'Ahahahahahahaha!'
The voice echoed through Harry's mind as he slowly regained consciousness, groggy from his unwillful sleep. He stood up slowly, his body aching from its transformation, and opened the door of the chamber.
He started to walk toward the Goblin suit, surveying the equipment around him. But as he reached to open the case, he noticed another one, covered with a white sheet. Curious, he pulled it off.
There in the case was a second Goblin suit, different than the one his father had worn. Though the torso of the suit was very similar, it was a few shades of green darker. A purple bag, so dark it was nearly black, was draped across it, obviously for storing weapons not intended for the glider.
The arms and legs were also a bit different. Round metal spikes adorned the tops of the hands, four on each, designed to add pain to a blow but not to peirce the skin. The boots began just below the knee, made especially to fit into the glider it was meant for, its tips slightly pointed to make a kick break ribs easily.
The mask was like nothing Harry had seen before, not in his father's collection, nor anywhere else; it was made of a flexable material with yellow, glowing eye-peices, the 'skin' a shade of green matching the rest of the suit, it's expression somewhere between a laugh and a menacing glare that would make grown men shake from fright. That was, after all, its intention.
Finishing the suit was a long purple cloak, so dark that only direct light would show that it wasn't black, its hood casting dark shadows over the mask. Harry liked this suit much better.
He opened the back of the case and removed it from the stand. Walking toward the glider that matched it, he began to put the suit on in peices. It was actually comfortable, with an inner layer of rubber beneath the armor and around the elbows and knees, allowing for maximum rotation and movement.
He left the mask until last, holding it in one hand as he pressed a button one the arm of the suit, and the glider rose off of its stand, hovering just above the ground in front of him. Harry strapped himself in.
He flew around the room once tentitively, then again, faster, until it became familiar; his heightened senses reacted in time with the glider, and flying it seemed as natural as walking. He stopped in front of the shelves of pumkin bombs and put as many as he could fit into his bag.
After checking to make sure that the glider's guns were loaded, he flew into the study, where the balcony doors stood open as he had left them. At last, he lifted the mask over his head, a perfect fit. Harry's subconscious could not fight back as he prepared himself for what he needed to do, then flew out of the balcony doors toward the hospital.
A few people on the street below screamed as he appeared over them, instantly reaching for their cell phones but stayed rooted in place. Harry let out a loud, psychotic cackle as he neared the hospital, and crashed through the window of the floor he had been on.
Everyone cried out in alarm, most of them running toward the exit, but Harry beat them there. He spotted a metal railing along the wall and ripped it out, threading it through the pull-open door handles and bent it around into a knot, effectively trapping everyone inside.
That done, he went directly to the psychiatrists office, pushing open the door with one hand. Dr. MacClean jumped out of his chair, backing up against the wall, terrified.
"What do you want?," he asked as Harry circled around the desk, then grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off the ground, turning him toward the computer.
"Harry Osborn's file. Open it," Harry commanded harshly, in a voice he barely recognized as his own. The doctor did so.
"Change it to say that he was dischraged yesterday afternoon," he continued. The doctor's hands shook, mispelling everything, unable to type.
"Do it!," Harry ordered, impatient.
The doctor forced himself to slow down, back-spacing and filling in the requested date. He saved the file, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Before the doctor could protest or plead with him, Harry hit him hard across the face, breaking his cheek bones and knocking him into unconsciousness.
He flew back out into the main area, removing a pumkin bomb from his bag. But this one was special, filled with enough explosive properties to level the building. He hesitated, using what little control he had left to try to stop himself. He didn't want to do this. So many innocent people would die.
'They don't matter, Harry. None of them matter. If they live, you'll pay the price. The police will hunt you down, and eventually, they'll catch you. Your life will be ruined,' the voice reminded him.
It was true. There was no other option. Harry took a deep breath as he looked at the chaos around him, strengthening his resolve. He needed to do this. For his father. For himself.
Activating the bomb, he threw it at the door as he flew out the window. It rolled a few feet, the light blinking.
It exploded just as Harry reached the end of the block, completely obliterating the hospital, and everyone inside.