DISCLAIMER: I don't own Spider Man, Peter Parker, Mary Jane, Harry Osborne,
The Green Goblin (who is only mentioned, I don't plan to ressurect him, in
case you were worried), Otto Octavious, Dr. Octopus or any of the other
Marvel properties moetioned hereafter. They are all property of Marvel
Comics. Spider-Man: The Motion Picture is owned by Sony Pictures. All I
am is a True Believer, who has followed the sordid tales of Peter Parker
for 17 of my 20 years. I'm not making a dime off this, I just did it for
fun. EXCELSIOR!)
THIS TAKES UP RIGHT WHERE THE MOVIE LEAVES OFF!
Peter Parker remembers the day Norman Osborn was buried. As Peter walked away from Mary Jane that day, he felt his own heart break. He had been in love with her since he was 6, and he just knew deep down that she was the one. A staggering realization for 19 years old, but the last two months had made Peter mature beyond his years. Maturity that was shown when Mary Jane opened up her heart and professed her love for him. How much he wanted to tell her his true feelings, that he loved her too. But he knew the consequences all too well. He had the life he had dreamt of for 13 years handed to him on a silver platter, and he refused it. Why? Because he remembered all too well the position Norman Osborn, a.k.a. The Green Goblin had placed him in just four days ago when the battled atop the Brooklyn Bridge. In one hand he held Mary Jane, and in the other a skycab full of children. "This is why only fools are heros," Osborn cackled, "because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice." Thankfully, Peter was able to save them all, but, he didn't ever want to be faced with that decision again. That is why he didn't tell MJ his feelings, he never wanted her to be placed in that position again. His life was one of servitude. He had great power....and with great power comes great responsibility...
Mary Jane watched Peter walk away, defeated. She was so sure that she was right this time. She had been wrong about a dozen different jock losers in high school, she had been wrong about Harry, she had been wrong about Spider-Ma....wait a second! The kiss! Mary Jane touched her lips and whirled around to look at Peter in a split-second. It couldn't be...could it? MJ gasped, as her heart raced. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, as she whispered aloud, "Peter, you're Spider-Man!" She took a quick look around to make sure nobody had heard her. There wasn't anyone in the vicinity. Her heart must have been beating a thousand times a second, or so it felt, and her mind was filling with thoughts just as quickly. What should she do? Should she call out to him? Should she stay quiet? Should she run after him? Should she walk away? She wanted nothing more than to run after him, to hound him and not relent until she made him see that she loved him! She was on the verge of tears until a calming thought passed over her, She remembered the hospital, and all of the awkward encounters the two had. Suddenly another thought came on her, another realization that escaped her lips in a whisper, "he loves me!" She turned and walked the other way, down the little road and out the cemetery gates. Mary Jane had hope, and a plan was slowly forming in her mind. She had been through too much heartache to let this slip away.
Harry proceeded solemnly towards the waiting Rolls Royce, where a driver opened the door for him. He got in the car and the door closed. Harry then watched out the window, where Mary Jane and Peter were kissing. He looked away. MJ was supposed to be his girlfriend, Peter was supposed to be his friend, but the night before he died, Harry's father Norman showed him just how friendly Peter was. Not only did Peter take Mary Jane away from him, but as Spider-Man he killed his father. Yes, Harry knew. Norman had showed him everything. The glider, the suit, everything! Harry knew that his father had been the Green Goblin, and that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. What he didn't know, was what to do about it. He was now the CEO of Oscorp, which was suddenly flourishing once again, thanks to the Green Goblin bombing its top competitor. Harry had money, and he had experimental weaponry. He even had the performance-enhancing serum that turned his father into the Goblin. He didn't have the glider or the exoskeleton, or the know-how to rebuild them. They were prototypes, and everyone who knew where the plans were kept was dead. It didn't matter, the original weaponry had failed anyway. What he needed was new weaponry, and since he didn't know how to build it, he would need to recruit someone who did. "Where to Mr Osborn," the driver asked.
