Time for another update. This chapter doesn't focus on Otto and Kitten. Instead, it focuses mostly on other characters and their side plots. Please enjoy.

"Daniel, I knew you wouldn't let me down," said Roderick, staring at the vivid green liquid with a predatory grin. "You know better than to fail, after all."

Nodding nervously, he said, "I did what you wanted. It isn't perfectly safe or reliable, but this is the best I can do. It should work. It has a better chance of working correctly than the original. I've done what you've asked and I want nothing more to do with this."

Roderick actually chuckled lightly at his twin's words. Poor Daniel actually thought he could say "no" and hide in his little lab. He thought Roderick would ignore a valuable resource. The spineless man would never escape. Daniel didn't have the nerve to even try.

All that talk about the meek inheriting the Earth was just garbage to make cowards feel better. Only the strongest, smartest, most ruthless, and the most deserving could get what they desire. And Roderick Kingsley certainly qualified as the greatest of them all.

"I hope you don't think you can squirm out of this, Daniel. We're just getting started. First, you're going to administer the formula and make sure it works correctly. You don't want to hurt your brother, right? And once we finish with my upgrade, we'll need to talk about which of your various lab assistants were involved in any process of developing this. I have the names of those who helped with other parts connected to my new project, but I don't want to miss anyone who knows too much. And I'm sure you'll have no trouble taking my place at a few board meetings again. I need you to cover for me while I handle a few more important matters and I don't want my absence noticed. And we both know you'll do it. You always do what I want."

Daniel cringed and fidgeted nervously, trying to hide from his brother's gaze. But Roderick could see the instant his twin's willpower crumbled. Daniel's shoulders slumped and his eyes closed. He knew when he was beat.

"I guess it would be best to administer the serum in a safe and controlled environment," said Daniel, accepting the vial of liquid back.

Harry briefly wondered if he should have done this in a safe and controlled environment like a lab filled with scientists rather than in the study of his home all alone.

Planning to inject himself with an experimental formula was already pretty stupid. Doing it at home when even Bernard was gone for the evening was even worse. Harry was quite aware of that fact. He knew he shouldn't tempt fate by making the entire procedure more dangerous.

But Harry also knew that if he didn't do it now, he'd probably never work up the determination to try again. He'd already debated with himself and procrastinated for weeks about taking the step forward. The equipment he'd been working on was ready. Or at least the protective outfit, pieces of his various pumpkin-shaped arsenal, and the hover board were ready enough to actually use. His prep work was done. He couldn't put it off any longer. So he was using Dr. Morbius's adjusted formula that night and Harry couldn't let anything change his mind.

Harry stared at the yellow-green liquid, already waiting for him in a syringe and ready to be used. Amazing what potential a tiny amount of experimental formula could possess. It could transform his entire life, one way or another. All he needed to do was take a chance.

He'd read the original reports on the Human-Enhancer Formula. He'd read Dr. Morbius's notes on what changes to the serum he'd made. And he read what little information was available on the Super Soldier Serum that all of this was originally based upon. Other than wondering what in the world "Vita-Rays" were supposed to be and whether it could have prevented his father's insanity, there wasn't much more he could really understand or learn about the possible effects and risks. Well, it was all he could understand or learn without being a lot better at science. The chemical formulas might as well be a different language, though he was certain Peter would have known what they meant.

Perhaps he should call Peter. He'd understand the science. And if something went wrong, Spider-man could be on hand to stop him. If Harry went crazy like his father, no on else would be able to stop a new Green Goblin. The idea held merit.

But even as he considered the idea, Harry rejected it. Peter would try to talk him out of it. He wouldn't understand why Harry needed to redeem at least part of his father's legacy. It was his responsibility.

He dragged a hand through his hair tiredly. He needed a drink. As soon as the thought occurred, Harry rejected it. He dealt with a lot of his recent problems by drinking and it rarely did him any good. It didn't actually help. And he didn't want to look back later and blame the decision on being drunk. He wanted to make the choice with a clear head.

As the fire crackled, Harry settled himself down on the couch. There were plenty of bad memories now connected to the piece of furniture, but it would be best place to lie down. Harry suspected the transformation would be rough and the sofa was the most comfortable spot in the room. He also refused to do take the substance in any other room. This place was just as much a part of his father's legacy that he was trying to redeem as the costume. All Harry could hope was that Bernard didn't arrive in the morning to find his dead body in the same place his father's was discovered.

