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[personal profile] spideyguy posting in [community profile] newyorknative
Peter was having a pretty good day. Pretty good week, actually. After finding Harry riding around on Goblin tech, he'd managed to get his friend to show Spiderman the tech, allowing Peter to tweak a few things and perhaps make the glider a little safer. After watching Norman get dangerously close to impaling himself on the damn thing while wrestling at the top of the clocktower, Peter was keen not to have a repeat performance - this time with markedly more blood. No, they managed to make the glider a little safer and Peter was even able to slyly pass on a few tips and tricks to riding it - it functioned like a skateboard, pretty much (hey, he saw Back to the Future II just like everybody else), and Peter definitely knew about that. So, yeah, training is going well, Harry's safer and improving fairly quickly. Peter's still not sure they should take on Otto directly; he's been oddly quiet, too, as if he knew the second Spiderman started looking for him. It's infuriating to a degree, but also a little relieving - they're still on red alert, of course, neither of them are naive enough to believe that the madman might have had a change of heart, but at least Harry doesn't look like he's on the verge of a breakdown. Well, he might be, but it isn't showing. He can sleep, and eat. That's an improvement, right?

It's about seven in the evening when Peter finally wanders down from his room to rustle up some food. May's working another double, like she has been for the past month and a half, leaving Peter alone for dinner. He doesn't fault her for it, far from it - he knows she still has trouble sleeping, without Ben next to her, and with Peter out all hours of the night. She's stopped grilling him about it, which only makes the worry he senses off of her worse. But they...don't talk about it. Whatever he's doing, it's obvious he's in a better place than he was, and as incredible as May is, there are only so many fires she can put out at one time. Peter pushes his glasses to the top of his head and rubs at the bridge of his nose, opening the fridge to gaze into it blearily. He's been alternating between quantum mechanics and making a few adjustments to his webshooters for the past couple of hours, and he's starting to feel it. It's a good thing, though - he's actually getting his homework done, and the shooters could use a tune-up anyway. They're currently sitting in pieces on his desk, the left one halfway reassembled.

Predictably, there's nothing in the fridge. Peter does a mental check to try and figure out the last time he went shopping - since that's his responsibility now - and...yeah, it's probably a bad sign that he can't remember, right? He grabs his hoodie and wallet off the couch and bounds out the door; quick trip to the grocery store around the block will set them up for the next few days, until he can make a full list and restock. It'll be nice, Peter thinks, for May to come home to fresh leftovers. He could make a casserole, maybe? Those aren't too difficult...probably.

Peter stuffs his earbuds into his ears and draws his hood against the crisp bite of Fall air, cranking the tunes just for the hell of it. He wonders if May has a recipe box anywhere - he could Google something, surely? He's not that bad of a cook, but not that great, either - nowhere near Harry's prowess but that was a hobby for his best friend. He could bake the hell out of a cake, though. Or brownies - ooh, he could make brownies for May. Make enough to take to the rest of the staff at the hospital, the girls she worked with - that would be nice. Peter smiles, a renewed spring in his step as he turns the corner for the store. Yeah, he thinks, May would really like tha-

The claw comes out of nowhere, with damn near zero warning. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, music blasting into his ears, Peter had pretty much been ignoring his spidey sense. He has just enough presence of mind to try to dodge, but all that manages is to keep him from being skewered on the sharp edges of the claw. It cuts through his hoodie, digging into his shoulder and probably drawing some superficial blood as he's hauled up into the air. Distantly, Peter can hear someone screaming, earbuds still pulsing into his ears. Otto is smiling at him, a crazed sort of delight that Peter wants to punch right off of him, saying something Peter can't quite make out with the music in his ears. He tries to move his arm, to grab the claw and tear it apart, to get out of the hold, but it makes the sharp edges dig into his skin and he cries out, kicking futilely.

That's about when Otto smashes him into something - God, Peter doesn't even know what it was, everything's moving in a painful blur - and he's out like a light.

