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Are You Happy? Chapter One

It had been about 3 weeks in The Labyrinth when Harry Osborn was met with the man who murdered his father. Standing in an unfamiliar office, he faced cold, emotionless lenses on a webbed mask. The so-called “hero” swiveled his chair around to see everyone, kicking his feet up on the desk. The last man Harry ever wanted to see again, much less now. “Never fear, civilians!” Spider-Man said. “Your kickass interdimensional Spider-Man is here!”

Harry had gone to work at Oscorp one morning nearly a month ago, and found himself somewhere entirely different. The day had started normally enough, waking up to an early alarm and the realization that Norman Osborn was still gone and Harry was to fill his role at Oscorp. The tie, the coffee, the phone calls. Same routine as always. A routine that had never belonged to Harry, but was arguably the most significant thing he’d inherited from Norman. Either that, or the grudge against Spider-Man.

The lobby of Oscorp’s primary location was eerily empty and cold when Harry stepped inside that morning. However, he’d be lying if he said the place hadn’t always felt some degree of lonely to him, even when his father was still around. Maybe the receptionist was running late. Somebody would figure out that Harry was there eventually. Or so he thought, anyway, as he made his begrudging way to the elevator. Ding! The doors parted, just like always. Harry stepped inside and pressed the button. Just like always. The doors closed. Going up. Ding! The doors parted, just like–

Harry frowned, blinked. Nothing changed when he opened his eyes. He could have sworn he was on the higher levels of the Oscorp building, but found himself staring down what appeared to be a restaurant’s dimly lit, entirely lifeless kitchen. The elevator buttons still looked right, the entire interior of the elevator did. The right button was illuminated, indicating the correct floor. And the Oscorp building shouldn’t even have a restaurant like this. The elevator lights flickered. Something wasn’t right. And Harry wasn’t about to deal with it.

Harry pressed the button again. He pressed some more buttons. Nothing. The doors didn’t close, the elevator didn’t move. Harry was out of options. He stepped out of the elevator, into the kitchen. At last, the elevator doors slid shut, without Harry. He turned around, expecting to mash the buttons on the wall until it inexplicably came back with another surprise inside. But there weren’t any buttons on the wall. The elevator wasn’t coming back, at least not at Harry’s will. Slowly, he rotated his view once more, facing the abandoned kitchen. There was only one way to go.

That night, though there was no way to tell the time, Harry encountered the Hostiles for the first time. Across the kitchen, he found an appropriately placed door, complete with two-way hinges and greasy little windows. Though they weren’t especially easy to see through, it looked like a seating area awaited Harry on the other side. And with that, hopefully, an exit. He pushed through, from the silent kitchen into a silent… yoga studio? Dark, and empty. And as he left the studio, an elementary school classroom. Empty, and dark. Endless unfamiliar locations on and on, all alone, until…

Harry huffed to himself as he opened another door. Wow, a library. What a surprise. He stepped inside, called out into the silence, just in case.

“Hello?” He wasn’t expecting a response, it was basically just a habit at this point. “Anyone in here?” Silence, of course. Harry threw his hands up weakly. Who was he kidding anymore? He might as well get comfortable. Taking a step deeper into the forest of books, however, Harry heard something. He stopped, and listened to the sound of several books falling like a row of dominoes to the floor. Looking over, following the sound with his eyes, he could just make out a shadow behind a shelf. Harry felt a little chilled, but what were his choices?

“Hey,” he started toward the aisle, rounding the bookshelf that had just shed some of its contents. He was in the right place, there laid a small pile of books scattered on the floor, and standing over them, another person. A stranger. Harry didn’t know what to say next as he met her gaze.

She didn’t speak. She looked human, and mostly normal, but her eyes were strangely vacant. A moment of silence passed, before her focus shifted, and she saw Harry. Grabbing the nearby shelf to brace herself, the woman took a step over the books, toward Harry. He took a step back. She took another step. Harry put his hands up.

“Hey,” he said again, “wait. Were you…” Harry looked around, hoping there weren’t any other library patrons here to overhear in case he was actually just insane. “Are you lost, too?”

The woman didn’t speak, just gave Harry a mildly perplexed look that soon enough faded away as she took another step toward him. Harry had had about enough of this place. He was hungry and confused, and, nice as it was to see another human face, he was getting fed up with the whole exchange, or lack thereof.

“Can you hear me?” Harry asked, a little snappier than he would have liked. He tilted his head and gestured to his ear as the stranger came even closer. She did not react to his question at all. She only exhaled and took another step. Harry glanced around, adjusted his stance, ready to leave. Something about this didn’t feel right. She was about two feet away now. And she closed that gap very quickly.

