>>4746140
>>A. Grab him by the head, send your glider into a spin and toss him away.

>>4746140
>B. Stay the course. Your glider will be wrecked, but smushed Spider should cushion your fall.

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>>4746140
"Spider. You could be so much stronger! The spider-powers you have pale in my Goblin serum!" We boast. "You were much scarier than black goo suit. The Klyntar suited you..."

>F.
Anticipating his spider-sense. We fly and glide and trigger it as a distraction and fly off, shake our fist 'Get you next time, web-head!' maybe sprinkle some evidence of a new Sinister Six. Hmmm. Brock is a hero now right? Carnage is too volatile and blood thirsty. Was Ock in his 'Superior' or 'Classic' body? Hmm. Maybe modify our own sinister six from six fresh blood from older models...and an evil Spider-Man!

"Tell me...what do you think of 'Bug Bear' or..'Kobold'?"

>>4746197
Black Goo? No one on Earth 1962 has ever heard of a Black Goo besides Tar!

>>4746204
trim the symbiote stuff then in this 62-verse

>>4746177
>>4746194
>>4746197
Please roll 2d20. First roll is what we're going with, Second roll is how successful it is.

>>4746222
Might change my mind later, but for the time being, that's how we'll do it. Roll 2d20 when you vote, please.

>>4746140
>>C. He wants to shoot web at you? You'll shoot sparks at him.

Rolled 6, 16 = 22 (2d20)

>>4746177
ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-

Rolled 5, 9 = 14 (2d20)

>>4746194
-fffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuu-

Rolled 7, 4 = 11 (2d20)

>>4746197
-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-

Rolled 19, 19 = 38 (2d20)

>>4746238
-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge!

>>4746238
Eenie, meenie, minie, (You).

Writing!

Rolled 11, 14 = 25 (2d20)

>>4746228
internet messed up. I blame AIM

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>>4746238
He points a hand at your face, ready to trigger a blast of web. However, you're quicker on the draw, and with the turn of a dial on your belt, you point a finger at him.

-THWIP-
-KRAKL-

The Web meets a lance of sparking energy from your fingertip, the white incinerating to black and blowing away in the wind.

Spider-Man does a double take, then looks to the side. He aims at the building next to you.

Before he thinks he can just tether-ball you into splattering against a wall, you swipe the Sparks across his mask. They don't burn through the mask, but they do shine.

"Gah!" he yelps, bringing the hand that had previously been latched onto your Glider up to shield his eyes. He is then yanked off of your Glider, and slams into the side of a building, forming a spider-web of cracks in the windowpane.

You perform an Immelman Turn, and slowly glide over near him. "Now who's swat like a fly? Or is it, Black and Red and Blue all over?"

"I hate you," he groans.

>A. Take him to the police, the more of these Menaces you can contain before they make the company look bad, the better.
>B. You have better things to do, like the date you have scheduled. You never apologize, and you won't start now.
>C. Wait, what's going on?
>D. Write-in

>>4746309
>A. Take him to the police, the more of these Menaces you can contain before they make the company look bad, the better.

Spider-Man's a MENACE!

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>>4746316

>>4746228

File: Green_Goblin_(Counter-Ear(...).png (600 KB, 733x522)

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>>4746309
>A.
>D. "Your too late Spider-Fool! I am the Emerald Imp of Justice!"

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>>4746351
fine, going with A

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>>4746316
>>4746351
You tug Spider-Man out of the wall, and he fights his way out of your grip, because you let him. As he falls, you fling one of your Ghosties at him, and when it hits him, its netting expands like a gas and traps him in an airtight bubble. You then yank the eggsac out of the air, and fly over to wherever the police are.

He thrashes around weakly, well, weakly for him at least. It's taking a bit of effort for you fly straight with the flurry in your hands. "Mmrf mmmrph mrrhfrm!"

You clean the wax out of your goblin ear. "Whazzat? You say something? I don't speak Spider." Nihongo wa jyouzu desu ne, though.

Eventually, with no air, Spider-Man quiets down, and you glide through the city sky, the exhaust of your flying deathtrap only contributing to 1% of the smog.

But, in recent times, your company, well, your father's company... well, what was formerly your late father's company, has contributed to nearly 66% of super-powered rampages in NYC. And you can't just let that happen, nothing can stain your public reputation. Osborns never apologize.

Especially not for this Web-headed nutcase who leaves criminals crucified, lynched, or drained of blood depending on the severity of their crimes. While the papers do say that the overall crime rate has gone down, Spider-Man dominates the front page much like a cat leaving dead mice and birds on your front step.

No, you don't know who he is. You've tried unmasking him, but that sticks to him like everything else. You've tried to follow him, but he usually puts your glider out of commission to where you can't catch up before he swings away like Urban Tarzan.

So, you had to bait him out. You threw a dart at a map of Hell's Kitchen, then went over to talk Crime Business, saying you were interested in Crimes. And like a fly to honey, or a spider to flies, he sprung on that meeting, chased you, and here you are.

And who are you?