"Oscorp, Walters," Harry paused, "I have some work to do."
Harry Osborn had spent the better part of a month holed up in his spacious office at the Oscorp building. Many nights he had slept there, when he did sleep that is. He would go days without eating, or bathing. He was growing a scraggly beard. All because he was looking for something. For some one, rather. A weapons designer who could build him the things he needed to take down Spider-Man. He checked everywhere. Internet resume sites, his competitors' employee rosters, the US Government, and recent applicants to Oscorp. He thought he might have found the guy once. A former Soviet who designed armaments for the KGB, however when Harry delved deeper he found that the man had died under the conspicuous heading "natural causes". That one almost broke his spirit. He hung up the phone after receiving the news, and sunk back in his chair. Then, out of the corner of his eye he spotted the file that would change his life and reinvigorate his mission. He picked it up, and began to read from it. The man in question had just left Stark Enterprises, although Harry couldn't see a reason why. He had an impeccable work record, an outstanding education (three Ph.D.'s from MIT), and he hadn't missed a day of work in twelve years. He wasn't laid off, he wasn't fired, he just quit. Now his application was sitting on Harry's desk. He had an impressive list of references, including a five-page letter from Tony Stark himself. Hey, it was worth a shot! Harry pushed a button on his desk, which buzzed his secretary out in the next room. Her voice came over the intercom, "Yes Mr. Osborn?"
"Linda," Harry began, "I need you to get a contact for a man who recently applied with us."
"What's his name sir," she asked.
"Octavious. Doctor Otto Octavious."
The passing month had been kind to Peter, well, mostly. Harry moved out, deciding to inhabit his family's spacious mansion in the wake of his father's death. Peter had been given an exclusive contract with the Daily Bugle. It probably had something to do with the Spider-Man photos he had sold to Time Magazine after the recent battle he had with the Green Goblin. Peter was the only photographer who could get a decent shot of the Web Slinger (funny how that worked out), and JJJ wanted exclusive rights. Peter knew that Jonah would make a small fortune reselling the photos to national publications, but Jameson was paying him enough that Peter didn't mind. Besides, he would make some royalties off the photos anyway. It was enough for him to go to school and afford most of his monthly bills on. Most, but not all. He couldn't afford to keep living in his loft alone, now that Harry was gone. Harry offered to Let Peter stay in the Osborn Mansion. It was far too big for Harry to occupy alone, but Harry had the drawback of wanting Spider-Man dead. Peter figured that since he was Spider-Man it wouldn't be a good idea to live under the same roof with Harry. The loft was a quarterly rental, so it was paid for the next two months. Peter needed another place or a new room mate by then.
Mary Jane had received much of the same kindness that had come Peter's way. She was suddenly famous. Having a couple super-beings play catch with you over the Brooklyn Bridge will do that. She had been on the cover of Rolling Stone, billed as "Spidey's Girl". She was on Letterman just last week, and would be on Rosie O'Donnell next Thursday. MJ knew that this would not sustain her, but, it certainly was publicity. She was getting her name around. On Letterman she mentioned that she wanted to act, and that got the agents calling. She had narrowed the list of possibilities down to three. Of course, her social status had shot through the roof. Every remotely single guy in the Tri-State area was pining for a chance to date her, but, she had long-ago narrowed that list down to one. She hadn't spoken to Peter in three days, but she had been keeping up with his escapades, both in and out of costume. In costume, he was busting up crimes and bringing in bad guys at a frantic pace. It was almost routine. Pick up a paper, see Spider-Man on the front page. Turn on the TV, and see some story about the Web-Slinger. Howard Stern was promoting a contest for anyone who could uncover Spider-Man's identity. The reward was growing by the week.