Before Harry could ready himself, the woman had taken him by the shoulders and rammed him into the shelves to his right. She shoved and shoved him against the object until he lost his balance and fell into the bottom shelf. The stranger followed, setting herself down on Harry’s knees to grab his head and slam it against the shelves. Maybe the pain gave Harry just the sort of kick he needed, he grabbed the woman, kicked, and threw her off of him as hard as he could. He leapt to his feet, throwing books down onto the attacker, hoping to stall her as he took off.

Harry met Jane a few days later. Fortunately for him, she was just another person who had found herself as lost as he was. She told him she was a psychology professional, who had gone to a new facility for orientation after getting hired at a new job. Just like Harry, Jane had stepped inside and never back out. She, too, had spent however long wandering around an endless maze of just about everywhere, no exit anywhere in sight. She, too, had encountered an attacker. Harry and Jane decided to call them Hostiles. A way to differentiate between them, and us, as they put it. A couple weeks later, they met Jason. He called this place ‘The Labyrinth,’ and it stuck. The three of them spent their time working through the madness, trying to survive. Sometimes they’d find a kitchen, sometimes its food wouldn’t be expired. They slept when and where they could. Avoided the Hostiles. That was life as they knew it now.

About three weeks after Harry had first entered The Labyrinth, he and his companions were in an office. Not Oscorp, but probably not unlike some of the levels of the more familiar building. Harry, Jane, and Jason wove their way through cubicles, looking for something, anything of interest. It was quiet, as the Labyrinth almost always was, but the fluorescent lights overhead were working just fine, which was rather rare. It did provide the travelers with something of an advantage, however, as they searched the space. It appeared completely free of Hostiles. Though, one could never be sure when one might be hiding just out of sight, so proceeding with caution never hurt.

Harry strolled past cubicles quietly, none of them altogether interesting. He stopped short, however, upon hearing a sudden clicking sound. But it didn’t take long for it to be drowned out by the low woosh announcing the arrival of cold air rushing out of a vent near the ceiling. Harry released some of the tension in his muscles. It was just the air conditioner. A shadow moved up ahead. Papers from an empty desk being disturbed by the air flow. Nothing special, Harry kept going. The coast appeared to be clear. Harry picked up his pace, almost comfortable.

Bleedeleedeleedelee. It sounded like a phone was ringing. Where was it coming from? Harry followed the noise. Bleedeleedeleedelee. It’s not like Harry was going to answer it anyways. Was he? So why was he still trying to track it down? Bleedeleedeleedelee. He wove through the office and found Jane, reaching for the receiver.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry whispered, assuring himself he would not have done the same.

Jane looked at him quizzically, down at the phone, back at Harry. Bleedeleedeleedelee. “I think we should answer it,” She shook her head slightly, as though it was obvious. Harry broke eye contact, looking at the phone himself. Bleedeleedeleedelee. What’s the worst that could come of it?

“What if someone’s trying to track us?” Harry knew he sounded paranoid, but he had to be right. He always was.

“Like who?” Great, she’d called his bluff. Harry shook his head. Jason approached from behind him just in time. Bleedeleedel– click. Jane picked up. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was loud. Jane had to pull the receiver away for a moment. Still, the other two couldn’t understand what was being said. Harry looked around quickly. Nothing else had changed, they still seemed to be alone. And yet, Harry’s jaw felt tight as his ears took in all the noise.

“Who is this?” Jane said next, at an average indoor volume that Harry didn’t exactly approve of. Her eyebrows lifted as she listened. She looked over at the doorway across the room, the ultimate destination for now, dark but inviting. “Okay,” she nodded, “but how do we know that it’s not a–” Click. Jane sighed and put the phone down. “That was the Avengers,” she explained all too nonchalantly, and looked into the boys’ eyes. For a moment, Harry was speechless.

“What?” Now Jason wasn’t really watching his volume either. “How? What?”

“That’s just what he told me,” Jane shrugged and leaned back against the desk. “And that he was in the boss’s office down the hall.” She flicked her head toward their destination. “What do you two think?”

Jason nodded, but Harry didn’t know what he thought. None of this made any sense. That being the case, he had gotten a little used to the ecosystem here, and the Hostiles didn’t seem to speak at all. Worst case? It was a trap and somebody was waiting in the boss’s office to kill Harry and company. But right now? In that case they probably deserved whatever they got. It was worth a shot.

“Fine,” Harry started walking again. “What do we have to lose?” And the other two were right behind him.