You swoop down above a crowd, and strike a mie pose. "You're going away this time, Spider-Fool! For I am the Emerald Imp of Justice!"

The crowd expresses confusion at that boast, but notices the bagged and beaten Spider-Man, and applauds.

You're Harry Osborn. You call yourself 緑天狗, but literally everyone else calls you the Green Goblin.

File: th (40).jpg (8 KB, 163x152)

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>>4746474
we need an apprentice. time to infect Aunt May with the goblin serum. may-blin

Rolled 16, 3 = 19 (2d20)

I roll 2d20 to see if I roll 2d20

>>4746474
is this a prompt? Or are you just taking a break?

i demand answers op, the fuck

File: Osborn mansion interior.jpg (672 KB, 1200x775)

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Minor retcon: 翡翠天狗

So how the heck did that happen?

Well, it all started when your father came to Earth and raised you in the ways of his warrior people- kidding, kidding. That'd just be Inconceivable.

No, you'd say it started when your father came to Japan in 1945, met your mother, and one year later, you were born- okay, too far back? Alright, alright.

Well, one day, you were being your usual slacker self in High School, doing the bare minimum to not have to repeat anything because uh, your father had the money to get you into any school besides the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters for Obvious Reasons. You were getting a ride to and from and all the way through High School in a Rolls Royce, which was a bit more preferable to running after buses, especially on that day, since you had company!

Let's see, what was her name? Was it Carli... no. You wanna say Fel... Felicity? Felix the Cat! Well, it'll come to you. Didn't see her much after that day.

The car rolls past the gate, and up the driveway. The chauffer gets out to open your door, but you open it first, and hold it open for your date. "Milady."

Harry, they're cringing at you. Why? Lines like that are gentlemanly. Granted, a little goofy too, but girls like that. They're also calling you a Weeb. The heck is a Weeb?

The girl with platinum-blonde hair takes your hand with a smirk. "Seems Chivalry's not dead after all!" You step into the foyer, and she takes a look around. "Or Feudalism!"

You chuckle, and shrug. "Well, besides the suits of armor, the tapestries, and the dungeon," you list off, "The movie theater I promised is this way."

The two of you make your way through the Eastern wing of the mansion. And it does get Eastern. Your date oohs and ahs at the ceremonial swords and daggers, samurai armor, and the hanging scrolls. "...Harry, is there really a dungeon?"

You chuckle darkly, and open a doorway. "Welcome to my lair!"

"Whoa!" she marvels. "Recliner seats, nice smell, and the floor's clean! Just needs popcorn."

"I'm sure we have some Jiffy Pop in the pantry, er, I mean, only the finest popped kernels money can buy." You go over to the cabinet, and flip through the filmreels. "Lessee, what kinda movie you wanna watch? There's King of the Rocket Men, Frankenstein, The Incredible Shrinking Man, The Wasp Woman, a recording of this play from Japan called Narukami? ...Nah. Oh, also got To Hell and Ba-"

She pipes up, "You have anything with heists, or thieves, or cons?"

You think for a moment, then recall one in particular. "Do, actually. Came out last year, it's about a guy who's new in town running a con on two gang bosses. Thing is, it's a foreign film. You mind that?"

She shakes her head, then tilts it. "Will they speak English?"

You pick up the copy of Yojimbo, and Side A says "Dubbed," and Side B says "Subbed."

>A. Yup.
>B. She can read.

>>4749061
>A. Yup.

>>4749061
>A. Yup.

>>4749061
>>A. Yup.

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>>4749138
>>4749631
>>4749931
"Yup." You didn't need dubbing or subtitles to understand the movie, but not everyone has had the advantage of spending their childhood in Japan. In fact, it was probably because of that you have all the other advantages, what with your father's work with the Occupation and the Reconstruction granting him all he needed to come back to the States and form a Fortune 500 company.

You pop up some popcorn (Which you insist on doing yourself, to show that you can. Heck, you even made an omelet one time! ...the one time. That the pan didn't survive the process is irrelevant.) and then you pop the movie in. The projector projects, and you walk over to an empty seat, next to the less empty one. Even in the dark, you can still make out the legs on her, complimented by those slim pants she's wearing. You could recognize them anywhere! Now if only you could remember her number...

The two of you watch the movie, and she gets pretty into it. But not too into it, there's a reason you didn't want her to be occupying her eyes wit reading along. Thank god for liftable armrests.

-smooch, smooch-

You hear a familiar line, and withdraw from the makeout session, pointing at the screen. "Wait wait, this part's pretty cool."

-clang, clang, Gyaaah!-

"Okay." You go back to the heavy petting and kisses.

>A. Try to get to Third. Slide a hand down...
>B. This is fine, don't wanna scare her off.
>C. Write-in

>>4750552
>A. Try to get to Third. Slide a hand down...

>>4750552
>B
Let's avoid a scandal wait for them to press forward

>>4750552
>>B. This is fine, don't wanna scare her off.
Wait for her to beg for it like a real Chad.