MJ couldn't believe her own selfishness. She knew just about any woman in America, no, any woman in the world would trade places with her in half a heartbeat. She had all the doors opening for her, and still she wanted more. Was it so much to ask for? All she wanted was one man. An ordinary guy with a knack for photographing Spider-Man. Of course, Mary Jane thought this was an incredible feat, because she knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. She knew it from two kisses; one from Spider-Man in a rainy alley, and the other from Peter Parker in a cemetery. She left the cemetery with hope, and what she thought was a plan to get Peter to come around. She knew he loved her, but, she wasn't sure why he didn't accept her love that day. After all they had been through in the last two months, why wouldn't he want someone around who understood him. Everyone needed love, right? Even Spider-Man needs love, doesn't he? He's spectacular, but he's also human. She needed love, why didn't he? The thought frustrated her to no end. It angered her, it saddened her. It made her hit the walls in frustration, it brought her to tears. Night after night, she went to bed with the solitary question on her mind: WHY?
She pushed the thought aside as the phone rang in her apartment. She thought it was another agent. She wanted to tell them to go to hell, she was tired of dealing with him. They all had the same line of questioning. "Hi, how are you doing? Have you made a decision yet?" It could very easily be done by recording. She wasn't taking calls right now, she let her machine get it.
"Hi," the message began, "this is Mary Jane. I'm not here, so sing your song at the beep."
"Hey MJ," Mary Jane shot up and darted for the phone upon recognizing the voice, "it's Peter. I was going to be in your end of town later, I thought I might drop by..."
"Peter wait!" Mary Jane just about tore the phone off the wall to answer it, "I'm here. Sorry, I thought you might have been another agent."
"No, would it help if I was," he asked.
"No," she laughed, "it actually helps that you're not. I'm getting sick of them."
"Well you did want to be famous," Peter warned.
"Yeah, be careful what you wish for huh," she replied.
"Hey," Peter said, "you said it, not me."
"What about you," she inquired. "Aren't you getting any fame from this whole ordeal? You are the only man who can get Spidey's picture."
"Well Cannon is building me a signature series camera." Peter paused, before remembering, "and Kodak is going to pay me to use their new brand of film. That's all the fame I care for. Hey MJ, do you want to get something to eat later?"
"I'd love to," she knew Peter couldn't see the smile she lit up with when he asked her, but he probably heard it in her voice.
"Great," he said. "I have to drop off some photos at Mr. Jameson's office, and pick up a prescription for Aunt May. I'll be by at 6:45."
Doctor Otto Octavious arrived for his 3:30pm appointment promptly at 3:27. Harry Osborn's secretary buzzed him in, and soon Otto found himself inside the spacious windowed room. It had been left in virtually the same condition by Harry as it was by his late father. Harry had his back tuned to Dr. Octavious as he entered. His appearance had changed for the better in the last two days. He'd gotten home, gotten some sleep, bathed, shaved, and had a couple decent meals. Today he was the picture of office perfection. He'd cut his hair and wore it slicked back, and was wearing a sharp Armani double-breasted suit. He turned to face the good doctor, who was waiting before Harry's desk. "My apologies Doctor," he began, "I didn't hear you walk in."
"Quite alright," the chunky bespectacled man replied, in a thick Austrian accent. "May I offer my condolences on the loss of your father, he was an exceptionally brilliant man."
Harry reached across the desk and shook hands with the good Doctor. "You knew my father," he asked.
"Only by reputation," Otto replied.
"Please, have a seat." Harry gestured to a chair in front of the desk, and both man sat down. "So tell me about yourself Doctor Octavious."
"Otto please."
"Very well, Otto it is then," Harry concurred, before restating, "tell me about yourself."
"Well," the good doctor began, "I was born in Austria in 1962, the youngest of three children. My father moved the family to America when I was six."
"Why," Harry asked.
