Weapons in the Form of Words (tag: Harry)

[Loki]

New York City, the pinnacle of American achievement. It’s towering buildings showed the power of it’s industry, its lights on Broadway and Jazz clubs in Harlem showed its art, and Hell’s Kitchen showed the lovely poverty caused by a Capitalistic system of economy that ran a government through greed.

Loki had so much fun trying to blow it off the face of the universe. It had indeed been a thrill.

Of course, after a year or so, Loki could finally look at the invasion of this place objectively. Now that he was a King and ruling his own country, he could see why the plan had failed. It wasn’t so disheartening as it was educational: refusing to learn from your mistakes was a sign of too much pride. He could see the mistakes, and attribute them to his madness (caused by the fall through the void, plus the tortures the Chitauri first put him through).

But now, Loki’s mind was as clear as it was ever going to be. Ruling a kingdom gave him an anchor. Causing mischief on Midgard kept his mischief out of Asgard. It was almost therapeutic in a way. Perhaps even Thor would approve.

His newest mischief, Thor would most certainly at least part-way approve. Getting rid of a man who was willing to test the least-fortunate in an insane asylum would certainly earn points in the golden boy’s books. Replacing him with a mad boy desperate for revenge against a hero of Midgard would take those points away.

The way he had done it wouldn’t please Thor either. Carefully planting ideas in dear Donald’s head for four days was child’s play. Slowly, the man went mad with the idea that each of the directors were against him, stabbing him in the back, going to kill him. Anyone with that sudden increase in paranoia was bound to snap. The last thing was a spell that would lock his tongue once the deed was done. Nothing stopped Harry Osborn from ascending to his throne now.

It was Friday now, yesterday the boy had been released. That was a good twenty four hours for Osborn to recover enough, Loki was sure. The god doubted the boy would cancel dinner anyway, that would be rude after all.

Loki smiled slightly as he walked into the Osborn building. And the human was probably curious with his magical genie who had granted him his wish, just as Loki was curious about the monster hiding behind the pretty face.

“Hello,” Loki smiled charmingly at the receptionist, “Mr. Osborn is expecting me…. Mr. Goodfellow?”

The woman clicked at her computer for a moment, before looking up and smiling, “Of course,” she handed the god a Visitor Pass, “Top floor, just tell the AI.”

Loki wasn’t quite sure what the human was talking about, but he took the Visitor Pass and clipped it to his suit. “Thank you.”

Getting into the elevator, he wondered if he shouldn’t just teleport up there. But withholding what he could actually do was part of the game….

”Floor please.”

Loki looked up, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as a woman behind a screen stared back at him. “…. Top floor.” He replied warily, “Mr. Osborn’s suite.”

”Thank you”

The door shut, and the elevator began to ascend. Loki carefully ran his magic over the computer, relaxing only when he deduced she was no such spirit or phantom. Just another clever human invention in an attempt to imitate human life….

The door opened at the top floor, Loki walked out and approached the secretary. What was her name…. Felicia? The one that Loki was sure Harry still wanted alive. She smiled when he gave his name, getting up and going to the door to inform Harry that the Mr. Goodfellow was here.

Loki waited, eyes going over to the clear set of doors where Harry was inside….

[Harry Osborn]

. B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! .
. bang bang shot him with a bang bang . love him down down shot my baby with a bang .

Somehow… Beyond all reason (Harry had decided the floating incident was a figment of his imagination and the antidepressants and god knew what else they had him on). He found himself being apologized to, and released within a matter of days. Just like he had been promised. He had been sitting quietly, in the free time room with the other patients who were deemed stable enough to socialize. He had been playing chess with a quiet, twitchy woman who had drown her sister's baby and cut his ears off. Funny, the woman was mute, unable to talk… Or, Harry supposed, defend herself. Still, she was very good at chess. She was the only one able to get close to beating him. In fact, she had won a couple times.

