I had to unfortunately abandon this one because of plot changes in the current thing making most of this impossible to continue. sucks.

roderick stared blankly at nothing, trying to hide the distress on his face with a thin guise of anger. norman shuddered, limping toward his glider. "hey- hey! wait up for just.. just a damn second!" kingsley called out, stopping norman in his tracks, "what, shows over, no more heroics? ive got no way home, and no way to call anyone since that harlot dragged me here while i was hardly lucid, asshole!"
norman sighed, turning to face him.
"alright."
" 'alright'?"
"where's your place?"

[...]

the two stood outside the apartment building entrance, maintaining the same silence they had on the trip over.

"if you ever.. want to get out of.. this. talk to me, or call my people or reach me, i dont care how. im sick of dealing with goblins, having one less in business would be helpful to say the least."

"I dont want your rehab, osborn." he looked away "but.. i don't want to 'owe you' anything for this little favor, so come in. have a drink or ill pay you back for collateral and then neither of us owe eachother anything and we can both continue with our lives." kingsley motioned to the door, and though it was an inviting gesture it really didnt feel like a request.

"deal." osborn chuckled, looking at his watch as he stepped inside the building.

through the halls and in the elevator, the tension between them likely could have been cut with a knife, though was notably so brittle the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling almost broke it anyway.
roderick opened the door to his apartment, which was surprisingly unlocked.

norman looked around at the painfully modern white furniture that infected the house, noting that all the furniture had the scent of freshly manufactured almost-plastic leather.

"sit down, i'll make coffee."

"this your place?"

"one of 'em." he insinuated, opening one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

as norman waited for kingsley to come back over, the intoxicatingly bland minimalist lounge room worked well at keeping his mind off of kafka.

kingsley set a cup gently on the coffee table in front of norman, the warmth radiating from it making the room feel friendlier.

"sorry about the dust on the counter, god knows ive hardly been present in my own body let alone in my apartment the past few... what has it been, months?." he leant back in the side of the couch opposite to norman.
"since we talked last, yeah. you've been out that long?" he took a sip of the coffee, the familiar taste making his chest tighten a little.

"seems so."

"doing.. what?"

"sleeping, practically. unless the hobgoblin's been around more often, in which case, probably that." his original intention of passing his quip off as a joke fell flat, hardly chased with disheveled silence "jesus..." norman averted his gaze

"it isnt that bad, osborn. ....god, ive never even seen that look on you before." his dry laugh failed to be of any consolation.

"no, it's .. you're right. hell, she's been fucking around with me the past few months, too. I didn't even connect the dots to notice that she would've been behind an incident that long ago. not to say that it wouldve been very hard, I mean, your response to Spiderman pointing out that you were present the first time the hobgoblin showed up was 'i was?'. it still amazes me that neither of us found that alarming at all." Norman laughed, causing kingsley to drop the scowl on his face

"is that what I said? I think if I was that out-of-it in any other situation, I'd prefer to be put down." he shot back, his grin pleasant rather than hateful, devoid of it's usual maliciousness. 

"to be fair, I was in no condition to be there either, I was on enough painkillers to make anyone else forget their own name, and I didn't even think about why Leeds was there, I just beat into him until someone physically pulled me off him. I felt so bad about it, the least I could do was pay for his lawyer."
"what were you even doing there that night? I heard Spiderman was beaten half to death and then 'the gold goblin' just.. showed up."

"spider-man's suit at the time was technically oscorp property. someone, I'm guessing kafka, dropped my laptop off at the hospital and I saw what was happening through his bodycam."

"well, youre a better man than i am. i wouldve just let us do eachother in. 3 birds with one moment of inaction, sounds like a pretty decent deal to me."

"unsurprisingly, i dont see it that way these days. felt more like a death match than a spectator sport." 

roderick looked away,  his face subtly scrunching in disgust before going blank in thought, "wait," he put his cup down, "why would kafka purposely thwart her own plan? she could've had him killed if she didnt drop that laptop to you."
"im guessing she thought that if i got back on a glider it'd be a one way ticket back to being a goblin" he stared somberly at his reflection in the cup, "right idea, wrong goblin." he mumbled

"something like that.."

norman's eyes drifted towards his watch, causing him to jerk forward, "oh, my god, is that what time it is? i have to get home, im sure somebody thinks im dead by now."