"My father was a lumberjack. For three generations the Octavious men have been lumberjacks," Otto told him. "Father wanted a better life for us, and after the Second World War America was seen as the land of opportunity. My father had wanted to move here since before he married my mother. He had applied several times, and was refused each time. In 1968 he was accepted so he moved to Boston, and worked as a shipbuilder. He would put in 18 hours a day sometimes, so that our family could get by here in America."
"I see on your personnel file that you have two older brothers," Harry began, "what became of them?"
"My oldest brother, Gustav was fascinated by the ships my father would help build," Dr. Octavious said. "He enlisted in the Navy when he was 17. He served until he was 23, before being honorably discharged and working on a cruise ship. He still serves on one to this day. My middle brother, Wolfgang, he was a smart one. I think he may have been smarter than I. He was very troubled, though...schizophrenia." Harry gave an understanding nod. "It set in during his second semester at Johns Hopkins. He lives in a home now, where they treat those sort of things. He is very happy now."
"Every cloud has a silver lining," Harry said, Otto nodded in agreement. "I see here you have your Ph.D. in Atomic Energy, another one in Propulsion Technology and a third on in Ballistics." Harry paused, before catching one more, "and a Masters in Psychology from Syracuse."
Doctor Octavious was humble in responding, "I did that one in my spare time."
"Doctor," Harry exclaimed, "it's quite incredible, wether you acknowledge it or not. I read your file from Stark Enterprises, it says you designed the propulsion systems for Iron Man, and you built War Machine from scratch. What I don't understand is why you left!"
"Because Dr. Stark was no longer doing anything innovative or exciting," Otto announced. "When I started working there in 1990 Iron Man was still in the testing phase. Dr. Stark still had the desire to create and experiment. This was evident when he charged me with building War Machine."
"I have always wondered Doctor," Harry paused, "what is the difference between Iron Man and War Machine." Harry knew the difference, but this question would set up one of the two critical questions of the interview.
"Iron Man is a defensive weapon. Light, maneuverable and elusive," Otto explained, "War Machine is an offensive weapon. It carries heavy artillery and stronger armor that Iron Man."
"And do you like to build offensive weapons?"
"Yes," Otto began, "there is just something about designing something for the front lines. Defense serves its purpose, but there are other men who can worry about it. Much like American football; offense and defense are separate units. I prefer to play offense."
A smile tugged lightly at Harry's mouth. He had gotten the answer he was hoping for with that question. However, he was about to ask the most critical question of the interview, "what are your feeling on Spider-Man?"
'Forgive me Mr. Osborn," Doctor Octavious cleared his throat before continuing, "but I fail to see the relevance of that question."
"Fair enough," Harry said, "Let me explain. Oscorp has recently been contracted by the Department of Defense to develop a means of incarcerating Spider-Man, or even to eliminate him if capture proves impossible. They feel he is a time bomb and that the clock is ticking." It wasn't entirely a lie, the DOD had expressed concern about the somewhat renegade arachnid, particularly after the September 11th attacks. However, their concern has only been a minor one, and Spidey's vanquishing of the Green Goblin had gone a long way to sooth their minds. Harry continued his fraudulent reasoning, "I am looking for a man or some men to put on this project right away."
"My honest opinion," Otto began, "is that Spider-Man is no better than that terrorist he vanquished. The Green...Gander, wasn't it?"
"Goblin," Harry corrected.
"That was it," Otto concluded. "Spider-Man is no better than the Green Goblin was. He is obviously a killer, after all, the Green..." Otto looked to Harry, forgetting the name again.
"Goblin?"
"Yes," the good Doctor continued, "The Green Goblin was never found. Only his suit, which was pierced through the abdomen."
"The glider was found too," Harry noted.
"That's right," Otto recalled. "It was destroyed as I recall. Spider-Man probably killed the Goblin and dumped his body in hopes of salvaging the weaponry."
"Which was stolen from us," Harry exaggerated.
"Indeed. Spider-Man is a rogue," Otto explained his point of view. "I believe he has killed before, and he will kill again if he isn't stopped."
