Self-Therapy

[excelsior_man]

Phil figured he'd been riding the subway long enough to shake off anyone that might be following him. Not that he really expected anyone WAS following him, but it never hurt to take precautions when one needed to be... discrete. He got off and caught a bus another several blocks into a warehouse district. A few blocks on foot and he was where he

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[the_hobgoblin]

Another cackle fills the room.

"Poor poor pretender. Poor Phil. A terrible waste of an incredible gift..."

[excelsior_man]

Phil started, clutching one of the blades, instinctively ready to throw it again. He was 95% certain that voice was outside his head this time. He WASN'T having another episode. He wasn't.

"Who's there?"

[the_hobgoblin]

"A friend? A foe? Who can tell? Poor, poor Phil..."

The voice echoes around the room.

"I am the true Goblin. The true inheritor of Osborn's legacy..."

The voice breaks into a mad cackle.

[excelsior_man]

"The Goblin's just a suit!" Phil barks back, parroting what he's told himself dozens of times already. "It's something you wear, not who you are!"

His eyes flitted around the rafters of the warehouse, trying to pin down the source of the laughter. His other hand felt the bulge of his cellphone in his pocket, but he didn't reach for it just yet. 911 wouldn't really mean much against a costumed type, and how could he explain this to Captain America or Richards?

[the_hobgoblin]

"That's where you're wrong, Urich. You've been changed. You're a Goblin now. The mask is your true face. You merely take it off to pretend to be normal. Put the mask on again, Phil. Show the world your tragic face."

A figure darts from shadow to shadow behind him.

[excelsior_man]

Laugh... scream! You can destroy him! None of the other goblins have that power. Phil shook off the impulse. He was being toyed with, anyone could see that. But WHY?

"I don't even HAVE a mask! I don't want one! I'm not a costume anymore! There's more to life than that!"

Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, he hurls the bat blade, scrambling to pick up another one as soon as it leaves his fingertips and he realizes he's unarmed. He speaks up to try to buy himself time. "And if you're the 'inheritor', what do you want with ME putting on a mask anyway? What do you want with me?"

Whoever this is, he's twice as mad as I ever was with the mask on... the Goblin's not a legacy, it's a curse.

[the_hobgoblin]

"You're going to show just how far the Green Goblin has fallen, Urich. You're going to show the world that it doesn't matter how many pretenders there are... only the Hobgoblin remains."

A pumpkin bomb falls nearby, but doesn't explode.

"And then, poor Goblin boy... you'll die. An example to the world."

Gas begins pouring out of the pumpkin.

"For the Hobgoblin so loved the world he gave it his only begotten Goblin..."

[excelsior_man]

Phil threw himself to the ground, covering his head as the pumpkin came at him. When it started pouring out gas, he tried to get to his feet and make a run for it, coughing.

"I'm *hack* not going to be the Goblin! That's not who *koff* I am anymore!"

[the_hobgoblin]

"You will..." the voice chuckles, and the Hobgoblin steps through the gas. "You will be the sacrificial lamb, to bring an end to the false Goblin legacies..."

He grins at Phil, his eyes wide and mad.

[excelsior_man]

It's not the same as his old gear, but the Goblin identity is unmistakable. His frustration boiling over, Phil throws the bat-blade at him and then lunges his whole body at him, trying to tackle him. Escape seems futile at this point anyway, the gas spread out so much he can't even see his way anymore.

He screams into the Hobgoblin's face. "There is no legacy! That's not who I am!" Even without his laughing, as Phil feels his voice raising, and his pulse quickening, his hands twitching again, there's some force behind his shout.