of mists that made seeing so difficult save for a few street lights, OsCorp Industrialist Norman Osborn was running for his life. He was running from an unseen presence that seemed to know exactly where he was at all times. Every step he took was accompanied by a pale, faint breath. Sweat dripped from his brows and down his face. He was terrified; Norman Osborn, titan of industry and as shrewd a businessman as they came, was absolutely terrified. But he simply kept on running until he managed to duck into an alley and hid there with his back to the cold brick and mortar.

Norman listened for something like footsteps in the mist and he just barely caught a glimpse of someone or something in the distance. The misty atmosphere made identifying the figure difficult, but it was enough to note the disturbing, hunched-over visage. Then it seemed to turn whatever sort of gaze it had directly at Norman, and he instinctively drew himself back against the wall. Norman peeked around the corner a second time and the visage was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief moments before he heard a high-pitched cackling that seemed to come from every which way around him.

The cackling sounded so inhuman and yet so sickeningly familiar and Norman plugged his hands over his ears to dull the shrill sounds. They only grew louder and more menacing, as if they weren't coming from around Norman's person but from within his very psyche. He dropped down to his knees and tightened the pressure to his ears but that did little to silence the cackling that he knew now was coming from his mind. Then the cackling quieted until Norman barely heard anything at all and as he removed his hands from his ears and looked around, he spotted another figure standing across the alley from him. The new presence stepped forward from the mist and Norman recognized it instantly to be his son Harry.

"Harry," Norman called out. "What are you doing here?"

"Hard to forget the past, isn't it," Harry replied, catching Norman off guard. "No matter where you go, it always catches up with you."

Stepping forward, Norman asked, "What the hell are you talking about," Another step was taken, but Harry stepped back. "Harry, get over here, right now."

"Why should I? You're not even my Dad." Harry claimed, much to Norman's disbelief.

"What did you say?"

Harry started retreating back into the mist before stating loudly, "In fact, you're not even the real Norman Osborn. You're something else…"

"Harry…" Norman called out before giving chase to his wayward son.

Harry was already out of the sight by the time Norman reached the other end of the alley and he was back on the street. The mist was thickening around him and making it even more of a pain to see anything clearly. Norman spotted a light just beyond the mist and trudged toward it, partly hoping it wasn't an oncoming subway train. As it turned, it was entirely different. Norman emerged from the thick mist and came face to face, literally, with himself. It was as if Norman was staring at a mirror – except his doppelgänger didn't respond to a single move he made. Norman suddenly spun around at the faint whisper of his own name and failed to notice his doppelgänger changing shape.

The moment Norman turned back around, he felt a gloved hand on his throat. Then he was hoisted up off the ground by said gloved which he noted had a dark purple shade to it. It wasn't just the glove that made Norman quake in terror but the face of his attacker. A twisted grin permeated a demonic green face and the horrible yellow eyes seemed to pierce directly into Norman's very soul. Norman never realized until too late that he was face to face with a villainous, almost demonic maniac who called himself the Green Goblin.

"Poor, poor Norman," the Green Goblin said in a high-pitched tone. "You didn't really think you could get away from me, did you?"

"You're not real. You are not real."

The Green Goblin pulled Norman closer so they were face to face. "I'm more real than you'd care to admit. You can't ever escape who or what you are, so don't bother to kid yourself."

"That's not me anymore. Just leave me alone." Norman pleaded while the entire street suddenly came apart and only a small portion remained where and the Green Goblin stood.

"LEAVE YOU ALONE," the Green Goblin shouted. "That's not going to happen, Norman. We're the same, you and I. Forever connected. And I was quite happy to let you live your otherwise worthless excuse for a life, but it's time to get back to work."

Norman glared at the Green Goblin and told him, "I won't do what you want. I'm not you anymore."

The Green Goblin replied, "I wasn't asking."

The Green Goblin suddenly reared back and fell from the platform of asphalt, taking Norman with him. They began a plunge straight down into an abyss and the Green Goblin began cackling like a madman. Norman in turn took to screaming for help that would never come. The abyss down below seemed to break apart like shattered glass and the two fail through the fissure into further nothingness. After that, there was fire that could have incinerated them both within second of touching the flame. It was as if Norman Osborn and the Green Goblin were being pulled down into the depths of Hell. Then there was nothing…))

Norman Osborn sat up ever so suddenly from his bed, breathing heavily and sweating pools of moister into the sheets. The only light was that of the moon through the window into his bedroom. Norman looked around to find everything still in place around him before realized he had experienced a nightmare. It had to be nothing more than a nightmare and yet it felt so real. Norman hadn't thought about that demonic goblin creature since his childhood. But that was nothing but a figment of his imagination then and it was the same now, and Norman had no reason to fear something from his childhood. Or did he?

He started to slowly slip from his bed and planted his bare feet on the soft rub beneath them. The rug was soft to the touch; Persian if Norman recalled. That was the farthest thing from his mind. He put his slippers on first and then his favorite forest green robe before heading out through the door of his bedroom. He emerged in the hall, walls made of finely furnished wood and lined with numerous photo of both family and business. Mostly business. Norman hardly had time for family nowadays.

