It was a great day for Norman. Oscorp had finalised the tests of his 'Goblin' class powered armour and glider, all the contracts had been signed and all the patents were approved. All that was left was their first test, the public unveiling of the equipment designed to not just keep the soldiers of the USA safe, but if he could get a civilian licence, the police officers as well. A freak like Venom would be history facing one of these suits, symbiote or not.
Even if the drone test had failed it didn't matter, the diagnostic data they had received pointed to underperformance when dealing with 'Enhanced' individuals, the drones themselves were sound. It had been Venom and Spider-man who were well above what anyone had predicted.
Norman stood in front of the small group, all dressed in neat blue uniforms, Admirals, Generals, and staff from the Whitehouse had been gathered to see the final test of Oscorps crowning achievement.
It was a great way to start the New Year, even if Liv had stopped answering his texts. He even wondered if she'd finally had enough and blown her stupid brains out, no he thought, I made sure she couldn't. He even wondered if Harry finally grew a pair and offed her, taking out some imagined slight on the stupid bitch, fucking ignore me today of all days.
The very best of the military had been selected to trial run the suit and glider publically. At first, John had been selected but with his untimely death, the job fell to his second choice. Both men had been trained in the use of the suit, Normal even thought that if John had been outfitted in the Goblin armour he would be here today and Venom would be the one spattered over the sidewalk. He stifled a small laugh, thinking of the Venom, splayed out, black goop everywhere.
Lt. Colonel Frank Miller had already been in the suit several times, he was the test pilot and now he was the first official pilot. The glider controls already synced to his visor, stylised as a goblin for the unveiling, its rictus grin painted a dark green colour, matching the rest of the armour, green leg and arm plates with black boots and gloves, their servo's making an almost inaudible whine as he moved. It was easy to hear if you were listening out for it but with the crowd's chatter and the scurrying techs, it disappeared.
The armour was designed to be slid in and out of. The top of the suit opening up like a clam, the back folding open. Slide in, get comfy and then let it close itself up around you. Sure the first few times he'd had a panic as it slid shut, a mistrust of the machine not to catch his skin or crush him. A nameless tech opened a silver case and swabbed his arm with alcohol. "Huh?" he asked as the man pressed the injector gun against it.
"Booster Sir. Removes fatigue and accumulated stress. You shouldn't need to eat or rest during today Sir" and after he nodded, injected the bright blue liquid into his arm. Damn, he was right, Frank felt a jolt go through him, like a good cup of coffee and yeah, today was going to be good.
He waved at the crowd and saluted, both the upper brass and Norman. For this chance, he'd beaten out most of his old unit and after a few tours in a sandy hellhole, he was glad to be out of combat and somewhere safer.
The drill was simple, he'd fly a course, dodging and weaving through hoops and over obstacles, once past them he'd hover for inspection and motion trigger defensive demonstration before flying off for a semi live-fire exercise. His suit and glider would be hit with live rounds from a dummy drone and he would fire back once the brass had been moved to a safe observation post. The press and the civilians invited, some big shots and other assholes with too much money, weren't given that luxury but the thick concrete barriers would stop anything short of a tank round.
There was no danger and he'd done this a hundred times already, he had two pumpkin missiles and a hundred screamer rounds, he had shaken his head at that, Normal had gone overboard with the goblin theme, he'd half expected his helmet to detach and fly around chasing him like a ghoul out of some fairy tale but no, no strange drones, just a pilot and glider.
There was a strange tingle from his neural interface, the collar had been redesigned over and over and now it was just like a throat mic, a small metal disk that sat in a choker pressing against his spine, held on by a bioadhesive. The tingle was new, he felt the usual hum as the armour synced with his nervous system, treating it like a second skin rather than dull steel. There were no red lights on his H.U.D so he put it down to nerves, maybe one of the techs had set something to 11, he cracked a joke and laughed at it, Coms were off, so no one heard his wit.
His comms click on "control tower here, stand by for preflight check, comms check"
Frank clicked the mental switch and his comm clicked back "comms check check, over"
"Comm check check green and responsive, over."
It would take an hour to go through each system in turn but it was part of the show. The crowd watched as at first, he squatted, jumped and stretched his arms out, standard burpee but a lot different once in power-assisted armour, a wrong move and the suit could tear your arm off or snap a limb if the servos overextended.
Then came the flight test, just hovering right now, the glider, going up, down, spin right, spin left, empty guns clicked on and then off as the preflight safety checks continued.
It was now time, a tech came over and loaded two drums into the back of the glider. He had a burn-proof suit on but the gliders hover mode allowed mid-flight refuelling and reloading. It shunted the exhausts from the back into heat shielded ports away from the ammo housings, then shut down the main engines and closed the vents on them. The tech was safe but it was again, more tests, more show for the brass.
Now his weapons were loaded, the finale was about to begin, a simple event. A live target would fire at him, bright tracer rounds illuminating their hits, the screen showing him virtually highlighting the real-time strikes on the armour, designed to track damage and advise the pilot of any potential weak points. He would then return fire, using first the glider machine guns, using a green tracer which he shook his head at, again, a live visual of the destructive power of the new seeker rounds.
Then he would fire off two of the goblin missiles at a mock tank, thicker and immobile than a normal tank the rounds should penetrate its armour before exploding inside, the first time he'd fired these the rush he felt was amazing and he wished he could be using it on the battlefield, tests were fun but he missed the thrill of combat.
