[Osborn Plot] It Begins.

[daretodo]

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.

Comments

[getemtiger.livejournal.com]

His pulling away did seem abrupt to Mary Jane, and unsettlingly so. Already she couldn't make sense of any of this, but it was easier to tell herself that she didn't have anything to do with it when he was right next to her. The distance just made her uncertain all over again. Watching him climb up into the tree, she stood below the branch he was on, head tipped back so she could look up at him. At the very least, she knew better than to ask if he was alright up there.

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?"