"Well," Harry began, "if you want the job, you will get your chance to stop him."
"It would be my distinct pleasure," Otto announced.
Harry stuck his hand across the table, and shook Otto's hand once more, "welcome aboard Doctor Octavious. You start Monday morning at 9am."
THIS TAKES UP RIGHT WHERE THE MOVIE LEAVES OFF!
Peter Parker remembers the day Norman Osborn was buried. As Peter walked away from Mary Jane that day, he felt his own heart break. He had been in love with her since he was 6, and he just knew deep down that she was the one. A staggering realization for 19 years old, but the last two months had made Peter mature beyond his years. Maturity that was shown when Mary Jane opened up her heart and professed her love for him. How much he wanted to tell her his true feelings, that he loved her too. But he knew the consequences all too well. He had the life he had dreamt of for 13 years handed to him on a silver platter, and he refused it. Why? Because he remembered all too well the position Norman Osborn, a.k.a. The Green Goblin had placed him in just four days ago when the battled atop the Brooklyn Bridge. In one hand he held Mary Jane, and in the other a skycab full of children. "This is why only fools are heros," Osborn cackled, "because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice." Thankfully, Peter was able to save them all, but, he didn't ever want to be faced with that decision again. That is why he didn't tell MJ his feelings, he never wanted her to be placed in that position again. His life was one of servitude. He had great power....and with great power comes great responsibility...
Mary Jane watched Peter walk away, defeated. She was so sure that she was right this time. She had been wrong about a dozen different jock losers in high school, she had been wrong about Harry, she had been wrong about Spider-Ma....wait a second! The kiss! Mary Jane touched her lips and whirled around to look at Peter in a split-second. It couldn't be...could it? MJ gasped, as her heart raced. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, as she whispered aloud, "Peter, you're Spider-Man!" She took a quick look around to make sure nobody had heard her. There wasn't anyone in the vicinity. Her heart must have been beating a thousand times a second, or so it felt, and her mind was filling with thoughts just as quickly. What should she do? Should she call out to him? Should she stay quiet? Should she run after him? Should she walk away? She wanted nothing more than to run after him, to hound him and not relent until she made him see that she loved him! She was on the verge of tears until a calming thought passed over her, She remembered the hospital, and all of the awkward encounters the two had. Suddenly another thought came on her, another realization that escaped her lips in a whisper, "he loves me!" She turned and walked the other way, down the little road and out the cemetery gates. Mary Jane had hope, and a plan was slowly forming in her mind. She had been through too much heartache to let this slip away.
Harry proceeded solemnly towards the waiting Rolls Royce, where a driver opened the door for him. He got in the car and the door closed. Harry then watched out the window, where Mary Jane and Peter were kissing. He looked away. MJ was supposed to be his girlfriend, Peter was supposed to be his friend, but the night before he died, Harry's father Norman showed him just how friendly Peter was. Not only did Peter take Mary Jane away from him, but as Spider-Man he killed his father. Yes, Harry knew. Norman had showed him everything. The glider, the suit, everything! Harry knew that his father had been the Green Goblin, and that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. What he didn't know, was what to do about it. He was now the CEO of Oscorp, which was suddenly flourishing once again, thanks to the Green Goblin bombing its top competitor. Harry had money, and he had experimental weaponry. He even had the performance-enhancing serum that turned his father into the Goblin. He didn't have the glider or the exoskeleton, or the know-how to rebuild them. They were prototypes, and everyone who knew where the plans were kept was dead. It didn't matter, the original weaponry had failed anyway. What he needed was new weaponry, and since he didn't know how to build it, he would need to recruit someone who did. "Where to Mr Osborn," the driver asked.
"Oscorp, Walters," Harry paused, "I have some work to do."
