damned_institute | Nightshift 40: F-A Block Hallway

[following Daddy in from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/605600.html?thread=51263648#t51263648) for a talking to]

Harry had automatically followed his father into the empty adjoining hall, obedience too deeply ingrained for him to think of disobeying. His head was spinning as he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on here. His father was dead. He'd arranged the funeral himself, had spent almost all his time since then trying to get revenge on his murderer. But his father had also visited him here just days ago and had been alive and the same as ever. Now he was here, in front of him claiming he wanted to talk or more likely, he would talk and Harry was expected to listen.

This knowledge didn't stop Harry from asking nervously, "Dad? What's going on? Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Harry," Norman answered, fixing his son with a condescending stare. "Particularly because you seem to have been here longer than I have. But from what I've heard, this Landel seems to think he can keep Norman Osborn somewhere against his will."

He smiled dangerously and there was a hint of too-sharp teeth for a moment.

"We'll have to show him why you don't challenge an Osborn." His gaze was more measuring now, knowing that the 'we' can't have been missed. "I need to know that I have people I can trust by my side," he continued. "People who are... worthy."

He let the silence stretch out between them for a while before opening his arms slightly in something that might have been an invitation for an embrace.

"What do you say, son?"

Still no explanation from his father as to how he was alive, but the way he was talking he must have been brought here recently. He had to have been brought back the same way Harry had, however Landel did it. Of course his father wouldn't take well to being kept prisoner, even if it was the only reason he was alive.

But Norman was still talking and now he was definitely suggesting something, but it couldn't be what he thought, could it? 'People he could trust?' 'Worthy?' It sounded like he wanted- But he'd never thought-

Harry didn't know what to think, overwhelmed by the possibility that his father thought he might actually be worth his time, that he might actually want Harry by his side for once and see him as something other than a huge disappointment. Swallowing, he stared at Norman a moment longer, finally realising what he might be offering. Ignoring the part of his mind frantically screaming at him about something Peter had said that first morning they met, that was reminding him that Norman had been - was - the Green Goblin and had nearly killed him, Harry limped hesitantly forward.

He stepped into the circle of his father's arms, still expecting to be rejected - but the last time he'd seen his father, before he'd died, Norman had said he was proud of him, that he was going to make things right between them. Maybe he'd been telling the truth and maybe, just maybe they could start over?

Norman's arms enfolded Harry in a tight embrace, but his fingers seemed sharp and almost claw-like where they pressed through the thin cloth of his shirt. They dug into the younger man's skin, pulling him close as Norman whispered into his ear.

"You've made the right choice, son," he said softly. His lips stretched inhumanly wide, a rictus grin revealing rows of jagged, knife-like teeth. "I'm proud of you."

And then the thing that wore Norman's face sank its teeth into Harry's shoulder.

Harry clung to his father with his uninjured arm, still remembering the last time Norman had held him, before he died. Anything strange about the situation was forgotten when his father said the one thing Harry always wanted to hear from him, the same thing he'd said that last night in the family home.

"Really, Dad, I-" But, before he could say anything further he caught sight of Norman's - or whatever this thing really was - face. Once again, everything happened too fast for him to think or react. Just as he was drawing in a breath - to fight it off, shout for help, something - inhumanly sharp teeth were tearing into him. Screaming in pain, Harry shoved futiley against the thing, desperate to get away, the only thought in his head a chorus of 'oh god, please I don't want to die again!' The flashlight and his crutch clattered to ground, leaving him to strugggle helplessly in the thing's grasp.

Norman's arms tightened around his son, his grip suddenly vice-like and his fingers replaced with claws that ripped into the younger man's back and sides. The teeth ripped free from Harry only to bite down again savagely at the junction of his neck and shoulder, the smell and taste of fresh, hot blood seemingly driving the thing into a frenzy.

[From here.]

Whatever Peter had been expecting when he ripped the door open, it wasn't this.

It was eating him. Its teeth were digging into his neck - there was blood everywhere, and Harry was just scrambling against the thing, trying to shove it away with one hand. He was terrified.

To his credit, Peter didn't freeze. He gunned straight for the creature, fist reeling back before crashing full force into its head.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!!"

Matt could smell the blood, hear the fighting, and felt Peter launch himself at the thing.

