Clover

by Vermilion Sokolov

Nobody knows that within the walls of OsCorp, the world's greatest wonder was being held by Osborn himself: a young girl unlike any other who can go for days without food and can photosynthesize just as a plant can. OsCorp is all this remarkable girl has ever known, but with the employment of Osborn's newest scientist, Dr. Octavius, things are about to change...

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Hey, Doc, I've got the graphs here!" Clover called across the lab, reaching for the printer and holding them up in the air.

A giant, jet-black mechanical arm reached over her head and grabbed the data from her hand with its large, powerful claw. Clover couldn't stop herself from grinning. Doc's mechanical tentacles never ceased to amaze her.

She heard her mentor call back to her from the platform above her, "Thank you, Clover!" After he set the graphs on the table, he disabled his harness and took his mechanical arms off, setting them on a metal stand next to him.

She found it hard to believe that she and the doctor had created those arms more than five years ago, when had only just turned eleven.

OoOoO

That day after her eleventh birthday, the doctor had pulled out several simple sketches of the tentacles, and he and the girl had brainstormed all day on how they would design them. The brainwork was mostly Otto's, though, because he was the one who designed the arms themselves and the intricate harness that clung along his spinal cord and was operated from the inhibitor chip at the very top, on his back near the base of his neck.

Clover, however, had put almost as much into the design as Dr. Octavius had. She was the one who sketched half of the isometrics, and she provided several ideas for the arms. For example, she suggested that the joint that connected the giant actuator to the tentacle should be a pivot joint so the claws could rotate 360 degrees.

The final design for the arms was finished after two weeks of intensive design and redesign. The apparatus was to be made from the large harness that snapped around Doc's waist, and coming out from the back of the harness would be four black tentacles, each with a three-clawed actuator on the end that had a giant yellow light in the middle (though the actuators were commonly referred to as claws).

In the middle of the harness to the front was a giant, circular compartment for the battery. Dr. Octavius had explained to Clover that when he had worked at TriCorp, he had invented the Megalopack, a special long-term power supply that could stay charged for years on end.

"Although I don't have all the materials to recreate the Megalopack," he had detailed, "I can make several copies that will not last as long."

"But can't you go back to TriCorp and ask for the Megalopack back?" Clover had asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Otto answered. "It's TriCorp property now, under the supervision of my old colleague, Dr. Theodore Twaki. Perhaps if Norman buys the company, I'll get it back, but Ted's doing a fair job looking after it now."

"But it's your invention," she pointed out. "Shouldn't they let you have it back?"

Otto thought about that for a moment before saying, "Well…I suppose it's just something I would have to deal with…"

They started building the arms. While Dr. Octavius programmed the software into the inhibitor chip, Clover had helped to assemble the arms themselves. Through Otto's instruction, she learned the basics of mechanical engineering and how to use tools such as soldering irons and continuity testers. Within less than two weeks, Clover had become an expert at soldering circuit boards and working with metal.

The doctor and the girl worked hard on those tentacles every day. Occasionally, Dr. Toomes would drop by for a visit to chat with Dr. Octavius and watch their progress, often giving both the girl and the doctor updates on his own invention, telling that he had been able to hire enough people and raise enough money to begin prototyping his flight suit.

Dr. Toomes also liked to question Clover on the subject of her captivity:

"So, you're saying that Osborn electrocuted you?" he had asked her upon hearing what had happened. He was sitting next to her on a lab table right next to Clover, where she was working on one of the claws. She had detached it from one of the tentacles because it wasn't working right, and she was cutting and re-soldering the exposed wiring. She was wearing her lab coat and a pair of safety glasses.

Not looking up from her work, she stripped some wires in the claw and answered, "Yeah…he was trying to see how fast I could run. But he hasn't done it again, thankfully."

"Is that how you got these burns on your arms and forehead?"

"Yeah." Skin was still peeling off the burns where the pads had been. Luckily, Dr. Octavius told her that second-degree burns usually heal within two weeks, but Clover could still feel the scorching sensation from them.

"Do they still hurt?" Adrian asked.

Clover nodded. "I'll get used to it."

She soldered the wires together and applied the heat-shrink to cover the joint. She covered the wiring with the black metal casing and screwed it in.

"Does Osborn do anything else like this to you?" Adrian questioned.

"He used to feed me a bunch of poisonous seeds and plants at a time to see how I'd respond. I've eaten castor beans, rosary peas, English yew, flamingo flowers…apparently, they were all supposed to kill me, but I survived. It wasn't until after I was fed nightshade and wolfsbane residue that he stopped."

