Featured song: Breathe – of Verona

I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise and all that jazz! I do own my OC's and the plot.

WARNING: Mature content ahead! Torture and slight sexual situations contained in this chapter.

Leaving a still distressed Menken in his wake, the young billionaire proceeded to seek out his girl. As Harry moved seamlessly through the intoxicated elite, he glared at anyone who dared approach him for a business conversation. He was on a mission, and nothing could distract him from it. Spying Fisk in a dark corner, he made note of his position for later reference, for, as the saying goes, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Where have you been?"

Harry's heart leapt at the look of absolute delight and relief on the pretty redhead's face. Just his presence alone was enough to reassure and clam her in this anxious social occasion.

"We missed you," she said, gesturing to the others who were too busy dancing to notice his reappearance, "we…I missed you." And with that confession, Hayley leant up and brushed her lips chastely against his cheek.

"Business," he explained bluntly, evading her initial, probing question effectively.

With a smile she replied, "I understand." After all, he was an Osborn, and she was used to the behaviour and expectations that came with that mantle.

Harry quickly surveyed the surrounding people: everyone was lost in the richly delights of alcohol, music, and costume grandeur. To his left, Manners and Karen were grinding like they were in an RnB music video. It made him chuckle, hardly able to contain his glee for when he would relay the lawyer's behaviour to him the following day – the man would be royally mortified. However, at least he was no longer an Ivy League stick in the mud, especially when Karen was around. On his right, his faithful secretary, Felicia, was swaying gracefully whilst conversing with one of OsCorp's lower floor's secretaries. Trust her to still keep things professional.

The other partygoers were just a blur of names, faces, and titles. There was only one person he could see clearly, and that was the girl shifting nervously before him. "Care to dance?" Harry asked elegantly. He bowed down low, elegantly presenting his hand like a prince courting his princess in a fairytale.

Hayley giggled and shyly placed her hand in his. "Always," she breathed, her eyes unable to meet the intense and satisfied twinkle in his. "After all, you do owe me a dance."

Smirking, Harry pulled the redhead close, wrapping his arm around her dainty waist. They kept their hands clasped whilst Hayley draped her other arm around his neck. And although the current music did not call for such a sophisticated stance, for it sounded very much like Pendulum, they swayed slowly and formally to the beat.

"Do you reckon the DJ is drunk? I never thought Manhattan's elite would listen or even dance to music like this," the redhead remarked, shaking her head in wonder at a woman, clad in a full-length ball gown, head banging.

"If this were any other occasion, any other ball, you would be correct," Harry explained, "but Halloween is the one night of the year where we can let loose and disguise ourselves. We let our true personalities shine through in the guise of phantoms." His words hung in the air, heavy and poignant, their true meaning currently lost on the girl in his arms.

"So how do you do business at this event? I mean, this is a charity ball, right? How do you even make money when everyone is pissed?"

"There are quieter areas, function rooms off the main ballroom for business transactions. We also have a selection of art that gets auctioned off after midnight. And as well as the money we make from guests purchasing photos of the evening, we rent out costumes and supply hair and makeup artists to those that wish to be pampered…at a royal cost of course."

"Wow, that's a pretty good way of making money. I'm impressed you put that much thought into it."

"Well, I am an Osborn. We also accept donations via cheque, which are always generous when people are intoxicated," Harry spoke wickedly, his devilish grin nearly reaching his ears

Almost on cue, a zombie photographer approached them and eagerly held up his expensive Canon camera. Harry nodded at the young man, and tightened his grip on Hayley so they could pose together. Compared to the paparazzi photos from earlier, posing no longer seemed like a chore. Neither were plastering on false smiles and over exaggerating their cheerfulness, because they were genuinely happy in this moment.

Hayley gazed up at the young billionaire lovingly, but her eyes narrowed slightly on closer inspection of his chiselled face. It was truly a marvel that Harry's green makeup was still pristine perfect. She had no doubt that her own body paint was smudged and had run due to the sweltering heat of the ballroom. And yet his costume looked as fresh as it had been back at the manor.