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>>4751289
>>4751780
Since this is the closest you've gotten to pussy (cuz she's a cat), you are tempted to press your luck (not a good idea with her of all people), but think better of it. It would be really awkward if she wasn't okay with that, smacked you, and would still have to ask the help for a ride home.

No, you think you'll cover your butt on that one. And roam a hand on down to hers, above the fabric of course.

She giggles in response, but flinches when your hand brushes against something in her back pocket. She breaks the kiss, and scoots to the edge of her chair. "Uh, hey look, the climax!" she says, pointing at the screen.

You reluctantly nod, and pull your hand away. The climax is important. Your hand can wait.

So the hero fights 10 bad guys and kills 9, letting the youngest run off in terror. But the main bad guy, he has a last request of the hero. He would feel naked going to hell without his gun in-hand, and it's barely a foot away from his hand, and "no more bullets."

As the hero gives the baddie his gun, you hear your companion Tsk. "Now why would he go and do that?"

When the villain predictably turns his gun on the hero, you shrug (as well as you can with her head nestled on your arm) and reason, "Well, it's a last request. Someone's gotta honor those."

The villain suddenly loses his strength, and falls back into the dirt. "Hm... are they worth that honor?"

Thinking about it, after this bit, a guy is about to come out with a ceremonial drum to shoo out the dead, you think. "Uh, ghosts might get you if you don't, or ghouls, or a gob-"

The gun's trigger is pulled, -Bang!- -KRA-KA-THOOOOOOMMM...!-

You and she jump at the sudden booming noise, as well as the projector shutting off, leaving you both in the dark.

You groan, and get up from the chair. "Ugh, blackout."

She asks, "Don't Richie Rich types usually have backup generators?"

You chuckle. "Pretty sure we could light some torches in the hall, but I think I'll just flip the breaker instead." Not like the help worked this late. Your father does work this late, but he doesn't like being around people. Oh sure, he's real pals with you whenever you get the chance to talk, but... something about him... you dunno.

You half-fumble your way out of the theater and into the halls, knowing this house enough to navigate in the dark. Then, lightning strikes twice, -CRASH, THOOOOMMM- and the foyer is illuminated for an instant. (unspoiler pic)

"Gah!" you yelp, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest at the sight of what you thought Dad had gotten rid of a long time ago. Just the sight of that mask would make you jump at every shadow, and plague what little rest you had with nightmares. So, you quickly make your way past it, and get to the circuit breaker. You get a match from inside and light it, find the right switch and flip it, and Voila!

I'm sorry am i fucking retarded or is it you? How did we go from green goblin vs spidey to some autistic virgin weeb shit? Fuck this, thread hidden.

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>>4752449
>and would still have to ask the help for a ride home.
>especially awkward since they're not working at these hours, derrrp

You see your date standing over in front of the Mask.

"Was this always here?" she asks.

>A. ...No, if I'm remembering right, that's where my mother's necklace was. Dad always said not to touch it.
>B. That mask is weird. Put it on.
>C. Whoa, can you see in the dark?
>D. Write-in

>>4752457
In 1962, Harry's not a weeb, he's cultured.

>>4753004
>B it's some old antique

Put it on ourself

>>4753004
>A. ...No, if I'm remembering right, that's where my mother's necklace was. Dad always said not to touch it.

>>4753004
>>A. ...No, if I'm remembering right, that's where my mother's necklace was. Dad always said not to touch it.
Fuck it, I'll break the tie.

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Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4753538
>>4755278
Despite your revulsion, you look at the mask. It hadn't been there before. No, what had been there in its place was... you recall the feeling of it against your fingers just a while ago. "My mother's necklace."

Your date turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

You step towards her. "Not even my father let me touch it." You raise a palm. "Give it back."

She backs away, "You calling me a thief? It was probably one of your workers-"

"We have them on timetables and all their information at our their disposal. I don't recall there being anything unusual about who was working today, so I highly doubt they would risk snatching an heirloom." Well, the majordomo had that information on the staff, but you could probably ask him for it.

This girl eye's narrow into slits... then she sighs in defeat. "Fine, you got me. Here it is..." She turns around slowly, and brings a hand down to her jeans, brushing it along her body. Your eyes follow that hand, where she reaches into her back pocket. You're not letting her pull any tricks, that's why your gaze is firmly on her. Rrriiight.

She pulls the necklace out, and you reach for it. Then, a blur of motion, and something strikes the side of your head.

About an hour later, you awaken below the pedestal upon which the Green Mask sneers at you. It does not do any favors for the pain ringing through your head.

(Flipping a coin to determine something. 1 bad, 2 good)

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>>4757125
As you pick yourself up, a card falls off of you. You pick it up. On the front there is a symbol, and on the back it reads, "Gotcha! Don't worry, your mother's necklace is safe with me, not looking to pawn this one. I just think it looks prettier on my bust is all. You can try to buy back everything else though. Good hunting!

P.S. Enjoyed the Movie, so I nabbed that too."

You crumple up the card, and stand up. Okay, from just a glance, you see that the ornamental katana and wakizashi are missing, the armor's helmet is gone, a tapestry was probably used to transport them along with some hanging scrolls, and the plate armor is doing a handstand.