Making sure there wasn't an air bubble in the syringe since it would be dumb to die from that, Harry aimed for a vein and tried not to feel like a drug addict. With a tiny prick of pain on the inside of his elbow and unable to turn back, he pushed down the plunger.

The yellow-green liquid burned as it flowed into him. Harry hissed in pain, pulling the needle from his arm and tossing it aside. He knew the process for Morbius's version would be different, so he didn't know what to expect next as the burning spread along his arm. So far, it wasn't too bad. The burning of the liquid in his veins stung, but he could easily endure it.

Rubbing his arm in response to the discomfort, Harry almost didn't notice the fact his mouth felt dry and his head began pounding. But when his heart started racing and he found himself gasping for breath, he knew it was really starting to kick in. Within a few seconds, it felt like his heart was trying to beat through his chest. The burning intensified and spread through his body like liquid fire.

Then he lost all control. Harry's head jerked back and his back arched, his muscles straining painfully. Fear and disorientation gripped his mind as his body spasmed and jolted wildly. Pain flashed through him, white hot.

He could feel himself losing consciousness, burning and aching pain and uncooperative body pushing him to the limits of what he could stand. Harry's vision when white and he thought he heard laughter. But before he could be certain of it, Harry slipped under.

Curt looked over his notes one last time, using his incomplete biology and chemistry knowledge to search for possible mistakes. This wasn't a project for a physicist, but he could certainly manage it with some work. He felt determined to succeed and thus he would find a way.

So now that he was certain that what he'd designed should theoretically work, Curt moved onto the next step in developing a solution to his problem. Small scale experimentation with animal test subjects. Providing the healing and regenerative capabilities of a lizard to a mammalian species would need to be attempted with smaller and simpler animals first before he moved on to his intended purposes.

The maimed mice prepared for the experiment, each one missing a limb, would probably earn scorn from animal lovers. But there was no other way to test his formula. And if it worked, the little white lab mice would soon have their missing legs back.

He quickly setup his workstation, lining up his prepared syringes with the initial formula he'd devised, and turning on the video camera. Then he reached into the first carefully-labeled container, trying to catch the first rodent. Even with three legs, the mouse made it very difficult. It scrambled and climbed around Curt's questing fingers. Eventually he got lucky and closed his hand on the mouse.

"Subject 1," Curt said, his experiment being recorded for accuracy and for posterity. "A mus musculus, BALB/Lac strain. Female. Missing her left forelimb." Quickly weighing the rodent, he added, "Body weight is 20 grams. I shall be injecting subcutaneously ½ ml of Regeneration Formula Variation A."

Holding the mouse still while injecting a translucent pink liquid into it with only one hand took a large amount of focus and coordination from him to manage. But Curt set everything up previously to make it easier. He eventually managed it and hurriedly slipped the rodent back into the labeled cage. Once the little mouse was secure, he worked on measuring out the dosage for the next subject.

He needed to finish as much as possible that evening. The next day, he needed to make preparations for the classes in the fall semester. And Billy's birthday was that Saturday. Curt already promised not to work during the weekend. Family came first, even when his work could turn him back into the man he was before the accident that took his arm.

Harry found himself standing on a bridge and he had absolutely no idea how that happened. He wasn't even on the main part of the bridge. He was up on the tower parts where the suspension cables attached, leaving Harry high above everyone that might also be around. But he honestly couldn't see or hear anyone else. No talking, no traffic, and no sounds beyond the wind. He seemed to be alone. But beyond his confusion over how he ended up there, Harry mostly felt mildly calm as he stared at the star-filled sky above.

"Enjoying the view?"

A shiver ran up his spine as he recognized the voice, but he didn't experience the usual fear and despair. He couldn't help turning around. Behind Harry, dressed in the ominous green armor and mask, stood the Green Goblin. Part of him wanted to flinch at the sight. But he didn't. Harry met the yellow eyes firmly.

"It's nice. The company leaves much to be desired, though," Harry said. "The fact you're here means I'm dreaming."

"Or you've gone mad," another voice said from directly behind him.

Harry turned again, spotting Norman Osborn dressed in a business suit and standing directly where he'd been looking previously. For someone long dead, he looked pretty good. His eyes had changed. The anger and insanity were intense and inescapable. Or maybe Harry could only now see what was already there.

"Harry, you've taken the first steps towards your destiny," Norman continued. "Embrace it. Embrace us."

