Peter is (likeaspider) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-01-02 22:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *log, harry osborn, peter parker |
marvel, log: pete & harry
Who: Peter Spider-Man and Harry Goblin
What: Showdown.
Where: Streets (and rooftops) of Manhattan.
When: Let's say now.
Warnings/Rating: Some violence I guess.
New York, New York. The skyline was the same, the same high rises with patchwork lights in insomniac windows. He was as built by this city as this city was built by Oscorp. Yet although Norman Osborn was now dead, the city continued to thrive. It didn't stall, it didn't skip a beat. There was traffic on the bridge, taillights gone to red in a long line, although from Harry's height, he could only hear the fainting echo of impatient honking. The city had places to go, places to be. The city lived, and even that felt like a betrayal.
Harry watched from a rooftop, where his glider had settled onto the ledge in an even perch. He'd soared around for awhile, ever since he'd fled Gwen's ambitious double-cross. Harry had the hang of the aerodynamics now, he'd sobered over the course of the night and whatever lingering hangover hell that should have been left behind for him to deal with, the serum had taken care of all that. It'd revived him, it'd bettered him. Just like the (almost)smile of his father's face on the computer screen had promised… if Harry was ever going to do great things, his father's guidance was going to be the solution. Even from the grave, Norman Osborn was going to show him the way.
Green metallic faceplate and kevlar with long black sleeves, Harry probably looked better suited to Gotham City than this Manhattan. But this was his city, and it was better than the others for a reason. After enough observation, the glider hummed out of its idle state and engaged for lift off. With goggles in place and looking like some space-age angel of war, the Goblin flew down, sharp angles digging dangerously and experimentally. He swerved through the rungs of the Brooklyn Bridge, leaving some people double-taking from the windows of the cars before he soared higher.
There were people to blame, of course. He counted off their names, and even if a part of him wanted to flinch over Gwen's name being added to the list -- her declarations of caring, of love echoed, but were ultimately buried everything she'd done to get close to him had been a ruse to try and stick him with that fucking needle. He wasn't worried about her health, about having left her on winter-cold front steps for whomever to find. Maybe it was predatory, or just survivalist, but at the bottom of everything, the part of Harry that was still Harry knew that she hadn't been trying to kill him. Whatever she'd had in the syringe was likely meant for sedation. She'd be fine, eventually, probably. He was still clueless about Mary Jane's continued MIA, or maybe that would have worried him too, but -- nah, probably not.
The glider soared up sharply, a burst of propulsion making it streak neon green against the pitched black sky that survived only above the taller buildings.
Peter hadn't wanted to leave the hospital, but he didn't have a choice. Responsibility, remember? And Harry was his. They'd gone down this road before, friends turned enemies, and even though this Harry didn't remember, he did. History repeating itself, and it made him think of what Gwen always said about predetermined dates and destiny. He thought about a lot, actually, because he didn't have a fixed location on Harry and that meant webslinging around the city until he found him. Not the best plan, but he checked the obvious places and from there it was just a waiting game. If Harry had gone goblin, chances were he had or would get his hands on equipment; namely, the glider. Which meant he'd be up, not down.
At first, it was a whole lot of nothing. But he swung away from a trip to the Brooklyn bridge with some interesting whispers, people who'd seen something, and then he was a (spider) man on a mission. Web after web to cover more distance faster, and when Peter heard the distant hum of a familiar glider he put on an extra burst of speed.
He thought about MJ, about Gwen, about before, and when the glider (and Harry) came into view he didn't even hesitate. Fear? Hah. He was angry, he was determined, and when the glider soared up, he made his way to the taller buildings. The higher the better, and he perched on the edge, head tipped up towards the sky.
"Hey, Harry!" Peter was counting on him being angry enough to allow himself to be goaded into a fight, because there was no talking him down now.
The goblin armor involved a faceplate and goggles to combat the rush of high speed winds, but there was no real helmet attached. There were, however, earpieces attached to the face plate, and it helped him to hear at these higher velocities(and even in high traffic, he'd found). Maybe it was no Spidey-sense, but it was something. And even from I<>way</i> up above where he was circling the tall building like a bull that hadn't yet decided which direction to charge, Harry heard his name. It took him a moment longer than it should have for Harry to actually recognize that it was his own name, but that came second. The first thing he noted was the voice. Peter's voice. One of those names that he'd been counting off on his gloved fingers.
