"Hey, Kevin."
The words felt like the pull of a trigger, barely brushing the nerve in his mind, sending a shiver that shot up from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
A nightmare awakened.
Instinctively, Harry Percy wanted to run for his life.
However, his feet wouldn't move. The remnants of his rational mind clung desperately to that last straw of hope, and with a reflex, Harry clenched his jaw and shouted, "I'm not Kevin! Harry, Harry, Harry, my name is Harry!"
His knees were trembling, his stomach churning. Cold, then hot, the world spun around him, and Harry felt like he was plummeting straight down from a height of a hundred thousand feet—
Only to realize, there was no parachute.
"A trap. This is a trap. Run, Harry, run!"
Harry kept warning himself, but his feet remained nailed to the floor. His body was stiff, as if he had turned into a mummy.
Snap!
In the corner, a lamp flicked on. A face lurked in the shadows, while the lamp slowly outlined a figure clad in a black suit and pants, capturing Harry's gaze.
Like Lucifer himself.
The figure greeted him in a low, magnetic voice.
"Hey, finally we meet, Harry Percy."
That voice—it sounded familiar?
Harry shivered, a distant memory resurfacing in his mind.
"It's you!"
"You were the one who called me the other day, weren't you? I told you, I don't know anything! I don't know who caused that accident!"
"Why are you still bothering me?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow slightly, showing a hint of interest. "I never said we suspected the paparazzi of causing the accident. I just asked if anyone had tried to sell you photos of the Spider-Man suit."
After speaking with Anson, Lucas had gotten in touch with Harry Percy, the founder of TMZ—after all, his contact was openly listed on the site, so it didn't take much effort.
Lucas made a quick call and asked a few questions, but he didn't get anything useful. Yet, after hanging up, Lucas sensed something odd.
Harry Percy had denied everything too quickly, without any hesitation. And unlike most paparazzi, he hadn't taken the opportunity to dig for information in return. Instead, he seemed eager to distance himself from the whole situation, as if he wanted nothing to do with it.
That wasn't normal.
Though Lucas couldn't be certain, he was convinced Harry was holding something back.
So, after discussing with Anson, Lucas decided to strike back.
A move to draw out the monsters and demons and see who would take the bait.
They hadn't anticipated who would show up, but they hoped to follow any clues they could find.
They never imagined they'd hook such a big fish.
All eyes were now on Harry. This was something Harry never expected. It was as if he had been thrust into the spotlight, forced to the center of attention.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
Harry panicked—partly because of Lucas' words, but mainly because of Anson.
Harry was convinced that "Anson's PTSD" was a real condition. No words were needed; even a brief glimpse of Anson was enough to scare someone to death.
"Think." Harry tried to force a smile, masking his panic. "There's this thing called a brain. It's really useful. I hope you guys have one. Try using it, okay?"
Lucas tilted his chin up slightly. "Thinking. Would you care to share how you think? Also, if you have nothing to do with any of this, and want no part of it, what on earth were you thinking, coming here to the hospital, dressed in a Halloween costume?"
"Why don't you share your thought process with us?"
Harry: Crap.
Anson finally spoke. "Lucas, there's no need to be so aggressive. Your reputation is already bad enough. If you keep going, you'll run out of fertilizer for the roses in your backyard. You wouldn't want us to start dumping trash at the docks, would you?"
Lucas: "I'm just trying to be friendly. Didn't you notice I'm solving the problem through conversation? I'm not the savage I used to be."
Back and forth, Harry was getting dizzy, unable to keep up with the Wood brothers' banter.
Then, without warning, Anson turned the conversation back to Harry. "So, you're doing better today, right? At least you're not hiding in a pile of boxes, drenched in sweat like last time."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. "No, I'd rather suffer in the box…"
The words slipped out, but Harry abruptly stopped himself, realizing he was about to expose too much. He felt dizzy again, couldn't believe what he had just said, and stared at Anson as if facing the Grim Reaper.
Snap.
Suddenly, Lucas gripped the armrest of his chair tightly, as if ready to leap to his feet. The tension and murderous intent leaked out, filling the room and gripping Harry by the throat.
"No…"
"No, no, no, I meant last time. Last time, I hid in the wardrobe of the trailer."
Harry stammered incoherently, realizing he might have let something slip. In that instant, he truly felt the threat to his life.
Anson tilted his chin up slightly. "The first time is always rough, but by the second time, you get better at it. No wonder we didn't catch you this time. If you hadn't mentioned it, I almost forgot about last time."
"Then again, I was unharmed last time, so of course I don't remember it. Let's switch places—you remember last time, I'll remember this time. Sound good?"
Harry swallowed hard. He had to deny everything—deny it until the end. "What are you talking about? I don't understand."
After all, Anson had no evidence, right?
Anson really didn't have any evidence, or any witnesses.
Even Sean Graham couldn't help.
Sure, Sean's subconscious had captured an image of a man in a camouflage T-shirt breaking through a wall of boxes and slipping away in the chaos. Sean remembered the camera hanging around the man's neck and the black baseball cap, but he couldn't make out the man's face, let alone identify him.
Sean's description reminded Anson of the catering staff cleaning up dishes and trash, but the point was, Anson himself hadn't seen the man's face either. He couldn't remember what he looked like, so it wasn't much help.
Edgar was investigating the catering crew, but the chances were slim: with such a high turnover in catering teams, it would be hard to track anyone down from that afternoon.
Still, Edgar would check it out, just in case. Meanwhile, Anson had a hunch:
The suspect might be standing right in front of him.
Anson flashed a faint smile. "Oh, isn't it you? The paparazzi on set that day? I was just thinking, what a coincidence. It seems we're all tied to Peter Parker."
Harry's face went pale. "Are you saying… you think I was at the shoot that day?" This time, Harry was careful not to slip up again.
Anson: "Exactly. Not only were you there, but you forgot to turn off the flash while taking photos, which set off a chain of events."
Harry: "Absurd!" He took a deep breath. "That's ridiculous! It's hilarious!"
Anson: "I'm not laughing, and neither is Lucas. I don't see what's funny. You're dodging the question."
The air froze into ice.