"No," said the young man, not hesitating for even a moment. "I told you before. I am not you and I'll never be you."

"Don't fight the inevitable," said the Green Goblin. "You have no choice. You're becoming me as we speak."

Keeping an eye on both of them at the same time was tricky. They'd positioned themselves on opposite sides, placing Harry in the middle. But he did his best. He didn't trust either of them. Regardless of appearances, they were the same man. He needed to be cautious.

Cautious, but not afraid. Harry was almost surprised to realize he wasn't scared. Not of the Green Goblin. Not of his father and his disappointment. And not of becoming a crazed murderous monster. For some reason, all those previous fears, doubts, and concerns didn't seem to be hitting him this time.

"Time to be a man and make a choice, Harry," said Norman. "Choose which of us you want to become. Will you have me, whispering in your ears and urging you to greatness? To become someone worthy of being my son? Using and leaving people who don't deserve your presence?"

"Or me?" continued the Green Goblin. "Will you have me cackling in the back of your mind, eroding away any pesky hesitations? Coaxing you to use your power for your own benefit? Encouraging you to take what should be yours, claiming vengeance on those who stand against you, and not letting anyone push you around again?"

"Make your choice quickly or we'll decide for you," said Norman. "You have to decide, Harry. One or the other. You can't escape your fate. You're going to become us someday."

Unlike when he'd faced the hallucinations in the past, Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. He'd lost all respect and fear of these figments of his mind. Not only were they fake, but they were uncreative when it came to dragging up his doubts and concerns. He was beginning to realize now that he'd moved beyond these worries and fears about history repeating.

He honestly wasn't afraid of them anymore. And he couldn't even pretend to fear the two figures. Especially when the dream itself was giving him the answer.

"Are you serious? Please tell me this is a joke," Harry said. "I know where we are. Mary Jane told me what happened that night on this bridge. You offered Peter a choice too. Save her or a lot of innocent people. You sent both plunging off. But this time, you're not even giving me a real choice. Norman Osborn? Green Goblin? You're the same person. You're both my father."

Both figures nodded, their postures mirroring each other. They stood confident and smug. Even when Harry realized their trick, the two thought he didn't have any other choice. They thought he was trapped playing their game. After all, that's what he always did in the past.

But not this time. Harry planned to overturn the board.

"Do you remember what Spider-man did when you forced him into a sadistic choice? Mary Jane told me exactly what happened," Harry said, walking casually across the metal structure. He ignored the wind and the pair of figures equally. "He didn't listen to you. He took a third option and saved everyone."

"You're not Spider-man," mocked the Green Goblin.

Smiling as he closed his eyes, Harry said, "And I'm not you. I'm Harry Osborn. I'm my own man. This is my life. And you're nothing."

And with that parting statement, Harry stepped off the edge. Harry felt the sensation of falling, even with the knowledge it was fake. He left behind the hallucinations of Norman and the Green Goblin. He simply fell.

Impact startled Harry into opening his eyes, revealing he'd fallen off the couch while he slept. Memories of the night before began to return to him. His muscles ached and his head pounded. But he was awake, alive, and he didn't feel insane. That was probably better than what he could have hoped for when it came to injecting experimental formula into his veins.

"Sir?" called Bernard from somewhere in the household.

"I'm all right," he answered, his throat feeling scratchy and dry. "Give me a moment."

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry tried to shake off the remaining sleepiness. Other than an ache throughout his body and slight issues with coordination, he felt relatively normal. He would need to experiment and practice later to find out if the formula worked. Hopefully any effects, good or bad, would be easy to handle.

While he tried to keep an eye on the entire city, there were limits to what he could do. There were only so many hours in the day. He needed to divide his time between the patrols for criminals and people in need of help, classes, work, spending time with his girlfriend (the fact he was dating MJ still surprised him occasionally), checking on Aunt May, eating, and sometimes sleeping.

And there were certain parts of the city that were easier for web-slinging. The tallest buildings worked best while the shorter ones prevented much mobility. Add in the fact that even moving high above the streets didn't completely eliminate travel time and he ended up with several general patrol routes he regularly used.

There was a formula to it, covering the most amount of ground within the time he had and with the easiest to travel sections of the city. And there were some areas in New York that he rarely reached since they fell outside the most convenient routes.

