A/N: I did contemplate putting this chapter and the next chapter into one longer chapter, considering the next one isn't actually that long. However, I didn't want to 'overwhelm' people I guess with events. This chapter is vital and contains a lot of fighting, and a lot of people making very powerful statements, and to clump it in with the next one which has a complete tonal difference would be awkward. Anyway, the next chapter won't take long for me to post considering it's pretty much ready, and its a scene I've very much wanted to write.
Anyway, I'll make sure to thank everyone in the next chapter, consider this part one of two!
Hermione Romanoff: Haha, O'Leary is possibly the most dickheadish dickhead of a character I've ever written. But he can almost definitely get worse. I'm glad the twist floored you, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting on this chapter for too long :)
Odie.18: She might be hearing them, she might not, you'll just have to see ;)
"'Cause baby, it's cold outside
I don't wanna go
Rushing thoughts to the back of my mind
From the end of the world."
"Harry, come in," said Ned down his earpiece, "what's going on?"
There was loud swearing from Harry's end, drowned out by the sound of an explosion that came from a building right next to Oscorp tower. MJ ducked from where she and Ned had been sheltering from the rain and sprinted out to the middle of the road, which had been blocked off by police and reporters all trying to get a good story out of the situation. But no one quite knew what the situation was, or what had just caused the explosion. MJ pushed the damp hair clinging to her face out of her eyes, the rain heavy and the air thick, but it was impossible to make out what had caused the explosion in the misty haze of the downpour.
"It's the Green Goblin," said Ned, who was trying to catch up with them. "Harry says Adara's trapped in the building, with O'Leary. The only way in during the lockdown is through a door on the roof."
"But Peter can't get to it, Norman's waysided him." MJ did her best to make sure she seemed calm. But she was feeling the same kind of panic she had felt when in London. Complete and utter uselessness. "Is there any other way in?"
"No, no," Ned shook his head, "just the roof. There's no way we can get up there."
A lump formed in her throat, he was right. There was no way they could get up there.
And then another explosion suddenly ricocheted off from somewhere else, the complete opposite direction from the original one, but louder. The ground began trembling, and onlookers stumbled back, grabbing onto each other for support. But MJ's eyes were fixed on a red figure leaping from nowhere. The Spiderman. But Peter hadn't been on the right side of Oscorp tower, where he was currently leaping from, the apartment building and where the first explosion had occurred had come from the left side.
"Wait," Ned sounded just as confused as her, "how can Peter be there?"
Around them, the crowd was murmuring excitedly, some of them were jeering at Spiderman who was paying them no mind.
"Harry…" Ned began to speak into his comm, but suddenly MJ gripped his wrist tightly and he trailed off.
The two of them, along with every journalist and photographer in the city, looked up in the sky as a familiar green-clad figure appeared, his face disguised by something that could only be described as a fish-bowl. Green mist flowed out around him as he hovered in midair, launching an attack on Spiderman.
The crowd loved it, cheering began instantly. They had all bought into the idea of Spiderman being some power hungry maniac who had killed Beck for standing in his way of being the next 'Iron-Man,' and now Mysterio, the legendary inter-dimensional warrior, was alive and well and performing the righteous final battle.
How could that be? It took MJ only a few seconds to realise how stupid she was being.
"It's an illusion," she said to Ned, "the Engine is still running. Beck's trying to frame himself as the hero and distracting us from the real fight."
"Between Norman and Peter," Ned breathed a sigh of relief. "But the Engine is inside the building… Right?"
MJ frowned and shook her head, "no… Those drones come from Oscorp's satellites, we saw it in the blueprints. The basement level is too far down for it to connect and control all of them without fault. It's like London, remember? Beck needs to be up somewhere high."
He blinked and then realised, "Beck's on the roof."
She concurred, "Beck's on the roof."
"Beck's on the roof!" Came Ned's voice in Peter's earpiece.
"Where do you think I'm trying to get to?" Was Peter's biting reply.