As you go around your house and confirm that you will need someone to go out and get some more silverware and maybe a replacement morningstar, one question makes its way above the pain coming from the bump on your head: Why couldn't she have taken the Mask too?

Yeah, after that, you couldn't really recall her name, and not for lack of trying. You hit your head, after all.

>A. Go look at the Mask. Put it on maybe?
>B. Call the police.
>C. Write-in

>>4757163
A then B if nothing happens

>>4757163
>>A. Go look at the Mask. Put it on maybe?

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>>4757383
>>4757552
Grrr, crummy thing gets you kicked in the head, and it has the gall to mock you with that face? Well, if there's one thing you can take away from this awful night, it will be working up the courage born of frustration to put the thing on!

You pull it off of the wall, and dust falls from it. You brush it off, and blow in the inside. Then, you raise it to your face... and then- You gain the powers of the Norse God Loki, now Son of the Mask like your father before you! Only the most jaw-dropping and smokin' of exploits for you from here on out!

Only none of that happened, instead you put the mask on, and looked around in it. Nothing felt different, despite the pedestal even you had placed it on, your childhood terror was just a wooden face.

Well, don't you look a sight. Robbed by your date, and celebrating Halloween a few months early. You move to take the mask off, when all of a sudden you spot a note from where you had removed it from. You peel it off the fabric, and unfold it.

"Harry. Mirror in my study. Break it."

>A. Go break the mirror in Dad's study.
>B. Call the police about the robbery.
>C. Ask Dad about this when he gets home.
>D. Write-in

>>4757674
>A. Go break the mirror in Dad's study.

File: mirror.jpg (8 KB, 320x180)

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4757728
You refold the note and pocket it, then head towards the western part of the house to your father's study.

Stepping inside, you look around a bit. Been a while since you last came in here. Okay, mirror, mirror on the wall... Really? How about, "Black Cats and Lightning and Mirrors, oh my!" Whatever.

You take a fire poker from beside the fireplace, and then... you ask yourself what you're even doing here. For all you know, that note could have been written by that burglar as a prank to get you to wreck the house more!

...but if you do wreck the house more, you can chalk it up to the burglar. So, you step in front of the mirror. When you see that demon just standing there with a trident in hand, you recoil and throw the fire poker at it, shattering the mirror.

...moron! You remove the mask, and toss it on the floor. Well, now there's a bunch of glass shards... nowhere, on the floor. You look up, and see a hollow space behind the mirror.

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>>4757825
Before you go looking around in the hidden room, is there anything else you should take care of?

Dad should be home soon.

>A. Lock the door to the study.
>B. Go put the mask back on the wall.
>C. Get a flashlight from the supply closet.
>D. Nah, just go inside, feel around!
>E. Write-in

>>4757835
>supply closet.
Huh, are those supply closets when the cleaning staff is using them for supplies, or is it just a closet in a household?

>>4757835
>Get the light

Shine upon the laundered resources of dear ole dad

>>4757835
>C. Get a flashlight from the supply closet.

>>4757845
>>4757866
>>4758088
support

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4757866
>>4758088
>>4758324
Well, you're not venturing into the dark, secret room without a flashlight. You head out into the hall, check a closet, find one, and head back.

You click the flashlight on, and light reflects off the shards on the floor, lighting up the place. At least the floor looks like it hasn't rotted away. You step inside, and peer around. An identical mirror to the one you just broke is right beside the entrance. But other than that, nothing much, but you do come across a desk and a cabinet. You sit down in the chair in front of the desk, and look at some papers. They look like schematics, though you've never seen schematics before.

You open the desk drawers one by one, and in the last one you find a film reel. On one side, it reads, "For Harry." Ah, convenient. And on the other side, it reads, "For Mendel."

...Mendel? As in, Dad's old business partner? He died, didn't he? Years ago, from an explosion in one of Oscorp's Labs. Dad was also there, he had to go to the hospital.

>>4758390
Options:

>A. Check out the cabinet.
>B. Go back to the theater and play the film reel.
>C. Replace the mirror with you inside the secret room.
>D. Replace the mirror with you outside the secret room.
>E. Ask your dad about this when he gets back.
>F. Write-in

Rolled 2 (1d5)

>>4758392
>A. 1

>B. 2

>C. 3

>D. 4

>E. 5

>>4758392
>>B. Go back to the theater and play the film reel.
Literally has our name on it.

>>4758392
>B. Go back to the theater and play the film reel.

File: cap.gif (1.07 MB, 1000x523)

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4759274
>>4759457
>>4760035
You take the film reel, and go back to the theater, closing the door behind you. When you get to the theater, you confirm that yes, she did steal Yojimbo, along with some other movies. Geez Laweez, how much could she fit in that tapestry?

Sighing, you set the movie up, and have a seat, and are entreated to an... old-timey propaganda piece?

https://youtu.be/0uTh4VE30fw

Yeah, just a video of Captain America, showing off how great he is.

