Norman Osborn (emeraldimbecile) wrote in the100, @ 2015-10-06 12:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, normie osborn (982), peter parker / spider-man (616) |
WHO: Peter Parker and Normie Osborn
WHEN: noonish time, Oct 6
WHERE: hallways
WHAT: A case of mistaken identity leads to an interesting conversation.
WARNINGS: none that I can think of? Uh, spoilers if you're really, really, really behind on Spider-Man reading? Like 1980s behind. Plus maybe some Spider-Verse spoilers too?
The half flip off the corner he was rounding wasn’t necessary in the slightest, but Peter couldn’t help himself. No web-slinging for months meant that particular itch was going strong as ever, and the occasional acrobatic helped a tiny bit. Not enough to miss glorious Midtown, of course, but this was a bunker in a mountain. You did what you could with what you had, especially when there was a clear stretch of hallway and no one really cared if you ran in the halls.
The landing was picture-perfect, and Peter fell right back into step, if not with a wistfulness that couldn’t be chased away. There had been a lot of time to think lately -- about this place and this world. More time with Ben, but Ben had gotten bitten by a werewolf. More time with Kaine, but the fighting never seemed to stop. And then there was MJ, but that looming threat that anyone could vanish at any point kept things grounded in a bleak sort of reality.
Then again, this place tended to give as much as it took. Every so often, there was the chance that you’d round a corner and someone would be walking ahead of you. Someone with a familiar silhouette, even. Peter took a few quick steps to get a better look, but his brain had already given his mouth instruction to say the first name that had leaped to the front of the line.
“Harry?”
Normie still wasn’t sure if this was the worst handled kidnapping ever or the most clever. He also wasn’t sure if him being used to waking up in strange bomb shelter chic places was good or bad. At least restraints weren’t involved this time. Which fed into the ‘clever’ part. They didn’t seem to know who he was. They wanted him to work. He had free range of this place. They hadn’t tried to do anything horrible to him. Yet, but that could just be years of paranoia thanks to dear, old grandpa talking.
After a pep talk and making sure the room was safe, he’d left little Benjy in an impromptu playpen. Just for a few minutes. Enough to get a general lay of the land in case… well… in case of a lot of things.
The familiar voice froze him in his steps and he suddenly wished he had the little guy with him. At least then he’d know if he was hearing things. After all, they hadn’t done anything horrible to him that he could remember. There was nothing at all to say they didn’t do something during however long he was out.
Turning and spotting the owner of the voice really wasn’t helping their case either. The face went with the voice, but only in photographs and memories from years ago. Not the last time he’d seen his godfather… Shaking his head, words fought in his head for the best ones to come out. “Oh, this isn’t good…” managed to win out.
It had been forever and a day since Peter had last seen Harry Osborn. Of course, that was Harry’s choice, and Peter… well, there wasn’t any blame he could muster for his oldest best friend. Harry had made a striking point: Peter Parker brought trouble to people’s lives. More than most, Harry understood that. Frighteningly more than most…
They hadn’t spoken in months, now. It might be almost to years.
But Peter had the switch flipped to auto-pilot as he raised his hands and half jogged down the hall. “I know, I know. Me, of all people,” he was saying, readying that apology that Harry would undoubtedly need to hear. “I --” Peter stopped. The face was familiar, but there was something not quite about it. Not quite Harry, really. Somewhat Harry, but at closer range, it wasn’t a perfect match.
It was always the little things. Sure, the goatee was gone and, at closer distance, the grey streak too, but the oddest thing was how... light this Peter was. Granted, they usually didn't meet under the best circumstances most days, but he was... bouncing was the best word for it. Much like May did...
Which, if this was a delusion, Peter wouldn't be bouncy, right? His delusions usually went more for that 'you're a failure and can't escape your past' variety, not... bouncy...
Alright. One issue at a time. This could be easy enough. He held his hands up as he took a deep breath. "I'm not-" he started, too late realizing he'd have to follow that up with who he really was and make that choice of whether he was sticking with the cover story or throwing it out the door. Ah well, he'd gotten this far. "I'm not Harry. Uh, don't suppose I could get a full name for you."
“Not Harry,” Peter echoed, now that his brain had started to pick up some slack. There might have been a note of disappointment in his voice, but something was telling him to not give up on this still panning out with a small reward. Different worlds being what they were, you never knew.
“Oh -- right, yeah. You’re new around here? I don’t remember seeing you around before.” He held out a hand and offered his best smile. “Peter Parker. Sorry, you just… you look insanely like one of my friends, and I get a thing for wishful thinking.”
“Not Harry,” Normie repeated with a nod. Although of all the mistakes, at least it was that one. “And yes. I- can it really be counted as arriving when you’re just dumped here?”