He didn't mean to be short with him, he was only trying to help and, truthfully, it hadn't clicked that Beck and the Engine would have to be on the roof in order to control the drones. But, while the information was helpful, it was a little difficult to deal with at the moment as he dodged another explosive that came down from the Green Goblin on his hoverboard, sending bricks flying everywhere.
Peter swung across the street, stumbling onto another roof and determined to stay a step ahead of Norman's bombs in order to figure out how to launch a counter-attack. He was fast, and could swing, but he couldn't run forever. In the corner of his eye, he was aware of a grand illusion playing out in front of Oscorp tower of a fake but choreated fight between him and 'Mysterio.' He could only imagine that Beck was spouting that same old crap about saving the world, but the blood roaring in Peter's drowned any of that.
Truthfully, it wasn't a priority right now. His priority was trying not to get killed by his friend's dad.
And that was proving to be fairly difficult.
With the press and crowd distracted by Beck's fight, it was fair game for Norman.
Peter stopped swinging, landing on the roof of a random building and turning suddenly to shoot a web at Norman's hoverboard. With all the power he could muster, he yanked it down, and the board attempted to shoot off in another direction, and Norman struggled to keep balance. With another pull, Peter forced it down to a building opposite him, and Norman heavily fell onto his side onto the concrete roof, but was back on his feet quicker than Peter could count a single second.
"Think you can stop me, Spiderman?" It was Norman's voice, but unhinged and crazed.
He suddenly shot forward, landing on top of Peter with the agility of a much younger man. Peter fought back, throwing punches in the man's direction while he tried to land a good hit on him. The air flooded from his lungs when a green-armoured fist hit him right in the centre of the chest, and Peter ducked out of the way of another punch, Osborn's fist colliding with a brick wall behind him.
"This isn't you, Norman," said Peter. "You're a good man, you can't listen to crazed men like O'Leary, or Beck. they're just using you."
"I don't care," he said, "I don't care what they want, I just want you dead."
Peter shot a web at him, pinning the Goblin's arms to his side, but he easily tore through it. MJ had said he was pumped up on some kind of serum, which acted like steroids to give him strength to fight and delay the disease wracking his body. But Peter also knew it was breaking the man's mind.
Out of nowhere, the hoverboard suddenly zipped straight towards Peter who barely managed to role out of the way just in time before it impaled him. He swung round the side of a taller building, but Norman was hot on his heels, his hoverboard back as he threw more explosives in Peter's direction. One blew a hole in the wall of an apartment complex, one hit so close to Peter that it left his ears ringing.
Then, he twisted in midair, willing to pull a daring move as he used the built-up momentum to fall with direction, back towards Norman who wasn't quick enough to react. Luckily, he had guessed the angle right and managed to shoot a web right up at the bottom of the hoverboard.
"Karen!" He managed to snap, "activate taser webs!"
The web was alive with blue electricity, and the hoverboard sputtered and malfunctioned. Peter realised his mistake, the hoverboard was the only thing keeping him up in the air! His reactions weren't quite quick enough to connect to anything else, as he and Osborn went spinning back down to Earth together.
The fog had cleared in Adara's mind.
Well, it was still there, but she could no longer feel it as she glared at O'Leary with crystal green eyes, alight with fire. The rage that had been building for so many days right now had finally reached its peak, just when she thought it couldn't climb higher. Her entire body was trembling as she stayed frozen in her crouched position, not quite believing the words she was hearing.
"You coward," was the first thing she said.
"You're just like your father," O'Leary's voice was laced with disgust, but he inspected Adara carefully. "I was a coward, I did what I had to do to live."
"You killed my parents," she practically screamed the words, "you ruined my life."
He stood up and gave her a harsh kick to the sides, causing her to fall back. Then he placed one heavy boot on her chest, not with a crushing pressure but with enough weight to threaten the state of her ribs.
"And what can you do about it?"