Date: 2016-12-16 02:57 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ If that means I'm misunderstood.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Since teaming up with Spider-Man, things had been a lot more optimistic for Harry. There was a level of fear and paranoia that wouldn't truly disappear until Octavius was dealt with, but with each training session building confidence in Harry, the stress was at least manageable for him. He couldn't thank Spider-Man enough for looking at his tech and tuning it up for him. The guy even helped him figure out what he was doing wrong with the snare he'd been trying to cobble together.

By the time Harry got home from the office, it's later than the usual five o' clock. He'd stayed behind for a couple hours to comb over some projects with the researchers assigned to them. It not only gave him a better idea of what was going on with the company, but it helped him bond a little with the people working for him. That was something half the board members - who generally only cared about the numbers - couldn't be bothered to do, so the gesture was met with some surprise and pleasantness. It went well, all things considered. Harry couldn't really keep up with the science talk, but he asked questions, and the researchers were more than happy to answer them. They tossed ideas and thoughts back and forth for a while, and on the whole, it was productive. He was feeling good.

Up until he saw a note pinned to the wall in his study.

Pinned in a spot that ensured it was the first thing Harry saw when he walked in, it took all of a second for Harry to know who it was from, even without stepping up to read it. But when he did, his blood ran cold. 'I have your friend Peter--' were the only words Harry needed to read before a wave a panic fell over him. The whole reason he'd decided to use his dad's tech was to keep this very thing from happening!

But it had.

What was he supposed to do? He wasn't ready for this! Going toe-to-toe with Octavius--... Harry improved by leaps and bounds thanks to Spider-Man's guidance, but Octavius wouldn't be holding back. He wouldn't stop when Harry exhausted himself or made a mistake.

Struggling to fill his lungs with air, Harry immediately thought of seeking out Spider-Man at his hideout. But-- there was no guarantee of him being there. And Harry didn't have time.

Peter was in trouble. He couldn't wait for anyone else to help him; it was too risky.

With trembling fingers, Harry took the note off the wall and read the rest. It was telling him where to go, where to find Octavius, and spelling out the consequences if he didn't come. It was a trap with Peter as the bait. That much was obvious, but Harry did have one thing on his side. Octavius didn't know that Harry had tech of his own to fight back with. It was a surprise Harry had been hoping to keep until he was ready, but as long as it was enough to help him secure Peter's safety, it didn't matter. He practically threw the latch to open the hidden passage behind the study's mirror, bolting through to get to his gear. He threw it on as quickly as he could, something that did not combine well with Harry's barely contained panic. He kept fumbling and dropping things, and after about the third time of his arm blades clattering to the floor, he let out a frustrated string of curses.

"God!" If it weren't for the fact that Harry probably needed them, he would have thrown them. "Just-- okay." He inhaled a deep breath, trying to swallow down the nausea and fear that kept bubbling up in his chest. "You can do this... Peter needs your help." He repeated that to himself until he didn't feel like he was going to vomit.

Gulping down another gasp of air, Harry finished suiting up, armed to the teeth with his various weaponry, and pulled the glider off its stand. In a matter of minutes, he was out the balcony doors and flying off towards an abandoned warehouse by the docks. Not exactly an ideal place to fight Octavius, but Harry would try to make it work. He had to, for Peter's sake.

He tried with all his might not to make any noise when he landed on the roof and crawled across to peer into one of the many fractured windows. Down below, he glimpsed Octavius seated at a metal table. Looked like he was working on something. King of arrogant of him, really. Harry couldn't piece together what he was woring on, but frankly, he didn't really care, because several feet away was Peter. He nearly smacked his forehead into the window trying to get a better look. It was hard to tell if Peter was hurt from where he was, but he could see that his arms and legs were bound up in chains.

Sparing another quick glance at Octavius, Harry resolved to try and sneak in. Maybe he could get in, grab Peter, and get out without having to fight. He had to try. Leaving the glider on autopilot outside, Harry slithered across the roof until he got to a broken window above a catwalk and wriggled his way inside. It was almost excruciating how slow and careful he had to be just to stay quiet, but he managed to work his way down without being seen or heard. As he neared Peter, he could see that his friend was blearily regaining consciousness. Mapped in bruises, the poor guy looked like hell and it lit a fire in Harry's chest that made him want to pummel Octavius's face in. He clenched his teeth behind his mask, grinding them together and biting back the flare of impulse. Peter's safety was more important than trying to smack Octavius around right now, so he held a gloved finger to where his lips would be as he quietly approached. 'Please don't make any noise.' Not that Peter had any reason to trust some random guy in a mask with a million blades on him (okay, only three, but still), but Harry hoped he wouldn't put up much of a fuss.