Appropriately goaded, the glider swooped several degrees lower, making a full arc around where Spiderman was perched on the building's edge. He could hear the anger in the other's voice, none of that earlier sensitivity that tried to get him to listen to so-called reason. And why shouldn't Peter be angry? Harry'd accomplished exactly what Peter had been trying to prevent all this time, Harry was finally strong enough to make his father proud. If only the man was still alive to see it, and that too was something to blame Peter for.
"Come to finish the job?" He shouted down, weaving left and right on the glider like it was just some skateboard idling in the sky. Except that it was a skateboard armed with explosives and you know, fun stuff. Gwen had tried to sedate him, and she hadn't even asked to do it nicely. Harry figured that if that hadn't been Peter's plan, it must have been one of the Avengers. Gwen would never have done that unless somebody else convinced her… but if she was turned against him now too, what could Harry do? His dead father was proof of what could happen the instant that people started turning against you.
"Think you can?" And that was goading too, a challenge just before the glider swooped straight down toward Peter.
The only good thing (and even calling it that was a stretch) was that Gwen wasn't here. She was safe. She almost hadn't been but she was now, she was far away from here and for that much Peter was grateful. Better it was just the two of them. He watched the glider, gaze fixated on the boy he barely recognized as his friend under armor and faceplates and goggles, but he didn't make his move. Not yet. Timing was everything and Pete had to get it right. Come to finish the job? Well, yeah. Not like Gwen's maybe-kinda-boyfriend Jason had intended, less finality, but he planned on stopping Harry before he could wreak any widespread havoc on the city.
"Yeah, I have, and I know I can," he shouted back, challenge accepted, and he crouched as the glider headed straight for him. Wait for it, wait... at the last second Peter sprang, a somersault over Harry's head that would have ended in a freefall if it hadn't been for, you know, the webs. He twisted in midair and the web shooters hissed; one, two, three, four webs fired in rapid succession to stick to the glider.
If the intention had been to impale Spiderman on the pointed front of his glider, that was forgotten when the spider flipped in a spring-heeled somersault over the top of Harry. The glider drew back sharply, front tilting up at a new angle to keep from crashing into the roof of the building, considering the velocity with which he'd been dive bombing. The glider hissed, hydraulic adjustment keeping him stable rather than going head over heels in an ugly accident, and those web shooters of Spiderman's were hissing too, although Harry didn't recognize it for what it was. Not until the glider began to soar upward again, but stalled and growled furiously like even machinery could get raging mad. The web lines caught all across the front of the glider, and the Goblin jerked to the left, glider swooping, away from the edge of the building and into the bitter air that thrived above the city street. He was trying to break away, instinct, or just draw Spiderman along with him for a sail above the streets that had a long drop.
The point was to go where the glider went, since webslinging was like flying except, you know, not. So Pete was along for the ride, and even as Harry veered to the left away from the safety of buildings his webs held. He didn't look down, didn't know think about what would happen if he ended up with no webs and a long, long drop beneath. Maybe that wasn't very smart, but he was kind of trying to focus on the here and now. Take each second as it came, and hope there would be no freefalling tonight. He tugged the webs taut and began to swing, back and forth, building momentum as much as trying to throw the glider, and Harry, off balance. If he could get high enough, he might be able to knock him off.
When Spiderman pulled on those webs, which were strong, the glider veered sideways and then tilted so that Harry was briefly upside down. His boots were righted in the lockholds on the glider, so there was no worry of falling off, but it made bending at the middle a little more difficult. Thankfully, the serum had brought strength, and Harry crunched from the middle, barely even feeling the beg of muscles that were once rarely used except for the occasional Osborn mansion swim or the even more frequent fuck. But the serum filled the Goblin in where Harry had been empty, it better him. He was stronger, faster. Even his mind worked better. And thats why, when the glider barrel-rolled back to right side up, Harry knelt. The cuff of his sleeve was jagged blades, a trio of sharp archs, Oscorp-grade black metal. Razor sharp, and the Goblin sliced through through the webbing that bound his glider with one knelt swoop of his arm.
A split second and he was darting higher, veering right to try and avoid more webbing. And thats when the pumpkin bombs came. A trio of small, almost-inconspicuous orange with sterling Os of ownership on each one. They were tossed after Peter, or in the direction he thought Peter had gone. Down the side of the building to freefall on whoever walked the holiday streets below(although, honesty, the time of detonation on those things was seconds, they'd explode mid-air… probably). Or they would hit the rooftop and send bricks flying. Peter started this, he could solve the what-ifs.