What really throws you for a loop is your father's voice coming in over the footage, but he's not in the room.

"You see the past. I saw the future. I saw an army of Captain Americas replacing our military, all fueled by the Super-Soldier Formula. Think. It would be a much..." The video abruptly cuts to footage of the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima. "...cleaner, alternative." It then cuts to your father, sitting at a desk, with his fingers together. "As far as I was concerned, the loss of that formula resulted in the greatest tragedy ever to befall America, and Japan. After that, the government abandoned its efforts to create superhumans, demigods, in favor of smiting their enemies with the atom bomb. So much wasted potential.

"But, Captain Rogers and Doctor Erskine still got the ball rolling. After the war, with his astounding record unclassfied, the world took interest. Several doomsday weapons comparable to The Bomb had been wrecked in his operations, and his performance as a soldier went above and beyond above and beyond. Ever since Rogers astonished the world, countries and corporations have sought to recreate him. But, with the exception of Isaiah Bradley, whose transformation was unreplicable and deemed high risk for Whites, there has still been no genie in a bottle to make American Super Soldiers with. Even the Japanese had tried.

"As you recall, I was called to Japan and briefly to China to do work for the Strategic Science Reserve and Occupational Forces. This was in the midst of Japan's military being tried for war crimes. For some of those on trial, they made a plea bargain that they would get reduced sentences and pardons if they shared the knowledge gathered from their research." His face darkens as he hunches forward. "What I saw in that hellhole was the best argument in favor of the atom bomb. Thing is, we had lousy aim." Norman sits up straight, putting that all-business mask back on. "But, no matter how useless and barbaric those experiments were towards the goal of creating a super soldier, those whose hands were dirty with all kinds of humours had been granted an out. The charlatans had convinced the High Command that they were useful before evidence could be presented to the contrary. Arguably, the greatest trick they pulled."

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>>4762363
He leans back, and smirks. "The greatest trick I pulled was having those slimes sign their names on volunteer waivers to biochemical experiments instead of what they thought were court papers. Hahaha, still cracks me up, the look on their @#$%ing faces..." He coughs, and nods. "To the point, I had learned a great bit from my work in Japan. As of the time of this recording, while I haven't made an exact replica of the original Serum, I have come close with a version that doesn't require a Vita-Ray chamber. However, it's also temporary in its enhancement. And there are, certain..." He looks to the side, as if he wasn't alone in the room. "...side-effects, which last long after the enhancement wears off."

His eyes shut. "If you're watching this, it means you've rebelled against my command to not touch your mother's necklace, and furthermore that you've overcome your childhood fear of the Mask. You are your own man now. And not necessarily correlated but highly likely in the event of you watching this... is that I'm no longer alive. But just because I've failed to change the future doesn't mean my future cannot do the changing in my stead. I don't know what age you'll be or what circumstances you'll be in when you watch this. But someday you, too, will reach your full potential, son. And when that happens, I want you to continue my work. It's not just completing the Serum, it's an ideological war against The Bomb itself. To not have countries reduced to burnt-out husks when tempers run high. To not have cities flattened because of their vicinity to bases. To not accidentally create giant, fire-breathing lizards who are just as destructive as the Bombs that created them. Bombs don't win wars, the men who fight them do."

He opens his eyes again, and looks at you. "But that is my work. Above even that, I want to take charge of your life. The serum and resources I've left behind will help you with that, but it's your call. Trash my work if you wish, sell it off even. What's important is that you live life unrepetentant, and without regret. Lord knows we could all do without people who beg forgiveness for their sins. That's his job to deal with. The only regret I have is that I was unable to keep my promise to Emiko and keep the atomic fire from spreading... but that is not your regret. I can only hope to rest easier, with you as my legacy."

Norman smiles into the camera. It looks different from the ones he gives now. "ハリー、私をがっかりさせないでください。 決して謝罪しないでください。"

The film ends.

>A. Go put the film back where you got it. Ask your dad about this.
>B. A serum that can make you super strong? Go drink some!
>C. Write-in

>>4762367
>>A. Go put the film back where you got it. Ask your dad about this.

>>4762367
>A. Go put the film back where you got it. Ask your dad about this.

>>4762367
>B. A serum that can make you super strong? Go drink some!

Embrace that 60s cheese! DO some reckless self-experimenting science and catch a burglar!

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>>4762521
>>4762758
Okay... you take the film reel off of the player, and take it back to the hidden room, putting it back in the drawer. Then, you step over the jagged, sharp threshold, and head to the foyer.

You wait for some time, but then a shadow appears behind the front doors' glass, and the doors open. In steps your father, shutting the doors and his umbrella, walking towards you. He notices you at the top of the steps, and goes, "Ah, Harry. Did you have something to talk about?"

"Yeah." You hold up the Mask. "Can you tell me about this?"

He examines it for a moment. "Bizarre. Did you find that in some shop, or was it in our basement? To be honest, I've never really had an eye for art. All that's just to leave a superficial impression, anyway." He yawns, and walks past you to his bed chambers, past where some paintings were removed from their very frames. "If that was all you wanted to talk about, then let's get some rest. I had a busy day, you have school, we need sleep."