But he had been spending that day as any other, when a pair of the orderlies had meandered in and said he was being released. Of course, the surprise on Harry's features was not only an act. He was, by all accounts, shocked. Mr. Goodfellow, a man he'd scarcely spoken to, had somehow made true to his promise. Oathkeeper indeed. Harry still wasn't sure the specifics, but supposed he could catch up as soon as he was out of the stone walls and bars. They didn't allow for much viewing of the news in Ravencroft.

The car ride home had been awkward. His old driver was back, and had apologized profusely to Harry ("Mr. Osborn sir, I knew you were innocent. I just knew it. There was no way you were responsible for that young girl's death."). He'd told the man to skip the mansion and go straight to Oscorp. There was some housekeeping to handle. Upon arrival, he'd demanded to be left alone in his office. There, he caught up with what exactly had happened. It was exactly as his visitor had promised. Menken was locked up for the murder of the remainder of the board. It was incredible. Harry was keen to meet the man again, learn more if he could. Harry thought he was fairly talented in manipulating. What with his devilish charm, good looks, money and innocent game face… It wasn't hard. But to this man, he was an amateur.

"Send Ms. Hardy up here." Harry spoke to hid AI, pleased when the animated face agreed without hesitation. And even welcomed him back.

Yeah. He had work to do.

- o -

Friday night arrived sooner then Harry wanted. He hadn't slept, nor elf this office for more then a coffee and food, and even then, the latter was sparse and only because Felicia had insisted. His fingers and wrists felt cramped from the constant typing on the flat, sleek top of his desk. Over the glass, over and over, rewetting, answering emails, coding, searching archives and information. Locking. Locking everything he needed under him this time. There would be no mistakes this time. Contact with Mr. Fiers would wait, but he had an appointment the next afternoon. There was so much to do, and so little time. It was a pleasure to see that Peter had returned to his vigilante ways. Even in Ravencroft Harry had heard about Spider-Man's supposed disappearance. He smirked to himself as he recoded some of the projected that had been shut down, sent out permission to bring them back up. He took credit for Peter's absence. Apparently that complicated Gwen had meant a lot.

It was almost frightening the lack of remorse he felt.

Sorry. Not sorry. his mind supplied, like something he'd have hashtagged on his instagram back in the day.

Mr. Osborn." Felicia's voice murmured, breaking through his thoughts and his work. Harry lifted his gaze to meet hers, arching a brow. She smiled a little, just a small curl of her lips. "You have a guest." She informed him. Harry blinked at her, furrowed his brows and looked down at the heavy, expensive watch on his wrist. Huh. It had gotten late far faster then he had anticipated.

"Mr. Goodfellow?" he asked. He received a nod in reply and ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Send him in. Call Mason from my home, tell him to whip something elegant up that he can bring here. Tell him it's important and to hurry, and give him the weekend off in thanks for the inconvenience." he told her. As if his father's old personal chef was inconvenienced when he hadn't had work for the time Harry was locked away. Paid as the house staff but without purpose. Vacation was over. "Then go home yourself. Take the weekend off." he told her.

"Oh. And call me Harry." he called to her as she slipped through the glass doors. He let out a wary, tired breath and pushed away from his desk to amble towards the bar and table. Harry wasn't the first Osborn to live in Oscorp, his father had made sure the office was a secondary living space. Not quite something he could make dinner to entertain Mr. Goodfellow with, but it wool work. He glanced in the mirror to at least straighten his collar and flatten his shaggy mop of hair. He needed a trim. Especially with a press conference coming up after his appointment with Mr. Fiers. His hand twitched to call Felicia back in, but he stopped himself. He could make his own barber appointment.

"Mr. Goodfellow." Harry said, turning when he saw the tall, slender form in the mirror. He turned to step down and offer the man a hand, in proper greeting. "I see you managed all you promised. Incredible. I'm impressed. And I'm not easily impressed." Harry said honestly, smirking with half his lips. He gestured to the table and turned back to the bar. "Can I offer you a drink? I have some very good scotch. Or a Cab Sav if you're a red wine sort of man."

