Pomp and Circumstance
Realizing that you have to take control of your own legend and actually doing something about it are two different things. While Goblin King was doing deep mystical naval gazing and contemplating the nature of reality and the power of fairy tales, life demanded he get some work done.
The thorn network of street people is a bit weird. They are a mix of runaway kids needing protection from predators, and PTSD veterans who took a long hard look at the world when they got back and realized it wasn’t theirs anymore. They notice things. They have different but related reasons not to trust, and because everyone who has a scrap of money or power goes out of their way to ignore them, they are often sitting quietly in a corner when dark deeds are done. Then they pass the word.
Crazy Mike was crazy, but his name wasn’t Mike. He didn’t like to use his old name, because he wanted to remain proud of who he had been, while the thousand things he had seen and lived through that he could never allow to touch that man, and that life, fit nicely in the wreckage of the life he had now. He left his old name with his legs, at a roadside in Kandahar province.
Kitten had traded the information for a token. The tokens were just wooden disks with a circle of thorns burned into them, but if you had one, it was good for a shower, a hot meal, and a safe bed with a locking door (manual deadbolt, no keys or electronics). Those tokens were given for information, for errands, or as thanks for looking out for those who bore the mark. They were better than gold, because if you tried to steal one that had been given, the Goblin came for you. It was magic. Not the bright spells and hope the normals played at with their games and movies, but the cold dark magic that came for you in the night with claws and fangs. The kind of magic she could trust.
Mike rolled his chair to the underpass by the dock gate. He watched the plain white trucks roll in. They were not gypsy carriers. These were new shiny five ton rigs, electric, with more bells and whistles than anything you could buy. These were full on corporate internal transports, and wiped so clean of identifying marks he would bet there were no VIN numbers on the engines.
He watched what came out of the back when the autoloading systems rolled the crates onto the power tailgate and lowered them for the stevedores to fix the cargo nets to sway on the Russian freighters.
He took out his sight, he adjusted from starlight to thermal and back again. Taking pictures both ways, and letting the built in computer chunk away at the images, he smiled. Painting over numbers never really worked against anything other than casual inspection.
The first truck carried nothing but Image Recognition Interception Systems (IRIS), the latest word in unspoofable man portable surface to air missiles. You could bring down Air Force 1 or an F35 with its full ECM engaged from ten kilometres away and be blocks away before anyone knew you had fired. Oscorp had promised initial delivery to SOCOM in another 18 months, and now tons of them were being loaded on a freigher for Russia.
Switching his sights to the other trucks, he noticed they were different. He didn’t know the exact details of what was inside, but he knew the class of both the crates of deployable units, and the base stations well. Those were Oscorp all up military drones. Long Range Reconnaissance was the base platform, but they were all equipped to be weaponized for hunter killer missions against soft or hard targets. You couldn’t even sell those to other NATO parntners, not even to NORAD partner Canada. Yet now they were being loaded into a freighter to Russia.
“Fucking corporations. It’s not enough we die for your bottom line in wars your bought politicians get us in, now you go ahead and sell the weapons we paid you to develop to shoot at our own allies, or even our own troops. Time you met my little green friend.”
Crazy Mike was crazy, but the shattered remnants of what he was remembered one thing. Loyal to your own. Loyal to those who served in the blood and sand beside you, loyal to those who followed you in service. Screw the politicians, screw the flag, in the end, it was the people in the shit beside you who counted. The suits cutting back room deals to send bleeding edge military tech to Russia, where our enemies would have it long before the military that paid to have it developed, were pissing on the corpses of his friends. Someone needed to make them pay. Crazy Mike knew someone who did that.
Karen walked slowly and carefully through the ship. There was blood everywhere. Casing as well, and bits of bodies. The Punisher was in the hold, alongside the Goblin King. They were both examining the crates of weapons.