They didn’t get any trouble in the hallway, either. The lights were off down there, save for one in a windowed room a couple doors down. That had to be it. Slowly, carefully, the small party approached. The large office chair behind the desk faced away from them. If someone was really in there, they couldn’t be seen. Jane grabbed the door handle and let herself and the others in. Just as the door shut, the man in the chair swiveled around to see them, kicking his feet up on the desk. The last man Harry ever wanted to see again, much less now.

“Never fear, civilians!” Spider-Man said, “Your kickass interdimensional Spider-Man is here!”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Are you…?”

“Here to save the day? You betcha. I’m guessing you guys want out of here?” Spider-Man moved the phone from his lap back to the surface of the desk. Jason stepped forward, appearing altogether relieved as his shoulders relaxed. Harry cut him off.

“We’re good.”

“Really?” Spider-Man looked a little perplexed.

“No, I,” Jane sighed, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, we’ve been in here for so long. Can you really get us out?” How could he possibly–

“Well, yeah! If I couldn’t get you out then I couldn’t get me out, and if I couldn’t get me out, well, it won’t come to that, so let’s not worry about it!”

“Okay!” Jason nodded, like he hadn’t really been listening. Spider-Man vaulted the desk and held a hand out to Jane, which she promptly took for a shake.

“I’m Spider-Man. You know that. And you are?”

“Um, Jane. You can call me Jane.” She released Spider-Man’s hand.

“Jason,” Jason said as he took it next. Spider-Man turned to Harry. Harry didn’t take his hand.

“That’s Harry Osb–” Jane gestured to Harry, before he cut her off too.

“He knows who I am.”

Spider-Man put his hand down.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Maybe it was nothing, but Spider-Man sounded somehow different than Harry recalled. And Harry wasn’t very concerned with his manners at the moment. “You sound like you swallowed a campfire.”

“Harry,” Jane sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Well, I wasn’t going to bring it up,” Spider-Man put his hands on his hips, “but since you asked, I actually had to save a family from a burning building yesterday. Sounds like the smoke damage hasn’t worked its way out of my system yet.” Spider-Man coughed into his fist. It almost seemed melodramatic, as he looked at Harry.

“That’s awesome,” Jason, however, was eating it up.

“I know,” Spider-Man replied.

“Whatever, I’m not doing this,” Harry tossed his hands up and went for the door. No way was Spider-Man his last hope. If he was here, if he was really with the Avengers, Harry could find somebody else.

“Harry, please.” Jane called to him. Cool, she cared. Harry didn’t. She and Jason would be fine. Unless, of course, Spider-Man decided to kill them too. Even in that case, Harry had missed the part where that was his problem. He stormed off into the hallway, alone. But not for long.

What Harry hadn’t noticed was that another door along the hallway had been hanging open, a Hostile awaiting him in the doorway. Clammy humanoid arms shot out of the darkness and wrapped themselves around Harry, dragging him backwards into the meeting room. Harry stumbled over his and the Hostile’s feet as it pulled him, otherwise noiselessly toward the table, one of its salty, dusty hands clamped over Harry’s mouth. Not like he was gonna scream for Spider-Man anyway.

The Hostile turned Harry around, throwing him into the table. This one resembled a middle-aged man. He lifted a rolling chair over his head, ready to swing it down on Harry’s. However, with a quick thwip, the chair was being webbed away, yanked back into the hallway. Spider-Man tossed the chair aside, thwipping another web onto the attacker’s face, giving it a nice tug so it was close enough to punch. The hit steered the Hostile away for a moment, before it turned its attention to Spider-Man. He must not have been in the Labyrinth for very long. He didn’t know that the Hostiles didn’t seem to feel pain.

“Huh?” Spider-Man didn’t catch on before the hostile started swinging, hitting and scratching at Spidey’s masked head. “Ow! Owowow!” Spider-Man bent himself defensively, raising his hands over his head, allowing his arms the brunt of the attack. Harry rolled his eyes and kicked the hostile from behind. It fell forward into Spider-Man, who was able to use the unbalance to his advantage. “Whoa, there. I don’t remember asking you to dance.” He quipped as he grabbed the stranger, kicking him in the ‘low-hanging fruit’ to further disrupt his posture. The perfect opportunity to maneuver the stranger into a headlock.

“Sleeeeepp,” Spider-Man murmured in the hostile’s ear as he held the struggling figure, waiting for it to go limp. “Who is this guy?” He asked.

“We’ve been calling them Hostiles,” Jane’s silhouette appeared in the doorway as she explained, backlit by the office light. The hostile grunted and ceased its struggle, eyelids coming to a gradual close. Spider-Man lowered the man to the floor, stopping to gently press two fingers to his neck as she continued, “I wonder if they were human once. Perhaps something horrible happened to them, turning them feral. But I truly can’t explain why they don’t react to pain. It’s like they don’t even feel it at all.”