WORDS: one-zero-zero-five.
TAGGED:lanni & loki.
SONG:bang bang/will.i.am.
CREDIT:you're lookin' at her.

[Loki]

There were many things that Loki did not understand about humans. Their desire to reject any kind of magic or anything illogical was certainly a new development. A mere hundred years ago, they still believed that magic existed. A mere turn of the moon in Asgardian years had turned humans into a disbelieving and ultimately magicless race. True, there was some to be found here and there, but it was starting to fade. Soon, mankind would be totally reliant on science and technology where once they relied upon magic.

Pity for them, but it gave Loki the edge of surprise. No human could see his powers coming, and if they did they would chose not to believe it. Disbelief made Loki ten times more deadly.

”Mr. Goodfellow?”

Loki looked up, noting the distrustful way Ms. Hardy stared at him. A loyal cat who had seen her master dragged off before and obviously would not stand for it again. Who else would give her meals or clean her litterbox? ”Mr. Osborn will see you now.”

He bowed slightly, surprising the woman from her scrutiny and walked toward the doors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl walk behind the desk and hit a button. Perhaps calling up a meal, perhaps calling up security or police or whatever Harry Osborn had chosen to summon. Loki was sure whatever it was: dinner or a show, it would be entertaining.

The god strutted into the room, letting the glass door shut behind him. He took in the young man before him, a smirk stretching across his face. The boy was playing with his hair in a mirror, it was almost cute. “I must say, you look far better without handcuffs, Mr. Osborn.”

"Mr. Goodfellow."

Loki took the offered hand, shaking it once before letting go. It wasn’t as if he detested contact, but at times small gestures irked him. Especially if they reminded him of the arm-clasping friendly warriors exchanged. Unless you were brothers in arms, you didn’t arm-clasp.

But is that what you want from this child? To be a brother in arms? Was the boy worthy of such a title from the likes of Loki Liesmith? Only time would tell.

"I see you managed all you promised. Incredible. I'm impressed. And I'm not easily impressed."

Loki gave a little smile, sweeping into a half-bow with a hand upon his breast. “Like I said: I always keep my promises Mr. Osborn.” His green eyes sparkled like a serpent in the Garden of Eden: both wicked and gleeful. It was such a pleasure to have this boy in his sights.

Loki straightened from his bow, looking toward the gestured table with a raised eyebrow. It had two places setted, one on either side of the table.

"Can I offer you a drink? I have some very good scotch. Or a Cab Sav if you're a red wine sort of man."

“Wine, if you don’t mind.” Loki said as he walked over to the table and chose a seat, sitting down (almost lounging) as he waited for his drink. He was dying to ask questions of the young man, just as the young man was probably dying to return questions of his own. For now, he’d settle for a drink.

[Harry Osborn]

. B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! .
. bang bang shot him with a bang bang . love him down down shot my baby with a bang .

Harry smiled a little and lifted his hands, baring his wrists as he wiggled his fingers, as if to say he was quite enjoying the lack of handcuffs himself. He was. The freedom was invigorating. He took note however, how short Mr. Goodfellow's handshake was, the discomfort he knew came from a quick barely there shake. In his business he knew the signs. You had to know ticks and tricks to reading people when you headed a corporation like Oscorp. Something he learned early, perhaps even before he'd been shipped off to boarding school. He also noted the chill to his skin, something that brought gooseflesh rising up Harry's spine. Still, all things he filed away for later whilst smiling serenely.

Mr. Goodfellow smiled at Harry in a way that made Harry want to squirm. He wouldn't know how to describe it to someone if they asked. But he felt like Mr. Goodfellow knew more about him then even Harry knew, that he saw through everything to the boy below his surface and wanted to use him. Sort of the same expression cats wore when they stared at you from some high vantage point. But, the man had gotten him out of the bug house. And Harry was no longer a boy, if Mr. Goodfellow meant him harm, he could protect himself. Just because they were allies, didn't mean Harry had to trust him.