Adrian's mouth dropped open.

She connected the large wires hanging out the back of the claw to a large car battery on the table.

She stood up and put her arm in front of Adrian. "Stand back. This claw's been acting weird. It's the third time I re-wired it…"

The large, yellow light on the claw lit up, but the claw shook and snapped erratically, jumping up and down on the table before stopping. Clover groaned and turned around to Dr. Octavius across the lab, who was typing code into his desktop.

She called, "Do-oc! It fritzed out again!"

Otto called back, "How many large resistors did you put in it this time?"

"Uh…thirteen?"

"Take three out. See if it works."

As she turned to the claw again, Dr. Toomes was still dumbfounded by what he had told her a minute ago.

He asked, "You mean to tell me you ate all those poisonous plants and showed no side effects?"

The girl had just shrugged in response. "Osborn says it means I'm immune to ricin and other plant poisons."

Finally, after four months of sweat and tears, the tentacles were finished.

The big day had come when Osborn went to inspect Dr. Octavius' work. Clover had helped fasten the harness onto her mentor. Dr. Toomes, of course, had also dropped by, despite having to bring himself within breathing distance of Osborn.

After carefully inserting the inhibitor chip, all four of his tentacles suddenly sprang to life, whirring and flapping all over the place. They slithered around in the air like enormous snakes, and the claws snapped open and closed midair, their yellow lights glowing brightly.

"IT WORKS!" Otto had cried with joy, picking up different objects around the room with ease and even lifting himself off the floor. Soon enough, he found himself actually walking across the lab with his new arms, making the floor shake with each step.

Clover had jumped up and down, equally overjoyed for her mentor. Adrian clapped proudly for his friend, cheering him on.

Norman, at first, only crossed his arms and eyed the tentacles up and down critically, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, knowing that he had a new advantage over all who dared to step in his way.

OoOoO

For five years after that, Clover could never stop enjoying herself with the doctor's remarkable invention, always petting the arms and studying each of its appendages. She could even ride on one of the arms if she wanted to―they were so strong, capable of moving furniture and lifting a full-grown person into the air. If the doctor needed to get something from a high shelf, Clover never missed the opportunity to be hoisted off the floor. It was almost like a carnival ride.

Now, Clover was sixteen years old.

Otto remembered back when he first met her when she was only a toddler, styling her bleach-blonde hair in pigtails. Now, she was almost as tall as he was. She had also decided to crop her hair really short, barely growing past her chin, and she would regularly let flowers grow out of it. Today, she had two large, yellow daylilies blooming on each side of her head.

Although Osborn had been exercising stricter control on her since puberty―shorter time periods with Dr. Octavius, more extensive medical tests on her, instructing her not to turn her skin green too much in case the press decided to rub their noses into OsCorp―she was much more confident and aware of the world around her and outside OsCorp.

There were still some things she didn't understand about the outside world, though. Although it seldom happened, she would ask about something very commonplace to most people. One time, for example, she was reading the Times when she came across a picture of somebody wearing a plastic rain poncho, and she referred to it as a "hooded trash bag."

Nevertheless, Clover couldn't wait for another visit to the outside. After more than five years since that fateful day when Dr. Octavius sneaked her out, her desire to see more of what was beyond the walls only grew, and despite how she kept telling herself that another trip would be impossible, she kept secretly planning for some vague future date that she knew would come someday.

Dr. Octavius had just turned back to his work when the elevator doors dinged open. Suddenly, an angry voice shouted throughout the lab:

"OTTO!"

The doctor and his teenaged assistant whirled around to spot none other than Adrian Toomes arriving with the most enraged scowl on his face. He stormed towards Dr. Octavius and barked angrily, "Otto, I want an explanation, and I want it now!"

Clover jumped out of her chair in surprise. Otto held up his hands in defense and cowered, "Adrian! Calm down! What are―"

"Calm down!?" he yelled, his face burning red. "How do you expect me to calm down when Osborn made a complete fool out of me!?"

He shoved Dr. Octavius aside from his computer and pulled up the Internet. Clover raced up the steps to where the two scientists were, wanting to know what the commotion was all about. When she came next to them, Dr. Toomes had pulled up the website for CNN and opened the Tech News section.

In just a few seconds, he pulled up a video.