But there were no classes at the moment, Mary Jane had rehearsals, his current minimum wage job wasn't open on Saturdays, and Aunt May was visiting a friend. It provided the perfect opportunity for Spider-man to make an appearance in some other parts of the city that he rarely managed to visit.

One of the best parts of being Spider-man, one of the things that just felt fun and relaxing, was web-swinging. Soaring above the city, allowing himself to fall for a while before firing a web and slinging himself up once again. There was a rhythm to it, letting himself react on impulse and Spider Sense without having to think. There was a freedom to it. Some people went jogging. He went swinging through the air like a circus trapeze artist.

He'd also learned during his time as Spider-man that most people didn't look up. Tourists impressed by the tall buildings during their first visit to the famous city and a few curious inhabitants who'd figured out his more regular routes might catch glimpses of him traveling overhead. But the majority of New Yorkers and humans in general didn't regularly look up unless he drew attention to himself.

That was actually a handy fact because it meant a lot of petty crooks ended up experiencing a shocking surprise, especially when he went through areas away from his more usual routes. They never saw him coming before they ended up cocooned in webs and let strung up for the police to find.

Traveling high above the city provided an effective way to avoid attention. So he really shouldn't be surprised when someone else used the rooftops to move unseen. And yet when he caught a glimpse of another figure climbing distant walls, Spider-man almost fell in mid-swing from surprise.

He landed on the side of a brick building, shaking his head to clear it. He must be wrong. It had to be a mistake. The light of the afternoon sun reflecting off a window or a building must have tricked him. There had to be another explanation for what he thought he saw. But just in case, Spider-man twisted around and took off in a different direction than before.

He couldn't risk getting too close and attracting attention. Especially if what he thought he saw was real. Instead, he moved quietly and carefully as he could, trying to keep out of sight while getting a better view at the same time. It didn't take him long to realize he wasn't the best at spying and sneaking around, especially if his target could climb too. He just didn't have the practice. The red and blue costume probably didn't help either.

Spider-man eventually caught sight of the figure again and reluctantly admitted he was right the first time. Climbing up the side of an apartment building was a man in a trench coat. And more importantly, there were four metal tentacle-shaped limbs pulling the man up the wall. That proved to Spider-man he was following a supposedly dead man.

Two very different thoughts went through his mind when he recognized the man. The first thought was relief at his survival. He no longer needed to carry the guilt about not saving the scientist. He'd respected Dr. Octavius and regretted everything that happened to him. The other thought, far more intense, was that he needed to follow the man. Last time they spoke, Dr. Octavius managed to shake off some of his insanity. But that was months ago and there was no guessing what happened to his mental state since.

Dr. Octavius or Dr. Octopus? The scientist or the A.I.-induced villain? Who crawled out of the water that night?

When Dr. Octavius vanished over the roof, Spider-man realized he was too far away and could easily lose him. Biting back the urge to use language that Aunt May would literally wash his mouth out with soap if she ever heard it, Spider-man flung himself forward. He needed to catch up before the man disappeared complete.

He landed easily on the roof, balancing on the very edge of the building. And as soon as he landed, his Spider Sense weakly warned him to be cautious and he discovered that he wasn't quite as stealthy as he'd hoped.

Dr. Octavius stood there, waiting for him. The man was staring at the hero through a pair of darkened goggles. The four actuators coiled around him, watching Spider-man and clicking ominously. But none of them were attacking so far. It left him nervous, but hopeful.

"Uh… Hi," greeted Spider-man uneasily. "What's up, Doc?"

"Hello, Spider-man," he said in an even tone. "It has been some time."

Nodding slightly while still keeping on guard, he said, "Not since that night. And I'm sorry. I though you drowned, Doc. I would have tried to help you if I'd known."

"I know you would have," he said quietly, both sad and regretful as he smiled weakly at the younger man. "I didn't want to be saved. But they," he turned his head briefly towards the actuators as he spoke, "wouldn't let me die. So I have been trying to make the best of things since then."

He certainly sounded calmer and more in control than before. This wasn't the man who threatened to strip the flesh from someone's bones. This was the man who chatted casually around the dinner table and suggested poetry for a student who needed advice on love. This was someone rational and not someone violent. This was Dr. Otto Octavius, without a doubt.

Shifting a bag slowly out from under his trench coat, he continued, "Regarding your question about what I am doing, I'm returning from grocery shopping."

"Grocery shopping," said Spider-man in a dull tone. "Really?"