"that late?" he checked his own watch and nodded, "hmm. alright."

"thanks for the coffee," he blurted out, already out the door.

a slam rang throughout the apartment, the door caught by the breeze that circulated the halls.

"see you around, osborn."
[...]
this'll be a hell of a handful to explain if someone asks about it, ill give him that. 'hey norman, where've you been?' 'great question pete, ive just been having a coffee break with the hobgoblin, thanks for asking!' jesus, what even was that? if i was anything of a man i wouldve just said "consider it a favor" and been out the door!  how does he do that, how does he just get me to "chat" like that before i even get a chance to ask something relevant? all signs point toward 'scheme', but if it was, it'd be a convoluted one, which isnt exactly his theme. …though.. if he felt he needed to repay a favor, it means he considers us even and i can skip the apology, thank god.

…alright.
alright.
this is good. i can work with this.

[...] 
"UNNAMED SUPERVILLAIN -NEVER SEEN BEFORE- ACTIVE ROBBERY"
the message flashes across the news channel, bordering the helicopter footage of the scene, norman darts across the room, still adjusting his helmet as hops onto his glider- already set in motion. he tore across the sky, the wind resistance beating hard against his unbothered body.

"what's the situation over there?" norman spoke coolly through his intercom.

"im hardly in the area, but norah's on it and she says he's got some serious gadgets" peter's voice rattled, flushed out by the traffic from the surrounding area.
"nobody knows who this guy is?"
"he calls himself redline, but until now that name's virtually unheard of."

"i know that m.o. stay out of it for now, i think ive got this." norman switched off his comm, crouching as his glider lowered, bowling straight into the scene. as his glider swept through the building, he snatched the armor-clad criminal by the scruff.

"alright, buddy," norman barked, "what do you think youre here for, hm?"

"money, obviously" the thickly accented new-yorker chuckled through his helmet, "dumbass"

"the gadgets, genius! who gave them to you? youre 'obviously' not here on your own steam, you look to me like another punk who got given a medium- like a toddler with a pistol."

"why should i tell you, grampa war-crimes?" redline kicked his legs around to throw his weight and then topped it by swinging a hefty throw into norman's gut, causing norman to drop him.
"because," he hopped off his glider, plunging his hand to grab the clunky red helmet, head-and-all, throwing it into his knee. "if youre serving time either way, im sure you'd prefer to do it without a segmental fracture to the skull" he snarled, throwing him against a wall.

"shit, shit! fine! i havent got a fucking clue who he is, but he didnt just sell me the gadgets- he sold me the name and the rights to it, everything! listen, man if i dont get him his cut, he'll sic one of his goblin guys on me, i swear!" he wailed, holding his hand's well out of norman's way

"oh for-" his fingers crunched the fabric of redline's shirt between them, pulling him off the wall and dragging him along the floor to the exit. "listen. if you tell them what you just told me, you'll be protected as long as you tell them everything you know. hell, if you offer something useful you might get a reduced sentence."

"sentence? like.. like jail? i cant go to jail!"

"tough shit." norman tossed him at the ground outside where the police had been stationed and got on his glider, beginning to flee already.

the sounds of the bustling news anchors trying to clip redline getting his rights read to him became incomprehensible as a sharp ringing made itself apparent in norman's head

"...I.. what?"

"i said 'is everything ok over there, norah said you just came out.'" the voice over the comm crackled

yes, peter, i just found out that good ol' roddy is not only back in the villain business, but under harsher anonymity as well!  everything is absolutely hunky-dory and definitely not because i let him off scot-free after finding him brain-dead under another goblin's control!

"absolutely. no collateral, the guy's just a kid with an improvised suit and sticky fingers. real non-event." he gritted his teeth, "i have to go. thanks for checking in. bye." he could hardly unclench his fist to reach the button on his helmet, let alone maintain balance the way back to his warehouse. 

norman strutted into his warehouse, crying out as he threw his helmet to the floor,

"oh Kingsley, if you think you can pull one over on me while you are in MY sole jurisdiction, you've got another thing coming." he mumbled to himself, pulling up kingsley's file on his large screen, baring his teeth to no-one. "'no activity' my ass" he growled, reading off the display, "he's going all out this time. he knows ill find him if he doesn't. sneaky bastard." Norman dialled a button combination on his console, bringing up a call menu as he scoured through an address list corresponding to the map display on his screen.

