(Hob)Goblin World

Everything was just falling into place so perfectly! Clear criminal record, meeting with the government, now this! Falling out of the sky might've just been the greatest thing to happen in Roderick Kingsley's entire life. Currently, he was preparing for what appeared to be some form of festival. His Hobgoblin mask was half over his hair, and the hood of his cloak was down. He held a board in his right hand, with a checklist over it. It was late in the evening, past midnight on the streets of the big apple. He was directing a troupe of goons, each wearing varied goblin masks, some grinning, some frowning, some even had hair. They'd set up a small wooden stage, with colored lines of small triangular banners, and one large banner which had the title "Goblin Town" haphazardly painted to its surface. With the stage having appeared to be set, the Grinning Goblin Number Two tossed aside his clipboard and brought his mask and hood over his face. Hand glided his boots across the wood. In front of him, was an audience of other "Goblins" (most of which were paid off to attend). Behind him, were four figures on their knees, bound, and hooded. They were bounties which he intended on bringing in.... Of coarse, he first had plans of making use of them whilst they were there.... Several "Goblins" from the crowd began blasting horns, a fiddler to his right began strumming, and other "Goblins" bashed trash cans and other items for percussion. Kingsley smirked, and began with a chuckle....



A pair of "Goblins" wheeled in a mobile table, with various weapons and items upon it, and one handed Kingsley a baseball bat. They ripped the hoods off his bounties, and snickered maliciously. "Batter and beat! Make 'em stammer and squeak!" Kingsley took the baseball bat, and forced a collision between it, and the third bounty's face. He was a teenager, and some wannabe vigilante with water powers. Kingsley then made a second collision to his teeth. Both of which were at the "beat" and the "squeak" of Kingsley's tune. Blood gushed from his lips, and about six bloodied teeth were knocked to the wood, with the rest of his mouth an oily red mass of crimson teeth and gums. Kingsley tossed the bat aside, looked to the air and widened his arms. "Pound! Pound!...."



His words echoed across the city vast expanse of skyscrapers and pollution of New York City. Amplified by a microphone attached to his costume, and amplifiers which sent his words spanking miles away. The Goblin chorus danced and pranced within the audience, jumping and giggling out with Kingsley "You go, my lad!! Ho ho, my lad!!"

"Down, down, down in Goblin Toooown~" The Hobgoblin sunk dramatically and pointed below the earth for emphasis "Down, down, down, in Goblin Tooooown~"" The Goblin chorus echoed his words, clapping their arms together and bashing their feet to the floor.



The "Goblin" fiddler strummed against his violin, and Kingsley slithered by his second victim. Perhaps the youngest looking, and whom received the least of his beatings. He simply sang to the child's left and right, then shoved his face to the floor. Giving him one final kick to the gut before carrying on "Batter, jabber, whip and hammer! Hoooooooo!"

"You, go my lad! Ho, ho! my lad!" Just as Kingsley Prophesied, his "Goblins" laughed and they bleated hideously. "Down, down, down to Goblin Toooooown~" Kingsley clapped and he slid across towards his next victim. His "Goblin" chorus jumping, twirling, and bashing along to the festival. "Down, down, down to Goblin Tooooooown~" One of his "Goblins" on stage brought Kingsley over a hammer as he continued. "Hammer and tongs!" the Hobgoblin smashed said hammer at his fourth victim's hand. He was older then the rest, middle aged, a bit of grey in his hair. Looked like a family man. His bone crackled under the skin, and he screamed out into the air. Another "Goblin" handed Kingsley a pair of tongs, to which he took to the man's tooth with a yank. Blood spattered upon the wood, and he gave another ear-piercing shriek. "Knocker and.... Gongs!"

