Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel.
Author's Notes: Mwa ha ha! And in this chapter, you shall see my mean streak at its' peak! I'll get the next chapter out soon… *whistles innocently* Meanwhile, everything comes together, all the loose ends swinging in close proximity, until they ultimately collide! Chapter five!
Beware! – The Horror Reaches Its' Peak…
It smelled delicious.
Peter sat back in his chair, feeling very tired, but enjoying the familiar scent of Aunt May's fabulous home cooking. Nothing could soothe one's nerves like that pleasant aroma of food wafting from the kitchen you'd grown up in…
It was downright intoxicating.
And he let his head tip back, relaxing, nodding…
Almost asleep…
~
Harry parked his car down the road.
He saw little reason to park it next to the house, seeing if he did that Peter would surely recognize the car and bring attention to it, thereby alerting Aunt May to his presence. And since she obviously knew he knew her dirty little secret…
That was a situation best avoided.
Turning off the ignition, Harry slid out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
And cringing with a grimace.
What kind of idiot slams his car door when on a stealth mission?
Shaking it off and hoping neither Aunt May nor Peter noticed, he crept towards the little house.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Carefully maneuvering through the bushes surrounding the residence, Harry peeked through a window.
He saw Peter, nearly dozing in his chair…
And was instantly reminded of every old horror movie he'd ever seen. The unsuspecting hero, lured into a false sense of security by the evil, yet harmless-seeming villain…
Scrambling around through the shrubbery, (and getting poked mercilessly by the thorns), Harry moved around to the back of the house, looking in the kitchen window.
There the monster lurked.
Aunt May, looking as innocent and old-lady-like as he'd expected.
Well, she wasn't fooling Harry Osborn.
And what was she cooking?
He didn't want to know.
Scurrying back to the front, (dang rose bushes!), Harry tried tapping gently on the window. Maybe if he woke Peter, he'd have time to escape.
Tap. Tap.
But with that quiet noise, Aunt May's head snapped up from her cooking, glaring directly at the window Harry was spying through.
With a yelp of dismay, Harry threw himself onto the ground.
~
Peter snapped awake suddenly.
"Huh? Wha…?"
Twisting around, Peter peered out the window behind him. He could've sworn he'd heard someone tapping on it…
But there was no one.
Instead, there was a distinct pulse of anxiety oozing from the area of the windowsill…
"Would you like a drink, Peter darling?"
Aunt May's voice came from the kitchen.
"Sure, Aunt May."
~
He had to act.
Harry was watching through the kitchen window as Aunt May prepared two small glasses of lemonade. No ice. Leaving the drinks for a moment, she went to a cupboard and retrieved a small, unmarked bottle.
She tipped its' putrid-looking contents into one of the drinks.
"Lights out, Peter deary…" she crooned.
-Poison!- Harry's mind screamed.
He gazed in helpless horror as Aunt May walked back into the dining room, setting the tainted drink before Peter…
Racing back to the front of the house, Harry thought quickly.
~
Ding dong.
Peter started from his seat at the sound of the doorbell.
"I'll get it, Aunt May!"
"No really Peter, I can manage…"
As predicted, both went for the front door.
Neither noticed the window being yanked open, admitting a young Osborn tumbling into the room and hurriedly diving under the table.
"No one there…" Peter was musing.
Popping up from beneath the tablecloth, Harry quickly switched the drinks.
"Oh well." Aunt May said, suspicion thick in her voice.
The two walked back into the dining room, noticing nothing out of the ordinary.
Harry tensed, hardly daring to breathe, thinking that perhaps his plan had worked, until Aunt May spoke,
"Oh! Peter darling! It seems I have the more full glass of lemonade! Please, take this one…"
"No, Aunt May, that's alright…"
"I insist!"
And the glasses switched.
Harry slapped his forehead.
"Now, you just drink up! I need to attend to the ham…"
~
Peter watched Aunt May bustle off into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. He then turned his attention to the lemonade.
