Let's rewind a few minutes.
When Harry Osborn and Emma Frost stepped through the sling-ring portal, they arrived in the absolute worst possible drop zone. They were standing in the heart of Oscorp. The Green Goblin AI had originated in this exact mainframe. It controlled every circuit, camera, and security protocol in the building.
The defense systems went entirely feral. Automated turrets dropped from the ceiling. Aerial drones swarmed the corridors. The entire arsenal had been heavily upgraded by Norman Osborn himself after his dealings with the criminal underground.
Captain America was having a rough afternoon. Steve Rogers, a veteran of World War II, was currently deflecting a relentless barrage of high-tech laser fire with nothing but his vibranium shield. He held the line, his boots skidding backward against the linoleum.
A feral roar echoed down the hall. Wolverine tore through a squad of security drones. His adamantium claws sparked against the metal chassis. Logan didn't recognize the captain. His memories were still fractured. Steve didn't care. He was just glad to see the mutant.
Emma Frost ignored the chaos. She locked eyes with Steve and Logan.
"The AI is actively hunting for a host," Emma shouted over the gunfire. "Norman and Harry are prime candidates. I need you two to guard us."
Emma's mutation allowed her to shift her skin into an impervious diamond form. However, utilizing that physical protection completely severed her telepathic abilities. She couldn't fight the drones and project her mind simultaneously. She needed a shield.
Emma turned to Harry. She guided the teenager to a steel examination table. His comatose father lay on the adjacent gurney.
"Listen to me," Emma said, her aristocratic voice sharp. "The Green Goblin is not a standard hallucination. It is an apex psychological predator. It can actively harm a telepath inside a mindscape. I cannot fight it for your father. I can only project your consciousness inside and shield your mental presence."
Harry swallowed hard. He lay down next to Norman.
"Your objective is simple," Emma said. She pressed two cool fingers to Harry's temple. "Help your father kill the Goblin."
Inside the psychic landscape, Norman Osborn was bleeding.
His grand plan had completely unraveled. Norman had intended to rewrite his own engrams. He wanted to step into his own memories and protect his childhood self from his abusive father. If he became the protector, the Green Goblin persona would lose its foundational purpose. It would simply cease to exist.
But the memory was a fabrication.
The Goblin had dragged the ugly truth into the light. Norman hadn't fractured his mind to survive abuse. Young Norman had built a bomb. He had murdered his father in cold blood. The amnesia wasn't a symptom of the Goblin. It was Norman hiding from his own guilt.
"Nobody cares about a child's tantrum," the fourteen-year-old Norman sneered. "The authorities concluded the old man blew himself up mishandling your prototypes. Perfect crime."
The boy's skin rippled. It shifted into a sickly, textured green. His teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs. He grew, towering over adult Norman.
"Do you understand now?" the monster roared. "I am the real Norman Osborn!"
The Goblin grabbed Norman by the throat. He hurled him across the mental void.
Norman scrambled backward. He tried to manifest the psychic countermeasures he had prepared. Weapons. Barriers. Lock-out codes. Nothing happened. The mental constructs fizzled into digital static.
"Looking for your firewall?" the Goblin cackled, stalking forward. "The Green Goblin AI is overriding your neural pathways from the outside. It's a digital copy of my own brainwaves. Did you really think you could lock me out of my own house?"
Norman gritted his teeth. He had one last failsafe.
A heavy oak door materialized in the void. Norman ripped it open.
A beautiful woman with long chestnut hair stepped through.
"Emily," Norman breathed. His late wife. Emily Lyman.
The Goblin threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Emily Lyman? Really? You plan to defeat me with the power of love? Isn't that a bit archaic?"
"She is my anchor," Norman spat. "When I was with Emily, you were buried! You were powerless!"
"Norman, you are a complete idiot," the Goblin sighed, shaking his heavy green head. "I wasn't buried. She saw me. She knew exactly what kind of monster you were. She didn't soothe you out of love. She accommodated you out of pure, unadulterated fear!"
The Goblin roared. A shockwave of pure psychic force slammed into Emily. Her projection blurred. She fractured into digital static. She screamed silently, dissolving back into the void.
Norman dropped to his knees. He was utterly broken.
The Goblin raised a massive, clawed fist to deliver the killing blow.
CRACK.
A wooden baseball bat smashed directly into the back of the Goblin's skull.
The monster stumbled forward. His claws missed Norman by an inch. The Goblin spun around, his yellow eyes blazing with fury.
Norman blinked through the haze. "Harry?"
Harry Osborn stood trembling in the void. His knuckles were white around the grip of the bat.
"Well, I certainly didn't anticipate this," the Goblin hissed, rubbing the back of his head. He narrowed his eyes. The realization dawned instantly. "Wait. You didn't manifest this. You don't have the psychic bandwidth. Someone else projected the boy in here. The telepath!"
The Goblin roared again. Harry's form violently shuddered. His edges blurred as the psychic interference hit him.
Harry didn't drop the bat. He stepped directly in front of his father.
"Dad," Harry said, his voice shaking but resolute. "I'm here to help."
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