( do we need to guess who this is for at this point )

[goblinjr]

Everyone had a threshold for dealing with shit and Harry had finally exceeded his.

Amid all the threats and not-so-accidental accidents, Octavius finally made a move. It was only thanks to an overpowered stun-gun Peter made him that Harry escaped. Octavius had gotten arrogant, moved just close enough to get in range, then ZAP. Both Octavius and the tentacles went on a fritz, throwing Harry to the ground. He was lucky to have gotten away with nothing worse than a gash on his shoulder and a mess of bruises from the encounter. But more than anything, it simply wasn't enough just to survive Octavius anymore.

Harry knew - now more than ever - that he needed to fight back. He needed to save himself from this guy. --But how? Even the stun-gun could only do so much.

And then he kept wandering into the study for long periods of time, staring at the mirror, long since replaced to hide the lair behind it once more. The serum was gone. Destroyed. But the weaponry, the materials, the blueprints... all of that was still in there. Granted, he couldn't use any of it as is. It belonged to the Goblin, and Harry wouldn't follow in those dark footsteps. If he wanted to use them, he had to become something else; he had to redesign everything.

...But could he? Harry was no genius, after all.

And yet - while that was true, he was resourceful and creative-- and he did exactly what he set out to do. Not without blunder, of course. There were plenty of mishaps and imperfections, but he had access to the programs, the blueprints, the materials his father had left behind. With them, Harry was able to create a new suit, a new glider, new weapons-- all entirely of his own design. He started out just tentatively flying around in abandoned subway tunnels, building confidence in himself and his tech. Especially trying to keep a low profile. This was just to fight Octavius, he told himself. He didn't need any attention on him; he didn't want Peter finding out until he was sure he could pull this off. And he had honestly meant to avoid heroics-- but then one day, he saw someone in trouble on his way to his makeshift training grounds. It seemed too cruel not to help.

They had been so grateful, and for the first time in a long time, Harry was proud of himself. He actually made a difference! It was an exhilarating feeling.

After that, he made more of an effort to help people before heading off to the subway tunnels. He still tried to stay low-key about it, but a new guy swooping in to save people was bound to get some attention. Today, he was even using the opportunity to test out a new gadget: a snare he'd built from razor bat scraps. It was supposed to lock onto a target and - when within range - break open and shoot out a cord that would ideally restrain said target. He was hoping to figure out a way to tie down Octavius' smart arms with it, but he figured this stupid mugger - trying to take off with some lady's purse - was as good of practice as any. The lock-on feature worked great, but the cord thing? ...Not so much. It just kind of ended up clotheslining the guy more than anything. ...Oops.

Thanks to that, Harry ended up staying behind longer than he wanted to, making sure the woman got her stuff back and that the mugger was properly restrained this time. In a hurry not to draw any more attention to himself than he already had, he was quick to return to his glider and hurtle off into the sky, hoping to get to the abandoned subway tunnels without further incident.

Comments

[spideyguy]

The stun gun had only been a temporary solution, the best Peter could help Harry with on short notice. He gave it a little more punch than it probably needed, because if Harry was using it it was more than likely he'd a) only have one shot and b) was in mortal peril. He was still looking into hiring Harry a bodyguard, one that could handle the type of threat he was under, but each one he vetted turned out to be suspicious, or at least too shady for Peter to, in good conscience, pass them on to his friend. He just wanted him to be safe, dammit! He considered doing it himself, as Spiderman, but he still wasn't sure how Harry felt about his spider alter ego and Peter honestly wasn't sure he wanted to know.

So weeks pass and Harry successfully keeps his run-in with Octavius under wraps. Peter is busy anyway, between coursework from his lectures, patrol, chores for Aunt May, and taking photographs for the Bugle. He kepy trying to sell them something other than Spiderman, something else for fluff pieces or court cases, but no dice. All they wanted was Spiderman, at least, out of Peter, who hadn't yet secured a position as anything more than a freelancer. Seriously, he's a pretty decent photographer, and he'll work for less than the staff photographers, why won't anyone take him on? That's a rant for another time.

Not only does word get around through city residents, but the vigilante community is more than aware when another one enters the fray. Peter usually works alone, but he has the ocassional run in with Daredevil along the Queens-Manhattan boundary, and the Devil has the decency to grunt at him about the new guy on his side of the turf. Heard he's been spotted to the east of your usual haunts. Might want to check it out, make sure he's not getting himself killed.

So tonight, Peter decided to head East and check out the tip. As far as he knew, the guy hadn't given anyone a name yet, so he was probably small time. Peter can't help but remember his own start out, silently hoping this guy had better motivations than Peter had. He's been stopping petty crime right and left all night, but so far, this new guy hasn't shown himself until - oh.

Peter had been swinging towards the source of the woman crying out about her purse, a little farther away than he might have liked to be. Unfortunately for Harry, the next thing Peter sees is someone flying away on a glider, and the dread that filled him was swift, stifling. No.

Peter shot a web, almost too hard on his arm, sticking to the bottom of the glider and swinging himself in an arc over the flier, aiming to kick him off balance. "Now how the hell did you get out?"