Otto stood in the doorway of his apartment, dripping wet, his tentacles tucked up inside the trench coat out of view. He pressed his hands against the doorjambs and simply gazed inside at the dark room, feeling as if he were hollow, his face blank. A long sigh escaped him as he took in the sight before him.
Along the living room floor there was a huge gash where something had torn open the carpet, shredding it. The sofa and coffee table had been overturned and ripped to shreds. Framed art that had been hanging on the wall lie smashed across the floor. He slowly walked into the room, pieces of glass crunching underneath his shoes. Across the room in the kitchen area all of the windows had been shattered. The blinds lay in sad heaps across the linoleum floor and all of the cabinets had been emptied onto the countertops and floor. Rain was blowing inside the shattered windows and pooling on the kitchen floor. He turned around in the center of the room, the tentacles slowly uncoiling from inside his coat. The claws flexed and rotated, concentrating on the wreckage as well. He walked towards the bedroom and stopped in the doorway, leaning against the jamb.
The mattress had been ripped to shreds, as well as all the clothes and linens in the closet. The bureau was lying on the floor, each drawer torn from its frame and thrown against the wall. The only thing in the room that had not been destroyed was the mirror. It had been carefully moved from the top of the bureau to the wall over the headboard of the bed. Otto walked into the room, stepping through magazines, folders, and papers of all sorts lying strewn across the floor. Outside a giant clap of thunder rolled across the sky as lightning struck. The room lit up brilliantly for a second, and Otto saw himself in the mirror along with the words scrawled across the glass.
"The itsy bitsy Spider climbed up the water spout,
What would you give to CRUSH the Spider out?"
He read the hastily scribbled words again. It was a nursery rhyme of some kind. He walked closer and touched the glass, smearing the words. Written in ink. He looked below the mirror at the small, orange object lying against the headboard, picking it up in his hand. It was a crudely carved jack o'lantern. Otto looked at it in astonishment, recognizing the calling card.
You've got to be kidding me…
There was a slight crinkling noise behind him as someone stepped on the scattered papers and he turned quickly, swinging around a clenched tentacle and cracking the man behind him across the face. He heard the muffled cry of pain from under the man's mask as he fell to the ground, dropping the gun and clutching at his face. Otto felt the numbness leave his body and he smashed the open claw down on the head of the assailant, silencing his pained cries.
Enough of this. I can't take anymore.
He jerked to the side as a gun went off to his left, narrowly missing his head as it cut into the wall beside him. He turned sharply and threw both tentacles out, impaling the black-clad assassin through the chest in two places. The man didn't even have time to scream. Yanking the tentacles free of the corpse, Otto turned again to face the doorway of the bedroom, spreading his arms wide as all four tentacles extended out from his body.
"I've had ENOUGH!" he yelled, lunging through the doorway and jamming two tentacles around the corner, wrenching both of the men standing to either side together and beating them against each other violently, forcing each of them to drop their weapons. They clawed at the tentacles that held each of them around the neck as he carried them both to the kitchen window panels, pausing to hold them both outside the windows. Their rabid slurs of anger immediately shifted to cries for mercy as they dangled some ten stories up from the ground.
"Who SENT you?" Otto snapped, gripping the sides of the windows as he held them farther out over the streets below. Lightning cracked across the sky and another thunderclap drowned out the pitiful sobbing of the two men dangling from his grasp. They babbled incoherently, holding onto the metal arms for dear life.
"Did Osbourne send you? Did the Green Goblin send you? Did he?!" he yelled again. Neither of them responded and Otto frowned darkly, his brow furrowing.
"So be it," he said quietly as he heaved them both from the building. The sound of their screaming faded quickly into the steady din of the never-ending rain. He hadn't needed them to answer; he already knew.
Norman Osbourne's other persona, the Green Goblin, had done this. It was no secret to the head of each department, himself included, just what was going on. It was never discussed with any of the other personnel because it didn't require any discussion – Norman made sure of that. Unless you had a death wish, you kept your mouth shut about it. Otto himself had developed the fuel for the glider that idiot used to fly around the city. And now – now he had decided to toy with Otto. He snorted to himself. The man had no idea how dangerous an idea that was. But he had other matters to tend to before he dealt with Norman.
He turned; ready to rid himself of any other pests hiding in the darkness. But there was no one else there. He was alone again. Alone like he always had been.
It's your fault. You're only alone because you chose to be. A low moan escaped from his lips as he dropped to his knees on the floor, glass crunching painfully beneath his legs as all four tentacles fell heavily beside him.
Julia was dead. He stared at the ground before him, ignoring the raging storm going on behind him as more rain blew inside the kitchen, soaking him through again.
She was dead and it was because of him. If he hadn't involved her in this, she would still be alive. He had thought he was protecting her by refusing her, but in the end…
She accepted you, and you shoved her away. You accused her of betraying you. You were going to really hurt her for that.