He was smug, had he really thought he had won this? He had edged his bets too early, he either hadn't drugged her enough (granted, she had been drugged so many times in her life, she was fairly confident she had built some immunity to it by now) or the anger in her heart had cleared her head and left her running on a fierce kind of adrenaline that he hadn't anticipated.
She lifted her head, teeth gritted as she spat the words, "I'll do this."
It was satisfying to see the surprise that suddenly crossed his features. For once she had caught him out.
She grabbed his leg and yanked it hard, and scrambled out of the way as he fell to the floor, head hitting the concrete with a crack. It wasn't enough to take him out, but she didn't care as she grabbed one of the knives she had dropped and she dropped down to stab him. His hand moved quick and tightened around her wrist to stop her. But the pain meant nothing to her, even as she felt his fingernails dig into her skin, and her bone begin to twist. She just wanted to feel the satisfaction of plunging a blade through his cowardly, lying, traitorous, bastard heart.
But he was still stronger than her, and hardly weak with knives. With a grunt, he managed to flip the situation. She didn't drop the knife, but his grip on her wrist had changed it's direction, her arm bent at an awkward angle as he began pushing the blade towards where her diaphragm was.
"You can't beat him with knives," said Luka in her mind.
Knives are my weapon, she thought with conviction, I fight with them, I win with them. I kill with them.
"You're too arrogant," he said.
And where did I get that from?
"The gun!" Yelled another voice in her mind, Natasha. "Drop the knife!"
She was right. Adara suddenly let go of the weapon and it fell between them. O'Leary was startled by the movement, his ways of anticipating her moves were over, he was caught off guard for once. She tugged her wrist back to herself and used it to crack a punch across his face.
She tried to run for the dropped gun but he grabbed her ankle, making her fall. She kicked back, hitting some part of him, but it might have only been a shoulder. He grappled with her, determined to keep her down as she was determined to land a good enough hit to disable him in time for her to reach the gun. She would kill him. But the two were locked in with each other, neither of them managing to get the upper hand for more than a second, Adara didn't want to lose her burst of adrenaline.
"Why?" She said, "why betray her?"
"I didn't want to die," he said simply, his teeth gritted with the struggle of battle.
"She didn't want to die."
"Not my problem."
She let out a feral-like scream and let herself lash out, her foot connecting with his stomach and she managed to pull herself away from him. Her back hitting a metal pole, as she looked down at him, the gun was so close.
He got to his feet, eyes alight and glittering like gold
"Stop wasting time," snapped Luka.
He was right.
Adara dived for the gun at the same time O'Leary did. Their hands wrapped around it, and Adara realised with horror that the barrel was pointing in her direction. The safety wasn't on, all it would take would be for O'Leary to get a good grip on the trigger and he would be able to shoot her. Even if it wasn't damaging, it would be enough for her to let go of the gun, and for him to finish the job.
Unless.
She suddenly rolled over, the gun and straight into him. The gun went off, and she felt it recoil, but it didn't hit her.
The movement had, again, surprised him, and his grip loosened just for a millisecond. But it was all she needed to snatch the gun away from his grasp and feel it's cool weight in her own hand.
She got to her feet and shot him in the shoulder.
The sound of the bang and his sudden cry of pain seemed to bring her back from the haze of red that had overcome her. But she did not lower the gun, and she did not care as O'Leary's blood began to stain with blood, but he would live from that wound. He couldn't move, Adara could effectively beat the shit out of him and he would be in no way to put up a fight. He looked like a man who was thoroughly defeated. Broken nose, busted lip, bleeding shoulder.
Adara still didn't lower the gun.
"You were my mother's colleague, her friend," she said sharply, "she trusted you enough to be the only person who she told of her location, where she was hiding. She trusted you and you betrayed her."
"The key is, Adara," he laughed, insane. "To not feel it. I can know how many people I've killed or gotten killed, the people I've lied to, the broken contracts, those who have been lied, manipulated and betrayed at my hands. And you know what? I've learnt to not feel guilty because I've got nothing to gain from that."