Behind his mask, Pete gritted his teeth. So much for throwing Harry off-kilter; his little upside down trick proved he was ready for the basics. Yeah, this wasn't his Harry, he had to remember that. He was like Goblin 2.0. Still hanging on by his webs, it was only his Spidey sense that told him what Harry was going to do a second before he did it. The jagged blades made an appearance, and strong as his webs were they could be broken (he'd learned that the hard way) and he braced himself for the literal severing of ties. The webs were caught, the spider fell, but he wasn't down and out. He didn't go for the glider again, instead shooting his webs out for the nearest building and swinging that way. Down and up, just in time to see the three bombs Harry decided to send in his direction.
But it wasn't himself he was worried about. It was the people down below, and he caught them from the side of the building. One, two, three; two he webbed over his head, where they exploded mid-air (and a little too close for comfort, but hey, they were away from innocent people) and one sent back up to Harry. It didn't make it there, obviously, but the intent was clear.
The bomb that Peter flung high into the air, in Harry's direction didn't collide for damage, but the explosion was enough to send the glider veering sideways, trajectory unknown. The force of that bomb was enough to send Harry crashing, skidding across the rooftop. Goblin momentarily down until he hoisted himself up by his gloves hands. He detached his boots from the glider, separated himself from it with a wordless summons that sent it soaring back into the sky.
"You want me, Spider-Man? I'm right here!" Upright on his booted feet, steady on the bricked rooftop where they'd started this, Harry tore his faceplate down, his goggles off and he let them drop onto the cement at his feet while he watched Spider-Man websling like surveying damage done. "You and me," he shouted at the night sky. "No fucking tricks, lets finished this!" And that was a glimpse of Harry, ready to fight it out with fists rather than gadgets he hadn't quite gotten the hang of yet. He was still kevlar and metal that jutted like blades from his forearms, but the Goblin shield was gone. In its absence, Harry's once-blue eyes glowed venomous green when he beckoned with a curl of his fingers. Come on, tough guy. Come on, superhero. Come on, enemy, lets see what you can do without all of those fancy tricks. That's what the gesture said while Goblin stood below. Trusting in a way that was Harry, trusting that Spider-Man would take the bait for a fair fight and not just tangle the Goblin up in webs before tossing him over the side of the building like trash to be thrown out to the police who were surely waiting below by this time.
Pete watched the explosion, the glider veering sideways and heard the crash of metal on the rooftop, skidding, in what he knew was not a clean landing. He webbed off the side of the building to get a better look, and there was something like relief when he saw the glider airborne again without a rider. A ground fight was better. He'd have to keep an eye out for the glider, just in case Harry called it back, but he didn't think he would. Perched on a metal pole extending from the building across the street, he looked down at Harry, listened to his shouts, like this was a schoolyard fight and he was being told to bring it on. Below, there were flashing lights and sirens, but he ignored them.
No tricks? Yeah, okay, Harry. But he swung down to the rooftop, landing on all fours in a crouch, and slowly stood. Once, he'd left Harry for the police, but he felt a lot of guilt over past actions and he wasn't going to do that again. Pete knew now that the cops couldn't handle him. No, he needed a cure, something to get the serum out of his system, and then... then he'd figure something else out. It was why he hadn't told the Avengers who killed MJ, why he hadn't let Jason come along. He didn't trust anyone else to see Harry as something other than a monster.
"Okay. Let's finish this." The spider and the goblin. Let Harry think he'd play fair and not use his webs. He moved to the right a little, then to the left, and lunged.
Harry was no longer convinced by the illusion of the supposed friendship that these two shared. The wool was no longer over his eyes, that'd fallen away from the moment Peter had refused to assist Harry in helping his father. Even Gwen had stood there and done nothing, which Harry was convinced was because of Peter's presence in the room. If it had only been Gwen and Harry, Gwen would have helped him. He'd told himself that, and he tried to believe it even still… despite what had happened outside of the Osborn home. Gwen had tried to drug him, and the Goblin put that so far out of his mind(unimportant when the realm of revenge beckoned), but now he understood the truth of that moment as well. Peter had sent her. He'd sent Gwen to drug him or sedate him or hospitalize him? Hell, maybe the syringe had been full of some kind of poison(the Goblin didn't allow guilt to factor in, not even when he knew that he'd plunged that questionable needle into Gwen's body). Was she alive? Was she dead? Everybody died eventually, so what did it matter?