Come to think of it, why haven't I got any green residue on me? Hayley pondered. Surely it would have rubbed off on my clothing and skin when we were dancing?

As quickly as it had come, her doubting thoughts vanished as Harry drew her in close to continue dancing; the photographer took a few more snaps before taking his leave.

"Earlier, I saw you arguing with someone," he stated, eyes trained intently on hers.

"Oh?" the redhead replied feigning innocence. She would rather not discuss anything regarding Ravencroft and the evil doctor – this night would not be spoiled by his presence, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Yes," Harry continued curtly, "Doctor Scott, if I am not mistaken."

"Oh, right, that argument. It was nothing major, just him being his usual rude self."

"You looked rather angry," he remarked, spinning them both around to the slow music currently being played. "I must confess, you were rather beautiful all fired up. It was quite the turn on." Ducking his head, Harry pressed his lips to her soft neck and nibbled the pale skin there.

Sighing heavily, shivers rushed through Hayley's body; the atmosphere in the ballroom was invigorating, especially with Harry whispering in her ear and kissing her lobe. And it didn't even really matter what he was saying, because she was concentrating on the heady feelings coursing through her. She clung to him, and he held her body like he would cherish this moment for the rest of his life. It was wonderful to finally find peace. Even on the dance floor amongst the crowd, they were at peace together, away from the drama and trials of Spider-Man and the Goblin. There was rarely any solace for them both, which was why the redhead was determined not to discuss the Ravencroft doctor.

With her head resting on his shoulders, she opened her eyes and lazily glanced around the ballroom. Then, her blood ran cold. Standing in a dark corner, talking to Wilson Fisk… was Peter Parker.

As she caught the surprised gaze of her old friend, Harry continued to question her about Doctor Scott. "What did he say to you that got you so riled up?"

Hayley glared at the spider, who recoiled slightly, mostly likely at the green makeup covering Harry. There was a look in his eyes that she had never seen since his spider guise would normally mask it. There was the determination to protect, no matter the cost, all over his face. Even his body was coiled like a spring; ready for any would be Goblin action. And now he was following the couple's movements cautiously with the precision of a hawk. It made Hayley extremely uncomfortable to be under such piercing scrutiny when Harry was innocent. It was Halloween and he was wearing makeup! Anyone could see that, but not Peter – like the colour red enraging a ball, the shade of green ignited his spider senses into overdrive.

"Hayley!" Harry urged, cupping her cheek with a controlling hand, granting him all her focus. "What did the doctor say to you?" he demanded sharply, eyes serious and clouded with green.

She couldn't not tell him since he was being so insistent and belligerent about it. Therefore the redhead told him a little, just enough to satisfy his thirst…but not everything. Not about the death threat, not about his correct accusation of Harry's involvement in the recent murders. Nothing but the bare minimum.

"He questioned why and how I was here. He called me scum and a, well, a whore. But it's ok! He's just a rude bastard. He's nothing!" she spoke quickly, trying to play down the situation.

Even without divulging the full details, she could tell that Harry was pissed off. More than pissed off in fact. The green in his eyes hadn't waned, only becoming more startling with every word she spoke.

"This is almost perfect."

"What?" Hayley asked, not having caught what he had muttered under his breath.

Harry scowled at her, though his anger was directed at the doctor. "I could get him fired!" he seethed, painfully tightening his hold on the redhead's hip and shoulder. "And yet he still continues to mess with me and what is mine!?"

This time, Hayley held his face in his hands, trying to ease his fury. "Hey, it's ok, Harry," she said calmly and kindly, "he is not worth it. We both got out of his sadistic clutches alive, and that's all that matters. We have each other, so he can't hurt us anymore." That last part was a lie and she knew it. Even seeing the man brought back painful flashbacks of Harry's electric torture. The doctor was a trigger for them both, and not a good one at that. "He can't hurt us…right?" she asked needing confirmation.

As an unusually energetic song vibrated across the ballroom, Harry's hands left her and dipped into his tux pocket, leaving her question unanswered. Pulling out an old phone, not his usual top of the line iPhone, his face darkened as he took the call. Hayley hadn't even heard it ring, nor could she catch what he was saying – the lively crowd was singing along to Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" enthusiastically. The crowd was fist pumping the air. It was too hard to even attempt lip reading with everyone jostling around.