“Thanks for coming Frank. I was in the Canadian Army, and our tech wasn’t quite all the way back to Vietnam, but it was at best First Gulf. I couldn’t be sure what I was looking at.” The Goblin King looked taller somehow, not quite as tall as The Punisher, but no longer a head shorter. More like just a couple of inches.
He stood differently too. Before he had been a dandy, a clown; dancing between being a snarling animal and laughing jester. Now he loomed. Like Frank Castle, known to the world as The Punisher, the Goblin King wore his authority, his legend, his purpose like a cloak. Both men stood like mountains, pillars of immovable purpose thrust up from the earth itself to defy the course of history and human events.
Karen shook off the introspection as the Punisher finished his teardown of the first missile system.
“This is the real thing. The next best thing. Even Stark can’t touch it. I got buddies who are still in who were at the early demonstration. They are talking about how this is going to be the biggest change in air/ground warfare since the first drone. They are also talking about how they have to wait a few years to get their hands on it.” Frank Castle’s voice went from conversataional to cold hammered iron as his face somehow transformed into flat planes of light and shadow, becoming both less human and more terrifying as his mind went to that place that made him The Punisher.
Karen spoke what neither man had done.
“And we have several tons of them being loaded onto a Russian freighter in the middle of the night in New York harbour. Someone at Oscorp is selling US military tech to the Russians before they even give it to us? You would have to be crazy!” Karen said, shock breaking her hard-won reserve.
The Goblin Kings face turned, and for once there was no smiling.
“Norman Osborne, founder and chairman of Oscorp is the Green Goblin. He is crazy. He doesn't care who he hurts, or how many he kills, as long as he can improve his corporation's position, and his personal influence. I have seen him toss bombs at school busses just to buy him a second or two lead from that web slinging idiot who keeps letting him go.” The Goblin King said, his voice no longer seductive or playful, but cold and terrifying.
Tapping one of the missile systems, The Punisher growled.
“Maybe you need to snipe his ass. This thing can kill a stealth fighter with its ECM pod up, both chaff and flared deployed. Popping some whack-job riding a Halloween prop jet sled should be easy enough.” The Punisher concluded.
Karen shook her head. She loved Frank, but he was such a good hammer that the world looked like only different kinds of nails to him.
The Goblin King laughed. “Come on Frank. You think a rich paranoid asshole like him didn’t build a back door into his own kit? I bet this thing can’t target Green Goblin or his little toy. Besides, it isn’t enough to kill the man, I have to kill the legend. I asked you here to inspect the weapons. I asked Karen here to BE my weapon.
The Punisher raised an eyebrow, as Karen’s eyes slowly widened.
The livestream was linked to her blog through the Daily Bugle. She only had about sixteen thousand followers, but those followers were avid newshounds, several were reporters for TV networks as Karen’s investigative work for the Bugle had dropped a few bombshells that allowed the faster TV news teams to follow up on them to rake in precious national and international prime airtime.
“There you have it ladies and gentlemen, the superhero known to the world as the Goblin King has just thrown down a challenge to the villain that has held the city in fear for years now. Most damming of all, he has shown us evidence not only of the Green Goblin’s identity, but the criminal, and if corroborated, treasonous sale of of restricted military technology to our nation's enemy!”
She replayed the taped interview.
“So, you are confirming, these are Oscorp IRIS surface to air missiles?” Karen asked the Punisher in full armour as he held one of the units.
“These are more advanced than the prototypes the US SOCOM was shown by Oscorp, and we were told we had to wait for another couple of years for first production. So far I have seen sixty tons of them in the hold, and serial numbers indicate they have been in production for at least two years. Nobody but Oscorp could make these, and no one but the United States Military is even supposed to be allowed to buy them for the next decade.”
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Turning to Goblin King, she asked.
“Who were the buyers?”
The Goblin King smiled, teeth showing. “The Wagner Group was providing the crew and security for the ship, but the weapons were purchased through the old KGB front companies that were taken over by the FSB that reports directly to President Vladimir Putin. Your tax dollars, hard at work getting ready to kill the freedom fighters and their NATO trainers that your own service folk are risking their lives to support.”