Harry took his time, selecting a bottle of Petrus from his cooled rack, and watched Mr. Goodfellow through the mirror as he twisted his corkscrew with slow, well practiced motions. His father might now have been a man of good taste in wine, but the people that bought it for him (with his money) sure had been. Something Harry had aquired in his time in europe, a taste for good (and expensive) wine. He poured two glasses, and took them, along with the bottle back to the table. He offered one to his guest then moved around to flop back into his own seat with all the grace a boy practically out of his teens could muster.

He didn't drink his own yet, rather he inhaled it's rich scent and allowed it to breathe for a time. Though, in France he had been told his taste in wine didn't require it, due to the age of his wines. Still, it looked classier. "So. Mr. Goodfellow. You some how pinned the murders of my entire board on one man, got him locked away, even added on my crime to seal the deal. I should thank you, not only for getting me out, but for cleaning house. Something I should have done after my old man croaked." he said, it was the closest to a thank you the man would get.

"And yet, despite it all. You still want nothing from me? Not money? Power? Position? My blood?" he added the last with a low, twisted little chuckle. Of course, he wasn't as valuable as say, Parker's blood… But he had his own special make-up in his genes now. Passed from dear old dad and twisted by the spider venom. Goodfellow knew all about that from his file. Or at least, enough to know he had a monster in his body, not the specifics of how it happened. "I'm sure you can understand why I find it hard to believe. And I feel like I should do something to thank you."

Which wasn't always something in Harry's nature. But this was incredible. And this man obviously was powerful in his own ways. Harry didn't know if he had anything of worth to offer him, nothing he couldn't have obviously gained for himself. "Come on Mr. Goodfellow… There's got to be something I can show my gratitude with." he said, leaning in to take a quick little sip of the wine. It was good. He knew it would be, '72 was a good year. "You basically gave me my whole little life back." he added, gesturing with the wine glass towards the very building they were in.

WORDS: six-eight-nine.
TAGGED:lanni & loki.
SONG:bang bang/will.i.am.
CREDIT:you're lookin' at her.

[Loki]

Loki chuckled slightly as Harry lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers to show off the freedom he now enjoyed thanks to the god of mischief. Loki knew what it was like to be bound in chains, both by the Chitauri and by Asgard, and even by others. These chains did more than bind the body, they bound his mind and his magic. The feeling of having his magic return after months or even years was like having your first drink of water after going for miles through a desert. He didn't understand how non-magical people even functioned or did without.

Freedom did indeed suit the CEO of Oscorp. He looked healthier outside the orange jumpsuit they had put him in, though no less tired. More than likely, the human had stayed up all night making sure that his throne was indeed secure. Loki was the same when it came to such matters. On Asgard, as he ruled in Odin's form, he did not rest until everything was accomplished. Which suited his insomnia just fine, though the advisors surrounding him expressed concern that their king did not sleep. If only they really knew.

Still, staying up night and day did have it's perks. He could cast an illusion that made it seem like 'Odin' was sleeping, and would fly away to Midgard for a little fun. Little mischief-making ventures that gave him freedom to stretch his legs and use his magic. Such as helping along young Mr. Osborn here.

As Harry got the wine, Loki gazed out upon the impressive view of the city below. It hardly looked touched, even after all the mischief Harry and Loki visited upon it. A pity, for when Loki attacked something he liked for the wound to scar.

Loki looked back up at the sound of Harry moving back over to the table with the two glasses of wine and the bottle. He accepted his glass with a smile, swirling it carefully and watching as the edges of the deep red vintage lopped up against the sides of the glass like tongues of blood.

Wine was scarce in Asgard, as the earth did not grow grapes. Instead, it yielded grains used to make mead. Asgardian mead was sweet, flavored with apples and honey, and could knock a human out after one glass-full. Wine had to be important from Alfheim, and even then it usually took on a purple color rather than the red and yellow of Midgard's grapes. It was far muskier than mead, and most Asgardian's turned their nose up at it. Loki was quite fond of it.