Real smart Parker, he thought. So what was he doing? Jumping into the frey.

Moving forward quickly, guessing that Peter would be tied up with the monster, Matt quickly got behind the man he guessed was Harry. He intended to either help him get away from the monster or help stop the bleeding. Too much fucking blood.

Harry's struggles against him weakened and the thing that looked like Norman shifted his grip slightly to better hold him while he fed.

Which turned out to be a mistake, as suddenly two other patients were upon them, the smaller one catching him a nasty blow while he was distracted. The limp body of his prey slipped out of his grip and Norman drew back, eyes wild and face bloody as he stared down at the smaller boy.

"Peter."

[Switching posting order with Harry!]

Harry's struggles had been getting increasingly weaker as the pain and blood loss took its toll. By the time Peter and his companion arrived, he wasn't moving at all and when the creature that wore Norman's face dropped him he slumped, limp and lifeless to the ground, sprawling in the pool of his own blood. He may have even found it appropriate that he was murdered by something that looked like his own father after what happened to this other Peter's Harry Osborn. Not that anyone could ask him now.

There was a moment, however brief, where Peter was convinced that Harry had just lost his balance. That he was going to scramble to his knees and crawl away any second now.

Any second now...

Peter tried to say his name, but the words died in his throat.

He was suddenly aware of being on his knees, blood soaking through his pants, sticking to his legs. Harry hadn't moved. His neck was still bleeding, and his eyes were halfway closed. Peter trembled as he slid a hand around the back of his head, lifting him off the floor as his other hand searched for a heartbeat.

No no no no... He shook him, his breath hitching, jaw dropping wide open. The blood kept spattering on the ground, and Harry stayed still. Please no...please...

"Come on," Peter hissed. Tears slipped past his mouth as he spoke, dark blotches forming on Harry's bloodied shirt where they fell. He shook him even harder, flashes of the night at the Triskelion jumping at him all over again - Harry's skull cracked and leaking, his body bruised. His voice came out strangled and weak. "C-come on!"

"Peter."

He didn't recognize it's face, but he knew that voice. Horrified, he slowly turned to gape up at Norman Osborn. "You..."

And the rage came back.

Peter hollered as he threw himself at the man, unable to think beyond seeing Harry's blood all over his filthy, jagged mouth.

When Matt took Harry into his arms, he already knew it was too late, but he still did all he could. He stripped off his own shirt, trying to at least slow the blood flow. With the young man's throat gone, CPR was pointless, but he didn't give up until even the faint sound of blood rushing out began to slow, signalling to Matt that the blood wasn't being pushed out by the beat of a heart.

He settled the body on the ground, just as Peter came rushing up and all but shoved him aside to get to Harry.

When Peter flipped out and attacked the monster, Matt snatched up his own staff, ready to help defend the young man if he was needed.

Norman laughed as Peter lunged mindlessly at him, revealing sharp teeth lining the mouth much like a sharks. But, rather than meet the attack head on, he suddenly sidestepped and lashed out to grab the smaller patient's arms. His fingers were too sharp, almost like talons where they ripped his shirt and sank into the skin.

The blood seemed to affect this one as it had the other. The laugh altered in pitch, becoming a shriek akin to the one Mary Jane had uttered and then Norman lunged for Peter, mouth inhumanly wide as he tried to sink those wicked teeth into his new prey.

He wasn't even aware that he had missed until the claws tore into his arms, pulling him closer to the creature. Peter gave a choked cry, fighting madly to rip himself out of the grip. He didn't care if the thing clawed him to pieces, he just wanted to hit it. Watch it fall, punch it, kick it, keep going until this wretched pain was gone.

Every move jarred the claws jammed deep in his skin, and his spider sense was blaring all over again, but Peter didn't stop. He lurched his head back when it screeched and snapped at him, just like MJ had. This time he scrambled away, stretching the thing's arms as far as they could go, and shot his foot into its knee. Peter screamed at it, tears ducking into his mouth and down his cheeks. "YOU BASTARD!!"

He didn't register Matt moving in, or the blood surging out around the monster's claws. Even the bite from earlier was forgotten. All he could think of was Harry. Harry who wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, whose throat was torn out, whose head was smashed on the roof. And Norman Osborn, who was always, always there.

Peter was going to make him pay.

Nightshift 40: F-A Block Hallway

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