In the video was Norman Osborn, standing proudly behind a podium and shushing a noisy crowd of news reporters watching him. Standing next to Osborn was his personal lapdog, Donald Menken, speaking with some correspondents on the stage. Camera lights flashed brightly, and several microphones were stuck out into the air to catch everything that the CEO was about to say. This was obviously some sort of press conference that happened recently.

The most unusual thing on the video, however, was a tall object that was concealed by a mysterious black cloak. Clover tried to make out what it could be from the creases and folds, but even though it looked a little familiar, Clover couldn't put her finger on it.

Osborn tapped the microphone on the podium and began:

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. I'm so glad to see so many of you come to this press conference. I promise you that today, you will be witnessing the next engineering marvel of the century.

"More than one hundred years ago, in a tiny little town called Kitty Hawk, two brothers banded together to invent a device that could make people fly. Many thought these two people were insane. After all, the automobile was just starting to be commercialized, and electricity wasn't even commonly used in American homes yet." He chuckled to give an effect. "Surely, it was a tad too early at the time to start thinking about making people fly around like birds!"

He started walking away from the podium towards the cloaked object, fiddling with a small portable microphone on the lapel of his suit. More camera lights flashed, casting Osborn's shadow on the wall. Some reporters murmured with excitement.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "Orville and Wilbur Wright didn't let anybody persuade them to stop. They had a dream, and dreams are meant to be chased. And after hours and hours of hard work, perseverance, and ingenuity, the Wright brothers finally managed to create a working airplane. Thus conceived was the aircraft, which had changed the course of history."

He stood right next to cloaked object. He placed his hand on it and grinned.

"And today, ladies and gentlemen, OsCorp has made history."

All the reporters edged closer, dying to see what was under that cloak. The camera focused more on Osborn, taking care not to miss anything.

"I give you…OsCorp Tech-Flight!"

He yanked off the cloak.

It flowed off the object, exposing it to the crowd.

A chorus oohs and ahs filled the air.

Clover gasped.

Standing next to Osborn was none other than a black replica of Dr. Toomes' flight suit with the OsCorp logo stamped across the chest.

Clover looked at Dr. Toomes. His glare was practically flaming with anger.

Norman Osborn smiled and explained, "My team of scientists and I have been working day and night to figure out how we could get humans to fly through the sky on their own, and I came up with the idea that we should use a series of electromagnets."

Dr. Toomes yelled at the computer screen, "No, I did! Your scientists didn't do shit!"

Osborn continued, "When Tech-Flight is zipped onto the wearer, the wearer can hold out his or her arms and maneuver themselves through the air with the ease of a bird!"

Another string of curses came from Adrian. "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I SAID TO HIM!"

"And now, anybody can purchase this flight suit for a quarter of a billion dollars. Anyone interested in one can speak with my legal and financial consultant, Donald Menken."

"That quarter billion dollars should be mine!" Adrian shouted.

Clover kept her eyes glued to the screen, completely aghast. She studied every inch of the suit Osborn was presenting, and she realized Adrian was right. It was his suit. There was no mistake about it. The harness, the wings, the backpack-like control box―they looked exactly like Adrian's own prototype, save for the pitch-black design and the OsCorp logo.

Clover remembered when Adrian had first showed his finally-working suit to her and Dr. Octavius last June. He had burst into the lab, beaming with joy and pride and smiling from ear to ear―and Adrian was not the type of person who smiled often. Dr. Toomes had brought a briefcase with his suit inside, and Clover had been fascinated by the red and black design that embellished the suit. He zipped on the harness to demonstrate his invention to them both. Clover couldn't believe her eyes when she had seen Dr. Toomes float off the ground and fly gracefully around Dr. Octavius' lab. Clover had wanted to give the suit a try, but it was too big for her.

Adrian originally decided to go ahead and give TriCorp a try, but just as he had predicted before, TriCorp was on the verge of bankruptcy and, sure enough, was already planning to sell the company to Mr. Osborn. Because of this, Adrian was also forced to retire early since the company obviously couldn't afford to keep him on its payrolls anymore. Distraught, he had visited Otto at his quaint apartment, and Otto had suggested OsCorp to him again, going so far as to arrange the meeting with Osborn himself. Feeling that he had no other place to turn to, Adrian had reluctantly agreed.