Crouching down, Harry took out the blade strapped to his thigh. All of his blades were strong enough to cut through steel, but this one was quieter and easier to maneuver. He set about removing the chains around Peter's legs, trying to saw through the metal as silently and carefully as possible. The chains soon crumpled to the ground, and - with a spark of hope - Harry started to move on to the ones wrapped around Peter's arms. It took about that long for his luck to run out, too. Apparently he wasn't the only one capable of being quiet, because within a second, Octavius was on them like a terror. Harry didn't even get a chance to react before he was being batted away like a fly by one of Octavius's tentacles. Launched into an empty metal shelf, the collision rang out with a resounding CLANG!, muffling Harry's cry.

"Peter, run!"

And suddenly, everything was happening all at once. Harry's glider burst in through the window, zooming down to meet Harry, while Octavius was determined not to let Peter get a chance to run. An orange orb shot out of one of the glider's many compartments once it was near enough, and Harry didn't even hesitate-- he threw it from where he was. The outer shell broke open, revealing a razor bat; he'd decided to keep a few of them after all, and it looked like they were going to be handy. It honed in on Octavius with a shrill whir, intent on colliding into him. It wouldn't do much, but it distracted him from Peter for a moment, and that's all Harry needed.
Edited Date: 2016-12-16 03:03 am (UTC)

Date: 2016-12-26 08:11 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ Down with the fallen.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Everything happened so fast-- Harry could hear Peter's chair breaking and the mechanical hissing and whirring of Octavius's metal arms. He had to get back to his glider. That was his only chance. He's no match for Octavius in terms of hand-to-hand combat; his hands were pretty outnumbered, after all. Somewhere under the ruckus, he can hear Peter yelling. His heart skipped a beat-- he thought he heard his name. It was probably a 'Hey!' that sounded like it, because... well, Peter didn't know he was doing this, first of all. Guilty conscience, much? Not that Harry had the luxury of mulling over it, mind you, because the second part of what Peter said was much more important.

The glider spun away from him after colliding with one of Octavius's actuators, and Harry had no choice but to try and rely on himself. He was a far cry from an acrobat, but Spider-Man had been insistent on Harry improving on his speed and reflexes in the event that he got separated from his glider. He was able to duck under one claw and trick another into stabbing into one of the metal supports of the warehouse, where it got stuck. As much as Harry would have loved to gloat his temporary success, he was too pumped up on adrenaline and fear. He immediately booked it past Octavius, who was howling in anger, to make the most of the opportunity to skid back over to Peter. He didn't waste any time trying to pick up where he left off, and was successful in sawing through one link of the chains wrapped around Peter's arms. He hoped that'd create enough slack for Peter to slither free, because Octavius wasn't wasting time either.

The support groaned and creaked before finally dying out with an awful screech of metal scraping against metal, and then Octavius was free, whirling around to face the two with a furious scowl. "We have to move! C'mon!" Harry cried, immediately dropping his small blade and using whatever strength he could muster to try and hoist Peter up to his feet.

He couldn't just let him keep floundering around on the floor like that. Octavius was unpredictable and had a notoriously foul temper; he might just hurt Peter because he was there and he could. When he heard Octavius closing in behind them, all Harry could think to do was propel Peter forward with a shove and put distance between them, with Harry wedged in the middle. He took a blow that had been aimed at Peter, the claws seizing him around his waist with force that he's sure would have cracked his ribs if not for his armor. As it was, they were both contracting painfully around his torso to the point that he could barely even make any noise-- it took the breath right out of him. Acting on impulse, Harry grabbed for the sword on his back, switched his grip, and took a blind stab behind him where he hoped the rest of the actuator would be. By some miracle, it struck and pierced its target, sending a debilitating charge of electricity up the arm and through Octavius's harness.