"yes Mr Osborn?" the older voice on the other side responded

"barb, hi, I need a favor."

"um.. yes?"

"I need you to call me about every medium-range offense you can. set the monitor to constantly scan for d/c-listers. I'm talking real low-level: nobodies with supersuits committing misdemeanors, anyone with a mask trying to pull off a scheme with any sort of financial profit, I really mean anything"

"right away. can I.. ask why?" she piped up meekly

"what can I say? I need something to do." Norman smiled, hanging up.

the display on the screen highlighted a familiar apartment building mid-manhattan

'one of em', huh? worth taking a gander at, i suppose. he swiped his helmet off the floor and picked up his glider as he jogged past. we've done this dance a thousand times, roddy. but this time im getting your attention even if i have to weed you out from your lackeys that you so cowardly hide behind, no matter how many of them i have to put away. this time, we arent playing by the villains code of honor. we're playing by mine. norman grinned as he fled his warehouse.
[Kingsley's hideout - ???, New York]

the blue light from the monitor illuminated the room, the figure of the gold goblin creeping across the screen. kingsley leant forward in his seat, resting his head on his clasped hands.

"I should have known I couldn't keep him out of my business for long.  oh well, looks like we're back in business, huh norm?" he raised his drink, laughing

norman, oblivious, stormed through the camera-monitored halls of that apartment building he had been in not 3 months ago, weapons braced for altercation. once he completed the stretch of ever-passing doors, he wasted no time, kicking the unlocked door open and holding his hand in front of him, ready to fire from his wrist-mounted firearm.

...but to no avail. the apartment had already been gutted, devoid of the already minimal furniture it once kept. he scanned the room for some sort of trail to follow, but only found one thing. the only sign it had ever even been inhabited- a post-it note on the kitchen counter. 

come & get me, asshole!

- K

norman's face recoiled in fury, his teeth gritted as his face went a light pink. he tried to settle himself, but as he rolled his eyes, they were caught by a soft glint of light in the ceiling's corner.

roderick, in his selfish hubris, cant bare to set anything up if he cant watch my reaction, i see.

fool that he is.

"well, roddy, i have to say, i love what youve done with the place. certainly looks better than it did with all that eye-sore furniture, dont you think?" he said, slowly turning to face the poorly-concealed camera

roderick slammed his hands on his console, scrambling to activate his mic through the speaker in the surveillance device,

"flattering as you are, I didnt think you were here to see the new layout, so do you mind telling me why it is youre sticking your nose in places that arent yours?" norman stopped dead in his tracks as kingsley's voice snarled through the speaker, reconsidering his previous notion that for once, kingsley wouldn't go all out on his tech.

"well, it certainly wasnt for this little souvenir," he held up the hand-written note, "but the confirmation on my suspicions about what your lackey squealed to me was more than satisfactory." 

"well, congratulations for connecting the dots about as well as a blind toddler, and im sure it was very hard, but finding me is a whole new game. ill be waiting here for you, with a participation trophy or whatever it is youre trying to gain from this other than tearing down everything ive worked for. again."

"i wont need a prize, kingsley, the look on your face as they throw you in for good will be well enough." he smiled, pointing accusatorily at the camera.

kingsley chuckled in response, "like i said, participation trophy. but hey, if you enjoy chasing your own tail that much, who am i to stop you, hm? have fun running into dead ends for the next few months, goldie, because i assure you, when i play hard to get, i'm hard to get." he annunciated the last few words clearly.

"we'll see about that. im quite persistent, you know. bye-bye now" he finished in a sing-songy step, shattering the camera with a single shot.

"cocky son of a bitch." he chuckled quietly, spinning around and sauntering out of the apartment.

he stormed back through the halls, shooting every camera he spotted, merely to make a point. he kicked open the exit door and hopped on his glider, unbothered by the sudden flood of light and street noise as he put his helmet back on.

Hard to get, huh? norman pulled out the note as he got his glider up into the air,  a subtle smile appearing on his face as he watched the paper crinkle and blow in the breeze. Heh... he jolted, quickly shoving the note back in his pocket. Fucker. his arrogance is entertaining, really.

