Felicia's combat skills had indeed improved. She and Harry sparred for a while; although Felicia didn't completely overwhelm him, Harry was forced to use all his abilities just to keep things even.
"You know, Harry? You're like a turtle hiding in its shell," Felicia said, placing her foot on his chest before rolling off and landing on one knee.
"Oof!" Harry pushed himself up, pressing a hand against his chest and wincing.
Though Harry's physical strength and speed far surpassed Felicia's—capable of feats no ordinary human could match—his technique was another story. Raw power wasn't everything. Just like a parkour master can't necessarily outfight a martial artist, Harry couldn't yet beat Felicia in pure combat skill.
He could dodge her attacks easily enough, but tiny mistakes here and there always gave her the opening to strike back.
"Stop!" Harry raised his hand to halt Felicia's next punch.
"No more, no more," he said, tearing off his tattered training shirt and tossing it aside. Even though his body's enhanced healing erased bruises quickly, fighting like this was starting to feel humiliating.
"Drink." Felicia grabbed a bottle of water from the corner table and tossed it to the exhausted Harry, who was lying back on the bench.
Harry caught it and took several big gulps.
"Your body might be stronger than mine," Felicia said, smiling as she sat beside him with her own drink, "but your skills still can't compare."
Harry set his bottle aside and turned his head toward her. Felicia looked smug—her short chestnut hair damp with sweat, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her lips parted slightly, and that teasing smile made her even harder to look away from.
At that critical moment, someone knocked on the training room door.
"Harry! Harry!" Felicia called, pushing lightly at his chest as it rose and fell.
"Ignore it," Harry murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips against her cheek.
"Harry!" Felicia protested, giving him another shove.
"Master! It's Tony Stark calling!" came Old Al's voice through the door after knocking several times without response.
"Tony Stark!" Harry froze immediately at the name.
Seeing Felicia's displeased glare, Harry awkwardly patted her shoulder, signaling her to get up.
Creak—
The rusty iron door opened as Harry pulled it.
Old Al blinked at the red marks on Harry's face, then immediately understood why no one had answered before.
"Master," Al said with a kindly smile, handing him the phone.
"Yeah," Harry replied, taking it with one hand and waving at Felicia with the other.
He stepped out toward the outer hall—since the underground training room weakened cell signal—and answered the call.
"Harry Osborn? Is that you?" came a weak voice from the other end.
"Yes," Harry said, taking a towel from Al to wipe his face.
"Thank God. I need your help—right now!" Tony Stark's voice was strained, barely holding steady, but carried a flicker of urgency.
Harry listened closely, hearing faint metallic clanging in the background. Looking up at the starry sky outside, he suddenly remembered what day it was.
"Go on," Harry said, his tone turning serious. If he was right, this was the night Iron Man would truly be born. And Harry already had some plans for Obadiah Stane's steel suit.
"I need you to go to Stark Industries headquarters," Tony said, breathing heavily. "Protect Pepper Potts for me. I know you have your own gear—take it with you. There's something very dangerous there."
"Alright," Harry replied. That was exactly what he'd hoped to hear.
"I'll be there soon—uh!" Tony grunted in pain, the connection crackling before stabilizing slightly.
"Got it," Harry said and hung up.
"Does he need your help?" Felicia's voice came from behind. She had just come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and was drying her wet hair.
"Yeah." Harry opened a drawer, revealing two wrist-mounted web shooters.
He strapped them on. These were replicas—Dr. Carl had reverse-engineered them from the original design Harry had once purchased with system points. To Dr. Carl, they were nothing more than a small gadget.
"I'm heading to Stark Industries. The doctor's new flying board finally gets its test flight," Harry said with a grin.
"Then I'm going to bed first," Felicia said with mock annoyance, pouting. He'd just gotten her worked up, and now he was running off—how could she not be frustrated?
"Heh," Harry chuckled awkwardly, then climbed up onto the windowsill.
"I'll be back soon," he said, clinging to the wall and scaling upward.
...
"Whooo—!"
It was Harry's first time experiencing Spider-Man's mode of travel. The skyscrapers flashed past, wind rushing around him as he swung from line to line. The thrill of the motion far surpassed any car chase.
Harry's pace was fast—very fast. Within minutes, he arrived at the Osborn Building. As before, he located the hidden entrance and leapt inside.
"Hi, Doctor." Harry landed in a low crouch, absorbing the impact easily.
"Harry!" Dr. Carl looked up from his experiment, startled.
"Yeah." Harry nodded, then grabbed a set of compact armor and a sleek new hoverboard from the workbench.
"I'm taking the new supersonic board for a spin," he said, slipping into the armor and sheathing the sharp blade on his back before detaching the hoverboard, still wired to the table.
"Don't go too fast," Dr. Carl warned.
"Of course," Harry replied, stepping onto the board and donning his mask.
The board roared to life, shooting into the dark tunnel with a clang!
"Ow!" came a cry from the darkness.
"I told him to watch his speed," Dr. Carl muttered, squinting toward the tunnel entrance, then shrugged helplessly.
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San