Karen put on her best innocent look.
“How could such controlled technologies get misplaced by a company as integral to American Defense as Oscorp?”
The Goblin King turned to face her camera, and she tightened the focus.
“There is no misdirection. This entire production run was ordered, payment was brokered by, and delivery was arranged by Oscorp founder and CEO Norman Osborne.”
Karen now looked shocked.
“That is insane! Do you have any evidence of this?” Karen asked, playing for the audience as she spliced the two feeds into a split screen, with the Goblin King’s voice over.
“It is only insane if you think that your nation, your people, your very lives even matter to him. Norman Osborne has used his technolgy to do something forbidden, and he has transformed himself into the Green Goblin. To him, you are all nothing but prey. If prey is willing to finance his rise to power simply for tools to kill more prey, he can only laugh. He is not human anymore and does not see your lives as being anything more than line items on a commodity sheet.”
The split screen showed Norman Osborn in a suit, shaking hands with the captain of the vessel, himself in Wagner fatigues while crates of weapons are unloading behind him. The second half of the screen showed Goblin King smashing the face covering helm of Green Goblin, then pulling it off to reveal the insane twisted face of the same Norman Osborne.
“What happened to the crew of this ship, and why are you sharing this information with us today, Goblin King?” Karen asked.
Smiling with his shark like teeth wide, the Goblin King smiled.
“I killed them. They chose to deal death in my city, and I punished them for it. They chose to enter into the service of the Green Goblin, then they entered our war under his banner.
As to why I asked you here. I am the Goblin King. I am a child of this world and of Fairy. I am King of all Goblins of this world, and I am the protector of all the humans of this city. Green Goblin has chosen to make himself inhuman, has chosenn to make himself a mockery of a true goblin, has chosen to transform himself into one of my subjects, and then prey upon the humans under my protection.
It is the duty of a king to protect his people. It is the duty of a king to mete out justice to his subjects. Norman Osborne, so called Green Goblin. You have been found guilty of murder of the citizens of New York, you have been found guilty of treason, the breaking of sworn oaths to the nation you claimed citizenship in. For these crimes, I have sentenced you to death.
You are hereby summoned to Oscorp Tower tomorrow at dawn, with all the forces that you can command. Before the Moon and the Tree, upon my name and blood, I swear that I will meet you there in personal combat to prove your guilt or innocence by blood and claw in the ways of our people.
Coward and weakling, take your toys, your drones, your bombs and your pretty armour, and dare to face your King.
If anyone holds any Oscorp stock, you may want to get your sell order in before the New York Stock Exchange opens and puts a halt on trading. It’s worth will fall faster than the coward’s corpse.”
Karen hit stop and shut her phone off before J Jonah Jameson’s number could finish coming up on her incoming screen. He would be livid, but exclusive trumped objectionable once Robbie gave him the morning numbers, so she would wait and see.
“Aren’t you worried about a thousand superheroes waiting to stomp you flat when you show up?” Karen asked, because this was New York and that was totally possible.
Goblin King laughed.
“I sent out invitations. There are formalities to these sorts of things. I have called to challenge. I have pronounced judgement as my right as Goblin King. There are powers in this world that are bound by such laws and respect them.”
…........
At the Latverian Embassy, a woman in her best formal attire, a known Hetaireia who had been employed by the embassy at several of their reception arrived with a formal letter sealed in wax with the thorn ring of the Goblin King upon it.
Doom broke the seal and looked. His chief minister looked at him in inquiry.
“Someone begs a boon My Lord?” His servant asks.
“There is a challenge. The Goblin King will be calling out that cur on the bat glider who caused the disturbance out front. Doom has been invited to send an observer, that he may judge for himself if justice has been done.”
Hesitating, the servant gulped, then asked. “Will you send a Doom bot milord?”