Strobe lights suddenly began to pulse erratically, and Hayley could no longer recognise her place in the mass of partygoers. She had lost sight of Harry in the confusion of bright flashes. Panic began to rise inside of her.

Harry appeared to her left and chastely kissed her cheek. "I have some business to take care of," he whispered in her ear, warm breath ghosting her auburn curls. "I'll be back for you. This will be a memorable night. I can promise you that."

Shivering, Hayley turned to question him further but he had already vanished..

"Where did Harry go?" Felicia asked suddenly popping up, glancing around at the costumed dancers surrounding the redhead. She couldn't see anyone who looked remotely green. "Did he leave already? I was speaking with a client earlier that he needs to…are you ok? "

Hayley sighed and smiled weakly at her friend, "He got an urgent phone call, probably business related, and rushed off somewhere." The hurt in her voice was evident.

"Did he say what is was about or how long he'd be?"

"No. No he didn't say much in a way of explanation. You know how private he can be, even from me."

The brunette could feel the energy quickly subsiding from the girl dressed as fire. It had not gone unnoticed how Hayley's emotions were very much tied to the Osborn heir, that her reactions and responses were subconsciously attached to him. However, tonight was meant to be fun, and Felicia wouldn't let her boss' absence ruin it for her friend.

"Come on Hay, cheer up. At least you have me right?" she said perkily, linking their arms together. "I need your assistance anyway. It seems that element air and the pilot are trying to join the mile high club in one of the photo booths."

"What? Seriously?" Hayley gasped, though she wasn't sure why she was even surprised at this revelation – those two were like horny teenagers. "How do you even know that?" she asked as the both hurriedly pushed through a throng of dancers, Felicia leading the way.

"One of OsCorp's secretaries told me," the brunette explained, shouting over the blaring music. "The poor girl walked in on them making out. Apparently she used to date Manners, so I found her crying in the bathroom when I was fixing my hair."

Nodding in understanding, Hayley continued through the crowd, a purpose keeping her mind from missing Harry. It was nice to no longer be alone again in a sea of strangers. She had spent most of her life alone, and Hayley now clung onto any friendship she had, especially when it was someone as kind as Felicia. Thinking back to when they were dancing, Hayley couldn't remember that her friend had even left the dance floor. Better yet, when did Manners and Karen disappear? The redhead must have been so focused on dancing with Harry and keeping an eye on Peter, that she hadn't noticed their absence. The world always seemed like a blur when she was with Harry; nothing else mattered.

The intoxicated crowd finally began to thin as the two girls reached the outskirts of the dance floor. There were still various clusters of businessmen and debutants scattered around, discussing work whilst sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres. Not every guest was here to party, since these events were a chance to mingle and meet countless associates and contacts from other companies. Hayley recognised many of OsCorp's bigwigs and board members, who apparently were too important to dress up. They sported the provided Venetian masks, though some had decided to go commando.

In the shadows by a lonely candelabra, she noticed Doctor Aldington was in deep conversation with a very shaken looking Menken. She wasn't in earshot but whatever they were discussing it seemed that the doctor was trying to calm down the businessman. Menken's hands were clearly unsteady as he chugged down champagne like they were shots.

"Felicia, let's try that photo booth!" Hayley shouted, pointing to the booth right by Menken and Doctor Aldington - hopefully she would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. However, her hand was being tugged in the opposite direction.

"They aren't in that one," her friend replied, confidently heading to a different booth. It was hidden by a faux wood in one of the darkened corners of the enormous ballroom. "Manners' ex said it was this one. Trust them to pick something so romantically clichéd and secluded," Felicia muttered admonishingly. "They better not be doing anything perverse! Otherwise Karen will face my wrath!"

Hayley giggled at how serious the brunette looked, her brow furrowed with sensible determination well beyond her years. She was a girl who always played by the rules, which was it was surprising that she had kept Harry's secret for so long. Her help had even enabled him to discover the truth behind OsCorp, the spider venom, and Menken's initial betrayal. Although prissy upon first appearance, Felicia had a kind heart and a practical mind.