....

the days go, or rather, flash past, as running errands on standby becomes less of a habit and more of a way of life. Norman's Lead Board steadily grew larger, with each passing day marking some sort of intel slipping out the mouth of a shit-scared kid in one tacky suit or another attempting to rob something of equal relevance to a 7/11. Norman, sick of the delay brought by subtler notification methods, adopts the habit of keeping an earpiece in, constantly tuned to active incidents based on keywords. the days mutate into weeks, and slowly, the curve of new information begins to flatten, as every new encounter bares something to the effect of the same response:

"I dont know, man! he does all his shit remotely!"
"he made me pick up my gear from a drop-off point! I dont know where he is, all i know is he has a hell of a lot higher chance of killing me than you do."
"you think i care who he is? you ever hear the phrase 'dont bite the hand that feeds you'?"
"im not talking."
"either arrest me or dont, quit playing detective"

no matter how much these idiots lead on that they know, it all seems the same. kingsley knows as well as i do how to keep himself hidden, and what's worse, he's taught his pets to keep quiet.

smart man. i only wish i could see how every weak link that brings me closer to him frustrates him, how i would kill to witness him scramble to cover his tracks once more. nevertheless, in my distain for him, i allow some form of.. admiration.. for his ability to evade even me for this length of time.


norman readjusted his helmet on his way out the door, the same way he had for all these weeks. ringer, a c-list villain name not heard long since facing off with spider-woman, had been spotted loitering around unpatrolled areas with unregistered tech- a crime considered about as friendly as an unlicensed firearm. 

the cool afternoon breeze hardly made it through the twist of alleyways in the general district.
ringer nonchalantly rounded a corner, unable to so much as yelp as his throat was grabbed and he was sent into the perpendicular wall.

"youve been lingering an awful lot of time. you looking for something?" norman snarled, pressing his forearm against ringer's neck, fixing the rest of him to the wall with his leg.

"jesus, took you long enough. you know how long ive been trying to get your attention over here?" he raised one eyebrow, neglecting to acknowledge the forearm pressed against his neck.

norman paused in shocked silence, "well.." he stammered, "youve got it now, what do you want?"

"look, i made a mistake buying into kingsley's.. scheme. but he doesnt take kindly to ending contracts, so im stuck. i want him out as bad as you do, so im going to tell you once and once only where you'll find him."

"youre bluffing." norman snapped, "it'll be a trap and ill end up with my brains painted on the wall of whatever empty warehouse you lead me to." "im risking my own head to tell you this, so just hear me out." he hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

"...go on."
"he's dropping some gear to a new guy tomorrow night." his hand, still pinned to the wall, presented a small slip of paper between its fingers "im supposed to be watching him pick it up to make sure he pays up on down-payment. he usually shows to make sure the kid signs the contract and everything goes smoothly."

"just him?"

ringer shook his head, "him and a couple of his cowled lackeys. theyre not very smart, but theyre fast and armed to the teeth. theyre better for intimidation than they are in practice."

"what do you expect me to do? you cant seriously expect me to look the other way for you when kingsley gets taken in."

he flicked his head one way, and then the other. "show up, do what you need to do, and i'll accept any charge that comes to me as long as you testify on my behalf. got it?"

norman swiped the piece of paper and backed up a little, "i'll take a look." he jogged backwards, starting off again, "if anything happens, i know where to find you. and trust me, i will" he called, spinning around and sprinting around the corner.

"not even a 'thank you'..." ringer reflected.

norman slowed to a jog, slipping the strip of paper into his pocket. his knee jerked as he slammed his foot into the dumpster beside him, the wall turning gold from the light reflecting off his glider behind it. he slid it in front of him, pressing a button on his helmet to activate it.

the machine whirred to life, lifting off the ground and waiting in idle.
he retreated back to his place of hiding, eager to plan his next operation.
[...]
"alright!" kingsley cheered, shifting one leg on top of the other as he reclined back in his seat, "as of tomorrow, thats one more schmuck on the team. and who said good help is hard to find these days?" 
light beamed through the windows of the penthouse, illuminating the lavish room.

"dont you ever feel like youre exploiting these guys? i mean, most of em' are either young or just plain hopeless."  ringer fiddled with the accessories on his helmet.