"So. Mr. Goodfellow. You some how pinned the murders of my entire board on one man, got him locked away, even added on my crime to seal the deal. I should thank you, not only for getting me out, but for cleaning house. Something I should have done after my old man croaked."

Loki's thoughts broke away from wines to the ex-prisoner of the hour. He gave the boy a half-smile, "They hardly afforded you the chance. They were already plotting their coup when your father was bed-ridden." Interesting things you learn when tampering with a man's mind. And Donald's mind was full of nasty little secrets regarding the Osborn family. "The only reason, it seems, that they did not accomplish their goal sooner was that you insisted on maintaining control. They were expecting you to become their puppet, not their king." And it had backfired on their faces, making them change their plans.

"And yet, despite it all. You still want nothing from me? Not money? Power? Position? My blood?... I'm sure you can understand why I find it hard to believe. And I feel like I should do something to thank you."

The King of Asgard leaned back in his seat, taking a careful and elegant sip of the wine in his hand. Very nice, if the humans had accomplished anything in their short lives, they had accomplished the art of food and drink. Or at the very least, Mr. Osborn had chosen a good vintage, something Loki could appreciate.

But onto the question at hand: "If you are asking if there are any strings attached to what I have just done: there is none. There is nothing you could offer me that I want or need, Mr. Osborn." Which was true: he was King of the most prestigious realm in the nine realms, he had a city literally made of gold with an army ready to fight at the flick of his pink finger (or Odin's pinky finger rather).

However, there was one thing that Harry Osborn could do, something he was already doing for Loki: being a source of amusement. But Loki was sure that if he said such a thing out loud, the human before him would take offense.

"Come on Mr. Goodfellow… There's got to be something I can show my gratitude with..... You basically gave me my whole little life back."

Loki gave a small smile, as if reminded of a joke, "Satisfaction is not in my nature, Mr. Osborn, and you should therefore be careful of offering me anything....." He swirled his wine around in a contemplative way, "All I ask is that you continue on with what you have already been doing. Which you shall do anyway, whether I request it or not."

Continue being interesting, not a hard thing for a young man like Mr. Osborn to accomplish.

[Harry Osborn]

. B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! .
. bang bang shot him with a bang bang . love him down down shot my baby with a bang .

Mr. Goodfellow was not telling Harry anything he didn't know. Before he'd even set foot in New York, he knew they were likely figuring out a way to claim the company when his dad finally kicked the bucket. A way to babysit him, let him look like the head but run the corporation themselves. In their defence, they'd last seen him years prior, saw him as a stupid little boy. He was far more clever then they'd realized, which was the only thing that got him that seat in the first place. His mistake was delving too desperately into how to save himself and not digging when he'd first arrived for anything out of place. Mistakes made, lessons learned. There would be nothing at Oscorp now that he did not know of, or oversee. "I was hardly their king." Harry snorted with a laugh. Bemused by the wording, it was line something straight out of the articles following his dad's death. "I was more an heir they tried to keep the crown from. A prince they wanted to have sit on the side as they became stewart to the throne. I snatched it back from their hands." he said, keeping with Mr. Goodfellow's little line about princes.

It was a shame they snatched it back.

In any case, it was his again now. Rightfully so. They'd not only underestimated him when he came back, but his father too. Underestimated that he wouldn't want Harry to succeed him. That Harry wouldn't be prepared or shrewd enough to sit on his dad's chair while it was still warm. They'd underestimated both Osborns. And now they were dead. The whole crew of mites that had tried to take him down. He only wish he'd had more of a hand in it… However, it was better this way in all logical manner. His hands were clean now, or rather, the rest of the world saw them as clean. Manicured. Perfect little prince he'd been raised to be.

"Right… " Harry chuckled, drawing out the 'i' to lengthen the word with remembrance. "I remember, you like chaos. And you think, I'm chaotic enough to entertain your chaos lust." he said, leaning back before he finally took a slow, elegant sip of his wine. Good, very good. He already knew it would be of course, but it was always nice to be proven right. "You do look rather satisfied for someone who says satisfaction isn't in their nature." he pointed out, gesturing to Mr. Goodfellow with his glass. Still, if the man was so sure he needed nothing in return… Well Harry could accept that. He'd just keep one eye on the guy in the chance he wasn't as charming as he appeared. Mr. Goodfellow didn't strike Harry as a good guy.