As they both approached the isolated photo booth, they could hear high-pitched squeaks and moans emanating from inside.

Knocking sharply on the side of the booth, Felicia called out, "Karen? Manners?" The entrance curtain swayed and a lot of suppressed giggling and hushing could be heard, which only made the brunette frown and roll her eyes. "We know you're both in there!" she continued amid more shushing, "I can hear you, you know! Your pilot hat and Prada handbag are out here begging to be stolen!"

The curtain was suddenly ripped open and Karen sheepishly poked her head out, hair and dress in disarray. She grabbed her forgotten handbag and put a hand across her mouth, wiping it with a drunken, girl titter. Manners was reclined on the inner bench, head lolled back in ecstasy, his suit crumpled and a freshly lit cigarette in his hand. The fly of his trousers was partial zipped.

The redhead shook her head with a sad smile – at least some was having a good time. A familiar smell crawled its way into her nose, singeing the tiny hairs, making her heart accelerate uncontrollably. The glowing end of the offending cigarette called to her and she leaned into the booth, breathing in deeply. She snatched the burning stick from Manners' relaxed mouth; the man was too lost in a trance of sexual gratification to notice. The heat from the cigarette was like a beacon, its intoxicating aroma stirring something forgotten inside of her.

The offending object suddenly let her hand, and Hayley quickly come out of her daze to see it being stamped on by Felicia's expensive shoes. "You can't just grab it and not follow through," she reprimanded kindly, her hand giving Hayley's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You may be dressed as fire tonight but it's still dangerous, right? You aren't immune to it."

Hayley stared into those understanding, doe eyes, her own green ones narrowing slightly. Did Felicia know something about her past? She thought with worry.

"Hey! Where's my smoke?" Manners grumbled loudly, finally becoming aware of his surroundings. "When did you guys get here?"

"Oooo! Let's take some pictures!" Karen decided with glee, pulling her two friends unceremoniously into the small booth with her.

"Babe, I don't know what kind of kinky shit you're into, but I don't think of them like – "

"Relax Manners," Felicia interrupted kindly, "you're in a photo booth."

"Really? When the hell did that happen?" he asked with genuine surprise. The lawyer took in the cramped booth, the photography LCD screen, and the crazy fancy dress accessories by his feet. "I don't remember this happening."

"You probably don't remember much when your cock's getting sucked," Hayley blurted out sarcastically. The whole booth went silent. She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but somehow these days her brain and mouth weren't communicating properly.

Manners fixed the redhead with a stare that was meant to be piercing but ended falling short because of the alcohol. "Yeah, basically," he admitted offhandedly, zipping up his fly.

Karen and Felicia looked at each other before bursting out laughing, successfully defusing the strange tension. Simultaneously they both reached down and snatched up the random and discarded Halloween accessories on the ground.

"Since, hic, since we're in here, let's get photos!" Karen screeched with glee as she wrapped an orange feather boa snuggly round her neck and chin. "Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!" she continued to demand until all four of them in the booth had something ridiculous on.

And silly they looked indeed. Clothed in all their finery with only a small dash of hilarity to spoil their well-put together facades. Hayley finally felt the festive spirit and she laughed to herself at how comical they all looked now.

An oversized witches hat was placed as daintily as possible atop Felicia's bird nest hair, whilst Karen had donned another accessory along with her boa – a pair of big, goofy, red glasses. In her arms, Manners was fidgeting in a long, curly, black wig that she had forced on his head. The lawyer was scratching at the itchy, synthetic hair, grumbling at how the plastic bats attached to it were too life like for his liking. His forgotten pilot's hat was now atop Hayley's red hair, and her hands were covered in green, rubber witches gloves. They were all gnarled and bony in appearance, which only reminded her of Harry.

"Picture time!" the blonde slurred again, jabbing at the interactive LCD screen to take a picture. Only when Felicia intervened and calmly tapped the correct button did the beeping countdown begin.

