quicklog, osborn estate: gwen & pete
[Getting Harry, who was pretty much dead weight in kevlar, back to his gigantic mansion wasn't easy, but Pete managed. He had no idea if anyone was around, servants or whatever, but he wasn't counting on it. Mr. Osborn was dead, murdered, and the whispers of ugliness and bad things were getting louder and louder each day. Emily was gone. And Harry? As far as anyone was concerned, Harry had fallen off the face of the earth. He was expecting the Estate to be as empty and quiet as a mausoleum.
Which it was. Kind of. Pete didn't go in through the front door, obviously, and he didn't run across anybody while he half dragged, half carried Harry down to the basement. He stripped him of anything that constituted a weapon, tried to clean his head wound, and webbed him up good before locking him in Gwen's panic room. With that done, he got in touch with Gwen, and then... then he had nothing to do but wait. For an hour. Right. He could do that.
Except waiting kind of drove him nuts. He could go home, shower, change, but he had this fear that if he left Harry would somehow escape and he'd come back to find an empty panic room. Then what would he do? So yeah, no, not leaving. He called Aunt May, hedged around her questions and told her he was "at a friend's" and "probably wouldn't be home till morning". Did she buy it? Who knew, but at least it got her off the phone. Maybe it was, like, super weird, but he was grimy and bloody, and there were a million bathrooms in the house, so he snuck upstairs and used one of the dozen showers in a bathroom as big as his entire room. As for clothes, he kept the bottom half of his Spidey suit and managed to dig up a black hoodie that was at least a size too small, but better than the dress shirts and fancy stuff that seemed to fill up Harry's closet.]
Real smooth, Peter. Knock out your friend and then steal his clothes. [He muttered to himself as he tugged the zipper up, and headed back down to the basement to wait for Gwen.]