Smiling wryly, he said, "Surprisingly, even the ruthless Doc Ock needs to eat sometimes."

He really didn't know how to respond to that. Perched on a rooftop, talking to a supposedly dead guy about something as mundane as grocery shopping… There was something surreal about the entire situation. The afternoon definitely wasn't normal or formulaic, even by Spider-man standards.

"I know you're worried I could still be dangerous," said Dr. Octavius hesitantly. "We're trying not to cause harm, but I know better than to believe there's no longer any possible threat. I just try my best not to become who we were a few months ago."

The constant shifting between singular and plural pronouns was a little concerning. It seemed like the line between the man and the actuators was still a little blurred. But he still sounded relatively stable and not dangerous. His Spider Sense was active, but faint. It was just enough to keep him on guard, but not enough to make him worry.

Well, at least the man wasn't speaking in third person. That was always a bad sign.

Dr. Octavius briefly glanced towards the coiled actuators, his expression difficult to recognize. The metal limbs were mostly still hissing and watching the costumed hero carefully, but they did glance towards the scientist with a series of curious clicks. Then Dr. Octavius turned back towards Spider-man.

"Perhaps you would feel better if you had a chance to see what we've been doing since you last saw me. Would you care to join us for dinner, Peter?"

That last sentence caused so many reactions. The actuators hissed and clicked angrily, making it very easy to imagine the four metal limbs asking "Are you crazy?" They definitely didn't approve of the idea. More important was the thoughts that raced through Spider-man's head at the words. It reminded him that Dr. Octavius was one of the people who knew his identity under the mask. The offer left him confused, nervous, and uncertain. How often did he get invited to eat with a guy who tried to kill him before? It just didn't happen regularly in his line of work. Would it cause more trouble to accept the offer or rejecting it? Would one of the choices spark a bad reaction from the man? But even with his reservations about the idea, Peter didn't make enough money to casually reject the offer of a free meal.

What exactly was he supposed to do about this?

"While the dinner proposal is tempting, I do have a girlfriend," said Spider-man, trying to make a joke out of the situation while he mentally debated the issue.

"So you finally told her how you felt?" Dr. Octavius said with a small smile of approval. But there was also something wistful in his expression. "I told you not to bury those feelings and it obviously worked out for you. It is nice that my advice could help you. Don't let her go."

He remembered what happened to Mrs. Octavius. He remembered the beautiful woman he met that evening, discussing his plans for the fusion-based energy reactor all afternoon until she made a similar offer to an enthusiastic Peter Parker to join them for dinner. He remembered how the older man clearly adored and respected her, even when one knew very little about nuclear physics and the other still didn't understand English Literature. He remembered that she stood by him, assisting him in his experiment because she believed in him and trusted her husband's calculations.

He remembered the experiment going wrong. He remembered that he couldn't shut it down fast enough, Dr. Octavius certain that he could fix it. He remembered that while Dr. Octavius was carried out of there on a stretcher, Mrs. Octavius was under a sheet. Spider-man remembered what the man lost.

It didn't take much imagination to guess how Dr. Octavius felt when he realized his actions took away the woman he loved. That was almost what happened to Peter when Mary Jane was thrown off the bridge by the Green Goblin. It was almost what happened when Doc Ock's kidnapping and second experiment could have killed her. It was what he feared happening someday in the future and what he would fight to prevent, even if it took his final breath.

"I don't plan to let her go unless she chooses to leave me," he said firmly. "And I won't let anyone or anything take her away."

"Good. Never lose track of your priorities," said Dr. Octavius with a short nod. "People you care about are impossible to replace." Then he managed to either shake off some of the melancholy or at least push it back a little, turning slightly towards the direction he'd been traveling before. "So will you join us for dinner, Spider-man? I'm afraid it won't be anything fancy, but I believe I can manage some macaroni and cheese in a microwave."

Curiosity, a desire to give the man a chance, and hunger won out over caution. After all, web-swinging took a lot of calories. Spider-man gave a short nod and followed Dr. Octavius as he and his actuators resumed their journey across the rooftops of the city.

And so Spider-man gets invited to join Doc Ock for a dinner of macaroni and cheese. The world is certainly strange sometimes. Meanwhile, Roderick and Harry have both dosed themselves with variations of the Green Goblin serum and Curt is testing his Lizard formula. We have more super-powered characters on the way.

I don't know when the next update will be, but I'll get to it when I have the chance. And remember: reviews are always appreciated.