All four twisted and turned, pulling funny faces, doing peace signs and bunny ears. They hugged one another, clasped hands, mimicked Madonna and did drunken Vogue poses. Amongst all the fun, Felicia tried her best to distract her friend from remembering that one of their party was missing. It was a shame because it would have been good for Harry to experience this type of normality with friends.

They took photos for a good ten minutes, the camera clicking away and storing the images for later retrieval. When they finally ran out of steam, Karen and Manners decided to rekindle their earlier fun.

Hayley tugged on the fluttering feather boa to get her friend's attention, "Get a room you two!"

"We…did…look…" Karen tried to explain through her heavy breathing, the lawyer's tongue firmly down her throat.

"Once again, a photo booth is not a room!" clarified Felicia with an agitated sigh.

"Look…if I had…had the…Karen! God sake woman, I am trying to talk!" Manners declared ripping his face away from the blonde – clearly their snogging had to cease if the lawyer wanted to converse. "If I had the room…Karen! Babe, stop…ok keep going…"

Felicia exclaimed, "Oh, jeez!" before shimmying out of the booth. She'd had enough of the nauseating display of carnal lust. Her eyes tried to avoid the sight of the blonde's temptress lips moving from the lawyer's, kissing his neck, lower and lower

""If I had the key or remembered what room number Harry booked – "

"Wait!" Hayley interrupted, heart stirring at her love's name. "He booked a room?"

"He always does at functions. Where is the little shit anyway?"

Hayley's eyes widened, remembering the last ball she went too and how long it took her find him Harry. But not this time. This time she had an idea of where to look, of the possible room number and where it was in the enormous Waldorf Astoria. Harry was a creature of habit, so maybe, just maybe, her hunch would pay off. Without a single word she took off the witch's hands and leaped from the cramped booth. Determination flowed through her, heart ablaze with a new purpose.

"Oi! I want my hat back!" the lawyer yelled, poking his head out the booth curtains.

As Felicia watched the redhead whisk away, the pilot's hat flew through the air, Frisbee style and met its mark, smacking the lawyer square in the face. Who knew her friend had a wicked throwing arm?

"Harry? Are you in here?" the redhead called softly, knocking as she slowly entered the somewhat familiar hotel room.

The room was dark save for a table lamp and the light of the overcast, night sky. Harry was standing by the tall balcony windows, staring at the world outside. She thought it strange that he was stood with an unusual amount of poise, his hands clasped together behind his back instead of hands crossed over his chest. The pose looked wrong on him; it was a mannerism that an older man would do, like Manners for instance.

"Harry?" she tried again, inching further into the room. "Harry, are you alright?"

The billionaire turned elegantly to face her, his eyes widening a little like it was the first time seeing her. "What are you doing here?" he enquired softly.

"I-I came to see…to see if you were ok. You left rather suddenly. How come we always meet like this? In a dark room. Room 136? Always so predictable Harry," she smiled fondly, standing before him. Her hand reached out to rub his arm and she noted how he flinched slightly. "Are you sure you are ok? If you're feeling ill we can always go home."

"Not yet. The time isn't right," he responded cryptically.

"Well," Hayley said suddenly feeling bold, "if we need to waste time, how about we finish what we started at the apartment?"

Harry's eyes searched her face blankly, like he was unsure of what she meant.

Rolling her eyes, the redhead stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his hesitant lips, curling her hands around his neck. The lips beneath hers didn't automatically respond. In fact, they stayed lifeless, frozen in…uncertainty? Even his body felt alien, standing stock-still.

Hayley reluctantly stepped away from him a little. "I'm sorry. Maybe now isn't the right time," she said dejectedly, "I know this event is hosted by your charity, so I shouldn't keep you from your guests." Her eyes returned to the floor sadly, fresh with rejection.

The young man before her checked his watch agitatedly, his eyes darting around the room with furious hesitation. It was like he was fighting something, something against his better judgement maybe? But what?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't tempt you like this."

"Sod it," Harry muttered in a voice that was not entirely his own. It made Hayley suddenly nervous but she brushed it off quickly when he leaned in for a kiss.