Harry Osborn had spent the better part of a month holed up in his spacious office at the Oscorp building. Many nights he had slept there, when he did sleep that is. He would go days without eating, or bathing. He was growing a scraggly beard. All because he was looking for something. For some one, rather. A weapons designer who could build him the things he needed to take down Spider-Man. He checked everywhere. Internet resume sites, his competitors' employee rosters, the US Government, and recent applicants to Oscorp. He thought he might have found the guy once. A former Soviet who designed armaments for the KGB, however when Harry delved deeper he found that the man had died under the conspicuous heading "natural causes". That one almost broke his spirit. He hung up the phone after receiving the news, and sunk back in his chair. Then, out of the corner of his eye he spotted the file that would change his life and reinvigorate his mission. He picked it up, and began to read from it. The man in question had just left Stark Enterprises, although Harry couldn't see a reason why. He had an impeccable work record, an outstanding education (three Ph.D.'s from MIT), and he hadn't missed a day of work in twelve years. He wasn't laid off, he wasn't fired, he just quit. Now his application was sitting on Harry's desk. He had an impressive list of references, including a five-page letter from Tony Stark himself. Hey, it was worth a shot! Harry pushed a button on his desk, which buzzed his secretary out in the next room. Her voice came over the intercom, "Yes Mr. Osborn?"
"Linda," Harry began, "I need you to get a contact for a man who recently applied with us."
"What's his name sir," she asked.
"Octavious. Doctor Otto Octavious."
The passing month had been kind to Peter, well, mostly. Harry moved out, deciding to inhabit his family's spacious mansion in the wake of his father's death. Peter had been given an exclusive contract with the Daily Bugle. It probably had something to do with the Spider-Man photos he had sold to Time Magazine after the recent battle he had with the Green Goblin. Peter was the only photographer who could get a decent shot of the Web Slinger (funny how that worked out), and JJJ wanted exclusive rights. Peter knew that Jonah would make a small fortune reselling the photos to national publications, but Jameson was paying him enough that Peter didn't mind. Besides, he would make some royalties off the photos anyway. It was enough for him to go to school and afford most of his monthly bills on. Most, but not all. He couldn't afford to keep living in his loft alone, now that Harry was gone. Harry offered to Let Peter stay in the Osborn Mansion. It was far too big for Harry to occupy alone, but Harry had the drawback of wanting Spider-Man dead. Peter figured that since he was Spider-Man it wouldn't be a good idea to live under the same roof with Harry. The loft was a quarterly rental, so it was paid for the next two months. Peter needed another place or a new room mate by then.
Mary Jane had received much of the same kindness that had come Peter's way. She was suddenly famous. Having a couple super-beings play catch with you over the Brooklyn Bridge will do that. She had been on the cover of Rolling Stone, billed as "Spidey's Girl". She was on Letterman just last week, and would be on Rosie O'Donnell next Thursday. MJ knew that this would not sustain her, but, it certainly was publicity. She was getting her name around. On Letterman she mentioned that she wanted to act, and that got the agents calling. She had narrowed the list of possibilities down to three. Of course, her social status had shot through the roof. Every remotely single guy in the Tri-State area was pining for a chance to date her, but, she had long-ago narrowed that list down to one. She hadn't spoken to Peter in three days, but she had been keeping up with his escapades, both in and out of costume. In costume, he was busting up crimes and bringing in bad guys at a frantic pace. It was almost routine. Pick up a paper, see Spider-Man on the front page. Turn on the TV, and see some story about the Web-Slinger. Howard Stern was promoting a contest for anyone who could uncover Spider-Man's identity. The reward was growing by the week.