"its called taking initiative. plus, it was either working for me, carting drugs for someone on half the salary, or some other form of illegitimate trade, whatever it is drop-outs fall back onto these days." whatever idea of charisma that remained with kingsley slowly turned into sleaze.

"yeah, but these kids are an easy grab. why spend all this time punching down?"

"ill tell you whats punching down, its osborn wasting his time trying to throw these kids in jail. think about it! im redirecting these low-lifes and keeping them out of trouble, and he's thrown them right into trouble just to spite me! he may look handsome and heroic in that new suit, but he's the same crooked man he's always been,"

"thats.. a point..."
"what, youre having second thoughts about this? dont tell me youre having divided loyalties, after all this time youve been rewarded for keeping quiet."

"'course not." he blurted, "it was just a thought. really." he tried to feign a smile

"good to hear." he lowered his voice to an intimidating purr, "you know too much to get out of this, anyway. you know that, right?" he glanced slyly at the two costumed men stationed at the door, and then back at ringer, holding his chin high.

"i-" the soft crackle of the electric grid embedded in the costume's gloves emanated from in front of the door. "of course i know. im not throwing away my loyalty streak for any new hero on the block. it was.. idiotic to even make it seem that way."

"good, good. just checking in. you know i am, i hate to do it, but everyone's against me these days, arent they?." his voice remained cool and soothing, but the way his dull eyes caught the light made ringer's hair stand on end. "god knows i dont want to have to train another one of you" 

"i get that. time consuming." he nodded

"i knew you'd understand." 

[...]

[7 AM]

norman stood before his dresser buttoning his shirt over his exposed chest, the fading cross-sectioned scar still sticking out in contrast to his pale skin. he hummed to himself as he threw his vest over the top of his blouse, covering the entire outfit with a coat to protect himself from the cold chill of the new york air.

9 pm tonight, kingsley makes a drop to one of the poor rookies he's roping into his scheme. everything is in place for me to intervene, and now all there is to do is wait.

i've always hated that part.
norman scrawled something on a sticky note, swiping the note off the pad and slapping it dead-center of the already cluttered board on his spare room wall.
the lettering, embossed with force into the note, shone black:

KINGSLEY LTD.

Norman wiped the smile off his face, pulling his collar up slightly and making his way to the door. his coat swayed and flicked with every eager step he took, he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

being this... giddy.. its unprofessional. this is a mission, not a hobby. its a standard sting operation, there really is no reason to be this anticipative. hell, ive still got a good 10 hours until im off my actual job anyway.

norman, practically skipping to the oscorp building a few blocks away, gritted his teeth in an attempt to stop his mouth from curling into a grin again.

[filler]


the new york night breeze fell soft on normans face as he idled on a the rooftop adjacent to the disheveled warehouse before him. he put on his helmet, the golden mask whirring as it brought up the necessary analytics of the area. he narrowed his eyes as he zoomed in on the hardly distinguishable figure of a scrawny young man waiting nervously in front of the warehouse as a handful of unmarked cars rolled in.  the door flipped open, and out stepped a handful of d-list guards in eyesore costumes, but who followed was what caught normans eye; the slender, hardbodied man in the hobgoblin attire, it was without a doubt roderick kingsley. norman took a few steps back for good measure, shortly before dashing towards the buildings edge, leaping off and allowing his glider, sweeping beneath him, to catch him.

he rocketed towards kingsley, waiting until his helmet gave him the "5 feet away" warning to dive onto him. as his body clashed into kingsley's he felt the weight behind the body dissipate, almost as if he had tackled nothing in the first place. he sat up kneeling on the floor as he desperately grasped the cowl in his hands, smoke billowing out from it's folds. he snatched the hardly visible note from the hood of the cowl as the smoke cleared.

behind you.

-K

"the hell-?" norman snarled, cut off as he was swept off his knees from behind, his helmet snatched off his head.

he kicked his legs, struggling as he tried to grab at the arm locking him into a chokehold,

"looking for me?" kingsley teased, a malicious grin crawling onto his face.

norman watched as the scrawny young man the meeting was intended for began to run, soon chased by one of kingsley's costumed goons.

"how did you-" norman growled, shooting a glance at Ringer, who was attempting to subdue the fleeing kid.