Their lips met and she felt euphoria sweep over her. However his kiss wasn't strong and demanding like usual, in fact Harry was taking it slow, coaxing her lips into a more soft and passionate kiss. It was an odd change of pace. Not that she was complaining, but he seemed to be missing the urgency for control. It was like he was acting like a gentleman would, letting her take the lead sometimes. Even his hands on her body weren't wild and insistent. Harry held her delicately, almost as if she were a doll he did not want to break or dirty. To be fair, Hayley was covered in body paint so he was probably being conscious of that.

Abruptly, Harry broke their kiss. "How can I say no," he murmured strangely, "when you've got such a cute little ass." His hands spread over her bum, squeezing gently. "How can such a delicate creature do these things to me? Make me feel this way so suddenly."

Not for the first time, Hayley noted how his voice was different. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the words he used seemed wrong. Considering the little amount of alcohol Karen had managed to force down her throat, her senses were bound to be hazy.

Then he let go of her completely and brought an unfamiliar phone from his suit pocket. It was an old model, and not one Hayley had ever seen him use before. It wasn't the one from earlier either. Maybe the alcohol was causing her to hallucinate.

"Come, let's go dance and enjoy our time together," Harry remarked taking her hand.

When did he change from a goblin into a prince? Hayley wondered, letting her charming lead her back to the main ballroom.

"You think you could have got away with treating her like that? Are you that pompous that you didn't think I would come after you? That you are invincible?"

Kraven watch his protégée snarl in the face of a man who was tied to a rickety chair before them.

The man's face was severely swollen, covered in bruises, dried blood from his broken nose, and a fresh cut across his left eye. The smart glasses he once wore were smashed to pieces, scattered on the dirty ground beneath the bolted chair legs. He was breathing heavily, trying to recover from the second beating he had just received – there were many to come, for the night was still young.

"Nothing to say? Hmmm? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, doctor?"

"You're a monster. You and that little whore deserved everything you got!" the man retorted before grunting in pain as he was smacked violently across the face.

"That's right, use words as weapons, because that's all you have! But not for much longer."

The interrogator drew a jagged, carved, army knife from the belt of his suit. He slowly approached the beaten man. It was an act of intimidation; a predator coming for its prey, and Kraven basked proudly at how far his student had come.

Choking, the man's eyes widened in terror as he was held roughly by the neck. Pointed fingernails prised open his mouth and yanked his tongue sharply. His neck was released but only so his torturer could hold the knife up to the face of his victim. In one swift movement, a lump of bloody flesh fell to the ground with a soft thump. The man howled in agony, his mouth filling with blood where his tongue had once been. If his hands weren't tied behind his back, the man would have held them to his face to stem the bleeding – anything to prevent the excruciating pain caused by his tongue being so viciously cut from him.

Laughing with joy, the interrogator smirked wildly, "That's the very least you deserve, you arrogant fool! Your words can't destroy her now!"

For a while, the hunter simply stood and observed the prisoner being tortured. It fascinated him to see this type of erratic predator play with its prey. His student used every technique he had been taught to inflict maximum pain. The man's kneecaps had been shattered to prevent a desperate escape attempt. Any distinguishing features had been completely demolished by rage filled beatings and congealed blood.

"What's that? You want more?"

Now the man's tongue was gone, he gurgled helplessly.

"Toying with your prey? I thought I taught you better than that," Kraven remarked stonily; he enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the kill, however he deemed torture a tad unnecessary unless used in moderation. And this was not moderation. This was verging on excessive.

"This bastard deserves far worse after messing with me! Besides, it's not too long before she gets here. Text Dmitri."

The tortured man howled in pain.

"I have one final thing for you, doctor. A little payback since you enjoy electrocution so much, why don't we have a little therapy session of our own, hmmm?"

More incoherent pleading and yowling came from the frightened man's bloody mouth, his body shaking in a state of shock.

"No dying on me!" Kraven's protégé growled, slapping the man across the face once more. "Not yet! Why don't I introduce you to my dear friend Electro? I'm sure you remember him, hmmm? I want to watch the sparks fly! Then, and only then, will you burn."

They drove through Manhattan with ease, as there was little traffic at two in the morning to disrupt their journey home. Only a few hard-core trick-or-treaters remained on the deserted streets, namely the tricksters.