"Ye' won't last long at the end of my prong!" Kingsley waved the bloody tongues out triumphantly to his "Goblin" horde. They went out in an uproar of cheering and laughter. Kingsley then took the tongues, and smashed it across his final victim's skull. He fell to the ground instantly, and the horde cheered. "Clash, crash, crush and smash!
Bang, break, shiver and shake!" The Hobgoblin tossed the tongues aside, and brought his hands to the air dramatically.... Hopefully his noise pollution was working.... "You can yell it and yelp, but there ain't no help! Pound pound far undergrooound....Down, down, down in Goblin Toooooown~"

Spider-Man's arrival startled many of the greedy goblin's cohorts and crooks. The majority of this once vast horde of twisted, grinning, scaly masks scattered almost immediately. Whatever Kingsley had promised them clearly wasn't enough for this. The few devious goblin goons which remained appeared more than ready for a brawl with the web slinger. A sea of deranged grins armed with rusty pipes and chain whips maliciously ogled and gawked at the spectacular wall-crawler with blood thirsty intent. The ring leader of the crowd, with perhaps the most hideous and grotesque mask of them all, gazed upon the spider with an aura of manic delight. The greasy sleazeball fanged grin curling on his scaled mask was far too genuine. This wasn't a venture like most ventures, some get rich quick scheme by the deranged and maniacal goblin prince. This, was a scheme of revenge. He had no real machinations in achieving this truthfully, outside of gloating over his newfound prestige and position. It was a spur of the moment plan, not particularly well thought out, but one that thus far had been succeeding to his satisfaction. All he could do was cackle. It was a recognizable cackle, one unlike his predecessor. Norman's cackle was filled with mania and madness. Kingsley's was smoother, a sleazy, greasy, and slick cackle which oozed in malice. Not the laugh of a deranged serial murderor, but one arguably far worse. A white collar cackle, a conman and a crook's, that sort uttered by only the slimiest of New York politicians. Twas recognizably, the laugh of Roderick Kingsley. "Eh-heh-heh-hah-hah! Hah-ha-hah-hah-hah-hah!" The web slinger had already correctly deduced that this was in fact, old man Kingsley, yet this malicious chortle could only confirm what was blatantly obvious. Nay, none of the other hack goblins had the charisma, the showmanship, and sharp wit of this corporate conman. Yes, he was proud of this, despite the webslinger's irksome quips. In his egomania, Kingsley would soon boast to any colleagues he'd meet soon after of this. How Spider-Man so easily recognized the raw talent before him. Just seeing his rival right there, right in strangling distance... This was enough to bring copious levels of glee, even putting his ego aside (an impossible task for the likes of Roderick Kingsley). "Oh-ho-ho, Spider-Man... I could just throttle you, I'm so happy!!"

"Let me cut to the chase here, kid..... Heh-heh-hah-hah-haaaaaaaaah!" There was a poorly masked glee in what he was saying. Every venemous word was seething in unimaginable levels of pride. "Spider-Man, by order of the U.S. Government... You're under arrest! Hah-hah-hah-hah-haaaaaah!" Orange gloves hoisted up a pair of specialized handcuffs. There was glee in his fiery red eyes like no other, an endless flame of pride, and a tinge of malicious delight in his voice. The probable shock expressed by the wall crawler was all too gratifying. Kingsley could only imagine the horrified expression under that mask... Was it fear? Jittery nerves of an unknown future? Perhaps it was awe? Shock that Roderick Kingsley, of all rogues, was the one to finally put an end to the mighty Spider-Man! Not Osborn! Not Otto! Nay, it was the Hobgoblin that put an end to this irksome little spider. The bounty on his head was lovely, but... This was the only job Kingsley was willing to do for free. Yet, he didn't want this triumphant exhilarating moment to end! Nooooo, he wished to savour it... Document it, catalogue and date it. Hell, why not let a view others see it for themselves? The look on Electro's face would be priceless. "Oh what the heck! One last monologue, for old times sake!" this would be his proudest of monologues (and he did have quite a few). He snapped his fingers, and on command a member of his goblin gang pulled out a smartphone to document this fateful encounter. "See, these twerps here... Buncha Neo rascals ain'tcha buckeroos?" He gestured towards his band of hostages. All four of which shivered and shuttered, half couldn't even look up at their captor. The eldest in the group, the aforementioned middle aged man, spat out his gag and spoke up. "Please! I've got kids!" the hostage pleaded, and Hobgoblin frowned. With a sharp glance towards the poor fool, he stomped over like a petulant child "Aaaaaaaaah, shaddup!" He took a bat from one of his cohorts and violently poked it against the captive's forehead "Can't do the time...." Kingsley raised said bat to the air "Don't do the crime! Hehhehhehheh!" Hobgoblin took a swing at the captive, whom flinched immediately. The weapon did not collide with his face however, instead hovering but a mere inches away. Hobgoblin's own crude method of psychological warfare "Hehhehhahhahhah!" Giggling maniacally, Hobgoblin tossed the bat aside, turning once more to the spectacular hero, approaching with the confidence and charisma of a southern gentleman "Yes sir! I'm under federal contract to round up these rascals! I'm one of the Feds now, Spider-Man! Heh-heh-hah-hah-haaaah!" his rival likely had an infinite amount of questions running through his head, and Hobgoblin would be quite glad to answer them. Any reason to talk about himself was a victory in his book. "Ya see, kid... It's like this..."

