Spiderman was fighting Green Goblin, the latter having the upper hand, grabbing and throwing the former through the floor and then following after. The next clip Willem Dafoe / Norman Osborn was in a suit, getting punched up hard by a Spiderman, sitting with legs across him. Then he was back in the suit again, but a more powerful one, carrying a rifle. Spiderman was in a mecha armour, dressed up for Halloween, with a big plastic rifle. They were outside in the street, where other people were dressed up as well.
"Mine is a rail gun, what's yours?" asked Osborn. Realising he'd lost, Peter Parker was at Norman's mercy. Norman decided to walk Peter down the street before finding a place to execute him. He treated him to a meal from a self-service street food vendor; a plate filled with various calories like stewed potatoes and macaroni along with bacon and maybe coleslaw. They took one plate each as they wandered down the street, eating as they went. As I assumed the role of Peter I looked back at one of the vendors and it was Dave, the translator at USJ.
We were on bikes then, riding around and being a bit silly, knowing the gravity of what was to come. We rode past trailers and buildings were quite run down. I rode straight through the door and into the living room of what seemed to be an elderly couple. The old lady of the house, looking a fair bit like my late grandmother Sonja, strode out into the room and when she saw me and Norman her mouth started watering at the prospect of having two younger men at her mercy. There were clinking chains going about, but none of us was very intimidated by it all. I raced the bike towards a window and broke through, its shards running along my arms and painfully cutting my fingers.
Blood appeared and then disappeared as white strands started sealing up the wound.
"Mine is a rail gun, what's yours?" asked Osborn. Realising he'd lost, Peter Parker was at Norman's mercy. Norman decided to walk Peter down the street before finding a place to execute him. He treated him to a meal from a self-service street food vendor; a plate filled with various calories like stewed potatoes and macaroni along with bacon and maybe coleslaw. They took one plate each as they wandered down the street, eating as they went. As I assumed the role of Peter I looked back at one of the vendors and it was Dave, the translator at USJ.
We were on bikes then, riding around and being a bit silly, knowing the gravity of what was to come. We rode past trailers and buildings were quite run down. I rode straight through the door and into the living room of what seemed to be an elderly couple. The old lady of the house, looking a fair bit like my late grandmother Sonja, strode out into the room and when she saw me and Norman her mouth started watering at the prospect of having two younger men at her mercy. There were clinking chains going about, but none of us was very intimidated by it all. I raced the bike towards a window and broke through, its shards running along my arms and painfully cutting my fingers.
Blood appeared and then disappeared as white strands started sealing up the wound.
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