An hour after returning to the dance floor, Harry's strange phone had buzzed again, and he announced that they had to leave. Even with having thoroughly danced off her sexual frustration, Hayley still had an unusual amount of energy. The kiss they shared in the hotel room had her all fired up, and she was oddly desperate for loving attention. However, the young billionaire was sitting poker straight beside her, seemingly uninterested. Instead, his attention was on his phone, obsessively checking it as well as staring out the car window with narrowed eyes. It was very unlike Harry to be uninterested in sex. Maybe he was tired from the even, but she had a growing need that would only be sedated by his touch.

With unnaturally bold confidence, possibly aided by the little drink she had consumed, Hayley slid her hand up his leg, applying pressure as she neared the top. Immediately, Harry swatted away her insistent hand. Apart from that sharp reaction, his face offered no tell. So she tried again. This time, Hayley could feel the shiver of his body beneath her hand, and a tiny unnatural breath wistfully escaped his lips. She stroked his thigh and lightly teased around his growing bulge.

Harry couldn't stop himself groaning, however he followed it by saying, "Stop. Stop, Hayley."

"Why?" she questioned in her best impression of Karen's husky voice – seduction wasn't her forte, so Hayley took inspiration from her friend's earlier escapades and wrapped her arms around him. "You want this, don't you?" Her lips brushed over his, and the redhead finally relented in her teasing for a moment before she palmed his crotch.

A gruff, disembodied voice came from the front of the car. "We've lost him, sir," the driver announced.

Harry replied with a strange response, "Good. Take us to the fireworks."

"Harry," Hayley called quietly, curling an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, "do you want to have me?"

He was still unnaturally hesitant even though she could clearly see and feel that his body desperately wanted her also. The way his lips subtly puckered towards hers betrayed his growing desire.

"I-I-I-"

She chuckled at his strange reluctance. "Yes? I can feel you getting hard – "

"We mustn't conduct ourselves in this way," he insisted, a mixture of pleasure and shock on his face. "At least wait until you're back at Osborn Manor."

The slightly odd way he referred to their home went over her head, her focus completely on the task at hand. "Haven't you always wanted to fool around in the car? I'm sure the driver won't mind. We'll be extra quiet," she reasoned again, her doe eyes trying to guilt trip him into complying. She was very unsure why her advances weren't working when he normally wouldn't need a reason to be with her. "You can do what you like. You are Harry Osborn."

"Of course I am!" Harry disputed harshly. Roughly, a little too rough, he shoved the redhead off him in a manner that clearly indicated that he was not messing around. "Wait until you are home."

Heavy silence feel between the two, coating the car in uneasy tension. It was then that Hayley's lustful mind began to clear. He had used "you" instead of "we" – why was that? In fact, she started to realise that he had been removing himself from her in how he spoke, in the words he chose to use. Not only had he inferred that the manor was her home and not his, he had referred to it so formally, using its proper title.

Something wasn't right.

"We've arrived," the driver called out.

Hurriedly, Harry opened the car door and unceremoniously dragged Hayley from where she sat, still confused. Outside, the air had gone colder still, its icy chill biting at the redhead's bare legs and shoulders. There was a faint mist, the weather undecided on rain or to bring down early snow. Freshly fallen leaves skittered around the sidewalk ominously, while unswept, damp clumps of trash and autumnal foliage decorated the deserted area. No one was around; no children, no treaters, no tricksters, no birds…just a few obese rats. The lack of working streetlights meant that the worst of this place had yet to illuminated.

This wasn't Osborn Manor – far from it.

"W-where are we?" Hayley asked nervously, almost too afraid to know the answer. They were in the New York slums, but why? Where had Harry taken her? "This i-isn't-"

"Come on," he grunted, grabbing her arm rather forcefully, "there's something you need to see." His vice like grip clearly said not to run.

The abandoned town houses around them were dilapidated, decayed with wood rot and mould. There was no life in them, no colourful paint or fancy brickwork, only crumbling stone and peeling splatters. The word to describe the houses was drab. There was nothing to see. Nothing immediate. Just poverty and seclusion.