"You're a monster," her voice was low and hoarse, full of rage.
"And you're not? Just because you feel the burden of your crimes doesn't mean you haven't committed them. You murderous, lying child."
She cocked the gun and then paused again.
"What are you wasting time for?" Hissed Luka in her ear, "finish him off."
"Just take a moment to breathe, Adara," said Natasha.
Breathe? Adara couldn't breathe. Her body was battered and bruised, head swimming as O'Leary, where he was slumped on the floor, was tilting from side to side. But she could see his face as it relaxed from a moment of fear to glee, he suddenly started laughing. Laughing at her own ability.
"What is it, Adara?" He said, voice morphing and twisting, "finding it difficult to kill familiar faces?"
His Irish accent became American as it was Luka slumped in front of her, and then changed again when it was Tony lying on the floor. And then it was Gregory, and then it was James. Poor James, who had died so young. And then he was Natasha and then he was himself and it took all that was left in within her not to wretch her guts up, but her hands quivered and shook.
A bang rang out.
O'Leary yelled in pain again, but he wasn't dead. His left leg had been shot.
Adara lowered her gun, looking at him.
"What is it?" he said, "finally gained a conscious? Learned that killing people is wrong? I've got to say, Adara, it's an impressively bad time for you to have learned such a lesson."
"I know who I am," she breathed, "I know my crimes, I know what I've done and I don't need you to tell me what I am. I am a murderer, a thief, an assassin, I've killed those who are good and bad and I'll carry that burden with me. Maybe I am what people tell me I am. Arrogant like my father, ignorant like my mother, ruthless like Natasha and stubborn like Steve. But I'm not like you, I'm not a coward, I've not suddenly 'gained a conscious,' I've always had one."
She tossed the gun to the side.
"My name is Adara Thomas," she breathed out, "and you will suffer for your crimes. I'll make sure of it."
His face morphed from anger to confusion to some kind of dreary acceptance of her statement and his defeat. In a weary kind-of way, he gave her a respectful nod, a shadow of a sinister smirk crossing over her features, sending an unsettling chill down her spine, and then he passed out from his blood loss and injuries.
The wave of exhaustion, pain and drowsiness hit Adara like a freight train the moment his eyes closed, and she doubled over and threw up on the floor. Stumbling backwards, she closed her eyes and lifted her face upwards, her hair sticking to her clammy forehead and her hands trembling as the adrenaline and fury rushed out of her.
It was over. She had stopped O'Leary.
The thought of it overwhelmed her with so much relief that, for a moment, she had completely forgotten about Beck and Norman's existence. She allowed herself to fall to her knees and dig her knuckles into the floor a she caught her breath, only bruising her fingers more.
Inwardly, she did an assessment of injuries.
"Still drowsy from the drug," came Luka's voice, "and from where you smacked your head off the concrete floor about five times." The disapproval in his voice was audible.
"Bruised ribs," added Tony's voice, "bruised knuckles and a bruised side."
"Bruised pride."
Thanks, Nat, Adara thought sarcastically in response to the last remark, before realising she wasn't really talking to anyone but herself. The dead stayed dead, that was how it was, they existed only in her mind as she remembered them now.
Slowly and with great difficulty, she climbed back to her feet, picking up her dropped knives and returning them to their proper place in her belt, before spotting something else on the floor.
Her earpiece!
She fitted it in and managed to croak out, "hello?"
"Adara?" It was Harry, his voice heavy with hope and exhaustion.
"Holy shit, Adara!" It was Ned.
"O'Leary's down," she said, not wanting to mess around. "Where's Peter?"
"Engaged with my fa— the Goblin. They both went down, I'm trying to get eyes on them."
"Mysterio has an illusion going on," Ned continued after Harry. "There's a whole crowd of reporters watching Spiderman versus Mysterio outside."