The actuator let go, but honestly-- Harry was lucky that it didn't do the opposite and tighten its grip in the midst of its fritzing out. It would have crushed him, easily. Harry wasn't about to think too hard on it, though. They had to get away. They had to. Harry wormed away from Octavius while the smart arms spasmed and Octavius himself thrashed around, trying to regain control. If they were lucky, the sword would cut off use to one of the arms, but the rest... It was probably just a distraction at best that would leave Octavius even angrier. There were multiple attempts on Harry's part to climb back to his feet, but each time, he wheezed and crumpled, surprised at how much strength that one strike had strangled out of him. Kind of had a way of making you appreciate the punishment superheroes went through on a regular basis.

All he cared about was getting to Peter and getting them both out of there, though. Whatever happened, whether he got hurt or lost half his gear... he'd deal with it. Peter was all that mattered. The sword could stay lodged in Octavius's arm for all he cared; there were others. But there was only one Peter Parker. Autopiloting over to the pair, the glider hovered passively nearby. "Are-- Are you okay?" Harry managed, hoping to get them both up and out of there before Octavius could recover.

Date: 2016-12-27 01:37 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ You don't stand a chance.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Fortunately for Peter, Harry's a little preoccupied with trying to keep them both in one piece to notice anything abnormal. When the chains fell, he merely assumed he'd created enough slack and thought no more of it. As long as Peter was free, he could really care less about the details of what happened.

Verbal confirmation that Peter was alright was all Harry needed for the time being. He looked beat to hell, but as long as he could move and talk... well, the rest they could deal with later, after they got out of this. If Peter could see under Harry's mask, he'd be getting a lazy grin that looked a lot more like a grimace right now. "Well... I'm really gonna be feeling this in the morning," was the only half-decent reply Harry could muster between ragged breaths. After all the adrenaline wore off, he'd be in a world of hurt-- that much he was sure of. You didn't get tossed around and squeezed like a rag doll without paying for it.

He's not too surprised that Peter offers to help him up-- he's a nice guy like that, you know? But hopping up on the glider with him, no questions asked? That's a little surprising. With the desperate situation they're in, though, Harry can't really fault him. Trust the guy who's trying to save you or stay on the ground with the glorified mad scientist? If Harry were in Peter's shoes, the choice would be pretty clear. Understandably, he sounds kind of rattled. He's probably as scared as Harry is right about now, and just as desperate to get the hell out of there. So, without questioning it, Harry wrapped an arm around Peter's waist to secure him.

"What we need is to get him to stop chasing us!" Harry could probably pilot them out of there, but Octavius would give chase. He was deceptively fast with those arms. If they wanted to make it out of this, they were going to have to distract the guy long enough for them to get out of the warehouse and lose him. Leave no trace of where they went. "Any ideas, Genius?"

After that... well-- Harrytried to speed off. By the time he saw the claw gunning for Peter, about all he could do was put the metaphorical pedal to the metal. They lurched forward with a burst of speed, but not enough to clear them of Octavius's grasp. The claw crashed into the lip of the glider, sending them somersaulting through the air with dizzying force. It was hard enough to correct it with just him on the glider, but with Peter there, too--

Like hell he was letting go, though. He tried his damnedest to keep Peter on the glider with him, because he knew the minute he fell, it'd be right into Octavius's waiting arms. He didn't want to think about the consequences of that. "Please hang on, Peter--!" It wasn't going to be a smooth ride by any stretch of the imagination, but he was pulling out every trick Spider-Man had taught him about controlling the glider - especially with extra weight onboard. By the time Harry gained some semblance of control back over the glider, Octavius was already on them again, trying to ensure that Harry couldn't acquire the stability he needed to get away, and Harry was already losing his grip on Peter.

He couldn't exactly stop to readjust them, so he just had to pray that Peter wouldn't fall while he was trying to maneuver around Octavius's claws. They needed a plan-- and fast.

Date: 2017-03-10 07:02 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ I am a monster.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
At least with Peter's healing abilities, he could shake it off within a day or two. There's a high possibility that Harry's just going to be laying in bed and whining for a while after this, being subjected to judgmental looks from Bernard (but who will say nothing of it).