MJ couldn't believe her own selfishness. She knew just about any woman in America, no, any woman in the world would trade places with her in half a heartbeat. She had all the doors opening for her, and still she wanted more. Was it so much to ask for? All she wanted was one man. An ordinary guy with a knack for photographing Spider-Man. Of course, Mary Jane thought this was an incredible feat, because she knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. She knew it from two kisses; one from Spider-Man in a rainy alley, and the other from Peter Parker in a cemetery. She left the cemetery with hope, and what she thought was a plan to get Peter to come around. She knew he loved her, but, she wasn't sure why he didn't accept her love that day. After all they had been through in the last two months, why wouldn't he want someone around who understood him. Everyone needed love, right? Even Spider-Man needs love, doesn't he? He's spectacular, but he's also human. She needed love, why didn't he? The thought frustrated her to no end. It angered her, it saddened her. It made her hit the walls in frustration, it brought her to tears. Night after night, she went to bed with the solitary question on her mind: WHY?
She pushed the thought aside as the phone rang in her apartment. She thought it was another agent. She wanted to tell them to go to hell, she was tired of dealing with him. They all had the same line of questioning. "Hi, how are you doing? Have you made a decision yet?" It could very easily be done by recording. She wasn't taking calls right now, she let her machine get it.
"Hi," the message began, "this is Mary Jane. I'm not here, so sing your song at the beep."
"Hey MJ," Mary Jane shot up and darted for the phone upon recognizing the voice, "it's Peter. I was going to be in your end of town later, I thought I might drop by..."
"Peter wait!" Mary Jane just about tore the phone off the wall to answer it, "I'm here. Sorry, I thought you might have been another agent."
"No, would it help if I was," he asked.
"No," she laughed, "it actually helps that you're not. I'm getting sick of them."
"Well you did want to be famous," Peter warned.
"Yeah, be careful what you wish for huh," she replied.
"Hey," Peter said, "you said it, not me."
"What about you," she inquired. "Aren't you getting any fame from this whole ordeal? You are the only man who can get Spidey's picture."
"Well Cannon is building me a signature series camera." Peter paused, before remembering, "and Kodak is going to pay me to use their new brand of film. That's all the fame I care for. Hey MJ, do you want to get something to eat later?"
"I'd love to," she knew Peter couldn't see the smile she lit up with when he asked her, but he probably heard it in her voice.
"Great," he said. "I have to drop off some photos at Mr. Jameson's office, and pick up a prescription for Aunt May. I'll be by at 6:45."
Doctor Otto Octavious arrived for his 3:30pm appointment promptly at 3:27. Harry Osborn's secretary buzzed him in, and soon Otto found himself inside the spacious windowed room. It had been left in virtually the same condition by Harry as it was by his late father. Harry had his back tuned to Dr. Octavious as he entered. His appearance had changed for the better in the last two days. He'd gotten home, gotten some sleep, bathed, shaved, and had a couple decent meals. Today he was the picture of office perfection. He'd cut his hair and wore it slicked back, and was wearing a sharp Armani double-breasted suit. He turned to face the good doctor, who was waiting before Harry's desk. "My apologies Doctor," he began, "I didn't hear you walk in."
"Quite alright," the chunky bespectacled man replied, in a thick Austrian accent. "May I offer my condolences on the loss of your father, he was an exceptionally brilliant man."
Harry reached across the desk and shook hands with the good Doctor. "You knew my father," he asked.
"Only by reputation," Otto replied.
"Please, have a seat." Harry gestured to a chair in front of the desk, and both man sat down. "So tell me about yourself Doctor Octavious."
"Otto please."
"Very well, Otto it is then," Harry concurred, before restating, "tell me about yourself."
"Well," the good doctor began, "I was born in Austria in 1962, the youngest of three children. My father moved the family to America when I was six."
"Why," Harry asked.
"My father was a lumberjack. For three generations the Octavious men have been lumberjacks," Otto told him. "Father wanted a better life for us, and after the Second World War America was seen as the land of opportunity. My father had wanted to move here since before he married my mother. He had applied several times, and was refused each time. In 1968 he was accepted so he moved to Boston, and worked as a shipbuilder. He would put in 18 hours a day sometimes, so that our family could get by here in America."