Just a blip of hesitation before he took the other’s hand in a firm grip. A sigh of relief puffed out. Solid. That was a good sign. Raised a whole lot more questions, but at least the crazy explanation was moving farther down the list. Which brought out a laugh at the word choice. “Of course you are. And I get that. A lot.” Although usually not from friends. Close at hand, he couldn’t help looking over the other man, his eyes lingering on Peter’s right leg. “So, I’m sure this place is just teeming over with weird questions and answers, but… I have to ask… how old are you?” His eyes narrowed as he focused back up on Peter’s face. “And why did they bring you here?”
“It’s whatever you wanna make of it,” Peter replied, hoisting his shoulders to a small shrug. “Either way, the welcome wagon’s standard.” He let his hand slip from the other man’s, but there was that niggling suspicion that was only bolstered by that apparent recognition of the Harry in question. If he’d heard that before, then…
“Wait. You know me, don’t you?” There was an equal narrowing of Peter’s eyes as the cogs started spinning again. “That’s one of those ‘You’re not the way I remember’ glances. I started being able to spot ‘em better in the last few months. I mean, aside from no one ever having opened up their questions with asking for my age without it being soaked in exasperation. Or it being followed by how much I don’t look like Tobey Maguire.”
“Kidnapping would be the go to, but they don’t come with welcome wagons.” Normie pressed his lips together. “Or at least friendly welcome wagons…”
He raised an eyebrow. Moment of truth. Which he usually tended to lean towards the truth instead of lying when it came to Peter. At least with direct questions. But then when you had a reputation like he did and always being just one step from costumed villainy, it was usually better to just put all his cards on the table where Peter was concerned. Even if it still earned him yelling and getting roughed up. On the other hand… he still wasn’t sure how this place worked and it was never above his enemies to use a Parker to get what they wanted… especially if he hadn’t actually be the target...
“You get recognized that often? I didn’t know I was with someone so famous.” He tilted his head as he inspected the other man’s face. “Now that you mention it, there is actually a resemblance…”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right kidnappers,” Peter supplied, feeling that the usual approach of beating things to death with humor couldn’t possibly fail him now. Maybe it was even masking some unease the more the other man spoke -- like there was a familiarity -- without actually saying anything concrete. He was hiding something, and that was fair enough when you were the freshest catch out here in the wastelands that used to be Virginia. It just felt like a specific dodging and weaving. No name, no self-identifier. Who was this guy?
Peter tilted his head back. “And maybe you’ve seen my mugshot. Or maybe… just maybe you worked for the Daily Bugle, too, but you have the look for a guy who hasn’t lived through a J. Jonah Jameson meeting of the minds. And you’re too old to have been in the classes I taught back in Midtown High. Oh, I’ll get this. Hold on --” Peter lifted a hand to his temple, feigning some strained thinking. “Hold on…”
“Is there a right kind of kidnapper?” Normie pointed out.
Going crazy was moving lower and lower down the list because, well, he doubted that his subconscious would be this creative with its hallucinations. Or this… informative? They tended to stick on a theme and Peter babbling about his life wasn’t one of them. Or well, the mundane part of his life. They also weren’t this amusing. Leaning back against the hallway wall, he crossed his arms over his chest as he just watched the other man. “Holding. So, feel free to continue. I’m really curious to see where it goes next.” Daily Bugle, check. Jameson, check. Midtown High was a check, but Peter teaching there… He could have very well missed that… Especially if this Peter was as young as he looked.
“Well, some have better manners. Or so I’ve heard.” Peter gave a shrug, letting that particular topic drift away as he lowered his shoulders again.
“And I bet you are. Okay, so…” There was a casual, almost cocky confidence here. That didn’t really match anyone in particular -- well, save for Harry on his A game. The face didn’t really match anyone in particular -- well, past that invoked Osborn-ness. “You didn’t sound really shocked to be mistaken for someone else. And I said Harry. And you turned. Now, here’s my line of thinking… different worlds funnel into here, so you could still be Harry. But you’re not the Harry I know from where I’m from. Which, yeah, contradicts you specifically telling me you’re not Harry, but I’m talking photocopy quality here. So… okay, so let’s dial it back and just start with this: you gotta be an Osborn. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll eat my right shoe.”
Normie had to wonder if this is what went on inside the older Peter’s head when he was doing his job, either job really, or when he started jumping to conclusions and making cryptic statements while pummeling people. Hearing it all out loud was definitely better and more helpful than just trying to piece together flippant remarks, that was for sure. Even if… His eyebrows furrowed. Know. Present tense. Was this Peter even younger than he thought or… different worlds… that was a disconcerting and hope inspiring bundle of what ifs there… That were best to be pushed down and sorted through later. In favor of…
He glanced down at the right shoe, his curiosity over that possible difference getting the better of him. “You better take it off. If it’s going to be involved in this exchange, it needs to be properly inspected first. Plus, what conditions are there for the left shoe? You don’t want it feeling left out.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Normie regretted them. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together for a second before puffing out a breath. “Could we just… forget that last bit?”