The lack of any ideas isn't exactly encouraging, but it's a little hard to blame Peter when they're in as dicey of a situation as they are. Forming a plan under normal circumstances is enough of a challenge sometimes. Right now, Harry's just doing his best to think on the fly and stay ahead of Octavius. It seems like he hasn't been the only one practicing with his gear either, 'cause he's pretty sure Octavius wasn't nearly this coordinated or agile with his smart arms before.

An unsettling thought, honestly.

Where Harry thought he'd have an edge, Octavius just keeps finding new ways to cut him off. Now's not really a good time to dwell on it, though. By whatever miracle, Peter's managed to hang on through the rickety spirals and maneuvers Harry's had to pull to stay away from the eight-limbed lunatic. (Nevermind that - for a minute there - it felt like his chest armor was gearing to rip off when Peter latched on, but Harry's about eighty percent sure he was imagining it.) It'd be better if he could actually hold on to Peter rather than just looping an arm around his waist, but it'd be a lot harder to balance that way and he's not real keen on nose-diving onto the cold warehouse floor again.

But thank you, Peter Parker, for always coming through in the end.

He mentions the supports and Harry only has to spare a glance up to see what he means. Does he have anything? Probably nothing he's supposed to. He'd waffled around for a while on whether or not he should carry around his dad's pumpkin bombs. They were a tool of destruction and chaos. What good could come from that?

Well, this time, it turned out to be a lot.

Only trouble was, Harry doesn't have the greatest aim - which is only exacerbated by the erratic movements he's being forced to make - and he hasn't had a chance to test out the bombs. They didn't really have a choice, though. Either he makes a move, or he loses Peter to the psycho chasing them. Needless to say, he'd rather take his chances with the first one.

"Hang on!"

It's all about hunting for an opportunity; he needs a good shot at the supports without Octavius' arms in the way or he wastes his chance. Harry takes a risk and tilts the glider almost straight up, kicking into overdrive enough to give him a clear shot at the ceiling. There's a press of a switch, then Harry's free hand is outstretched, catching an orb that shoots out of another hidden compartment on the glider. He doesn't hesitate to chuck it up at the supports, just as he doesn't hesitate to call another into his grasp and send that one flying to a different section while he has the chance. The aim's not perfect, but it's good enough. They erupt in a massive explosion, almost immediately caving the metal in on itself.

Debris soon follows, raining down on Harry, Peter, and Octavius indiscriminately. It's almost satisfying to hear Octavius' furious yelling somewhere behind them, but Harry doesn't have the luxury of slowing down to enjoy it. He takes what small chance he has to readjust his grip on Peter, making sure he's holding on tight when he does a complete 180 and essentially lets them fall out of the air, nosediving straight back down. It's a race to get out from under the bigger chunks of debris before it can pin them, and Harry's stomach - he's pretty sure - beats them all to the ground for as hard as it dropped. He pulls up at the last second, zooming past a chunk of metal that crashes into the warehouse floor seconds afterword. As agile as Octavius is, he can't outrun the glider and he can't quite outrun the warehouse caving in around him. Harry hears a loud thunk and all he can do is pray that it's Octavius getting his head and that stupid harness bashed in.

He doesn't dare look back; he's barreling straight for the open window and they're getting the hell out of there. Either way, he doesn't stop until they'd sped several miles away and the adrenaline is starting to wear off. He's pretty sure he got conked on the head by some debris pulling that stunt, the way his head is suddenly starting to sting and throb, but he hadn't exactly been at liberty to slow down long enough for it to register. Right now, he's more worried about Peter anyway. The poor guy looks like hell, and he feels awful about it. This whole thing is his fault, after all...

There's no real rhyme or reason to the rooftop Harry chooses, he just needs to stop for a while and drops down onto the nearest one. "Are... Are you okay? For real, this time?" he finally rasps, exhausted, but still taking great care to help Peter off the glider. Last thing he needs is for that giant nerd to go and faceplant off the damn thing; he looks like he's already got enough aches and pains to deal with.
Edited Date: 2017-03-10 07:17 am (UTC)

Date: 2017-03-12 01:16 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ If that means I'm misunderstood.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Is he okay? Harry laughs humorlessly, because hell... he doesn't even know. Everything was happening so fast, he barely had any time for it to register. Frankly, he's lucky they got out of there quickly, because he's not sure how much more punishment his body could have taken. He's not used to this kind of exertion and it's showing. All that training with Spider-Man was... nothing compared to an actual fight with Octavius and it's shooting chills up his spine, thinking about what might've happened if the guy had never stopped to show him the ropes.

