Rooms

Who: Harry Osborn
Where: Marvel; New York to Paris.
When: Encompassing the last week up to this moment.
Warnings: Mention of drugs, destructive behavior, etc.

( Harry hadn't gone to Gwen's funeral. )

[Locked to Peter P]
Want to come see a movie with me tonight, tiger?

[Locked to Flash T]
Are you like, friends with Jason?

[Locked to Harry O]
Hey, slugger. How's it going?

[Locked to MK R]
How're you doing?

[Public.]
The funeral for Gwendolyn Stacy will be Monday, 2 PM. St. Patrick's Cathedral.


[Locked to Peter P.]
Were you and Gwen dating?


[Phonecall to Mary Jane W. Ring!]

[Private to Jason T, Harry O, Mary Jane W, Hels, Cindy M, Steve R. Separately.]

Gwen's dead.

[Locked to Gwen S.]
I need to talk to you.


[Locked to MJ W]
Is this some kind of [He erases, leaving a telltale smudge of graphite on the page.]

[locked to gwen s., flash t., mj w., harry o. (individually)]

So, this time it was weird dreams. You okay?

[public.]

[Pfffft anon.]

Hey, lady in the cage I let out. You there?

[Locked to Harry O]
We should talk in case Did you buy that yacht yet, Harry? The tide predictions are super favorable for late April.

[Locked to Jason T]
Hey, James Dean. I hear you're totally in the loop now.

[Call to Peter P]
[About an hour after this, as she leaves NYU. Ring.]

[locked to harry o.]

Yo.

[locked to aubrey r.]

Hey, so, you don't know me, but I know a friend of yours. Kitane. Got a minute or is this a bad time?

[Private to Peter P.]

sooo MJ has nooo fucking idea you're Spider-Man? Still? That's fucked bro.

[Private to Harry O.]

thanks, man.

[11 AM, Monday morning, and the board members of Oscorp waited impatiently in a meeting room, voices going sharper with their dissonance and irritation. Faces grew redder and blotchier by the moment. Felicia drummed her red fingernails on the surface of the long, shiny oak table, sharp green eyes darting from member to member as she assured them for what felt like the twentieth time that Harry -- Mr. Osborn was on his way. But, they were becoming restless, and there was tittering about the young boy that itched Felicia the wrong way. They were far too dismissive, in the same way that people had been far too dismissive of her. She felt protective of her boss. She knew he was capable if he would just goddamn show up to his job. Still, that didn't soothe her own ire, and after the twenty-first assurance, she excused herself, saying that she would go to find him in his office and fetch him.

Only, she didn't go to his office, Oh, she was going to fetch him, surely, but she knew that he hadn't stepped foot in Oscorp today.

She assumed that he was at home, or at least she hoped. If she had to pull him off some sloppy girl and wake him up, she was going to be livid. Without even grabbing her coat, she walked out of the building and hailed the first yellow cab that neared her, immediately rattling off the Osborn Estate's address on the Upper East Side. The drive from midtown to the estate was fairly painless, and the entire time, she kept dialing and redialing the missing Osborn heir. No answer, so she called again. And again. And again.

Frustrated, she tossed some cash at the driver when he pulled up to the front of Harry's building, mentally clocking the money she'd charge as business expenses for that, and strutted towards the entrance. Only, she decided at the last moment not to use the front entrance. Just for the hell of it. Felicia, being Harry's assistant, knew most of the security protocols, knew how much personnel was on site at any given moment, and she could guess which were the weakest entryways. A sweep of the premises, and she decided for a side, service entrance. Bobbypins, a click and she was in a hallway that lead to the foyer of the main entrance. No servants were there to greet her, thankfully, and she took a few high-heeled steps across marble before stopping at the base of the stairs.]

Mr. Osborn? [And then, louder, just in case.] Mr. Osborn.

[As per Gwen's provided information, a delivery arrives for Flash Thompson. Firstly, the most monstrous bacon cheeseburger found in the city, curly fries included. A fresh in-the-box PS4, and a moderately-sized flatscreen television for his room because hospital TVs suck. The games included are all 25 on this list. Lastly, there is a card. Simple white, folded over, black type on the inside.]

Get well and there's another burger in it for you.

H.T.O.

[Immediately prior to going to Flash's hospital room here.]

[Group lock to Peter P, Mary Jane W, Harry O]
Flash is awake.

[Locked to Jason T]
Hey, Flash is awake and got moved to Cornell. But [blink] can we maybe do something that doesn't involve staying in the hospital?

[Immediately after this, from the ER waiting room at Bellevue Hospital.]