Mr. Goodfellow. Mr. Fiers. What was with all the misters offering him aid.

"So, now that I'm technically in your debt." which he hated. He loathed. It was why he kept offering to repay, perhaps. "Despite your assurance I'm not… Do I get a first name? Or do I keep referring to you as Mr. Goodfellow?" he asked, lips curling up in the corners in amusement. "After all, you know my name." everyone knew Harry's name, but that wasn't the point. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready for Mr. Goodfellow to call him Harry, but he supposed he owed him that much. If anything, the fact the man kept to Mr. Osborn had Harry's respect, and maybe just a little fondness. Rescue aside.

"So. When you say you want me to just continue what I'm doing. I can safely assume you don't mean Oscorps medical work… You mean… Him. And my solo work. Like the work invoking Ms. Stacy." he said seriously after a moment, bright eyes on Mr. Goodfellow's face over the wine glass in hand. "If that's the case, you're more criminal then you're letting on. I think there's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Goodfellow." His voice lost some of that friendly edge, all business and all Mr. Osborn.

WORDS: sven-zero-zero.
TAGGED:lanni & loki.
SONG:bang bang/will.i.am.
CREDIT:you're lookin' at her.

[Loki]

"I was hardly their king. I was more an heir they tried to keep the crown from. A prince they wanted to have sit on the side as they became stewart to the throne. I snatched it back from their hands."

The god of mischief felt a pang somewhere near his frozen heart, thinking of how he was placed, rightfully, upon the throne by his mother. How Thor’s friends thought they could bully him into doing as they pleased in the name of friendship (a friendship he never belonged in). How they had taken his throne away from him, his one chance to prove he was indeed a son of Asgard.

Ah well, he too managed to snatch it back from their hands. And they were none the wiser for it.

"Right… I remember, you like chaos. And you think, I'm chaotic enough to entertain your chaos lust."

Loki smiles indulgently at the young man as he twirled his wine in his hands. “Something like that….” He affirmed quietly, green eyes twinkling. He was the god of chaos after all, what kind of god would he be if he didn’t reward his followers?

"You do look rather satisfied for someone who says satisfaction isn't in their nature."

“Mm,” Loki said, making a non-committal sound as he took another sip of wine, closing his eyes as he savored the exquisite taste. The galaxy’s very existence was dependent on simple pleasures and hug catastrophes. “Being satisfied, staying satisfied, is quite impossible for men like me. I’m far too restless for my own good.” There was always a new planet to be explored, a new deal with the devil to be made, another gamble here another gamble there. The steady, never changing world of Asgard was enough to make any young godling stir-crazy, just look at Thor: who had fled the moment he could from Asgard’s steady gaze to Midgard’s changing embrace.

The eternal realm grated upon him, and though he would not abandon its throne as Odin slept, he would take little moments like these to stretch his legs between the agony of stagnation.

"So, now that I'm technically in your debt."

“Well, I prefer to see it as a gift.” Loki corrected with a small laugh, “A sign of good faith, if you will. But forgive me, you were saying?....” Loki knew the difference between debts and oaths. Loki would not march up later and demand Osborn do something for him despite it all. He indeed doubted that Harry would do it, or that there was anything Harry had that he wanted. It was an Olive Branch of sorts, a way to gain peace and alliance with a very interesting mortal.

"Despite your assurance I'm not… Do I get a first name? Or do I keep referring to you as Mr. Goodfellow?...... After all, you know my name."

This was it, the moment of truth. Did he give the boy his real name? Or did he continue to play with words and give Harry Osborn a pseudonym? Loki tapped his fingernails against the table as he thought, for was not Loki dead? Did he not die in the arms of his noble, perfect brother? Did not all of Asgard sigh in relief as his corpse was burned in that private funeral? Loki was dead and gone, and therefore only his shadow remained. A piece of it darkened the throne of Asgard, and a piece of it darkened this little corner of Midgard.