Adrian had arrived at OsCorp that day in his best suit and tie, and he had waited almost two hours before Osborn was ready to see him. In Osborn's office suit, he arranged some of the isometrics on the desk and zipped on his black-and-red harness over his suit. He hovered off the floor and touched the ceiling, confident that the CEO would be impressed…

…but Osborn had scoffed at him and brushed the blueprints aside, calling Adrian's idea "childish" and "too idealistic." Sure, the suit worked, but how much would it cost to make one? How long would each one take to build? How can the average American ever afford such an advanced piece of technology? The idea was quickly brushed aside, much to Adrian's chagrin.

Woefully, Adrian thought that he had reached a dead end. He couldn't believe it. He had invented a suit for human flight! What person in his or her right mind would ever say no to that? Osborn's rejection absolutely boggled his mind.

If he hadn't expected rejection, however, he certainly wasn't expecting plagiarism.

Still boiling with fury, he turned to Otto.

"I BLAME YOU FOR THIS!" he seethed, wagging a finger furiously in Dr. Octavius' face. As he became intimidatingly closer, Otto stepped backwards away from him.

The bald man continued, "You told me to bring my magnetic air transport system to OsCorp!"

"I-I-I know!" Otto stammered.

"You arranged the meeting with Norman Osborn!"

Backing away from Dr. Toomes, Dr. Octavius nearly stumbled down the stairs backwards before catching himself and saying, "I-I-I-I had the best intentions!"

Clover, running after her mentor and catching him before he fell, urged, "Dr. Toomes, calm down!"

Ignoring her, Adrian kept ranting.

"He studied my ideas and rejected them," he growled, "then announces OsCorp Tech-Flight four months later!"

Sweating profusely, Otto stuttered, "I-I-I-uh-I am sorry, Adrian―"

Suddenly, a voice from above stated, "Don't you dare apologize, doctor. OsCorp has nothing to apologize for."

All three of them looked up. Emerging from the elevator now was none other than the proud CEO of OsCorp himself, escorted by two brawny bodyguards and styling a sly grin across his face. He stole a look down at Dr. Toomes, his eyes gleaming dangerously with triumph.

"Nothing to―Osborn, you stole my work!" Dr. Toomes raged.

Sauntering vainly down the steps, the businessman replied, "That's dangerous talk, Mr. Toomes. Dangerous and unsupportable."

He ignored Dr. Octavius and pushed Clover aside to approach the infuriated scientist.

Placing a threatening hand on Dr. Toomes' shoulder, he lost the grin and glowered in a low voice, "Listen, you old buzzard. You've been at this for decades without one success to your name. If you never accomplished anything as a young man, who'd believe you created Tech-Flight as an old one?"

Clover watched in shock as Dr. Toomes' face fell, and Norman Osborn nudged him towards the large bodyguards.

"Boys, show Mr. Toomes out," he ordered smoothly, not giving Adrian a second look.

The two guards seized Adrian and held his arms tightly in place, not letting him budge a single inch. Right as he was escorted, Dr. Toomes turned to Dr. Octavius and spat bitterly, "Good news: I don't blame you anymore."

The teen and the scientist watched speechless as Dr. Toomes' feet were nearly dragged up the stairs and into the elevator.

The dark expression on Adrian's face disappeared between the closing elevator doors.

Mr. Osborn checked his nails with a knowing smirk, and Clover felt a sickening feeling seep within her that began to combust in anger.

Grimacing, she opened her mouth to give Osborn a piece of her mind, but Dr. Octavius grabbed her wrist and shook his head as if to warn her not to say anything. Clover bit her tongue, trying to hold back a few choice words.

Mr. Osborn turned to her and stated coolly, "Clover, I believe you've had enough time in the lab today. Go back to your room."

That was the last thing Clover wanted to do right now.

"But the doctor and I need to re-examine some Faraday waves!" she argued heatedly. "We just finished the control―"

"I said, go to your room," the business man repeated, on the verge of snapping. "We've had enough excitement for one day, and it won't be long before Toomes decides to do something stupid such as blab about this to the press. You are to go to your room and stay there for the remainder of the day, and that's final. Dr. Octavius can escort you back."

Dr. Octavius stepped forward, fidgeting and twiddling his thumbs. "But, sir," he brought up, "I need somebody else to, uh, well, uh―"

Glaring down on Dr. Octavius, the businessman disputed, "She's not your only assistant, Otto. If you knew what was best for you, you'd stop giving me doubts as to why I keep you here. Now be a good Doctor Octopus and make sure she never leaves until I say so."

Looking down to the floor shamefully as Osborn left, the doctor quietly complied. "Yes, sir."