She rubbed her eyes, "where's the real Beck?"
"On the roof," Ned supplied, "with the Engine, we think. The roof is the only place not in lockdown, it's your only way out of the building."
The job was never done. And while Adara felt like shit, she was filled with a new kind of determination to see this through.
"I'll deal with Beck," she said solidly, already walking out of the basement, not sparing another look in O'Leary's direction.
"There's a lot of people stuck in the building," said Ned, "and a lot of people stuck outside the building. Press, journalists, probably J Jonah Jameson pissing himself."
Adara gave a short but genuine chuckle in acknowledgement. Despite her tired state, she still shifted into her Bluebell form, she didn't need the entirety of Oscorp tower seeing her as Adara Thomas. Despite everything, her identity was still important to her.
"Adara," it was Harry. "About what happened back there, I'm so sorry—"
She cut him off, "don't Harry, you're forgiven, you're always forgiven. You're my best friend, I'm never going to stay mad at you. Now, find where Peter is and help me finish this, and I'll order the biggest size possible from Dominos tonight."
"That sounds good," he said, sighing with relief.
She knew it did, as she clicked the elevator for the top floor, cracking her knuckles as the door closed ready to deal with Beck.
The moment the elevator door dinged shut, O'Leary's eyes flickered open.
Peter had landed on the hood of a car, crushing it underneath his weight and the force of his landing. They had managed to end up on the top floor of a multi-story car park. That was lucky, he realised, he could've fallen much further and landed on a car that had been driving and had people in it. Hopefully, the owner of this car would have the damages covered by insurance and hold it against Peter too much.
He rolled off the car onto the tarmac of the car park, that was most quiet, mainly people parked for work for the day. Glancing around, his spider senses were on high alert, looking for any sign of the Green Goblin, but there was an eerie stillness to the air. His heart pounded in his chest, his body quite alarmed at the sudden freefall, and his ears were ringing. But he was okay, his injuries would heal, just as they always did.
He took a few steps further forward, stopping beside a brown sedan.
Danger!
The hairs on the back of his arm suddenly sat up straight and he had just enough time to turn around to see the Green Goblin throw an explosive that sent him flying back into the brown car, denting its side as it screeched across the tarmac, leaving black lines burnt into the road. Peter recovered just in time to feel a fist crack his nose. He was just able to use the car as a springboard to kick Osborn in the chest and then leap over him, his jump carrying him high enough to shoot out a web that connected with a blue Honda on the other side of the car park, which he was safely able to duck behind.
He took off his mask and wiped his nose, his hand coming back bloody. Oh well, he'll live.
In his ear, his comm crackled, but he had put enough distance between him and the others that their conversation was garbled, he could only hope it was Adara assuring them she was okay and alive, but that could be wishful thinking.
"Peter, where are you?" Harry must have been close, as his voice came through fairly clearly.
"Top floor of a multi-storied garage," he said quietly, hearing footsteps and keeping his voice low.
"Come out, little spider," came the deranged voice of Norman Osborn as he stalked the cars for his prey.
Peter risked a peak, wanting to get a sneak attack on the man, and edged his way around the blue honda, before ducking behind a red car just before Osborn walked past, unbeknownst to where the Spiderman was hiding. He held his breath as he glanced at Norman, whose back was now to him, as he inspected a sleek black car.
Peter noticed a dropped spanner on the floor, it must've come from where someone had been trying to fix their car earlier and hadn't realised they had left it behind. He thanked any God out there for it though, it was exactly what he needed.
He picked it up and threw it with a good portion of his strength. It clattered against a car Peter couldn't see, on the other side of the garage floor. Norman, who hadn't seen anything been thrown but had heard the noise, looked up sharply and instantly began making his way over to the location of the sound. He remained quiet and Peter waited, his heightened senses allowing him to hear the sound of a metal ball rolling across the floor.