[Locked to Sharon C]
Ms. Carter, I'm sorry to bother you, but Flash was badly injured. We're at Bellevue Hospital, and they're asking about the cause of injury. Can you cover and say it was something top secret?

[Locked to Neil D]
Mr. Donovan, do you have resources in Marvel?

[Locked to Harry O]
Are you still at the apartment, Harry?

[During this.]

[Locked to Peter P + Gwendy S]
What's going on with Flash? [...] Why is he acting like Harry?

ETA: [Locked to Harry O]
Harry?

[Locked to Pepper P]
Ms. Potts, I need to let someone know, in case Peter and I end up as insane as our friends. We're going into the Silent Hill door to get Gwendolyn and Flash.

Who: Gwen Stacy & Harry Osborn
What: Reuniting with a younger!Harry
Where: Gwen's.
When: After this.
Warnings: None as of yet.

Harry gave the address to the driver, who was familiar enough with the neighborhood to make a few shortcuts along the way. Twenty minutes after his last message sent, Harry arrived at Gwen's building. He paid for the several hour long taxi trip around the city with one of the credit cards discovered to be in his possession upon waking that morning. He didn't bother checking the balances. The Centurion card didn't have any real limit, or not the kind that Harry had ever had the priviledge of blowing through in a month. Even with all of those Spring Break splurges and summer weekend trips to Ibiza. He wasn't going to hit that kind of limit unless he decided to go shopping for a yacht, and Harry was suddenly struck with the realization that he'd never even entertained the idea of owning a yacht before. Maybe now was the time. Norman Osborn, may he rest in peace, wasn't exactly the type inclined toward family vacations, and beside that, he'd never seen his father on a boat.

Harry knocked on the front door without worrying about what would happen after. He was still caught up in the prospect of luxury boats. He wondered where one even went to shop for that kind of thing. Maybe it was more reasonable to send an agent to Connecticut to shop around. He would need new clothes, Harry still hadn't gotten around to that today, and for good reason. Harry supposed that if he was a couple of years in the future, he would at least need to study the style before commiting to a new closet. All that he'd been able to dig through without losing patience were endless suits. He wore one of the button-up shirts, powder blue, tucked into dark slacks. He waited for Gwen to answer the door and considered the shine on his shoes.

There were subtle differences. He was younger, but a couple of years didn't change much. His face seemed softer, or just freshly shaved for the first time in a long time. His hair was youth-messy. The most obvious difference, which might only seem obvious now that she had something recent to compare him to, was that he actually looked healthy. A little slept-in and rumpled, pants that were an inch or two too long, hems bunching under the heels of his shoes. He wasn't starved or wane, manic or bloodshot. This Harry at least had the energy to be entertained by the little things, like the shine in his shoes that shifted from one side to the other as he clicked his heels and waited.

[It takes him most of the day to come to terms with this. The hotel was already a familiar experience when Harry was 18, so it pretty easy to figure out where to place the blame. Aside from the fact that his phone is a nicer edition than he remembes owning, and the date is all wrong, he doesn't notice anything at first. Varied voicemails from lawyers confirm his father's recent and accidental death, which is news that Harry takes surprisingly well. There is grief, but its healthy. He makes appointments to settle legal affairs and ultimately turns to the journals. All of his prior conversations are missing, talk about a fresh start.]

[ Spidey Kids(Gwen, Peter, Flash, MJ) ]
Anyone around?


[ LOCKED to Gwen S ]
Thanks for the card, condolences mean alot right now.


[Later added & locked to Felicia H, after looking into matters.]
I assume you have all of my father's affairs in order?

[Not only does Harry Osborn have amnesia, now, but he's also magically cured of Golbining! Per Peter's wish, Harry's physiology now contains zero traces of the serum, meaning no withdrawal effects, as if he never took it at all. No side effects. Mileage may vary.

He does, however, get a little note to explain what's happened, in the form of a piece of paper lying on his chest when he wakes up. The message is written in lovely script, because if the anon has to use magic to do this thing, the hotel can at least let them do it in style.]

[As you wish, Harry. He wakes up in his own bed at the old house belonging to the Osborns. The house itself, well. That's in escrow, because Mr. Osborn is still very very dead. Harry doesn't remember anything and is a teenager once again and no serum has ever entered his veins: perfect for the last year of high school (how else does someone forget everything to do with Gwen and Emily?) He's a blank slate, nothing of hotels, Vegas and magic. But everyone else's memories are intact. How long it lasts? Up to Harry. The wish-giver didn't specify.]

[locked to harry o.]

Harry?

[public.]

Well, this is an interesting development.

Okay, sunshine. We're doing this, and we're making it count.