This episode takes Part I and escalates everything. The Hobgoblin doesn’t just attack — he conquers. Fisk Tower falls. Kingpin retreats. And for a moment, the Hobgoblin becomes the Kingpin of Crime. It’s a bold move, and it reveals the truth: this villain isn’t just theatrical. He’s tactical. And he’s holding Harry Osborn hostage.

Norman’s duplicity deepens. His refusal to act, his cryptic promises, and his eventual alliance with Kingpin paint him as a man playing both sides. Spider-Man, caught in the middle, is forced to navigate a maze of lies, traps, and shifting loyalties. The hidden tunnel sequence is classic espionage — a hero infiltrating the heart of villainy, not with brute force, but with resolve.

The final battle is layered: Spider-Man versus Hobgoblin, Kingpin versus chaos, Harry versus captivity. And when the building burns, it’s not just infrastructure that collapses — it’s the illusion of control. Hobgoblin escapes, but his empire crumbles. Kingpin reclaims his throne. And Norman, ever the survivor, watches it all unfold.

The episode ends with emotional fallout. MJ wonders where Peter is. Harry is traumatised. And Spider-Man, exhausted, confronts Norman one last time — only for Hobgoblin to return. The river crash isn’t closure. It’s a pause. Because this goblin always comes back.

The Hobgoblin first appears in Amazing Spider-Man #238 (1983), created by Roger Stern and John Romita Jr. From the outset, he’s a mystery — a new villain who steals Norman Osborn’s Goblin tech but operates with colder precision and strategic flair. Unlike the Green Goblin’s madness, the Hobgoblin is calculating, corporate, and anonymous. His identity becomes one of the longest-running enigmas in Spider-Man history, teased across years of issues, red herrings, and editorial reshuffles.

In the comics, the mystery of the Hobgoblin’s true identity was deliberately prolonged. Readers speculated wildly: was it Ned Leeds, Richard Fisk, Flash Thompson, or someone else entirely? The reveal was muddled by behind-the-scenes changes, with Ned Leeds initially framed as the Hobgoblin posthumously, only for later retcons to establish Roderick Kingsley — a fashion tycoon — as the true mastermind. Kingsley’s reveal in Spider-Man: Hobgoblin Lives (1997) finally closed the loop, but the damage was done. The Hobgoblin’s mystery had become a meta-narrative about editorial control and the cost of delay.

The 1994 animated series takes a different path. The Hobgoblin is introduced before the Green Goblin, voiced with theatrical menace by Mark Hamill. His identity is never a mystery — he’s Jason Philip Macendale, a mercenary with a taste for chaos and a contract with Kingpin. The show sidesteps the comic’s whodunnit entirely, opting instead for a clear, charismatic antagonist who destabilises the city’s power structures and torments Norman Osborn long before Norman dons the Goblin mask himself.

This clarity serves the ensemble well. The animated Hobgoblin isn’t a puzzle — he’s a disruptor. His presence forces Kingpin, Norman, and Spider-Man into uneasy alliances and emotional recalibrations. While the comics leaned into suspense, the series leans into impact. And in doing so, it trades mystery for momentum — a choice that reshapes the Goblin legacy and gives the Hobgoblin his own mythic weight.

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