“….. Very well……. I am Ikol.” He was the shadow of the Loki who was, the one who continued to stalk Thor and continue his chaos. The Loki that was, was gone, and better off gone in the minds and hearts of men and gods alike.

"So. When you say you want me to just continue what I'm doing. I can safely assume you don't mean Oscorps medical work… You mean… Him. And my solo work. Like the work invoking Ms. Stacy…….If that's the case, you're more criminal then you're letting on. I think there's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Goodfellow."

Loki tilted his head slightly at Harry Osborn’s burning gaze and suddenly serious tone. He couldn’t decide yet if there was something threatening about the youngling’s words. Or if Osborn merely wanted to have a serious conversation, one without the smoke and mirrors that polite company often had to employ. Well, the boy would be disappointed, for Loki himself was shadow and deceit incarnate. Smoke and mirrors and riddled words were his specialty.

Still, he humored the Green Goblin for now, reaching over and placing his glass of wine upon the table as he sat up in his chair. His full impressive height made an impression even with him sitting down. He raised an eyebrow at Harry’s direction, a grim smile teasing upon the edges of his mouth, “And what exactly would you like to discuss, Mr. Osborn?” He spread out his arms as if in welcome, “I am all ears.”

If Harry Osborn wanted his help in catching his spider well…. He heard cats were very good at spider-hunting. If they shared their spoils, well that was an entirely different matter.

[Harry Osborn]

. B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! . B A N G! .
. bang bang shot him with a bang bang . love him down down shot my baby with a bang .

Ikol Goodfellow, huh? Harry arched a brow.He couldn't say it wasn't an odd name. Still, he hadn't been given a name before, so he supposed he should be grateful. But a name like 'Goodfellow' still screamed that this man was lying about who he was. Goodfellow. It just wasn't a real sounding name, especially not in the sneaky situation they had between them. No, Harry didn't believe Goodfellow was this man's name, however Ikol somehow matched his strange accent. So perhaps Ikol was true, and Goodfellow was still a lie. Which meant he didn't trust Harry, or so, that was Harry's thoughts on the matter. Good. He didn't quite trust this man either. Especially with his insistence helping him was a gift, nobody helped men like Harry. Nobody helped men like Max. The only people that helped them intended to use them.

He might be growing a little fond of the man's mannerisms and the way he spoke to Harry. Didn't treat him like a child, like everyone else. Save his father, his father had never allowed him to be a child. But whether he grew fond or not, didn't mean he trusted this Ikol. It was like someone growing fond of an attack dog, or an exotic cat, you couldn't help but like it, grow fond of it, but if you so much as caught it in the wrong situation… You couldn't just trust it.

Maybe Harry was being paranoid. Maybe he was being more careful this time.

Harry wasn't easily intimidated. He wasn't a big guy, he was lanky, and always had been. He didn't cower from Ikol's height. Not at all. When he'd gone to public school(with Parker at that age), he'd been an easy target. A little rich kid, prince to fortune that was far too easy to knock down. Spoiled they called him. Even when he moved to boarding school, he'd been a target. Both because he wasn't hard to knock down, and jealous of what he had, because of who he was. It was great to kick Osborn around. It wasn't until he'd learned to take care of himself did that stop. As he aged further nobody touched him for fear of what he could do, both from his self defence and the money he had access to. He fondly recalled pinning an asshole to a wall and convincing him in a low, vicious voice that his family could make him disappear. Any name calling after that ceased.

Harry was always a little dark he supposed. Got a kick out of the fear in people's eyes. Their embarrassment.