"Goblin One, are you optimal and primed?" Came the voice over the comms, Osborn was taking initiative today. No mistakes, he'd told Frank at the morning briefing.
"Goblin One is a go," he responded, and there was a strange tingle in the back of his neck. He made a note to haul the tech responsible for the calibrations over the coals when he got out, it wasn't uncomfortable, just like someone poking your side or touching a nerve.
"Goblin One is live in 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1. Live fire is a go."
The first round hit and spun him on the glider, its power more than Frank was expecting, the crowd gasped as the glider showed no damage and the huge LCD TV registered the hit on his upper torso. The second hit sent the glider spinning backwards as it hit the same location. Frank swore, there was supposed to be a variance in the pattern, so he could maintain a constant altitude. The third round hit his helmet as he corrected his flight path and his teeth banged together uncomfortably, he tasted blood and knew that something was wrong.
The screen showed the red hit and a huge dent in the armoured helmet Norman looked concerned at one of the techs, but she shrugged and pointed at the screen.
Frank felt dizzy, the whine he was hearing getting louder and the itch in the back of his neck getting unbearable, he had to get out the armour, it must be damaged, it must be some kind of malfunction. He spun up the cannons and returned fire at the tank, no longer concerned if the ceramic shielding on it held.
The crowd screamed. They love this shit he thought to himself and continued to fire.
Norman was in a panic as he watched the disaster unfold. The pilot was only halfway through correcting his flight path when he opened fire, catching the edge of the testing area, his fire wild and free. The crowd jostled and ran as the bullets pinged off the concrete barricades before a few punched through.
Frank was hit from the back and side, that damn tank continuing its barrage. Norman gave the tech the guidance control signal, not for the pilot but one to shut down the whole test but nothing was responding.
The rounds had failed, of course, they were designed just to shatter its armour and Frank loaded up the two pumpkin missiles they had loaded, his HUD registered a lock and he fired, hearing the whine of the engines providing counterforce to their launch.
Norman watched in horror as the two of the deadliest weapons he had ever devised hit with full force into the crowd. They effortlessly punched through the barriers, they were designed to bypass most armour, and as they exploded, the unique energy they contained broke down the organic matter of its targets. As the green cloud cleared there was nothing, no clothes, no people, just a few medals and gold teeth caps glinting in the sun.
"No, no no," he thought to himself, "not like this." The pilot had finally landed the glider and Norman watched in horror as the remaining soldiers advanced on it with weapons drawn. "No," he yelled as he ran towards the glider.
Inside the automatic threat detection system picked up ten enemy hostiles in its vicinity, Frank frowned, "more tests, fuck," and he flicked the lethal force option to on. The glider spun and sprayed, the soldier's bodies pierced by rounds developed to deal with tanks, not people.
Norman collapsed as he watched the soldiers die and he heard a click behind him. General Ross had pulled his sidearm and was pointing it at his head. "Mr Osborn, you will tell your pilot to stand down, right now."
Norman fumbled for his headset, "Goblin One, emergency override, protocol killswitch," and they watched as the glider slowly landed.
Frank was relieved, all threats eliminated and the ride was over. He hit the disengage protocols and let the suit unhook itself from his system, feeling the slight sting as the neural link disengaged.
Norman knew it was over. The pilot would be fine as the Goblin armour was feeding him data and nothing had registered as a civilian target. The fault would be placed at Norman's feet, it didn't matter if it was a software or hardware error. Norman knew he was ruined, not just the board but he would face life in prison. His hands trembled and he balled them into fists as he surveyed the destruction wrought by his glider. His comms clicked, once, twice, and he heard it, a voice, "run" it said, "run," and he knew he had no choice. Killing soldiers was bad enough, but with the civilian casualties he knew Oscorp was finished, he was finished.
Lifting himself up he ran past General Ross, grabbing his pistol and firing backwards at the man. Ross went down clutching his leg and Norman sped past him, the back of the goblin suit opening up. Norman fired three times into the back of the man before pulling out his limp body, he didn't care if the man was alive or not, he needed to run.
He threw off his jacket and tie, dropping the pistol and climbed into the armour, letting it close around him "Goblin One override, protocol Reaper" and the suit sealed with a hiss, disconnected itself from the Oscorp systems and Norman had full autonomous control.
He felt a slight chill on the back of his neck as the system connected with his nervous system, he didn't have an implant so it used a small needle instead but this was different, a clamp came and secured itself to the back of his head, holding the needle in place. "Goblin systems online." He felt the armour as if it was a part of him and leapt onto the glider, letting his feet clamp into the foot controls, "Glider sync enabled and complete. No flight path had been uploaded." Norman dismissed the prompts and simply flew away at full speed. He had to escape, he had to run.
Miles away, back at the Oscorp building, Harry watched the events unfold. He sat down the modified headset he had used to tap into the communications network and pressed three keys. As he watched, each machine he had used crashed, wiped itself clean, and performed a complete reinstall of its systems, erasing any files.
His father was now out of the picture, several members of the board were dead and the military top brass would be out for blood. His plan was now complete.
With the manufacturing of the Oscorp formula completely under his control, it was easy enough to tamper with it. Anyone seeing a scan of Norman's brain would see minute lesions, no different from Alzheimer's, and Parkinson's would follow, all thanks to his dad's ego. Thanks to that, Norman was now out of the picture and now he could now do with Oscorp what he wanted.