Now that the last of bursts of adrenaline are leaving him, everything else is rushing to catch up, and he just kind of wobbles there for a minute, trying to wrap his head around what to say. A dull fire is heating up in his ribs where Octavius nearly crushed him, and his back aches, his skull, his legs... It's not gonna get any better, and he knows he should probably fly Peter home while he's still feeling semi-decent, but...

He can't will his legs to move anymore. He just wants to sink to the solid surface of the roof and lay there.

But he drags his hazy mind back into focus on Peter, and it's about then that he notices the blood running down Peter's forehead. That wasn't there before, was it? Did that stunt of his get Peter hurt? "Peter, you're bleeding," he points out, his voice strained with weariness and concern. He's completely forgotten to answer Peter's question. He's also completely forgotten that he's covered in gear and that he still hasn't explained who he is or why he's helping him, because he's pulling some meager first aid supplies he kept in a pouch on his belt, reaching for Peter like the comfortable friends they are.

Honestly, they should probably get Peter to a hospital, but he can at least stop the bleeding for now. Until Harry knows he can get back on that glider without teetering back off.

Date: 2017-04-28 01:36 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ Now I can't stay the same.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
"--What?"

It takes a painfully long second for Harry to even register why Peter is withdrawing from him in the first place, making weird comments and talking to him like he's a stranger, and then-- His hand goes up to his face, which is greeted with the smooth, unyielding surface of his mask and not his skin.

Oh. That would be why.

Because Harry's still in disguise, and he never did get around to telling Peter about this. He already feels guilty about that, and prolonging it further would only make it worse. Now's as good a time as any. In fact, Harry might argue that it's the perfect time, because Peter's probably too exhausted and frazzled to strangle him for being stupid and reckless. Question is... how does he tell him? That's kind of a big subject to broach. What's he supposed to say? 'Hey, buddy! I had this great idea to steal a bunch of my dad's stuff and use it to fight Octavius! Oh yeah, and Spider-Man's been helping me!' Yeah, that'd be swell.

"What if it's a good kind of kidnapping?" Sure, Harry. That's an even greater way to start. He tries to press his hand to his face - as if to pinch the bridge of his nose in self-exasperation - except the mask is still there and he only ends up thunking his hand against the visor, knocking his head back a bit in a weary fluster. "Geez--! Uh-- alright, no. Okay, I can answer both of those questions! I'm not a psycho, alright? But before I say anything else, I just wanna preface this with: I swear I meant to tell you sooner, so please don't get mad at me--" Because that's the major concern here.

Nevertheless, the answer to those questions presents itself when Harry lets the mask retract into the rest of his suit, revealing his tired face before he can think too much about it to chicken out.

"Sur...prise?"

Little does he know, it's not a surprise at all.

Date: 2017-05-21 02:20 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ Don't play with fire.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Leave it to Peter to still have smart ass remarks lined up for someone on the tip of his tongue after a life-threatening fiasco.

But, well-- at least Peter doesn't seem too pissed off that it's his friend's face under the mask. Frustrated? ...Probably. It was an awfully risky stunt that Harry just pulled. He'd be pretty mad if he found out Peter was putting his neck on the line in some over-the-top costume, too. But, y'know. Even Peter Parker would never be that dumb, would he?

Harry manages a weary sheepish smile for Peter. "Am I that predictable?" The smile fades a little, looking more grim. "Look-- I know it's stupid, but... No one was gonna help us, Pete. So I decided to help us, and I really did mean to tell you sooner. But I-- I knew you'd probably try to talk me out of it, and I wanted to make sure I could really do this before I said anything." That way, Peter wouldn't worry as much about Harry going toe-to-toe with an angry scientist with eight arms. (That's how it worked out in Harry's head, anyway). "But, um. It actually... kinda worked out? I met Spider-Man, and he offered to help us out. Even helped me train with my gear and stuff. It was pretty cool actually, aside from the dent he tried to punch into my face when he first found me--" He's getting sidetracked. "Anyway--" He starts to twist his torso around, arm outstretched to gesture to his glider, but...