Clover's anger was only fed by Mr. Osborn's last remark. Osborn had been taunting her mentor with that despicable name since the invention of his mechanical arms. She knew how much her mentor hated that being called that slur, and she'd bet any amount of money that Osborn knew, too.

The girl and her mentor strolled down the hallway in silence towards the locked room that she had grown to loathe. When the two of them walked in, Clover couldn't stop herself from kicking her bedside table in rage and yelling, "Shit!"

"Clover!" the doctor scolded, surprised at her sudden tantrum and coarse language. Perhaps he should tell Adrian to watch his mouth more around her…

"I'd like to follow him to his house one day!" she fumed. "See how well he sleeps at night!"

"Clover, calm down!"

She let out a huff and plopped onto her bed, angrily staring down at the cold, unforgiving tile floor that kept her feet from falling three stories each day.

She saw Otto's feet come in front of hers and felt his comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I know, Clover," he sighed pitifully. "There's nothing we can do."

"That flying suit was Dr. Toomes' dream!" she recounted. "I remember the look he got on his face every time he told us about it, especially when he got his prototype working. Remember how happy he was when he finally finished?"

Otto nodded. "Indeed…"

Clover continued, "There has to be something he can do! Can he bring it to court? He still has all those blueprints from all those years ago, right?"

Sitting next to her on the bed, Dr. Octavius answered sadly, "I'm afraid this might not be the first civil dispute Mr. Osborn has had. Besides, he has plenty of money and an entire legal staff to spend it on."

"Then Dr. Toomes should get the press involved!" Clover resolved. "Osborn said so himself. Even if Dr. Toomes doesn't get the patent, the media will be all over Osborn's back. Imagine what happens when every newspaper and station in the country shows up at his door: the Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Daily Bugle, the―"

"Clover," the doctor interrupted, "publicity would be nice for Adrian, but Mr. Osborn always finds a way to discredit people like him. I'm terribly sorry, my dear. There's nothing we can do."

The two of them sat still for several minutes, with nothing but the beeps of Clover's heart monitor and the hum of the air conditioner to fill the silence.

Dr. Octavius' watch beeped. "My apologies, dear," he said, giving her one last hug and pat on the back. "I must return to the lab. Hopefully, Osborn shall let you return tomorrow. Goodbye."

And with that, the doctor headed for the door, giving her one last sympathetic glance before closing it behind him. At the click of the lock, Clover was all alone again. She let herself sink into her bed, but at this point, even her white sheets disgusted her. Just another sign of the fact that this wasn't her bed, this wasn't her room…

OoOoO

Five years ago, after Osborn had forced her to run on that treadmill, she had rethought about everything he had always told her. That he was taking care of her, keeping her healthy and safe. The significance of those words dimmed to how Osborn had shocked her during the test.

When Osborn had come to pick her up after her little cake party with Dr. Octavius, he didn't even ask her if she was okay. He didn't ask her how she felt after being electrocuted or if she felt any adverse side effects. He didn't even apologize for any pain he had caused.

That was when she remembered Dr. Toomes' words from the day before:

"So is that what he tells you? To keep yousafe? Not to keep him safe from anyone knowing about you?"

It was like looking into a mirror for the first time. She realized how scared she was of Osborn, how much she cowered at just the sight of her supposed caretaker. She realized how much Osborn dismissed her feelings regularly. She realized how the man who kept reminding her how valuable she was for OsCorp never hesitated to tell her how stupid or naïve or whiny or immature she was.

Most of all, after finally visiting the outside world, she realized how much Osborn had lied to her about it.

Since then, Clover eventually stopped being scared of him and started being angry at him instead. It was very difficult for her to stop taking Osborn's belittling comments to heart, but she eventually hardened.

She remembered the first time she talked back to him:

"Mr. Osborn, why did you have to shock me like that?"

Not even looking at her, he replied, "Now, Clover, why do you always make this sound like a bad thing? You take everything the wrong way. We were just trying to help you out. These tests help us make sure you're healthy."

"The same tests that give me second-degree burns and put me into ventricular fibrillation?"

"Clover, I can't believe how oversensitive you are…"

Lowering her voice, she had threatened, "Maybe I should put you into electric shock. See how sensitive you are to cardiac arrest."

He stared at her.

The look in her eyes was so dark, it almost unsettled him.

Something had changed in Clover that day.

