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The power Harry held over all of his victims was almost intoxicating.
Their souls were stained with so much sin, he had deemed them all far too unworthy to cleanse.
He stared at the abyss that had opened up before him; the gates of hell awaited both him and one another.
He gave Mary Jane a telling glance, he had hoped the terror he was projecting from his intimidating presence would persuade her to do exactly what he required, tempt her to take that one fateful step, cross the event horizon, and descend into the mouth of madness.
Madness of all their own making.
Hers, his, Peters', Normans'.
Peter and MJ considered this endless waltz to be a thing of beauty, when all it was to Harry was an affront to all the dead that had so brutally swept aside to build their foundations of their love story.
A story that had been tarnished in so many ways yet had held firm through time, patience, adversity, and hope.
But, above all else, what truly held it together was faith.
And now Harry, Kindred, realised that this was what helped MJ to stand her ground, to not give in to fear, and to refuse the invitation to damnation.
"Cast your mind back Mary Jane, how many sessions did you go through to make you lose all sense of yourself?" said Harry
"No, I know where you're leading with this, and I won't follow" Mary Jane said, shaking her head, unnerved, and, as Harry suspected, unsure.
Perhaps she wanted to know.
"It's true though, you remember where it started, with Gwen's death, then my death, one therapist led to the next, leading to Ludwig Rinehart, alias Mysterio, but where did it finish? Hmm? Did it ever?"
Mary Jane clutched her chest, she found it harder to take deep breaths, almost as if Harry's words were choking the spirit out of her, this was her sin being brought to the surface.
"You, the petty party girl, who always turned and fled from her problems, had long out of places to hide, you had long tired of masks to wear. Gwen and I were your release, you wanted to let go of so much more"
"Are you saying...Doctor Rinehart-Mysterio-Quentin, was responsible for more than a memory?" Mary Jane asked, wondering just how much of the master of illusion was involved in her life beyond just grief.
"He became your only true constant retreat, overseeing all those moments in time where you felt at your lowest. You were so easy and forthcoming; Beck had little difficulty in planting more seeds of hypnotic suggestion into that untidy brain of yours"
The bitterly strong recollections imprinted themselves on Mary Jane's mind. Try though she might, it would not be true to herself to resist them. Mistake or not, they were a part of her.
"A belief you weren't needed or strong enough to handle Peter's life, the anxiety over what the burden of being Mrs. Spider-Man would do to your children, your sister Gayle, or her own family? And what of your inability to properly deduce the soul of Otto Octavious had usurped that of your own soul mate? Suggestions of uncertainty and guilt, coupled with those resurfaced feelings of insignificance, driving you into the arms of others? Guilt turning to anger at the one person who filled your life with so much joy, driving him away, not being there when he reached the big time...suggestions of annoyance..."
Harry felt compelled to rattle on all day long, boasting of how much of a hold he had over her, urging her to jump, to join him in their final dangerous deathly dance, and face her judgment.
Not just for her pre-existing sins, but for acting upon the sinful behaviour suggested mentally to her.
We all have some degree of control at the end of the day, everything that we are, be it on autopilot or not, are decisions we make in the span of but one moment in time.
But Mary Jane was a fighter, and the one thing she could spend her currency wisely on was time.
Time for Peter to reach her, time for him to save her.
She had all the currency in the world for time, and all the time in the world for faith.
And regardless of how much bad therapy she had withstood, she would not take that one last dangerous step without Peter Parker.