But it was no ball, it was a bomb, intended to blast the car where Norman thought he was hiding to smithereens. Well, thought Peter, that would blow up in his face (no pun intended). He could hear the pattern of beating coming from the explosive, slow beeps growing more and more rapid, and he shifted his body to exactly the right position to strike at any moment.
The moment the blinding orange explosion blew several cars to hell, Peter leapt out of his hiding spot.
And Norman was waiting to meet his attack.
You idiot, he cursed inwardly.
Osborn was just waiting for him to reveal his hiding place, to come out and fight again, and had expected him to do at this very moment. So, when Peter tried to attack from behind, he was met with another, even larger explosion detonating on the floor beneath him, blowing a hole in the tarmac.
Peter fell straight through to the next level on the garage, regaining his senses and shooting a web to the ceiling to catch himself before he could hit the floor. He lowered himself onto the tarmac, glancing to the side to see two civilians sprinting away from the car park and to the stairs, dropping their shopping as they went. He glanced up at the hole in the tarmac, where bits of debris were still falling. Peter realised the ceiling risked caving in, bringing down all the cars on the top floor onto the floor below. He thanked God that there were no civilians around.
There was no time to think, Norman had already dropped down to the floor below. And was now raising his fist, did he have wrist rocket launchers or something?
The answer was yes, Peter had to leap up in the air to dodge them, as they blew up the cars behind him. But he didn't account for all of them.
One detonated right in his face, sending him flying backwards, his head hitting the hard metal of a white van parked, dazing him long enough for Osborn to approach him, ready to shoot another rocket except, this time, it would blow up in his face.
Peter's movements were too sluggish and slow, and he was unable to react in time.
"Stop!" A voice screeched out.
Both Peter and Norman looked up to see a boy stumbling and weaving through cars, coming to a stop right in front of Peter, his arms raised to block him from view.
Norman lowered his wrist, and took the ridiculous helmet from his face, "Harry?"
"Dad," he said, glancing at Peter and then back at Norman. "This has to stop now, you're going to kill him!" His voice was breaking as he gestured wildly.
"He's going to kill us both," said Norman, "we need his blood, we need a cure. Harry, this disease won't just affect me, it'll affect you too—"
"No, no!" He snapped, taking an angry step towards his father. "Dad, you've seen what enhanced blood has done to people in the past, it's destroyed them. We need to find a proper cure, not some unnatural way to extend your life."
"There is no cure," his tone was getting harsher. Peter stayed crouched, ready to spring into action if necessary. "There's no cure, Harry, nothing natural. You don't think I tried? After my own father died, after his father died?"
"You didn't try," hissed Harry. "You got ill and you thought you could just use the blood of those who were enhanced, that it was your miracle. But it's not, Dad, it doesn't work like that. We'll find another way, just please, you don't need to do this. This will kill you before the disease does."
"Son—"
"Listen to me, Dad, for once in your life stop ignoring me and listen to me. You're working with people who have tried to kill me, your only son!"
"I only—"
"What's your excuse then?" Harry glared.
"You wouldn't understand," Norman's voice was cold, bitter and harsh. "You've never understood—"
"You've never understood, I've always sat by and tolerated you because you've never fucking listened to me."
"You're immature, you're unreasonable, you're stupid."
"I get straight As in school, Dad," he said, "and you've never cared. I've had relationships, I've gone in dangerous missions, I do stupid shit all the time and you only care when I get in your way because you've never cared about me because you blame me for what happened to mum."
There was a palpable silence.
"You don't understand—"
"Mum wasn't well, she fell sick after I was born, I know what happened. I'm sorry she died, I miss her too but you can't keep ignoring me. You can't keep doing this."
"You're just a child."
"He's just a child," he pointed to Peter, "he's my friend and you're trying to kill him and I won't just stand by anymore."
Peter glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, either it was just his heightened senses, but he could swear he could hear it creaking as more debris crackled onto the tarmac. It was unstable, he realised and tensed.
