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Something felt different. Felicia knew that the feeling meant something was wrong, the only trouble was figuring out what it actually was. She slipped through the Oscorp revolving doors, going inconspicuously through the side door that led to the many flights of stairs. There were several peculiarities upon the meeting, the largest being the fact Harry Osborn was barred from the building. Donald Menken wouldn't just let the boy walk in through the front entrance. Her sneakers from before were replaced once more with her patent black heels and black dress, her eyes a little reddened with her previous confrontation with Peter. At first everything was as it should have been in the large room that had once been Harry's office. The boy in question stood his back to her, his hands slithered into his pockets with a dark green almost black leather jacket upon his back. He turned on the sound of her arrival caused by her echoing heels across marble tiles. Harry Osborn was ill. Like seriously ill. That was her first thought and a correct deduction at that. Not even drugs would do this to you, his face sickly white with a discolored undertone.
"I trust you got past security with ease, hm?" He spoke before she even thought to pronounce her worry at his current health status. The boy's voice was syringed with poison, his blue glassy eyes narrowing at her. Now, Felicia Hardy was a smart girl. In more ways than one. But it was only in that sudden moment looking at the young Osborn that was slowly wasting away, did she finally realise it. Some genetic disease. That's all they'd told her about Norman when she was employed. A disease that was passed down through generations. Of course, GOD, how could she have been so oblivious?!
"Yeah...." She nodded raising her dark eyebrows in a confused questioning manner, as if to say 'why wouldn't I?'. Oscorp security wasn't exactly that secure if you knew the building well. She took several steps forward, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up on end that only served to frustrate her. A rush of anxiety ran through her body like sickly electricity, causing her heart rate to rise. The feeling that everything was indeed terribly wrong was only amplified as her eyes fell to the security guard laying humped in the corner. And there was that lump in her throat again. "Harry....what did you do?" Felicia whispered, retreating the two steps she had previously taken. That grin. It was playful before, but it wasn't so anymore. It was sadistic. It was full of bitterness.
"The real question Felicia...." He raised his eyebrows in a strange mix of amusement and embitterment taking steps forward. His polished black shoe turned the security guards head to the side, confirming that he was as the girl suspected due to a lack of heartbeat, dead. Harry leaned down swiping up his gun, now raising it at Felicia much to her bafflement. "Is what have you been doing?" He finally finished his question, the guns barrel staring her between the eyes. Apart from a slight shake in his wrist he was holding the weapon with a sense of confidence. It meant that whatever ill intent that made him hold a gun to her face, it was a strong one. Seeing that Felicia Hardy for once in her life had nothing to say he thought that he would clarify what he had meant. With one eye still on the girl, the gun only lowering a few centimetres, he brought up security camera footage. The footage from last month, the day Harry lost his job. She watched as she flipped almost inhumanely off the table, in the same manner as Black Cat had flipped off a cop car in the middle of Times Square.