Ringer shrugged, seemingly just as confused as norman.
"our mutual friend redline told me he spotted you on the roof about a half hour early for our little rendezvous." roderick flexed his wiry but muscular arm, applying pressure to normans throat. norman desperately clawed at roderick's arm, reaching behind him to grab his face and shove a thumb into his eye, causing him to yelp and push him onto the floor by his shoulders. Kingsley pounced onto norman, pinning his arms behind him and slamming his head into the concrete. "what did i tell you?" kingsley snarled, "what did i tell you about getting in my way, hm? we could've gone our seperate ways, i wouldn't have even so much as looked in your direction ever again, but you had to seek me out didnt you?"
"youre insane if you think i was just going to leave you alone because you made me a coffee. youre a criminal, kingsley." norman's gauntlets, pinned between kingsley's hand and his own back, began to glow a scorching purple, catching on the hobgoblin's glove and giving norman a brief window to throw him off. kingsley hit the ground, throwing off his glove as norman slammed his hand onto his chest to hold him onto the floor.
"ge-get off me!" he wailed, trying to grab norman's face with his bare hand, failing to push him off.
norman, stunned by the sudden warmth, attempted to rip his hand off his face. kingsley took the opportunity to punch him in the chest while he was caught off guard, crawling out from underneath him and beginning to flee as he clutched his own throat. norman gasped, reaching towards kingsley disappearing around the corner before he collapsed.
he got up, stomping out the flaming glove on the ground and picking it up, the once yellow fabric now simply a tattered rag.

[...]

the steady stream of rushing hot water in the shower slowly fogged up the room. norman's belt clinked as he tossed it to the side, stripping down and placing his clothes in the basket next to the sink. he opened the shower door, stepping in and letting the door shut behind him. as the hot water washed over him, he attempted to make a start on washing himself, but his eyes drifted downwards. he cringed as he stared at himself. the hell?, he reflected, from combat? he had wished here was something else he could have possibly been worked up from, but there was nothing else it could have been, and this wasnt exactly a first, just a first in.. some time..
there isnt much else i can do but take care of this, shameful as it may be. 
he sighed and spat on his hand, leaning his left arm against the shower wall.
as he stroked at an unenthusiastic pace, he found himself overwhelmed, twitching as he grunted under his breath. the hot water beating against his back, he couldnt take it anymore and promptly quickened his pace. norman choked out a moan as his whole body tensed, spilling out onto the shower tiles in front of him.
he panted as he pressed his hand against the wall, catching his breath. the euphoria shortly there afterwards was indescribable, but fleeting. he slowly came to sobriety as he grimaced at the mess he had made on the wall. reaching for the detachable shower-head, he could muster but one thought.
....disgusting. he rinsed his body as the evidence slid off the tile and into the drain, he hoped to cleanse himself of the feeling he was left with, but to no avail. he stepped out of the shower and, though usually he would have tossed on a robe, dressed himself completely, slinking back to his room to stew in his thoughts.

at first, knowing him, holding him.. it felt like i had found a true sense of kinship. someone like me.. someone who could be better than me, and all i had to do was level with him. but slowly im consumed, the power that lies beneath his skin as i stroke it softly in his embrace starts to speak to me. i look at him and am left to wonder, how does a person contain so much potential? so much power? and the only conclusion i reach, wading around in my own thoughts, drenched and found wanting, is that he cant. he simply isnt human. i hold flesh in mine and he talks to me as if he is capable of some sort of higher thought or connection, but what is he really? a vessel. a weapon. the little intrinsic motivation he has is likely driven by the void itself, a natural measure put in place to produce some sort of drag. these thoughts i have, these reflections, i never would have imagined taking to heart that night i decided to sympathize with him, but what am i to do? why is it that when i speak to him i find myself pulling strings to make it last just a moment longer, and yet when i think of losing him, i feel nothing? i reach deep within myself to understand what it is that makes him so alluring, what it is that makes my blood rush with dopamine when i see him, and maybe even further and id hope to learn why it is im suddenly so indifferent when im without him, and yet whatever is there is hardly thick enough to produce a sensation as it slips through my fingers. as the months have passed me by, every day feels like a reset of the previous one, but something within me has been lost every time. every mission i see him fall miles past his own life, only to return, and yet every time he returns im almost as disappointed as i was to see him go. to be the reason he is killed, i find it almost... ontologically correct. an act of compassion, because if it wasnt me, then it would have been someone else. i tell myself this, but i know the only person that would finish the job is himself, and maybe thats what im afraid of. 