Danger alarms sounded in Hayley's head as Harry led her up the front steps of the worst looking semidetached. And although her legs felt like lead and her body wobbled like jelly, she followed obediently, going against her better judgement. It was like her body was on autopilot, like it wasn't hers to control. That's when time started to slow down to a snails pace, every scary sound screaming at her to run. Wind whistled loudly around them as they entered the house, and the floorboards creaked alarmingly under their hurried footsteps. The house seemed saturated in water, whether it was from mould or a burst pipe, Hayley didn't know, but her feet and expensive heels were soaked with grime. And still, Harry pulled her onwards, continuing their ascent of the three-story house.

Her mouth opened and closed, desperate to voice her alarm. However her tongue refused to work, bone dry and limp. The heart beneath her chest fluttered wildly, much faster than when Spider-Man flew with her through Manhattan. She was afraid. No, she was terrified.

As they climbed the final flight, a single door lay before them. The door to the attic. If it weren't for the blood crashing in her ears like ocean waves, Hayley would have heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door. Many in fact. She only knew that going through that door was something she did not want to do. And with a last stitch of effort, Hayley tugged away feebly but she was no match for the man that held her.

With his hand on the handle, primed to open it, Harry turned to the redhead. "Showtime," he whispered darkly, his gleeful smirk more reptilian than his usual Cheshire grin.

The door swung open with a violent crash, almost a prelude to the horror before her.

The Goblin turned, arms wide to welcome his little fire girl. "Ginge. Finally. Thought you got lost on the way," he spoke with a toothy, feline grin, his eyes gleaming mischievously at the pure terror in Hayley's eyes as she stared at him disbelievingly. "I see you've had the pleasure of meeting Dmitri. As you can tell, his talents are invaluable to us."

The Harry beside the redhead suddenly began to change. An obvious ripple ran through the man's body, and his green painted face morphed before her eyes. In place of Harry's plump lips was a cruel and calculated grin, lips pressed thinly. His boyish nose became hooked and manlier, as the once recognisable face aged twenty years and adopted a rugged, Russian air.

The man standing beside Hayley, who had been with her in the car and taken her to this place no longer resembled Harry Osborn. He was someone else entirely.

"Impressive isn't he? An invaluable asset to our cause."

"Invaluable? Invaluable! You tricked me, Harry Osborn! Who is he? How long was he posing as you? At the ball? At the apartment? What part was real? When we danced? When we kis…" she trailed off, only now seeing a bloodied man in the centre of the room. "What is this? Who is that? What…what have you done?"

The Goblin grinned sheepishly, "A present for you my dear." He swept his arms out wide like a showman, hands all a flurry.

Hayley quickly got over her initial shock of the chameleon-like man, because the sight before her sobered her mind like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over her head.

The Hunter, Kraven, stood in one corner to her left, the shadows masking him other than the glint of his unsheathed hunting knife. If it weren't for that menacing light, she wouldn't have noticed him at all. Even though his hands worked expertly at sharpening the knife, his eyes were trained on the captive man in the chair. Just like a marksman focused on his target.

The other mysterious man, Dmitri, had wandered closer to his fellow Russian, his gaze darting around the new area of the exposed attic. Part of the roof had collapsed, and he ducked under the fallen beams.

"Harry…what have you done?"

She immediately recognised the man in the chair, even beneath the blood and swollen bruises. Doctor Scott sat almost motionless, arms bound behind his back, countless wounds on his bloody, naked body.

Hayley collapsed to the ground at the horrific sight, her dress tearing so that the flesh on her knees started to bleed. "Goblin, what did you do?"

"Trick or treat?" the Goblin chuckled with no hint of remorse in his voice. "First a trick, and now, Ginge, now, you can have your treat."

Guess who splintered the ligaments in her fingers…this stupid moose! My slow typing has been pissing me off, so apologies for the wait. I think my body is trying to kill me this year!

It's Halloween in a few weeks AHHH! I hope you all have fun celebrating and stay safe. I'm dressing as Donnie Darko with a skeleton suit and grey hoody :D then I'm going to a Fright Night at a roller coaster theme park – what are you guys dressing as?

Much Love XXX