[Osborn Plot] It Begins.
Sep. 22nd, 2009 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Continued from here
I walk faster than's strictly necessary, but not fast enough that she can't keep up. Even as we move further and further away from the field, I stay on the lookout, not wanting to risk the chance that I'll miss something -- or someone. People might call this paranoia. I call it being smart. The way I see it, my concerns – and boy, am I concerned -- are entirely called for. 'Cause, well, Norman Osborn isn't exactly your typical psychopath. Just before my three hour tour got extended, I spent months thinking Aunt May was dead because he had a few of my old pals bury her alive in Uncle Ben's grave,* all from the comfort of his prison cell. The prison cell Cat and I had to help him break out of. Long story. And that's not to mention the clones,** Mary Jane's miscarriage,*** Harry's drug addiction,**** Harry's death...*****
Gwen. Not only did he kill the woman I love,****** he apparently killed the mother of his own children.******* I wish I could say that was it. I wish I could say that list of things was finite, but that's only the tip of the iceberg.
And now he's here.
I let go of her hand abruptly – or what I imagine probably looks abruptly, seeing as MJ's not psychic – and I jump up onto the nearest boulder without breaking stride, using the extra height to grab onto a branch. Kicking my legs forward, I use the momentum to swing up and over, finally landing in a crouch. A normal person might be holding onto the tree for dear life. Me? I dig my elbows into my knees and hang my head in my hands.
I don't say anything for about a minute, too busy trying to not hyperventilate. Then: "It happened this morning."
*MKSM #9-12
** ASM #121, ASM #149,
***SM #75
****ASM #96
*****SSM #200
******ASM #121
*******ASM #509 What can we say? Norman's been a busy guy! – Notating Nix.
I walk faster than's strictly necessary, but not fast enough that she can't keep up. Even as we move further and further away from the field, I stay on the lookout, not wanting to risk the chance that I'll miss something -- or someone. People might call this paranoia. I call it being smart. The way I see it, my concerns – and boy, am I concerned -- are entirely called for. 'Cause, well, Norman Osborn isn't exactly your typical psychopath. Just before my three hour tour got extended, I spent months thinking Aunt May was dead because he had a few of my old pals bury her alive in Uncle Ben's grave,* all from the comfort of his prison cell. The prison cell Cat and I had to help him break out of. Long story. And that's not to mention the clones,** Mary Jane's miscarriage,*** Harry's drug addiction,**** Harry's death...*****
Gwen. Not only did he kill the woman I love,****** he apparently killed the mother of his own children.******* I wish I could say that was it. I wish I could say that list of things was finite, but that's only the tip of the iceberg.
And now he's here.
I let go of her hand abruptly – or what I imagine probably looks abruptly, seeing as MJ's not psychic – and I jump up onto the nearest boulder without breaking stride, using the extra height to grab onto a branch. Kicking my legs forward, I use the momentum to swing up and over, finally landing in a crouch. A normal person might be holding onto the tree for dear life. Me? I dig my elbows into my knees and hang my head in my hands.
I don't say anything for about a minute, too busy trying to not hyperventilate. Then: "It happened this morning."
*MKSM #9-12
** ASM #121, ASM #149,
***SM #75
****ASM #96
*****SSM #200
******ASM #121
*******ASM #509 What can we say? Norman's been a busy guy! – Notating Nix.
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Date: 2009-09-23 04:23 am (UTC)For what felt like a long while, she stayed quiet, worrying at her lower lip as she watched him. She couldn't stand it forever, though. Just when she'd opened her mouth to speak -- to ask if she'd done something or if he was breaking up with her, she hadn't really thought that far ahead -- he beat her to it, and she fell silent in turn. She didn't know what that meant, but it least it sounded like this wasn't about her. "What happened?"
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Date: 2009-09-23 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-23 04:49 am (UTC)"You're kidding," she said tightly, her voice flat, though she knew he wasn't. Peter would never have joked about something like that. "He's - he's here? Now? On the island?"