Peter's lunge was met full-force, a tackle that sent the pair rolling dangerously close to the edge of the building. A gloved hand clung into the edge of Spiderman's mask and tried to haul it off, the tug was rough and Harry punched recklessly with his other hand. The city carried on beneath them, and Harry used his grip on Spider-Man's mask, which he hadn't quite managed to pull off yet, to knock his enemy's head back against the cold cement of the roof. "Look at me!" It was a shout, a demand for the mask to come off and for Peter to show himself. They were past pretending this fight was about anything but what resided between them anyway, right?
Peter knew Harry's point of view was twisted, warped; logic and reason had gone right out the window. He saw what he wanted to see, believed what he wanted to believe. And what did he see? What did Harry believe? That they were all traitors, him and Gwen and maybe even MJ. That they'd betrayed him. The truth meant nothing, Harry didn't want the truth. Not about his father, not about himself, and when his lungs was met with a full-force tackle Pete barely even grunted. They rolled, grappling, too close to the edge but adrenaline was pumping and he didn't think about falling. One hand was tugging at his mask and the other was a fist, pain exploded behind his eyes in an array of colors, and he brought his own hands up to try to protect his face. And then his head was slammed back against the cement; dizzy, stars, but it would take more than that to wash this spider out.
"Look at yourself, Harry!" His shout was muffled behind the mask, and he shoved the heel of his palm blindly up into Harry's face. "MJ is dead! Gwen's in the hospital! Look what you've done!" He managed to get his other hand free, and despite Harry's exclamation of no tricks he fired his web shooters, both of them, close range and straight up at his (ex) friend.
No tricks, it hadn't been promised with blood or spit on their palms like pacts might have been otherwise formed in boyhood, but Harry thought that Peter could at least be a man of his word. Of course, that was the problem. The sickened, reptilian growl of a voice that echoed in his head(vaguely reminiscent of his father, if his father had been some kind of demon instead of a man), Harry was weak. Harry was the one who'd thought that Peter would fight him with fists instead of miracles or the gifts that fucked up science had brought him. Harry had thought that because he didn't know better, but the Goblin did. And with every pump of his heart, that serum went deeper. Soon there would be nothing left of weak, little Harry at all.
The web shooters were an appropriate distraction. In that moment, he didn't care about MJ or Gwen or anything that Peter said. Everything was lies anyway, and really with the webbing? One caught him in the face, momentarily blinding him since Harry had ditched the flying goggles. The other string of web took hold of his left arm, and Harry's eyes narrowed with finality when he punched a button on the hi-tech sleeve of his own super suit. The button seemed to signal the glider, which came swarming through the clouds of night, tracking Harry as he was still tangled with Spider-Man. It was a kamikaze mission, total suicide, but the Goblin had hit the button and now it was done. A half dozen of those little orange pumpkin bombs came flying at the fighting pair. The explosives rolled across the rooftop right next to where Peter and Goblin continued to tangle. And in seconds, there wouldn't be anything left to fight about at all. The little bombs beep, beep, beep'd a final warning.
This wasn't a schoolyard tussle. They weren't two kids fistfighting over a girl or something stupid. Peter needed to stop Harry, plain and simple, and why not use the gifts a radioactive spider had given him? Harry saw no problem with injecting himself full of a serum that was, now, turning him insane. A slow descent had just sped up. So yeah, he used his webs, and it was enough of a distraction to give Pete some wiggle room-- but then he pressed a button, and the glider came back. Pete's eyes widened behind the mask, awareness of what was coming as those explosives came sailing through the air.
"No--" Desperate times called for desperate measures. With seconds to spare before they were both blown to smithereens, Pete brought his knee up against Harry's chest and pushed. He used all his weight, enough force to give momentum so the tussling pair could roll away from the bombs. Over and over, until the bombs exploded and the force sent them both flying over the edge of the building.
Pete had his webs, and he managed to shoot one up to stick to the wall and stop his fall. But Harry, Harry fell--he didn't even try to stop himself--and he barely managed to catch Harry before he hit the ground. He hung, suspended from a web, motionless, and only once he'd swung them both up to a nearby building did he see that Goblin boy was unconscious. The side of his head was bloodied, and Peter figured he must've smacked it pretty good when the bombs went off.
Suddenly exhausted, and sore, he thought about what to do next. The Estate, right, Pete would bring Harry there, get him in the panic room, and then... what? MJ was dead, Flash was gone, Cap didn't remember much of anything judging by his post.
He'd just have to hope Gwen was awake, that she was okay. They could figure something out. Right. And at some point he'd have to call his aunt and tell her he wouldn't be home for a while.