"Well for starters, what exactly do you want from me? You've been pretty vague in my 'continuing work'. What exactly are you looking at me to do?" He said, head tilting a little to one side as he looked up at Ikol, eyes cool, expression carefully blank with a side of cock smirk. Barely there. His usual media face. He hadn't gotten much out of the goblin so far, one evening that seemed more like a joyride then anything really, now that he looked back. And then in the nut house he'd been locked down, forced himself to try and learn some control to get himself out. Not a lot to go on. Still his pulse spiked and he itched to do it again. He supposed Parker and the Stacy family thought of that night as far more… Eventful. His smirk twisted a little more, his eyes flickered darkly over his wine glass.

"And I kind of am curious about what you know. About me, that is. You read my file obvious in Ravencroft. You know that, and I assume you saw what the papers wrote about me. But that's not really much to go on. He said, eyes settling on Loki's face. "You approached me without reading my file, or knowing me. On the scattered, faceless stories the papers and news had to offer. It seems to me, you know more then you let on. I'm a private man naturally." he said with a wider smirk. He wasn't. He had his time riding the spotlight high. It was more since his father's death he'd withdrew from the mainstream. But even then, that was the time he had anything of interest to this man. "You knew about him when that was something only a few of us know about. Blurry pictures don't count. The only witness has to keep his mouth shut for his secret. So…" he finished with an expectant expression, reaching forwards to pour a little more wine into his glass.

He was actually surprised he hadn't heard from Peter. His release was in the papers. How he was innocent. Parker knew he wasn't. Hadn't approached him however. Smart kid.

WORDS: eight. zero. nine..
TAGGED:lanni & loki.
SONG:bang bang/will.i.am.
CREDIT:you're lookin' at her.

[Loki]

Harry was right not to trust the god of mischief. Perhaps had Loki been younger, before it had been revealed that he was nothing but a filthy frost giant, before he realized everyone had betrayed him and left him to rot on the Chitauri home world. But now Loki had grown into what he truly was: a trickser. One who pulled the strings to see what would happen next. Loki was worthy of no one’s trust.

"Well for starters, what exactly do you want from me? You've been pretty vague in my 'continuing work'. What exactly are you looking at me to do?"

Loki smirked right back, eyes twinkling with some unexplained amusement as he shrugged, “Oh…. Just continue to be yourself really.” The god lifted a hand and inspected his nails almost idley, “I’m sure interesting things will follow you wherever you go or whatever you do…. Do you not agree?” Eyes lifted back up to study Osborn’s reaction to that declaration. If Harry Osborn was looking for clear cut answers, he would not find them in Loki… or rather: Ikol.

"And I kind of am curious about what you know. About me, that is. You read my file obvious in Ravencroft. You know that, and I assume you saw what the papers wrote about me. But that's not really much to go on….. You approached me without reading my file, or knowing me. On the scattered, faceless stories the papers and news had to offer. It seems to me, you know more then you let on. I'm a private man naturally. You knew about him when that was something only a few of us know about. Blurry pictures don't count. The only witness has to keep his mouth shut for his secret. So…"

Loki’s mouth curved into an almost delighted smirk, “You are asking me if I know about your little blood curse? Or about how Peter Parker, the Spider, is your only cure? Or about the little secrets buried inside your building?” Loki spread out his arms, the smile on his face looked liked it had been carved there from ice, “I know everything, Mr. Osborn.”

From the glorious throne Hlidskjalf, Loki could see all the nine realms and even beyond. And from that high seat of the gods, he had gazed down upon earth and caught sight of Harry Osborn. And he found this young man absolutely spectacular.

The god did not reach for his wine again, leaving it on the table as his green eyes moved from Harry to the city at large, a city he once tried to conquer. Somewhere out in the city, Peter Parker was mourning. Though not sitting in front of the grave of his lover anymore: he still mourned. He mourned the fact that he could not protect his lover, he could not protect his best friend from himself, he was at best one of those most sentimental of fools that paved his road with good intentions but with the folly of youth used soft clay instead of cement: and all his plans washed away. It was almost pitiful, watching the boy struggle through his choices like being caught on his own web.

Peter Parker was pitiful, and so in Loki’s eyes he was boring. Harry on the other hand….