Harry Osborn (been_better) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-09-28 17:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | felicia hardy, harry osborn |
Who: Harry (New Goblin) and Black Cat
What: Everybody has to show up somehow. It’s not his fault that he’s welcomed by dangerous traffic and a few cars that his toy just ruined.
Where: In the middle of a busy street
When: After sundown
Rating: TBA
The object in the sky came down hard and fast. Harry, not knowing where he was, why his glider was under his feet or why his wounds didn’t hurt, hell, why he could move at all after being thrown aside like a rag doll, wasn’t in the right frame of mind to stop what was bound to happen any second now. He felt his knees shake and was—in the back of his mind—aware of his body twisting and turning and trying in a last ditch effort to understand what was going on.
He didn’t have it in him to cry out when it happened. His head was too fogged with the oncoming confusion birthed by what was happening and his voice refused to work properly. The fans at the bottom of the glider turned sharply and it was at the very last second, right before the glider collided with the ground, that Harry found his ability to move and used it to leap from the solid surface keeping him upright.
Vaguely he could hear horns blaring and a woman screaming, a child crying, more screaming and cars hitting curbs and other cars and skidding to sudden stops, tires squealing loudly, too loud. On his way down the side of his head had been bashed harshly against the hood of a red Honda and the blood from his new open wound gushed down passed his right eye, resulting in a set of blinks from him as he struggled to take back his footing.
The glider expelled four jets of flame in the direction of a line of vehicles and then went silent and still on the pavement. A man in a business suit, a young woman with a baby attached to her hip and all the others lucky enough to be out and about, abandoned their cars so that they could dash to the safety of the sidewalk. They were gaping at him with open jaws, wide eyes and fingers that pointed. Harry held his head in his hands, hunched over and thinking to himself, that this couldn’t be what it was like to no longer be alive.
Everything hurt and death didn’t hurt. Death took pain away. It didn’t inflict it. It wasn’t supposed to.
Something exploded to his left. He’d been expecting that but flinched anyway. His head briefly lifted to take a look at the damage all around him, but he put his hands back in an instant.
He didn’t want to look.