roderick sunk his body weight into norman, letting him play with his hair.
"are we going to make a habit of this?' norman asked, staring at the wall in front of him.
"maybe. i know im not sticking around to make sure we can keep doing this, but as long as im available... maybe."
"mm." norman could read others well enough to know that that was the answer to expect, but not well enough to know that the answer he got was less than fulfilling to himself.
"you arent going soft on me, are you osborn?" he rolled onto his back, still resting on norman but now looking up at him impatiently.
"obviously not."
"....but?"
"..but... for the first time in god knows how long, i find myself.. craving.."
"what?" kingsley seemed almost as mad as he was confused
"the likely explanation is that without violence i have no.. stimulation. i have nothing to aspire to, nothing to dismantle. so without it, all i do is.. yearn."
"for what?"
"what do you think, kingsley?"
"you want something to take apart. something to learn about, find the source of, destroy."
norman shook his head.
"i want this." he caressed kingsleys cheek. roderick reached up  to touch norman's hand on his face.
"what do you want me to say to that? you want me to lie and say i love you too? i dont love anything, norman, its not in me. all i have is... theft.. and creation, innovation."
"so innovate with me. join oscorp, or dont and just.. work on things with me. we need the help, you know." "so you can do what? use me to stave yourself off ripping your employee of the month's throat out? the straight and narrow is changing you, osborn, and its making you weak."
"you know thats not what im doing." norman snarled, his expression going dark
"do i? do i really?" kingsley sat up, picking up his belongings. "fuck you, norman. take the high road if you want but ive already told you its not for me. "

norman sat back in the plush sofa, glancing around kingsleys lavish apartment.
"the vinyl collection over there, the records. theres at least a hundred in there, i take it. whose even are they?" he leant forward, watching as kingsley stood up and walked over to the medium cabinet filled with labelled sections, decked with colorful album covers.
"a bit of everything, if im being honest. some classical, some jazz. i think theres a few contemporary hits in here. i like music too much to stick to a genre" he chuckled, flicking through a few. "whats your taste like? same as mine?"
"i dont listen to a lot of music, but when i do it’s usually classical or classic rock, if that’s what your taste is." 
"i guessed you'd have a taste for the finer music. 
"I've got to admit there is nothing better than to sit down and listen, maybe sip some alcohol and enjoy some randoms. Though you have given me an idea, Norman." he grabbed a bottle and a couple glasses from a cabinet stowed beside the record collection and poured some scotch into a glass, offering it to Norman "Do you like to drink?"
"occasionally." norman shrugged and stood up to take the glass from kingsleys hand. "you going to put something on?" kingsley nodded, rummaging through his cabinet before pulling out a cardboard-encased record, though the light made it difficult to make out the details of the black cover.
"This is perfect. The perfect record to listen to, a perfect record to drink to. I will say, this will turn out to be a good night." he put the record on and watched as it wobbled, starting up a song. 
the two sat and chatted, almost going through a bottle of red label just between the two of them. as they began to near the bottom of the bottle, words seemed to flow a little easier than before. as an admittedly unfamiliar song began to play on the small turntable sat between the two of them, norman walked over to kingsley before he could sit back down, holding his hands out just in front of kingsley's.
kingsley raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly, "..you want to dance, mr osborn?" he mocked
"hey, why not, right?"
roderick shrugged, deciding to humor him for just a moment. 
"ive never danced before, mind you." he sighed
"Well, I haven’t danced since high school, so we’re about in the same boat." he blissfully ignored the images of emily flashing through his head as the words on the record began to fade in. norman chuckled, "is this... weezer?" he smiled incredulously as the two began to sway lightly.
"mhm, Byzantine. from the black album. I like quite a few of their songs. I think their Green Album is one of the greatest albums of all time. As well as the Blue Album, which i would say is their most popular release." he awkwardly continued the dance.
"the green album is good from what i hear, but i think i could only name 'knockdown dragout', which is pretty good."
"Definitely. El Scorcho? A masterpiece." kingsley didnt really 'dance' so much as he tripped over his own feet in a somewhat rhythmic fashion. 
The two looked away from eachother as the romantic themes of the song started to set in, norman broke the silence, scrambling for anything else to comment on.
"it’s strange how this song doesn’t sound like a weezer song, but it’s still recognizable as one."
"I know right? I mean, Rivers Cuomo is such a mastermind. He can create a sound, that is recognizable and catchy yet original and unique. He is truly, a genius."
"hey, I didn’t know you knew much about the bands other than the songs. I’m impressed, I’m not too good with music trivia myself."
"I try to know at least a bit about most bands I listen too, just in case I need to impress a pretty girl. Or a pretty man." tipsy, he tried not to draw attention as he realised what he had just said. he stood a little straighter in an attempt to sober himself.
" Oh, don’t tell me playing guitar was your party tri-" norman stood back, catching kingsley as he fell against his chest, the contact hardly lasting a moment as kingsley scampered off his chest and stood back, still neglecting to remove his hand's from normans. 
for a moment, the silence rang louder than the album. kingsley blinked and cleared his throat a little, trying to seem as though he ignored his stumble, and turning a blind eye to norman's light blush, though it was ambiguous as to whether it was just from the alcohol.
"Maybe it is maybe it isn't, but if you want me to, I can certainly play a song for you." he smirked. 
norman averted his gaze, a light redness appearing across his face.
"that isnt necessary.." he feigned a chuckle
kingsley, his inhibition completely shot, raised his hand to normans face, his clammy fingertips gently pressing against it.
"i can tell youre blushing." he looked up at norman, his hubris hardly reaching him from 3000 feet up where his mind seemed to be.
"..im drunk. ..youre drunk."
"i suppose we are. that isnt why youre blushing, though."
they exchanged an expectant look before the silence became too loud. kingsley brought his face towards norman's, letting his hand fall beside normans face. norman jerked forward, his lips meeting kingsley's between them. 