No eye for art? Does he really not notice the missing art pieces? Sure, with rich people there's always some putting on airs with having stuff to show off, but he's just being an airhead. You chase after him, matching his pace. "But dad, the note, the filmreel-"

He stops, and places a hand on your shoulder. "Harry, can we talk about this in the morning? I promise I'll talk to you then, but I just don't have time right now. You know what, how about we get McDonalds on the way to school?"

You raise an eyebrow. McDonalds, huh? "...fine."

He pats you on the shoulder. "Of course it's fine, sport." Then, he goes into his bedroom, and shuts you out, leaving you in the dark.

You run it around in your head. That necklace was something he treasured deeply, as a keepsake of mother's, which he would notice the absence of, eye for art or no. This Mask was something he knew terrorized you whenever you saw it, he wouldn't have it out on display. The filmreel was his last request of you should he fail to accomplish his goals in his lifetime. Even one of these things should've provoked more of a reaction from him, but none of them did.

>A. Serum Time!
>B. "Oh yeah, we got robbed!"
>C. Eh, go to sleep.
>D. Write-in

>>4764183
>B. "Oh yeah, we got robbed!"

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>>4763894
>Embrace that 60s cheese!

>>4764183
B, and A depending on how that goes. We can't let Felicity just get away with this.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Flipping a coin.

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>>4764312
>>4764935
...Wait. This should get his attention, "Oh yeah! We got robbed!"

He opens his door, an eyebrow raised at you. "Someone stole from us? Why hadn't you said so sooner? What did they take?"

You list off, "Some silverware, antiques, films, the Necklace-"

He shakes his head, going to the phone. "Well, what they took doesn't matter. What does is that no one steals from Norman Osborn with impunity." He looks back at you as he starts to dial the police. "Was there anything you noticed that could help the police look for the thief?"

>A. "I have this calling card." Give him the calling card.
>B. "Yeah, the thief was this girl I was on a date with and let inside our home who took what all she could carry and then some after she kicked me in the head and knocked me out. Her name was... Ffff... hm."
>C. "It was one of the help, I can't tell who though. You know how they all cover for each other." You could do with some new staff here, or at least with all the old staff gone.
>D. What they took doesn't matter, just that they stole from him? No one takes from Norman Osborn, who is himself, with impunity? It's like that Amontillado story... wait a sec. "You know Dad, they also broke into your study, and you won't believe what I found there." A fire poker with "Norman Osborn"'s name on it.
>E. Write-in

>>4768246
A. "I have this calling card." Give him the calling card.

>>4768246
>E.

"No, nothing."

Let's solve this crime ourselves. An Osborn doesn't apologize, or ask for help. he solves the problem himself.

>>4768246
>>A. "I have this calling card." Give him the calling card.
Just to break the stalemate.

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>>4768484
That's a cool idea, I like to see that initiative.

>>4768361
>>4771074
"I do have this," you say, giving him the Calling Card.

He inspects it. "What language is that?"

"Turn it around."

He does, and reads the English. "Huh, from the tone, it seems like they had talked to you before." He arches an eyebrow at you. "How were you and this robber acquainted?"

>A. She was my date, of course.
>B. We weren't, he broke in and threatened me for information and looked like a man.
>C. Write-in

>>4771170
>A. Before you get mad I had no idea we watched a movie some breakers flipped and then I got kicked in the head

>>4771170
>>4771599 +1

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>>4771599
>>4772389
You respond, "She was my date, of course."

That eyebrow arches impossibly more. He grips your shoulder, "Harry, this reflects poorly-"

You raise a finger, "Before you get mad, I had no idea she was a thief. Well, at first I had no idea, I figured it out later. We watched a movie, power went out, and when I caught her red-handed, she kicked me in the head."

His grip lessens in intensity. "Still, the fact that a thief stole her way into our house is still a demerit you're responsible for."

"I know, I-" you catch yourself in time. If you said you're sorry, then your father would give you something to be sorry about. A lecture on business and science in his study. Bah! "I took care of it, okay?"

Your father snarls and, to your surprise, raises his other hand to strike. "Excuses! Admit your fault already. Norman Osborn will not have an insolent cur for an heir!"

You blink. What? "What?"

He strikes you. It stings, but you've been in your share of scraps before. It's a bit distracting, but even with that you're still reeling from what your father had requested of you. "You heard me, boy. Apologize."

https://youtu.be/oBwkGx8uWT4

>A. Hit him with the flashlight, it's metal. "Who are you and what have you done with my father!?"
>B. Lure him into the secret room. "Fine, fine, I was trying to hide something is all. See, I have something to show you in your study, something the thief found."
>C. Spit in his face. "不名誉より死。"
>D. Write-in

>>4772591
>D. Write-in

Flee. We have the serum, right? We have the mask? This is startling and wrong, but we'll show him. Catch Felicia, drag her back, and make BOTH of them apologize for this shitty day.