Bad move.

Whatever Harry was going to say next is promptly lost to oblivion.

All it takes is that one wrong twist for the dull pain in Harry's ribs to erupt into a white hot fire. It feels almost fresh, like Octavius's claws are crushing him all over again. A strangled sound sticks harshly to his throat - something between a shrill cry and a gasp - as he's sent to his knees, arms instinctively cradling his middle. He hazily wonders if Octavius managed to break his ribs. His armor was never designed to take heavy blows. It protected him, yes, but a glance down quickly tells him that Octavius dented the thin armor, where it's now digging into his sides. It's possible the armor cut into him and his ribs aren't broken at all-- he doesn't know. All he knows is that it fucking hurts and he needs to get the outer layer off.

He tries to ask Peter for help removing the armor, but that spike of pain snatched all the breath out of his lungs and he's just gasping for a decent gulp of air. All he can do is wait for the worst of the pain to ebb back into something more manageable.

Date: 2017-08-08 02:49 am (UTC)
goblinjr: (➥ Welp. That's gonna hurt.)
From: [personal profile] goblinjr
Well, Harry's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. Better not to look too hard into why Peter isn't getting too mad and just be relieved that he isn't. As much as he probably deserves it for being a reckless (well-meaning) idiot, he doesn't really have the energy to argue after having the shit beat out of him by a psychopath with metal tentacle arms.

"But I did fine!" Harry argues, his voice almost an indignant whine, as though his body isn't completely battered from the few hits he did take-- as though he won't be collapsing in agony a few seconds from now. And perhaps that's part of the problem: that Harry's always so eager to prove himself. To show everyone that he's not just a hopeless screw-up. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't encouraged by the chance to - for once in his life - take matters into his own hands and make things right.

And Harry's just as careful not to comment on it. He'd tried so hard to make the suit, the glider, all of it look as different as possible from his dad's. In the end, it didn't really matter much. The connection was still there. You can dress it up, give it a total makeover, but it's still Goblin gear. Maybe Harry'd been naive about that, too. That he could make it into his own thing, into a positive thing. He dodges Peter's gaze, even knowing he didn't mean anything bad by it. If anything, Harry's only frustrated with himself.

Peter's voice weaves in and out of clarity once Harry starts crumpling-- nothing he can really make out with any certainty. Just jumbled words that sound worried, then supportive hands on his shoulders. He has just enough awareness to try not to go crashing into Peter. That's the last thing either of them need. After a moment, he can hear Peter telling him to breathe, and he's trying, but jesus--

There's no fragment of memory Harry can recall where he's experienced pain this bad before, and it's alarming just how debilitating it is. After a moment, he forces a sharp inhale, but it doesn't feel like it helps much when it begets a coughing fit. Peter gets him partway to a lying position before he's forced to turn himself to the side some, watching blood pool out of his mouth onto the rooftop. That's all the confirmation Harry needs to know that Octavius did more than cut his armor up; the shock keeps him from freaking out, at least. More than anything, he's trying real hard not to look at Peter, who's probably going to like that revelation even less.

He doesn't want to see the look Peter's giving him, whether it's angry or scared-- it doesn't matter. Either way, there's a steady wave of guilt bubbling over him for giving the guy yet someone else to worry about. This is the exact opposite of what he wanted to accomplish.

Not like he can do a whole lot about that now. There's no adrenaline to dull the pain anymore, and Harry can't do much beyond lay there paralyzed in shock and agony for a minute. All he wants is for the pain to stop! It takes some time for him to gather enough strength to grasp at his chest armor, struggling to pull it open; his fingers only fumble with the hidden zippers and contorted fragments of disguised armor. He has no choice but to shoot Peter a look-- helplessness, frustration, hurt, and fear somehow mingling into one expression.

You can yell at him as much as you want later, Peter, just... for the love of God, get this armor off of him.

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Peter Parker's Musebox

December 2016

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