Peter had the presence to let his knitted brows do the conveying of his confusion, but his mouth and brain had finally gotten in sync enough to steer things back to the land of suspicion. “You know that evasion by humor deflection is my schtick, right? You haven’t given me one answer so far. All I got is that you seem to have a regret for shoe jokes. Which --” He threw his hands up. “-- I don’t know what that even means, but c’mon. People are gonna have to call you something, and the talking not-raccoon has a mean streak if you let him nickname you. Trust me.”
“Not shoe jokes, just… that obvious, horrible, well of course the left shoe would be left out, worse than even Spider-Man wordplay,” Normie wooshed out. He rubbed his hand over his face before pushing himself off of the wall to fully face Peter. “Look. I don’t know where I am, other than what they told me that they expect me to believe. I don’t know why they brought me here, especially when they don’t seem to even know who they grabbed. My cell reception is fried and can’t connect to any of the people I know have my back…” He waved a hand at Peter. “Except that you’re here, which makes me think that this is definitely trouble or a trap or both. Especially if we’re tossing in different dimensions because people getting pulled to different dimensions… it never ends well…”
“Uh.” It felt like the most reasonable response. There was a lot to digest in that free-flow stream, and Peter had caught the Spider-Man reference, and the fact that this guy didn’t feel like he had many friends. Peter blew out a held breath, then reached his hand to the back of his neck, where it idly rubbed at a tiny knots in the muscles. “Okay…”
Peter stared at the other man. “No, actually, amendment: what?”
Huh… so this is what it felt like to be on the other side with all the information and confusing people. Normie breathed out a heavy sigh as he cradled his head in his hand. “‘What’ to which part, Uncle Pete?” he asked in exasperation.
Peter kept staring. His mind was running backwards through memories, trying to figure out who would be calling him an uncle. It snapped into place in one swift motion the moment he thought back to Harry’s first kid being born.
“Normie.” No wonder the face wasn’t completely matching. The last time he’d seen Normie, he was about knee-height and following his mother around. “Oh my god, you’re Normie, and I’m an idiot. Of course you look like my friend...” A hand rubbed at Peter’s eyes, as if it would clear away the lingering fog. “Sorry, it’s just… growth spurt, huh? Wow.”
“You won’t get any argument there,” Normie joked, breathing a mental sigh of relief. Well, the cat was out of the bag for better or for worse. At least this Peter still knew him, so that was a good sign. Right? He couldn’t help the warm smile though. “Just a little bit of one. I’m… what? Four?” It had to be at most that if their timelines matched up. If being key.
“Four feet tall, maybe. Nah, seven. Which is why… you know, the face…” Peter loosely gestured at Normie’s visage, in all its unapologetic Osborn glory. And, besides even that, there was the disconnect between Liz and Harry’s little boy, who seemed to be on a very unique path with those parents, and the composed young man in front of him. Peter hated to think it, but sane was the word that surfaced first, and it was a little surprising.
And then a second realization hit. “Wait, how old are you?”
Seven… that… the leg could still work with that. That fateful last battle between his grandfather and Peter had been around that time, so it’s possible it just hadn’t happened yet. But the present tense. That… no… that didn’t work at all…
Shaking his head, he pointed a finger at Peter. “Oh no. I asked first. You have to answer the weird question before I do.” Which, ok, a bit more acting like four or seven than his actual age, but he had been the first to ask and get evaded on the matter.
“I…” Peter closed his mouth, and looked sideways to the finger he’d raised in protest. What the heck. It wasn’t like his life was a secret around here. “28, and 29 is around the corner. I’ve been hearing the old jokes a lot lately, so if you wanna chip one more on the pile… hey, go for it.”
There came a follow-up nod toward Normie. “I know you’re not seven. Not unless you stressed out way too much during elementary school and it all caught up in your early teens. Is it too late to say that pasta art should be fun? Don’t take spaghetti too seriously.”
Ok, and that… matched up… The age didn’t make things any clearer, but at least that time was lining up? That Normie hadn’t been born earlier and so of course he was that much older before things had started to go down hill. That was a thing that happened in these situations, right? “All I have for jokes are along the line of ‘sweet summer child’, so, I’ll pass.”
And… well… Peter wasn’t wrong… Stress had always been high in his early childhood considering all the deaths and kidnappings and grandfathers who were dead not really being dead but dying again anyways… just change early teens for late teens and, yup, story of his life. “Oh, but it’s very serious work. It has to be worthy of its spot on the refrigerator,” he deadpanned. A pause. “Twenty-one. It was quite the party.”