"I see on your personnel file that you have two older brothers," Harry began, "what became of them?"
"My oldest brother, Gustav was fascinated by the ships my father would help build," Dr. Octavious said. "He enlisted in the Navy when he was 17. He served until he was 23, before being honorably discharged and working on a cruise ship. He still serves on one to this day. My middle brother, Wolfgang, he was a smart one. I think he may have been smarter than I. He was very troubled, though...schizophrenia." Harry gave an understanding nod. "It set in during his second semester at Johns Hopkins. He lives in a home now, where they treat those sort of things. He is very happy now."
"Every cloud has a silver lining," Harry said, Otto nodded in agreement. "I see here you have your Ph.D. in Atomic Energy, another one in Propulsion Technology and a third on in Ballistics." Harry paused, before catching one more, "and a Masters in Psychology from Syracuse."
Doctor Octavious was humble in responding, "I did that one in my spare time."
"Doctor," Harry exclaimed, "it's quite incredible, wether you acknowledge it or not. I read your file from Stark Enterprises, it says you designed the propulsion systems for Iron Man, and you built War Machine from scratch. What I don't understand is why you left!"
"Because Dr. Stark was no longer doing anything innovative or exciting," Otto announced. "When I started working there in 1990 Iron Man was still in the testing phase. Dr. Stark still had the desire to create and experiment. This was evident when he charged me with building War Machine."
"I have always wondered Doctor," Harry paused, "what is the difference between Iron Man and War Machine." Harry knew the difference, but this question would set up one of the two critical questions of the interview.
"Iron Man is a defensive weapon. Light, maneuverable and elusive," Otto explained, "War Machine is an offensive weapon. It carries heavy artillery and stronger armor that Iron Man."
"And do you like to build offensive weapons?"
"Yes," Otto began, "there is just something about designing something for the front lines. Defense serves its purpose, but there are other men who can worry about it. Much like American football; offense and defense are separate units. I prefer to play offense."
A smile tugged lightly at Harry's mouth. He had gotten the answer he was hoping for with that question. However, he was about to ask the most critical question of the interview, "what are your feeling on Spider-Man?"
'Forgive me Mr. Osborn," Doctor Octavious cleared his throat before continuing, "but I fail to see the relevance of that question."
"Fair enough," Harry said, "Let me explain. Oscorp has recently been contracted by the Department of Defense to develop a means of incarcerating Spider-Man, or even to eliminate him if capture proves impossible. They feel he is a time bomb and that the clock is ticking." It wasn't entirely a lie, the DOD had expressed concern about the somewhat renegade arachnid, particularly after the September 11th attacks. However, their concern has only been a minor one, and Spidey's vanquishing of the Green Goblin had gone a long way to sooth their minds. Harry continued his fraudulent reasoning, "I am looking for a man or some men to put on this project right away."
"My honest opinion," Otto began, "is that Spider-Man is no better than that terrorist he vanquished. The Green...Gander, wasn't it?"
"Goblin," Harry corrected.
"That was it," Otto concluded. "Spider-Man is no better than the Green Goblin was. He is obviously a killer, after all, the Green..." Otto looked to Harry, forgetting the name again.
"Goblin?"
"Yes," the good Doctor continued, "The Green Goblin was never found. Only his suit, which was pierced through the abdomen."
"The glider was found too," Harry noted.
"That's right," Otto recalled. "It was destroyed as I recall. Spider-Man probably killed the Goblin and dumped his body in hopes of salvaging the weaponry."
"Which was stolen from us," Harry exaggerated.
"Indeed. Spider-Man is a rogue," Otto explained his point of view. "I believe he has killed before, and he will kill again if he isn't stopped."
"Well," Harry began, "if you want the job, you will get your chance to stop him."
"It would be my distinct pleasure," Otto announced.
Harry stuck his hand across the table, and shook Otto's hand once more, "welcome aboard Doctor Octavious. You start Monday morning at 9am."