>>4772591
>A. Hit him with the flashlight, it's metal. "Who are you and what have you done with my father!?"

DEAD QUEST

>>4788509
Nah, just waiting. Vote, please.

>>4788604
We did. I voted above to flee, another anon voted to hit him with a flashlight. Maybe just roll to break toe OR (and idea) have us hit him with the flashlight and flee?

>>4788604
Bruh, it's been a WEEK. 24 hours, multiplied by 7.

>Just roll a tiebreaker
>or pick your favorite response/option
>or bump it with a reply for more responses
>or shill it on the quest thread general (/qtg/) for more responses
>or just fucking dump it.

"Nah, just waiting." What the fuck dude. I don't even follow this quest so I have no hard feelings one way or the other. I'm not even sure what this spiderman-japan crossover shit is, the Japan shit came out of nowhere in comparison to the major opening 3-4 posts. I feel like I got bamboozled, and Japan-o-phile people didn't give a fuck to start with since you showed Spiderman only without making it clear that it was a fusion of the two.

Can you only update once a week? I'm sorry if your schedule isn't conducive to writing quests. Who the hell wants to wait a week to read 3-5 paragraphs, then wait another 7 days for another 3-5 paragraphs?

>>4788803
Could have fooled me with the different ID. Anyway, samefagging is more constructive than going "ded quest"

>>4788854
Your criticism is noted, your vote is not. Ah, you have not voted.

>>4788876
Alright fine, screw it. Let's hit him with the flashlight. Potential combat is always fun.

>>4788886
Okay! Writing.

>>4788876
Ya fuckin' goaded me in, make it worth my 2 cents, now, 13arabbaboi

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>>4773521
>>4788886
You swallow, close your eyes, and nod.

Then you swing the flashlight up into his face with a CRACK, which could have come from the glass or his jaw.

That man lets go of you as he falls against the wall, growling as he rubs the pain away from his face, as well as... blood? Well, it isn't strange that there would be blood. But it's BLUE?

Okay, your father's rich, but not that rich. "Who are you and what have you done with my father!?"

He glares at you... then grins, chuckling. "Hahaha... Oh, Harry. I am your father."

"No, I had a father, and his name was Norman Osbor-"

He slams his fist into the wall, and gestures with his other hand, which has blue blood smeared on it. "He was your father, and I have assumed his role. You people have the notion... the Ship of Theseus. Yes, what all is different?"

You back away toward the study, shining the flashlight at him. "My father would never consider apologizing or asking for apologies. Those are useless."

He spits out some blood. "How uncouth. And that was the behavior of an elite among your primitive kind? Savages."

"What do you mean my kind?"

He shrugs, matching your pace as you ascend the stairs. "Humans, Earthlings, Naked Apes. Really, that you share the ability to speak and our posture are about the only redeeming aspects you lot have."

... "Are you some kind of alien?" Did your dad get body-snatched?

He nods. "Some kind. An agent of my empire, sent here along with several others to mold this planet's government, society, and infrastructure into ruin, and make our rule preferable, or inevitable."

Fuuuuck that. "Over my dead body!" you snarl.

He tsks. "Harry, Harry, Harry. That was my original plan, but this new bleeding heart protocol has us opting not to replace entire families. Well, maybe it was also brought on by bleeding wallets. Still, you have a choice. We have lived together peaceably for years, ever since that night I ended your father's work permanently. And we can continue to live that way, if you agree to be molded like a good subject, or a good son even. Or, I can have you sent to the loony bin depending on what you claim to have witnessed... or simply kill you here and now. Your choice."

>A. "...yup, over my dead body, alien." Throw the flashlight at him and tackle him down the stairs.
>B. While living in Japan, you happened to pick up a Chinese proverb: "Better to die a broken jade, than live a life of clay." Make a break for whatever serum is in that cabinet.
>C. Feint. "Alright, I give. Heck, I even found some of my father's work hidden in the house that you might find interesting." Like a fire poker.
>D. Write-in

>>4789093
B

>>4788876
>samefagging

I didn't double my vote, and I stated who i was, didn't I? I work during the day, friend.

>>4789093
>B. While living in Japan, you happened to pick up a Chinese proverb: "Better to die a broken jade, than live a life of clay." Make a break for whatever serum is in that cabinet.

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>>4789400
>>4789616
You don't have much else for this filth other than some parting words, "Better to die a broken jade, than live a life of clay."

He scoffs. "Is that another of those Japanese sayings? Honestly, so many cultures on one rock."

"It's Chinese," you say as you push the handstanding suit of armor down the steps at him. With that, you bolt for his study, slamming the door shut and locking it. Then, you step into the hidden room, and open the cabinet.

-VZZZMMM, THUD-

That's not a good sound! You grab a vial and turn the flashlight off, slinking off into a corner of the room.

"Oh Harry..." the Imposter calls as he searches the room, holding up some gizmo. "Ah, mirror's broken. I barely look in those these days."

You uncap the vial, and put it to your lips, giving it a smell test first. A sharp smell, kinda like limes and mint.