Shaking his mighty head, the sovereign of Latveria simply stated.
“When a king asks another king to witness his judgement upon one of his own for transgressions that affect the honour of both kingdoms, you do not send a servant. Doom has been asked to judge, Doom will judge.”
…....
At a mansion across town, a boy stood before a warded door as an Asian opened it. Wong looked upon the boy and sniffed.
“Your glamours will not work here boy. We are sorcerers beyond your master’s power. What fairy mischief do you bring to my door.”
The boy held out a letter, sealed in blood infused wax, marked with the circle of black thorns, it fairly reeked of Unseelie fey magic. Casting a quick containment spell, Wong took the letter and looked at the boy.
“My master said to wait for a response.”
Wong gestured the boy to a settee by the door, and activated the containment wards around it. They boy picked up his phone and resumed a paused game as Wong approached the sanctum.
Dr Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, Sorcerer Supreme observed Wong holding an evelope to him.
Exchanging arched eyebrows, Dr Strange broke the seal and the magic inside recognized the power of the Eye of Amagato and yielded its secrets to the Sorcerer.
“It seems I have been invited by the nephew of Morgan Le Fay, the Goblin King, to witness the judgement upon the Green Goblin for the murder of innocent humans. Is that a thing, Wong?”
Wong shrugged. “Fairies have their own rules, as do we Stephen. We do not allow others to interfere when we judge one of our own.”
Stephen grimaced, then spoke aloud, “The nephew of Morgan Le Fey, the Goblin King.”
Both Wong and Stephen felt the mana in the air warp itself into the black thorns of the Unseelie goblins, from which a single blood red rose bloomed. A drop of actual blood fell from the rose, to land upon the parchment invitation.
Dr Strange sighed. “Well that is Morgan Le Fey all right. She admits his claim, which means one of us has to go. A bit of a waste of time. I mean, goblins. Not much of a threat. Strange mused. “That would explain the surges of blood magic, and inhuman magic we keep getting lately.
Wong massaged his face. “Stephen, have I mentioned before that playing those games and watching those anime rot your brain? The Tengu taught the ninja, the goblins were what the greatest heroes in legend faced off against, they were what the Unseelie sent to bring down immortal sorcerers. I think for your education, you should observe this fight for yourself.”
Dr Strange sighed. “I guess it will have to be full dress?” Wong simply snorted. He waited while Dr Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme used magic older than this world to summon his RSVP cards from wherever he lost them last. Scrawling out a barely acceptable response, he hnded it off to the sighing Wong to pass along.
…...
At a warehouse not far from the docks, a blind man sat holding a letter. He felt the seal. His mystic senses read its contents as the thorns of the seal cut his thumb and the words simply flowed into him.
A woman clad in skin tight red leathers dropped soundlessly to the floor in front of him. A half dozen of his Chaste mystic assassins tried to close on her but three of them were disabled before they could hear Sticks mutter his quiet “Stand down before she breaks one of you.”
The blind man held up his letter. “You get one?”
Elektra held up her own, and shrugged.
“Do you know him?” Sticks asked.
“I know Matt doesn’t like him. He is too quick to kill.” Both Sticks and Elektra smiled.
“I know the Hand he killed don’t come back. They stopped sending teams after him.” Elektra said.
Sticks stroked his chin. “Tengu hey, a real honest to Avalon goblin?”
Elektra fingered her sai, and let the memory of the darkness that clung to him replay in her mind.
“Goblin yes, and something else. Maybe less human. He calls himself Goblin King, and maybe he means it.” Elektra grimaced. She liked fighting, she liked killing, she did not like the eldritch senses Stick taught her to use, did not like what threated to wake in her soul every time such power touched her. She didn’t like magic, but magic liked her.
Sticks rose, and Elektra moved to his flank. “So we are going?” She asked.
“Just you and me. We leave Matty and the kids behind. This one is for grown-ups only.”