Green Goblin Returns

The homemade high-powered winch went up against the strength of a spider monster. Sadly, technology lost.

Unable to launch himself onto the apartment rooftop, Boar was dragged back to the ground and silently watched Spider-Man pounce toward him.

"What exactly are you? Is there a person inside? Are those mechanical devices on your body?

"Do you have a grudge against the Green Goblin? Did any of your friends die or get hurt at the Oscorp Carnival?

"Did that pistol just malfunction and explode, or did you blow it up yourself? And how were those glowing lines embedded into your body?

"Why make a pig-head mask? Doesn't it get stuffy?"

There were two kinds of chatterboxes. One was the preachy type. He tirelessly explained all sorts of professional or profound knowledge to show off how learned he was.

The other had a wandering train of thought and excelled at finding topics and asking questions. Sometimes, he could even ask and answer his own questions.

If he got even the slightest response, he assumed the other person was interested in the subject and kept digging deeper into it, practically desperate to spill everything he knew.

The first type was common among people who lacked social awareness and thought highly of themselves. They were usually annoying. The second type depended on the situation. In a cheerful setting, he was great at keeping the mood lively and preventing awkward silences.

But in the wrong setting—say, when two people were beating the hell out of each other—it was pure mental interference! Could they just fight properly?

Boar's fists and kicks came faster and faster. Spider-Man's responses never stopped either, and they were no less forceful.

They were nothing like WWE wrestlers exchanging moves in a ring, one move after another. They flew and leaped through