The penthouse in which he now lived alone was large and considerably quiet. That was how Norman preferred it to be, especially after Harry moved out to his own apartment that was bought and paid for by Norman. That seemed like a typical thing for Norman, having to do certain things for his son that he would've been capable of doing himself. Sometimes, Norman wondered just what kind of God gave him such a worthlessly helpless offspring. If only Harry was as driven Norman… or better yet, like Peter Parker, his best friend. Now there was a young man who was driven to succeed in life and not having to rely on his parents to get him anywhere. Norman wished he had a son like Peter Parker, be that as it may.

Norman wondered into the bathroom that was a couple of doors down and wished he had one built into his room so he wouldn't need to hike from Point A to Point B. Switching on the bathroom light, Norman looked into the mirror at himself and noted his bloodshot eyes and slightly unkempt hair. Hardly becoming of the OsCorp Industries CEO, he reasoned. He switched on the water faucet and immediately doused his face and head in water. Doing this a total of three or four more times just shake the weariness, Norman shut off the faucet and gripped the ornate sink. He sighed, thinking once more about that terrible dream. It was just a dream as far as Norman was concerned and he doused his face one more time.

The moment after he was finished, Norman was startled when he spotted that hideous creature from his dream in the mirror, seemingly staging right behind him. Norman spun around, instinctively grabbing hold of the sink from behind his back. There was nothing there, nothing in the bathroom except for Norman. He shook his head to clear it but couldn't help but think about what he'd seen or at the least thought he saw. He turned back to the mirror and stared blankly into it. Then he began to see flashes of moments in time he couldn't recall.

The creature in his dreams called himself the Green Goblin and he claimed that he and Norman were the same. That was ridiculous as far as Norman was concerned. As far as he knew, the Green Goblin was a violently unpredictable psychopath whose antics brought him into with that other freak who called himself Spider-Man. The fought across Manhattan for a time according to the new reports and then as quickly as he appeared, the Green Goblin vanished. That was almost a year ago, but Norman only had vague recollections. He couldn't remember if he was out of the city at the time, but as far as he was concerned, this Green Goblin creature was nothing more than a myth.

So why was he having such vivid nightmares of a creature he really only knew from news report. No unable to return to sleep, Norman wondered into the living area of his penthouse. He came across a wall display of elaborately designed tribal masks. Masks always held a particular interest to Norman. He felt that a person could lose himself in wearing one and doing so, became someone else entirely. Of course, Norman had never worn any of his own masks as they were simply for effect within his home. One particular mask caught his eye; heavily designed with a far more tribal and warlike feel than most of the other, which Norman had acquired through somewhat disreputable means in Northern Africa.

He inched his hand toward the tribal mask, its features seeming to jump right out at him as if wanting to attack him at any moment before pulling away. He muttered, "You'd like to, wouldn't you?"

"Norman…" a faint whisper suddenly sounded out, startling Norman.

"Is someone there? Hendry, is that you," Norman called the name of his butler, momentary forgetting that he'd gone home hours ago. "I must be going crazy."

"Norman…" another whisper came followed by a faint laugh.

Norman was sure he was just hearing things in the big house, but he subconsciously picked up a chimney fork and held it high. "If there's somebody in here, show yourself and I swear that I won't press charges." That's assuming I don't throw you out the window first.

He waited and waited for a response of any kind, be it a loud and obnoxious cry or a reserved little whimper. Nothing came from anywhere in the penthouse. Seemingly satisfied, Norman put down the chimney fork and set about returning to bed. He suddenly stopped when the laughing returned in force, echoing throughout the penthouse. It just seemed to come from everywhere and sent Norman into a spin. He covered his ears just as he did before, but the laughter became more and more ear-splitting every second. It was as if the laughter, crazed and bordering on twisted, was on the verge of driving Norman absolutely insane.

"Shut up," Norman demanded, only for the crazed laughter to increase exponentially. "SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Then a lone voice whispered, "You are alone." Then the laughter ceased once again, only for the voice to add, "For now." Then it was gone completely.

Norman removed his hands from his ears just as he had done before, but now he was sweating from the stress of hearing apparent voices in his home. Or were they all in his head? "What the hell is happening to me?"

Author's Note: Well, I've got the prologue and the first chapter done. I kept it short and sweet without revealing too much of what will happen.

The prologue explained what's already known about what led Peter Parker to become Spider-Man, so that's covered.

The chapter takes place about a year after certain events, establishing that Norman became the Green Goblin at some point, fought Spider-Man and developed amnesia or simply has repressed memories, maybe even possibly delusional.

Again, I can't say too much now about how I intend to carry on the story except that I'm shooting for a full-length. I can say that you can expect other villains to appear, likely some I haven't introduced in previous stories.

Give me a couple of reviews or send a shout to my profile if you have any questions or suggestions. Take it easy.

IN MEMORY OF
THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR
1959-2014