OoOoO

Sixteen-year-old Clover turned on her back and faced the grow lights spanning the ceiling, feeling the slight warmth under them. This made Clover recollect the more intense heat she first felt under the sun that fateful day before her eleventh birthday. Ever since that day, she wanted to go outside to feel the warmth that was emitted from that glorious ball of gas millions of miles away from the earth, just like everybody else outside of OsCorp did. Sure, the windowed ceiling of Dr. Octavius' lab allowed her a glimpse of it each day (and she was definitely thankful for that), but it wasn't enough.

She yearned for more. The silence in her room was always so deafening. She wanted to hear the rhythm of the subway cars chugging and screeching their brakes through the rails and the harmony of cars and buses blaring their horns at each other. She wanted to feel the wind on her cheeks and blow through her hair. She feel that juiciness and heat of a fresh hotdog on her tongue again. She thought about having her schedule on her own terms―no more tests, no more injections, no more pills, no more blank walls to stare at all day, no more grow lights to count over and over, no more needles, no more endless surveillance…

Without thinking, she held her hand up at the ceiling and flicked her wrist.

Suddenly, the lights above her cracked as a bunch of green vines sprouted from the ceiling, making a couple wires flailed out. Clover turned her face towards the bed, closed her eyes, and protected her face with her other arm from any bits of broken glass or ceiling material that fell down.

Peeking up, she saw that she had succeeded in growing her vines with small purple flowers from the ceiling down onto her.

By moving her fingers, she intricately weaved the leafy tendrils into a hammock just big enough for her, letting red trumpet flowers and white akebias bloom here and there.

Clover reached under her bed and pulled out her beloved viola. Over five years, she had practiced and practiced throughout the endless hours of confinement in the room. It had become her secret way of rebelling against Norman Osborn. She eventually became more and more skilled at the viola, becoming an expert within two months. Starting out with simple melodies, she slowly advanced to full-length concertos and orchestral renditions of popular songs.

Filling the room with music, the viola had become her solace. Through the music, she would escape to another world away from the coldness and fear of OsCorp. Sometimes, she would bring the viola to Dr. Octavius' lab where he could listen to her play, and she loved the way he smiled when he heard her music. Dr. Toomes also liked to listen to her. He even commented one time, "Goodness, Otto, you never told me you had a little Mozart here."

Needless to say, the more she played her instrument, the more she loved it.

Clover stood up on the mattress and climbed into her new vine hammock. Sitting up on it and propping the viola on her shoulder, she felt better. The sight of plants always lifted her spirits, especially the ones she conjured up on her own, and nothing made her feel better like playing her viola, aside from being with Dr. Octavius.

She peered towards the security camera that Osborn had set up at the corner of the room.

Let him see me, she thought defiantly. Let him whine about the cost of the lights and how long they'll take to repair. After all, watching Osborn in distress is so much fun.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Sliding the bow down on the strings, she created a crisp, perfect B note. From there, she began to effortlessly play Vivaldi's Winter, letting the quick tempo of the song drown out the beeping from her heart monitor. She concentrated on the movements of her bow across the strings, tuning her ear to each note that flew off the viola. As she moved her fingers around the strings, she could feel her hammock swinging slowly back and forth to the rhythm.

A smile formed on her face. As long as she kept playing, OsCorp was nothing but a vague memory to her.

OoOoO

"Come in, Otto," his employer called after Dr. Octavius knocked on the door.

The doctor gingerly stepped into Mr. Osborn's spacious office, concerned as to why he called him, especially after the ordeal with Dr. Toomes the week before. It was not unusual for Mr. Osborn's head scientist to visit his workspace, but Otto could not shake off a strange feeling in his gut.

It had been more than a week since Dr. Toomes was escorted out of OsCorp.

Approaching the tall businessman who sat behind his heavy sandalwood desk on his large, velvet-colored chair, Otto walked past Mr. Osborn's collection of African masks. He could've sworn that they were staring down on him like an entire pride of hungry lions on a mouse, ready to pounce on his back and rip his skin off as soon as Osborn gave the order.

"Ye…yes, sir? You called for me?" he asked nervously.

"Sit down, Otto," he commanded flatly. The large back of his chair stood out from the gigantic window behind him, providing a clear view of the Hudson River below with Hoboken residing on the other side.

Without a second thought, Otto sat on one of the ornate chairs on the other side of his desk.