But neither of the Osbournes seemed to notice
"Move out of the way, Harry," said Norman.
"Harry…" Began Peter cautiously but he was ignored.
"No," said Harry, face hard.
The creaking above was growing louder.
"Get. Out. Of. The. Way."
"Harry," Peter's voice was firmer now as he pushed himself back up to his feet, but continued to be ignored.
"No, Dad," he said, "if you won't listen to me, then you can just go through me."
Norman's face twisted, his cheeks hollow from disease, he's mind ravaged and he was losing it.
"Fine."
"Harry!" Shouted Peter and grabbed him from behind.
He only just managed to pull him back and out of the way, covering the boy as a large slab of tarmac fell through the ceiling, followed by what felt like mountains of debris that all crumbled and collapsed down very suddenly. The sound of crashing was overpowered by the noise of about twenty car alarms suddenly going off, some suddenly cut off as they were crushed by a piece of tarmac. Panic grew inside his chest as the memories of the incident with the vulture returned, but he managed to push it away as he shoved Harry out the way, stumbling after him and the two managed to get away.
The rumbling stopped, the building stopped collapsing in on itself, but Peter remained cautious on how stable the place actually was.
Harry got to his feet and Peter called after him before pausing.
What happened to Norman?
"Help me," was all Harry said.
Peter was quick, strong enough to move the rocks without using up most of his strength when they got to the centre of the pile of collapsed rubble. Underneath the tarmac slab, they both saw a pale hand.
Harry glanced at Peter, he could see the wide panic in the boy's eyes. No matter who Norman was or what he had done or the argument they had had before, Harry still didn't want him to die. Peter didn't want him to die.
"Can you lift it?" He asked.
Peter nodded, the tarmac slab was heavy, but he had lifted heavier. He crouched down and grabbed the bottom of the slab, making sure to concentrate most of the heavy lifting into his arms and shoulders before straightening his back as he lifted it up further. Grunting with the weight of it.
Harry darted forward and grabbed his father, pulling him out from underneath the rubble.
Peter lowered the heavy slab, not dropping it straight away, as it would risk the fragile stability the building was already dealing with already. He glanced over his shoulder to see Harry crouched over the body of his father, who was unconscious and bleeding. Peter was frozen with fear for a few moments.
What if Norman was dead? Who would Harry blame? Peter hadn't even thought to push Norman out the way, he wouldn't have made it in time anyway, he had just pulled Harry back as a knee-jerk reaction, but that could come back to bite him in the ass.
Instead, though, Harry just looked at him, his hand on his father's neck, finding a pulse. Peter returned the look, fearful, waiting.
And then Harry nodded, and sank back in both relief and exhaustion. Norman was still alive. Injured, but alive.
"I'll call an ambulance," said Harry. "Adara's going to the roof. Help her."
"Will you be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Just help her."
Peter glanced at Norman one more time, he was breathing and, while he was likely badly injured, he would survive. But he wouldn't survive his illness. The look in Harry's eyes told Peter that he was aware of this, and aware that his father didn't have that much time left anyway, and those injuries wouldn't help.
He exchanged a final nod with Harry and jumped out of the multi-story garage, swinging away to help Adara.
A/N: I am not kidding when I say the next chapter will make you hate me. Anyway, I should have this thing updated by tomorrow, so feel free to leave a review and give me your thoughts on this chapter :)
Peter: Are you mad?
Adara: No.
Peter: So sharpening knives at 2am is just a hobby?
And another one
Morgan: I need you to check under my bed for monsters.
Harry: Listen, I appreciate your confidence in me but if there's a monster it's gonna kill us both.
Anddddd another one
Adara: I hate him.
Harry: Yeah, me too.
Adara: You don't even know who I'm talking about.
Harry: Solidarity, bro.
And one more, the next chapter should be up quick!
Adara: Where is my fucking coat?
Steve: Adara, Morgan's here. Say it nicer, maybe?
Adara: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my fucking coat?