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Date: 2009-09-23 05:45 am (UTC)I'm not angry at her, and I can only hope she gets that. I'm angry at myself, I'm angry at this place, and I'm sure as hell angry at him, but not at her. Thing is, though, she's the one standing there, meaning she's the one who's going to get the brunt of it.
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Date: 2009-09-24 01:55 am (UTC)"So... what?" she asked, obviously tense, though she was making a concerted effort not to snap right back at him. "What now? What do we do?"
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Date: 2009-09-24 02:18 am (UTC)Okay, Parker, you need to slow down and think. And possibly verbalize some of this process, so you aren't just giving MJ the silent treatment.
"He's going by a false name."
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Date: 2009-09-24 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-24 02:59 am (UTC)Shaking my head, I say, "No. No, we are not doing anything. I am doing something. You are staying as far away from this as humanly possible."
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Date: 2009-09-24 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-24 03:30 am (UTC)Gotta say, I wish that plan would actually work. Unfortunately, it's missing a few key components. Like, well, a plan.
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Date: 2009-09-24 03:37 am (UTC)"...no, I met him," she said slowly, the syllables drawn out, her puzzlement all too obvious. "And he didn't look anything like the Norman Osborn I know. Are you sure?"
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Date: 2009-09-24 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-24 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 12:50 am (UTC)"What did you tell him?"
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Date: 2009-09-25 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 03:53 am (UTC)I let my hands drop, spinning on my heel so my back's facing her. For a brief second, one glimmering second I thought we could twist the alternate universe thing in our favor. If Mary Jane Watson was nothing to Peter Parker, she wouldn't have been a person of interest -- not to Norman, anyway. He goes after the people he knows'll hurt the most. A virtual stranger wouldn't fit that criteria.
"$*!@*)#$(*!"
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:00 am (UTC)"There's got to be something we can do," she said, but weakly, lacking the usual conviction of her optimism. "You know? Some way to just... lay low or something, I don't know." For a moment, she paused, expression incredibly serious as she looked at him, though it was at the back of his head. "You're positive it's him? There's no chance that it could be a clone, or something?"
She doubted that he would be this worked up if he hadn't been certain, but it wouldn't hurt to check.
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:27 am (UTC)I got the yelling out of my system -- for now -- so my voice is low, but not inaudible. My hands ball into fists. It's only through sheer willpower that I manage to uncurl my fingers, stretching them out, because I really don't need the added stress of making her afraid of me. I'm not the Hulk. I can keep myself in check.
Mostly.
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 05:14 am (UTC)"He... he told you you could either save me, or a whole tramway car full of kids. Dropped us both over the edge of the Queensboro Bridge," she said slowly, not opening her eyes as she spoke. It made the memories that much more vivid, but it was easier, somehow, to keep herself in control that way. "At the World Unity Fair, he... destroyed some buildings, killed a whole bunch of people." She paused there, expression growing even more serious, and when she continued, her voice was considerably quieter than it had been before. "He wasn't around for very long. You killed him."
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Date: 2009-09-25 06:10 am (UTC)It was one thing for the people back home to think Spider-Man killed Norman Osborn. They didn't know any better. All they saw was this menace to society, believing every bit of garbage and vitriol the Bugle saw fit to publish. It's another thing entirely for Mary Jane to still believe that. She's said again and again that I'm the same man she knew, but if that were the case, she couldn't possibly think I killed him.
Whatever amount of calm I managed a second ago disappears, but I don't yell. I don't shout. I don't even so much as move. Instead I draw into myself, my posture changing in hundreds of subtle little ways until it becomes readily apparent that there's no way in hell I'm just a science teacher from Queens. I've said before that it's never been about the mask, and it isn't. I am Spider-Man, plain and simple, and I don't need to cover my face in order for that to be any more or less true.
So it's those same three little words that make me say, "You don't even know me."
*ASM #123
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Date: 2009-09-25 06:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
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