"I'm so sorry about what had happened to Adrian, Otto," Osborn started with no hint of any apology or empathy. "How long were you two known each other, again? Ten, twenty years, I believe? It's a shame that he had to take a turn for the worst, and I bet you were not expecting him to almost kill me like that. But I trust you will accompany me on the witness' stand in two weeks from now, correct?"

Otto recollected his memories of his old friend alongside the news of how he used his tech-flight prototype to kidnap Osborn and nearly murder him by dropping him from hundreds of feet from the air.

What was the name he gave himself again? Otto thought.

Oh, right. The Vulture.

Otto had been planning to visit him at Rikers Island to probably reason with him, but now that Osborn was asking him to help testify against Adrian―erm, the Vulture―in court. He absolutely dreaded the idea of testifying against his closest friend, even though he knew what he did was wrong. If and when Adrian learns this, visiting him in prison would only add insult to injury.

"Indeed, sir," he sighed.

"Now then," Osborn continued, "that was our first matter of business."

Otto gave his boss an inquisitive look.

First? What could Osborn possibly want now?

"Otto, have you ever felt helpless? Not just on an everyday scale. I mean in such a way as you realize that you are only just a man and nothing more?"

Dr. Octavius opened his mouth when his boss interrupted, "Don't answer that. You see, Otto, as I was being swung around by my shoulders two hundred feet above Manhattan, I realized that everything that makes me who I am―my money, my inventions, my fame―meant nothing to anybody who wanted to see the great Norman Osborn fall to his knees. Never in my life had I ever felt so destitute, falling into the hands of two costumed rogues who could only play catch with me being the ball."

Osborn stood up and strolled to a small stand near the desk where a pristine bottle of scotch lay next to a small glass. He poured a small helping for himself and held his drink up to his eye level, examining how the sunlight glistened off the amber liquid. He turned back to his head scientist and grinned.

"But today, Otto, we're going to change that."

The doctor wasn't sure where this was going. Helplessness? Change?

"Did you watch the news last night?" Osborn asked, pouring the scotch down his throat. "Anything shocking you've seen?"

It took Otto a minute to catch onto Osborn's wordplay. He answered, "Uh, yes! The police had caught a hired assassin trying to kill Spider-Man with a suit that he stole from TriCorp. Um…why do you ask?"

"He couldn't have done it without me."

"…I…um…I beg your pardon?"

"I helped Jackson Brice steal his sonic-blast suit from TriCorp." Smirking slightly, Osborn added, "Don't worry, Otto. My financial advisors and I already set the money aside to buy TriCorp, so technically, the suit would've been ours anyway."

Otto stared in shock at Mr. Osborn, not believing what he had just heard.

He…he stole from TriCorp!

Ignoring his head scientist's gaze, he continued, "Just last night, Otto, I spoke with the Big Man, the most powerful man in New York's criminal empire. He's agreed to give me a considerable amount of money doing, shall we say, a handful of household chores for him. As of recently, his business has been threatened by a certain red-and-blue vigilante with supernatural abilities that none have ever seen before. The only way to beat Spider-Man is to up the ante and give him opponents he can't handle. That's why he wants me to make him some."

The scientist spoke up, stuttering, "W-W-What are you talking about, sir? Who's this Big Man? Make what for Spider-Man? I don't' understa―"

"Fighters, Otto!" he answered. "Criminals who have a grudge against him, willing to give up all it takes to see him squashed against a wall. In fact, the Big Man's right hand man has already paid the bail for two promising thugs who'll be more than happy to distract Spider-Man from the Big Man. Remember those two ideas your team invented for the Army? The silicon transplants? The titanium suit?"

Otto did remember those two inventions.

More than a decade before, when the Twin Towers and the Pentagon were attacked by al-Qaeda, OsCorp had gotten a surprise visit from the then-President George W. Bush. The aged Texan had spoken one-on-one with Norman Osborn privately and asked him if he could design a type of armor specifically to deter (who he thought was, but was obviously not) Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Of course, when it became completely obvious that Osama bin Laden was the true culprit of the attacks, Bush just asked Osborn to speed up the production.

OsCorp then created hundreds of invincible titanium suits for the men and women being sent to the Middle East. It was not long before OsCorp also invented silicon transplants that would help the soldiers adapt to the arid desert environments of Iraq and Afghanistan, and it was supposed to make the American army unstoppable.

Then Barack Obama was elected president. Not wanting to have any trace of Bush's past reign taint his new presidency, the Obama administration asked Congress to stop funding the titanium suits and the silicone implants, forcing Osborn to set aside the projects.