The cringe that came from Normie’s deadpan was covered up with a noble attempt at a grin. The number of times Peter had been privy to the Osborn machine and its crushing need for the best and only the best meant watching Harry get slammed on repeat. There was a small, silent prayer Peter offered up that Normie was just kidding. It just felt too soon to pry at that particular scab, if there even was one.
Peter let out a low whistle. “Tell me I didn’t miss that many birthdays. I know I’m always late to everything, but I thought I was pretty good at at least sending a card. And if I did, uh… happy birthday, slugger?” Of course there were missed birthdays, Parker. You drove the barriers down between yourself and Harry. And you’re really not on great terms with Liz, either. The moment you became Spider-Man...
“Wait. Wait, wait. You said something earlier about Spider-Man. What was that about?”
“Well, since it wasn’t that many, I can tell you that you missed some,” Normie countered with a shrug. “But you really weren’t to blame for those.” And probably better that the Parkers missed out on a few of those considering his… well, teen rebellion was putting it lightly. No one really needed that misguided war starting because he decided to be a little shit and show Uncle Pete his new tattoos. Which… speaking of…
He narrowed his eyes in confusion before raising an eyebrow very slowly. “Just that his jokes are terrible, especially when he’s trying to do the evasion by humor deflection thing.” He glanced around the hallway before gesturing at Peter. “Should I keep going with the third person pronouns? I can if that’s the situation. It just sometimes gets a little confusing and slightly creepy.”
It looked like there was yet another world where the cat got out of the bag. Or at least it got out of the bag and took up residence in the Osborn courtyard. Peter exhaled, but he threw up his hands in defeat. Why fight it? If he tried, no doubt someone would walk down the hall and fling him a ‘Yo, Spidey!’ just to prove that his luck was still going strong.
“Nah, it’s no secret around here. I was kinda thinking it was a secret with select members of the peanut gallery, but I… ah. I guess with the family you come from… y’know.” Fingers made a wriggly attempt to shape the words that weren’t quite coming out. “I mean, we’re not about to have a brawl, right? That’s not the end game here, right?”
Both eyebrows went up. No secret among them was one thing. No secret at all, well… huh… That was new. The shock quickly dissipated though in favor of an eye roll. “Well, yes, the family ties would be automatic membership into that peanut gallery. Super select considering the heritage membership there.”
Taking a deep breath, he held it a moment before letting it out as he shook his head. “No, Uncle Pete. I… no. If there’s any sort of end game, it’s figuring out what this place is and making sure we’re safe.”
The question Peter really wanted to ask was on the tip of his tongue, but he let it drop. Bringing up the Green Goblin didn’t seem like a smart move, and if Normie wasn’t actively trying to do anything, then that green elephant in the room could just find the nearest exit and take it. Odds are it would find its way back sooner or later, but it didn’t have to be dealt with right now.
“Safe as houses,” Peter answered, giving a wide-armed gesture at the immediate stretch of hall. “I mean, this is as safe as the distant future gets. Did they give you the welcome brochure talk? They’re not messing around. This is 2150, and the world got a little radioactive for a few decades. No one knows how anyone of us non-natives got here, but we’ve been part of the community here for months on end now.” A pause. “Hey, did anyone come through with you? Sometimes people turn up in pairs. Kinda figured you would’ve mentioned by now if any other Obsorns were still being processed, but it’s always nice having an arrival buddy to share in the confusion.”
“They did,” Normie said as his eyes followed Pete’s gesture, even if there was really nothing new in the hallway. It wasn’t really a bad place. He’d seen worse. “And I’m still skeptical about all of it.” But Peter was taking it in stride. If there was any immediate danger… well, he wouldn’t be nearly so cheerful…
The question had him looking back where his room was though. “Yes, although they aren’t the best conversationalist yet. Great listener though.” Another short pause. What did you do in these sorts of situation? There was usually a ‘don’t step on the butterfly rule’, but did that work when things weren’t quite… right with the other person’s memory of the past anyways… Well, only one way to see if the universe wouldn’t explode at the very least. He nodded his head before following in the same direction, gesturing for Peter to follow him as an amused smirk tilted his lips. “Come on. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”
The nice thing about Mount Weather was that work days were all up to suggestion. In the midst of thinking he ought to be getting back off this extended lunch break, Peter remembered that he was his own boss. And, really, if this ended up being the worst case of faith in an otherwise total stranger ever, then he was still Spider-Man. He could handle it. Just, please let this guy not end up to be someone decidedly unfriendly towards spiders. Please let this not backfire.
Peter gave a nod, then a short bow. “You lead, I follow. Just warn me if I’m about to meet your enthusiastic dog or something, okay? You’re smirking. This is going to be a dog, isn’t it? I’m about to get covered in drool, aren’t I?”
Normie laughed warmly, the grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yes, there will be drool and you will be covered in it. That’s a guarantee.”