“Sooooo, like zombies?” Spider-Man glanced over his shoulder.

“Maybe,” Jane shrugged, “But if you ask me, they don’t seem to be… dead. Or undead, for that matter.”

“Ah. So not zombies. Hostels.”

“Yes, Hostiles.”

“Cool. Healing factor?”

Jane shook her head no.

“Phew.” Spider-Man pantomimed wiping his brow as he stood. “In that case… I think I’m getting you guys outta here in no time.” Spider-Man stepped toward Harry, getting uncomfortably close as he pointed a finger at him, “Even you, Osborn. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want your help!” Harry snapped, swatting Spider-Man’s hand away. Spider-Man looked taken aback.

“But… But I’m–”

“You’re a murderer, that's what you are!” Harry looked to Jane, almost expectantly. Did he expect her to back him up? Jane didn’t speak, didn’t move. “He killed my father.”

“Ole Stormin’ Norman?” Spider-Man asked.

“I only had the one!”

“Is that… Is that true?” Apparently, Jason had caught up to the others.

“What? No. Of course not. Spider-Man doesn’t kill people.” Spider-Man wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “And you’d think I’d remember doing something like that.”

Harry blinked. His hands folded into fists. He should be thanking Spider-Man for taking Norman out of the picture, part of him thought. He was never much of a father. And yet, Harry was angry. He was hurt.

“That’s it?” Harry demanded, “You don’t remember?”

“How would I remember something I didn’t do?” Spider-Man shrugged.

“You’re insane,” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. How was Spider-Man taking this so casually? He took a step toward Harry, who all but flinched backwards. This reaction didn’t stall Spider-Man at all, however.

“Listen here, Osborn Jr. I don’t kill people. So whatever you think happened to your dad, guess again! I don’t know, or care, what you saw that night, but I would never do something like that. Not even to someone who might deserve it.”

Harry must have shown a bit of what he was feeling in that moment, seeing as Spider-Man was quick to backtrack.

“And, of course, he didn’t. I’m not gonna kill someone over wearing a goblin costume and throwing pumpkins at people, okay? Somebody else did! It was just a matter of time until somebody knocked him off that gli–OOF!”

Spider-Man was larger than Harry, both in height and musculature, and was apparently meaner, too. But that didn’t stop Mr. Osborn from lunging forward and slugging him in the face, to get him to shut up if nothing else. Sure, it was stupid, Harry didn’t have super-strength or anything to compete with, but he didn’t care. Why should he care? Maybe Spider-Man would lose it and put Harry out of his misery. Just like his father. But Spider-Man didn’t fight back. He looked up at Harry, holding his jaw. Jane stepped forward in case she had to get between the two. So did Jason, but he kept more distance. Maybe he knew better than to get involved.

“Okay, I deserved that,” Spider-Man said. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. I’m out of here.” Harry tried to push past the others back into the hall, despite what happened last time. Jane took his shoulder, holding him back. Alas, Spider-Man spoke up once more.

“Yeah, good luck out there. You coulda died in here without me. You need me.”

“Yeah?” Harry whirled around to face him, getting in close again. “Well I helped! Looks like you need me.”

The two glared at each other for a moment in tense silence. Harry knew he probably wouldn’t make it very far on his own. But he wasn’t ready to back down just yet. It wasn’t exactly Osborn tradition to let Spider-Man win. God only knew what Spider-Man was thinking.

“... You’re not gonna kiss me, are you?” The vigilante suddenly cut through the quiet.

“What???”

“Nothing.” Spider-Man finally stepped back. “So you need me. Or we need each other or whatever. Great. Sounds like we’re a team.” Once more, he extended a gloved hand for Harry to shake. And once again, Harry didn’t take it.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He instead shook his head, and exited the room, waiting just outside the door for the others. He didn’t start moving until even Spider-Man had joined him. Harry and Jason followed Spider-Man and Jane, taking the lead down the hall toward the stairwell up ahead.

“Spider-Man,” Jane spoke softly, hoping it was clear she was addressing Spider-Man alone, “Why did you say that back there?”

“What, about the kiss?” He replied, his own volume just above hers. “I didn't.”

“No, about Harry’s father.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I guess I thought it’d be funny.”

“How long have you been here, Spider-Man?”

“I just got here this morning.”

Jane nodded. “Well, I look forward to you getting us out.”

Spider-Man didn’t respond right away. Rather, he slowed his pace a little, letting Jane take the lead. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, “me too.”

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