His spider sense tingled.
-Why should I have the more lemonade?- he reasoned. –After all, Aunt May is the one having me over for dinner…-
Deciding not to be greedy, Peter made to switch the glasses.
But in his haste, a bit spilled from his glass. Setting it down next to Aunt May's, Peter quickly cleaned up the little mess. No harm done.
Glancing back at the two glasses of lemonade, Peter realized he could no longer tell them apart.
Shrugging, he selected one and placed it before him, opting to wait for Aunt May before drinking.
~
Harry sat under the table, tense as a bowstring ready to fly at a moment's notice. He was unaware of the fact that Peter had mixed up the glasses further. As far as he knew, the poison had been switched back to Peter.
-Think, Harry!-
Yanking a handful of change from his pocket, he tossed it clumsily into the hall.
And as Peter went over to investigate, Harry darted out from under the tablecloth, seized the glasses, and reversed their positions.
Peter wandered back into the dining room, looking confused.
"That's funny…" he muttered, before sitting back in his chair.
Aunt May came in, and her eyes immediately went to the lemonade. A tense moment.
"Peter, honey, why don't you go get some music… the CD's are just around the corner..."
Wearily, Peter got back to his feet.
"Okay, okay…"
As soon as he left the room, Aunt May deftly switched the glasses. She paused, for a moment, watching the drinks settle. Turning back to go into the kitchen…
A noise.
Whirling around, she saw the lemonade sloshing around. Switched.
~
Trembling, Harry crouched under the table, musing that he'd probably pushed his luck too far. Cocking his head, he heard Aunt May walking towards the table.
The glasses switched.
And then they switched again.
Listening in horror, Harry realized Aunt May was shuffling the glasses.
And then she left.
So began the biggest mental battle in Harry's life.
If Peter had the poison and he switched it, Pete would be saved.
If Aunt May had the poison and he switched, Pete would be killed.
But if he didn't switch it and Pete had the poison, he'd die anyway.
Peter was coming back…
Springing from the under the table, Harry switched the glasses.
No turning back now.
And even as he tried to calm his racing heart, he heard Peter switching the glasses back…
~
Aunt May came striding back into the room, all smiles.
"Peter, dear, you haven't touched your lemonade!" she admonished.
"I was waiting for you, Aunt May."
The elderly woman smiled.
"Well, a toast then."
Both raised their glasses.
"To… us." Aunt May said with a sneaky grin.
And both downed their glasses, drinking every…
Last…
Drop.
"Good lemonade." Peter noticed.
Under the table, Harry cringed. He'd drunk it. And if it had been the tainted one…
"Now, let's sit." Aunt May suggested.
Harry barely managed to squeak out an 'oops' before two sets of feet came right at his head…
~
"Whoa! What's that?" Peter cried.
Leaping from his seat, he yanked up the tablecloth to reveal…
"Harry?!?"
The young Osborn dashed out from under the table, standing in front of Peter and screaming at Aunt May,
"You'll never get him! Not while I'm here!"
"Harry!" Peter yelled, flinging his roommate around to face him. "What're you saying?"
"She's a cannibal, Pete! I know it sounds crazy, but she ate your uncle and-"
He was silenced by a smack across the face that sent him tumbling.
"Shut up!" Peter roared.
Standing over his cowering friend, Peter Parker had never looked angrier.
"You will NEVER talk like that about my aunt!" he seethed, clenched fists trembling with pent-up rage.
"But Peter…" Harry whimpered.
"NEVER!" Peter screamed, hardly able to believe the fact that Harry Osborn would dare to insult this wonderful woman.
"He's right, Peter."
Spinning around, Peter saw Aunt May standing there, smiling. She looked the same, same crinkled old smile, twinkling eyes…
Except for the fact she was holding a meat cleaver.
~ To Be Continued…
Author's Notes: Mwa ha ha… gotcha!