roderick squirmed, bolted to the vertical table with his chest stretched open to expose his innards, he grimaced as he glanced at the clips holding his chest cavity open, and then at norman as he snapped his gloves on at the table before the both of them. 
"sorry i couldnt administer you anesthetic or something, but im sure as you know by now, you'd metabolise it too fast, i'd need more than i can get to keep you under while i get this done." norman rambled, grinning as he turned around to kingsley, who tried to look as aloof as he could. 
"i dont mind. i dont really think i want to leave you unattended with my unconscious body anyway." he raised an eyebrow accusingly.
"suit yourself." norman said, plunging a hand into kingsley's chest past his absent sternum and gently sliding his hand around his heart. kingsley winced, the gentle squelching piercing the silence in the lab.  "no irregularities, unlike mine which is made up mostly by a keloid scar where my right ventricle is supposed to be."
"I've never had to-" he groaned as norman retrieved his hand "survive a- fatality before, so I think you'll find very few irregularities."  he caught his breath for a moment, then added "but im not very familiar with his sort of thing, so who knows"
norman turned around, picking up a scalpel and a small tray.
"im going to have to take off a piece of your liver, just so i can see how long it takes to regenerate." he blushed, trying to focus as his hands were warmed by kingsley's insides.
"it gets enough use, im sure it'll regrow faster than average." he swallowed, trying not to make noise as norman sunk his blade into the upper side of his liver. though he felt he'd be shamed for expressing so, he had been taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in having his innards played with by such a gentle and precise man. 
"faster than average, certainly. it takes roughly 30 days to regenerate half of a liver for an 'average' person, but given that youre.. enhanced the same way i am, and im only taking off a little, i'd give it a day." he smiled, watching roderick grit his teeth, his face going lightly pink.
"thats what i meant, average for us." he exhaled out of his mouth, tipping his head back, 

"ill give it to you, youre doing well." he slid the clump of liver onto the tray from his scalpel, carrying it to the adjacent table. "im going to need some samples after this just to compare with mine, mind if i take some blood while we're here?" he said, picking up a tourniquet and a needle, which was notably made of some kind of diamond alloy.
"if it gets me off this table sooner, sure. if not, i cant stop you anyway."

norman held kingsley's chin with his glove, smearing blood into his beard as he gently kissed his cheek. "thanks," he said, pulling back and tightening the tourniquet on his arm, 
"ngh, .. hurry up." roderick whimpered