He steps into the room. "Really, the sooner we can have you monkeys mining this planet to the quick, the sooner I can go back to looking normal. As opposed to Norman."

Okay, he's about to round the corner, and for all you know can see in the dark if he can't scan through walls already. Time to chugalug!

As you down the concoction hoping that it'll do something to get you out of this mess, the Impostor looks at the desk, and switches a light on on his device. He reads through the files, expressing shock in some... inarticulate grunts? Or maybe they're very articulate. Then, he says in English after going through the hidden stash, "Ah, the missing files. I had the company turned upside down looking for these. Every warehouse, every subsidiary... Now I can finally torch it."

https://youtu.be/1e8psJVaXIs

"Torch it? Like you tried to years ago? We were just on the cusp of greatness. Fortunately I had this draft here."

He turns toward you, setting that gizmo from Shine to Kill. "Like a moth to the flame. What about my generous proposal, Harry? Are you in or are you out?"

-CRACK-

The gizmo is struck by a thrown object, breaking both it and the Imposter's hand to pieces. As the alien infiltrator curses in his own tongue, his body is snatched by the neck, and held up in front of a leering mask. "'OUT,' AM I?!"

The alien then begs for his life against this otherworldly terror, and even does so in English. But this demon doesn't care for promises, excuses, or apologies. It is much more interested in dissecting a new species.

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>>4789988
And the morning after that, not only did you have a raging headache, the door to the study appeared to have been cleanly sliced off its hinges, and your father was officially missing. The servants inquired about the missing valuables, and you told them about the robbery, but kept the hidden room a secret, because the hidden room was where you were hiding a dead body.

And on top of all that, you got another note, and another filmreel. The movie showed a very gruesome display of what appeared to be Norman Osborn getting torn apart and exposed, and when he reached his breaking point, so did his façade. And that body is shoved in the cooling compartment next to the Globulin Green drafts in all sorts of neat bags for organs and body parts and humours.

The note had this to say:
"Harry. This is the ghost of your father. This is possible because of the draft you imbibed. To curtail espionage or oversight on the serum's formula, I had all knowledge and original samples of the control destroyed, and everything we used from then on used my genetic code, with the serum's original state stored in my memory. Using the serum on myself heightened my mind's capabilities, and soon after, the serum was enhanced and evolved to the point of enhancing the body. And along with that, each time we had to extract more of my blood to code the serum to my DNA, the serum would enhance it as well. The Personalized Serum could store memory, of mind and body. When I had forgotten something, a dose would refresh it to the forefront of my mind. When an experimental batch had me swallowing my tongue and losing feeling in the left side of everything, a prior batch would restore my body to its normal state.

Of course, we had done animal testing. The Control Serum's effects on mice would make them get through mazes quicker, and also eat their competitors, but mice do that already. The Personalized Serum's effects on mice would have them mutate into tumors.

As for why it didn't turn you into a bunch of tumors, you have my blood. And now, the knowledge of the Control, as well as many other sciences."

You raise an eyebrow in consideration. After a bit of recalling, or, uh, calling, you can bring up that formula of his. As well as refreshers, well, to be more accurate, understandings on everything he drilled into you over the years and then some.

You go back to reading:
"This will likely be my last gift to you, as the Serum will have your body adapt to it, and my DNA will stop imprinting onto yours.

On your nightstand is a bottle of my finest whiskey. I had wanted to share it with you when you were old enough, but now, I imagine it will be more useful in drowning out any memories of your mother that may have passed onto you."

You roll your eyes. Like you would have any memory of your mother. She died when you were a baby. Wait, when you were a baby?

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>>4790094
You recall that pleasant dream you had with the beautiful and sometimes pregnant lady who was mixed-race Japanese and had the most beautiful black hair.

...black hair which you now remember seeing in a black-and-white photograph.

And that pleasant dream morphs into a nightmare.

After dry heaving a bit, you down the whiskey, coughing a bit but powering through the burning sensation, just so that you'll have something to throw up. Or maybe you'll get alcohol poisoning and die. In either case, you keep drinking.

"Your mother was an incredible woman. She had a saying that really inspired me, '変化は勤勉さと粘り強さから始まります。''"

"Change begins with hard work and persistence..." you repeat to yourself.

"もっと強く! もっと!"

Annnd there's the vomiting.

"Well, there's nothing else I have to say I didn't already say in that video. So, with compliments, Norman Osborn"

TO BE CONTINUED, in GG Quest Issue #2, Harry takes his new serum out for a spin! And what better way to prove the strength of a man than a strong-man of a wrestler? Huh? A spider-man, you say? Now that's crazy talk.

Oh yeah, and maybe he'll find a trail of pawprints leading after that thief, and get back his imported movie, as well as his mother's necklace that held a lot of good memories for his father especially when it was the only thing she wore to- y'know what, it does look good on Felicity.

All that and more, Next Week!

>>4790155
Why is Peter dressed like a Prospector?

>>4789988
>The gizmo is struck by a thrown object,
(The thrown object was the fire poker, forgot to mention it.)

>>4790160
70s fashion.