When production officially stopped, Osborn saved the blueprints and final designs on a small, 32 GB flashdrive that is hidden somewhere within the walls of OsCorp.

Otto stuttered, "Uh, yes, I remember, but―"

"We'll finally get to test them. Tomorrow morning, Otto, you'll be conducting the Big Man's experiments."

Dr. Octavius gasped. "Me!?"

By this time, Otto had heard enough. There was no way on the face of the earth that he would work for New York's biggest felon and certainly if it meant that Spider-Man would get killed. He couldn't imagine what Spider-Man would do to him if he found out.

Otto felt his hands trembling uncontrollably.

This can't be real, he silently panicked. I'm not here. This is a nightmare. I'm not testing on humans. I'm not conspiring against Spider-Man. I'm…I'm…

Osborn continued, "Now, you must be wondering, what does this have to do with me never being helpless anymore? How am I more powerful if I'm submitting myself to somebody else?"

Watching his head scientist quiver in his seat, he continued, "Well, Otto, that's for me to know and the Big Man to never find out."

The doctor realized that his legs were shaking, too. He stood up from his chair, steadied himself, and stammered frantically, "Sir, you…uh…I can't do that! Uh, I can't have human test subjects! What if something goes wrong? And if Spider-Man is killed, what if they find out you were involved? And me? I mean, um, but, I can't do any of that! I can't break the law! I, uh, but I―"

"Haven't you been listening, Octopus?" the businessman snarled. "This is not up for negotiation. You will arrive at the lab at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow to set up the lab before your test subjects come in, and you will adhere to whatever I or the Big Man say."

"N-N-No, I can't! I can't!" Dr. Octavius sputtered, backing slowly towards the door.

"Otto…"

"I can't be involved in this! There's too much at stake!"

"Otto…"

"No, no, I just can't! It's not right!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

He couldn't believe he was actually talking back to his own boss, but everything about this conversation was nearly making him faint. Just as he grabbed the doorknob to make a run for it, however, Mr. Osborn suddenly said:

"Then I suppose I shouldn't forget how you snuck Clover out of OsCorp more than five years ago."

Otto's heart stopped.

Osborn smirked.

He continued, "You pride yourself in being such a law-abiding citizen, Otto, but you're really one to talk. I can't imagine how disappointing it would be for my head researcher to be fired for tampering with the experiments. I guess you could apply to work at ESU, but let's be honest here. Nobody would hire such an unethical scientist. Nobody would trust their work around you. I know I wouldn't. But not to worry, Otto! That McDonald's across the street always needs more people, and I'll be sure to visit you every time I need a burger."

Standing frozen by the door, Otto slowly drew his hand off the knob. How did he know!? How long has he known? What else did he know about this?

Otto's blood grew cold, and his bowels turned into water. His own boss had led him straight into a trap.

Osborn stated coolly, "I would very much hate to lose my trust in you, Otto. After all, you've been so good to me for these past…oh, how long has it been? Ten years? No, eleven. It would be so disappointing to see you take a different turn. You would never do that to me, would you, Otto?"

Otto gave up. He had no choice.

Breathing deeply, he turned to his superior and replied quietly, "Um…my apologies, sir. I should have never disrespected you like that..."

Walking up to the doctor, Osborn replied, "Now that's my good Doctor Octopus."

He handed Dr. Octavius a small business card with an address scrawled on it. Something about an LTL Body Shop or whatever…

"Since you've been so reliable, Otto, I'll let you have the rest of the day off. I'll escort Clover to her room for you. Look for this address on the Internet. You use Chrome, correct? I suggest you use an incognito window when looking for that address. We can't risk leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind us."

Otto walked out the door, slipping the card into his shirt pocket with his clammy hands and praying for a hole to come up and swallow him into the floor. Norman then restated, "Eight o'clock in the morning. Not a second later, doctor."

"Y-Y-Y-Yes, Mr. Osborn."

OoOoO

…aaaaaaaand we've finally reached Season 1! HOORAY!

I added some historical tidbits into this one with Bush and Obama because I felt like they would fit well, but I tried my best to keep it as politically neutral as possible, so my apologies if I lean too far right or left on those issues in the text.

But yes, now we shall finally see the gears turn! This entire story takes place before and during Season 1 of Spectacular Spider-Man, so expect to see plenty of action in the near future.

NEXT UPDATE: Friday, April 17, 2015