"New world ~ new me!" His elaboration at first was a bit vague, but there was a whole speech he'd rehearsed a thousand times over. Everything about this moment needed to be perfect after all. "New world ~ new clean record..." He giggled deviously at the thought. Everything, all his past sins instantly wiped away. He was born Catholic, so his sainted mother would've called this a godsend. His luck must have been truely awe inspiring for something so magical to happen to him. Sure, he was without his fortunes. But it wasn't like he could use them on his world. Besides, he had a few schemes of his own for an even bigger corporate empire. "So, I've taken this golden opportunity to rebrand my name and image" Hobgoblin tugged at the rubber of his mask for emphasis on his point. His scales stretched and his fanged grin was unnaturally widened. All the while the red of his eyes were unfaltered, staring directly into the white of his rival's mask.



"No longer am I Hobgoblin, the cackling money grubbing sociopath! Now, I'm Hobgoblin, cackling money grubbing sociopathic superhero for hire! Aaaaaaahahhahhaaaaaaah!" He cackled with no small amount of amour, reaching into the confines of his flowing orange cape. He pulled out his wallet, and proudly presented before him a shimmering badge with the name Roderick Kingsley molded into it. Pocketing his wallet once more (he didn't want any of his ghoulish goons to grab ahold of his credit cards after all), he giggled to himself, reaching into his cape a second time and pulling out an orange hard covered autobiography "It's all highlighted in my upcoming book: From Kingsley to King: A Hobgoblin Story!" He was far from above shameless corporate plugins. Even if he was advertising to his enemies, the markets the market. All money is green after all, no matter where it comes from. "Here, have a copy. Maybe you could preach the good word in prison! Hee-hee-hah-hah-hah-haaaaah!" Under normal circumstances, Kingsley would never have simply handed off free merchandise. But this was more a taunt. He wasn't just throwing away money. No, he was waving his own success in Spider-Man's face. The grinning lime mask on the front cover was meant to haunt his rival for centuries to come. All his fortunes, all his fame, all his glory, as Spider-Man was to ROT in mediocrity. This simple gesture of lobbing a book in Spider-Man's face was a foul gesture all too accustom to the goblin of greed. His goons all giggled at the childishly sinister act, Hobgoblin had almost forgotten they were there. "Oh right! And these goofballs.... My deputized posse! I can deal with the odd Neo 'er two... But you.... You're special! Hehhehhehheh! I needed a few extra faces for this one... Hey! Consider it a compliment! You're just so special, that I need expulge some petty cash just to getcha!" As if on cue, members of the goblin audience slowly began to ascend the stage's steps. A legion of roughly thirty mangled grotesque and scaly faces slowly stepping up, matting rusty pipes against their hands, dragging chain whips across the wood, or simply raising up their dukes. Hobgoblin's grin went wider than ever. "If there was anything that you took away from this, Spider-Man... It's that now I'm the superhero, and you're the criminal.... Heh-heh-heh-heh-hah-hah..."