"No, I wasn't," he said aloud, jerking his head up.
Starting to walk in dad's footsteps now, aren't you? He lifted his head again and slowly stood up, lifting each tentacle from the ground.
"Quiet," he whispered fiercely, facing the window again as he mentally shoved the thought away.
This is Spiderman's fault. If Parker hadn't come, if he hadn't intervened, none of this would have happened. Had Julia found Spiderman beforehand? Had she called the police? Maybe she thought she was doing him a favor; trying to save him from his own self. Otto wiped a hand across his face.
It didn't matter now.
The sound of the rain coming inside the kitchen and hitting the linoleum floor was strangely calming. Otto let the arched tentacles fall to his sides again, feeling that old familiar sense of loss. He had just killed four men. He had voluntarily taken their lives. Again. He sighed as he thought of the night of the accident. It was amazing just how easy it had become.
Even more startling - he didn't care.
How many more times must he go through this? He stared out at the rain coming down in solid sheets over the city. Was he destined go through the rest of his life like this? He looked down at the street far below, watching the red brake lights and bright white headlights going to and fro. Below him at the base of his apartment building there were the blue and red flashing lights of cop cars – someone had discovered the hit men. Or what remained of them. Shifting his weight, he felt something touch his foot. He looked down and saw the jack o lantern he had dropped lying on the glass-covered floor. He bent and picked it up, looking at it in disgust. Osbourne. Goblin. Whatever the insignificant fool wanted to call himself. He was too afraid to come face to face with him and so he sent these pathetic excuses for assassins instead?
"Don't think I have forgotten about you, Osbourne," he muttered, squeezed the pumpkin in his hand until it split.
Otto twisted back and chucked the pumpkin from the window, watching it sail out across the street and disappear in the rain.
High above him, across the street, a lone figure stood with one foot up against a cherub sculpture lounging across the ledge of the records building. The downpour continued, but he didn't move.
This is far better than anything I could have imagined. A slow smile spread across his lips and lightning streaked across the sky as he watched Otto climb out the window on the tentacles and clamber down the side of the building, tearing chunks out of the façade as he went.
"Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout…down came the rain and washed the spider out…" he sang to himself, jumping off the cherub into the darkness of the early evening sky.
Andy sat with her knees curled against her chest in the tall windowsill, her head pressed against the glass as she stared out at the rain pouring in sheets across the pier. Somewhere across the warehouse there was the sound of a clock ticking. It had been silent now for at least a half an hour – they both sat in the darkness together, yet each was incredibly and unbearably alone.
There was nothing that could be said that would cover the wound anyway.
Otto sat below her on a torn couch, the tentacles lying limp across the cushions. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. His sunglasses sat on the floor beside him. His eyes were burning again. And the whisperings were very quiet, almost solemn, in the back of his mind. Outside a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed up by a clap of thunder.
Andy let out a long, shaky sigh.
"You going to kill Spiderman?" she said finally, her voice cracking. Otto lifted his head from his hands and reached down for his sunglasses, slowly pressing them against his face. He cleared his throat.
"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice gravelly. She didn't answer. He sat back against the couch. Lightning lit up the warehouse for a split second before the deep rumble of thunder rattled the windows. There was another long bout of silence.
"I tried. I tried to reach her." It didn't matter anymore what he had tried to do. He knew that. Standing up, Otto wiped across his face with his rain-soaked forearm.
"I know that. I know you did." Andy reached over and pressed her finger to the condensation on the glass and pulled down, the glass squeaking with each motion. Again. And again. She dropped her hand to her side. Otto glanced up.
Spiderman.
In one swift motion she wiped the glass clean of the lettering and buried her head in her arms. He turned away and stood with his back to her.
"I…I'm sorry," he said, slowly making his way on the tentacles to the door of her workshop warehouse. He knew well how those words carried little weight. Sorry was never good enough. Andy lifted her tear-stained face from her knees suddenly.
"Please! Please, don't go." There was desperation in her voice. He paused at the door, the tentacle slowly slipping off the handle.
"I don't want to be alone. Please, stay here. Just for a while," she pleaded quietly. Otto lingered by the door for a moment beforefinally coming back in. He sat down on the tattered couch again and sighed. Andy climbed down from the window sill and sat next to him, pulling her knees close to her chest again as she laid her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at her; one eyebrow lifted in surprise, but after a moment's hesitation he curled his arm around her shoulders, hugging the girl gently to his side. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the brick wall behind him as she started to sob again, pressing her face into the folds of his already damp trench coat.
Go on and cry. Cry until you've got nothing left.
The clock continued to tick somewhere across the warehouse, and another low rumbling of thunder rattled the windows.
The rain outside was letting up.
But the storm was far from being over.