Acquiesced to Madness

by Imp

A/n: Insanity is compelling; so I wrote this. Yay. Purely recreational vignette concerning Norman Osborn's descent into madness. Short. Written in a few minutes. Insanity is hardly intriguing without a struggle.

"The world is a mediocre place..."

Yes... Norman Osborn acquiesced thoughtlessly, the sleepless night still weighing desperately on his crushed mind. Before him the mirror flickered, dancing in sleep-deprived eyes.

"The world is an ugly place, a slow place, a bitter and pathetic place..."

The sun, glancing through heavy curtains burned against the back of his neck, welcoming the dawn, welcoming dawn into the dark that never gave peace. Days and hours drove through his mind, scorching their path, unhindered by reason. Anger, confusion...and dull, empty cold. Screams sprang through his head, falling like salt-rain on bloodied wounds. Ambition drove out peace, drove out sleep, at last drove out clarity. And the screams fell, and fell and fell...

Ambition. Power. Norman Osborn felt the words, hearing them, touching them in their tenuous balance within his mind. Somehow, stripped of their appearance, being merely in the empty of his weariness, in the grating duality of the dawn rising over nothing...they seemed pale. Power. Power seemed pale.

"Power. Power to change - or power to destory. The world is a mediocre place..."

Yes... He aquiesced dully, yes... Power. He had sought this, he had sought the influence - no, more than influence...he had sought this, for years, for eternities. Ambition to decide, to make and change, to tell those fools - oh so many fools - to tell them, to make them... Now, what hindered all his dreams, what hindered his influence? Nothing could stop this, nothing could stop power, nothing could stop him.

But the rain fell, burning...the screams fell, clouding...the perfect picture before his mind's eye dulled and unclear.

Behind, the piercing light, cutting through the heavy drapes clawed at his skin. It dragged down, reminding, insisting...insisting on what?... I'm tired, I'm sick of this...It's not...

Was this not the dream he had hoped and willed and worked for? Was this different from what he had meant? Searching thoughts, distantly, he found labyrinths and empty halls, open rooms, dark, growing fire and screams...screams... What had he wanted? A long road stretched behind...ambition, to the beginning, running to now. Power. Ambition. Science...


Was this what he had planned for?

"This is what we have worked for. The world is mediocre, people are mediocre. But we're different. We're different."

The mirror, catching the insistent rays of sunlight, flared, blinding. Norman Osborn reeled back, aching eyes scorched by the light. Inside, another ache rose, pressing, persistent... Peace. I'm tired... I'm tired... The words in his mind, balanced, shivered and crumbled into the dim - shattered in the light. Ambition?... Power.

"This is what you wanted. This is what we want."

"This is what we want." echoed a hoarse whisper.

Of course. Could there be anything else? In the empty halls, winding through his thoughts, he could see nothing. Nothing.


It was empty. Just empty. ...But the rain - burning... Screams tore through his mind, screams echoed in the labyrinth that fell at last into growing flames, consuming, flickering. Were there faces, voices?... No. This was what he wanted. Yes, he knew it now. This was all. This was everything.

Everything... Yet a thread trailed through, cool and thin...winding into an ache. I'm tired...I miss...I miss...

I miss...what did he miss? Was there someone...something... Could he miss? No name rose to his tongue, no image, nothing. I miss nothing.

"This is everything. This is what you want."

Yes... Norman Osborn acquiesced thoughtlessly. Yes. The sleepless night trailed into an endless corridor of empty shadows. Before him, the mirror flickered. And laughter. Laughter rose over the screaming; hollow, insane, empty screeching. Laughter.

Note----(Imp is escaping into Spidey-verse here.)
I've given up on asking or expecting reviews. REVIEW - or not. Don't. But if you took the time to get this far, your time could hardly be wasted by notifying me of your presence.--