It has been only a week or so since I've lost everything of any value. Again. I do not know of Andy's fate. There is no evidence she died in the collapse of the building, but if she did indeed escape, she has not made herself known to me. While this pains me greatly, I cannot say I blame her. My own survival of the destruction of the warehouse does not surprise me like it would have in the past – a sign I have grown stronger despite the nightmare my life has become.
Will each time become easier? Will each failure result in a stronger resolve to succeed the next time around? As a scientist I have grown to have an infinite amount of patience, a trait I know will serve me well as I begin again. I have come to understand a great many things about myself and the obtuse nature of the people around me since my transformation.
Otto stood alone in the cemetery beside a gnarled old tree. It stood like a skeleton over the headstones that were lined up neatly in a single row in a small, damp lot in the corner of the graveyard. The gray skies above threatened rain again, as it had done all week. He looked down at the headstone before him and pressed his sunglasses further up his nose with a gloved finger. A single drop of rain fell onto his cheek. He wiped it away absently.
I decided I have had enough of the gross limitations of this human existence.
I have had my fill of all your opinions, your judgments; your relentless need to display your intelligence while questioning my own. I am no longer limited to the likes of you or your pathetic, deluded views of the world. I am free of the probing, the never-ending scrutiny that has haunted me in the past.
I am about to turn your world; your misguided illusions of comfort and tranquility into reality as only I have known it. I am the embodiment of decades worth of retribution on those that dared cross me, hold me back, criticize my every decision, and deny me even the most basic of human comforts time and time again. I am a master of my trade – a genius of my craft.
He bent and brushed off the dead leaves from the tombstone embedded in the ground at his feet. Straightening up again, he looked at the tentacle that hung beside him and held out his hand beneath its folded claw.
And so I ask you. How do you measure the worth of a man? I will tell you: It is no longer a question to which you are fit to decide.
I have been denied far too many things in my life to be held back now. No one can possibly fathom the depths to which I am prepared to go to fulfill my every desire, satisfy my every whim. Nothing is too great a challenge. Nothing is outside my reach. And no one is going to stand in my way. No one will hold me back.
Not anyone.
Not even the great Spiderman.
The tentacle opened and gently dropped the rose into his hand. Otto spun the rose slowly between his forefinger and thumb, looking at the deep red petals one more time before placing it on the smooth tombstone.
They call me Doctor Octopus. The name appears across all forms of media these days. "Spiderman and Doctor Octopus: A pair of villains working in tandem to destroy our beloved city", the headlines scream. If that will amuse you, then by all means - have your fun.
It is only a matter of time before you realize just how grossly misinformed you all are.
Otto turned and walked away as it began to drizzle again, tucking the tentacles under his trench coat as he headed for the gate to the cemetery. Sitting high above in the knotted old tree, Peter pulled off his mask and looked down at the tombstone. The rose was the only bright spot of color on the ground. He looked at it for quite some time before pulling his mask back on and standing up on the branch, gazing out at the entrance to the cemetery.
Ock had disappeared up the street. Peter dropped from the tree and landed next to the gravestone, bending to read the inscription.
"Julia L. Emerson – beloved daughter and sister. May you rest in peace eternal."
Peter stood quietly beside the tombstone, still looking at the rose. He suddenly felt a wave of sorrow wash over him. Whoever this woman was, it was clear Octavius had been important to her, and for whatever reason, she had been willing to help him. And that other girl. The one who had asked him to spare Otto's life. He couldn't understand why she cared about him. Why either of them had.
And Ock he had cared about them, too. Well, no. It was Otto, underneath the madness. Otto had cared. Somehow.
Peter sighed. He knew there was more to it than that, but he also knew he probably wouldn't understand anyway. He could relate somewhat to Octavius when it came to his life altering transformation. Peter grimaced slightly – only, he had been fortunate enough to have skipped the trauma of having a pair of mechanical arms grafted onto his body. Who knew what was really going on in the doctor's head? He turned and jumped onto the fence running along the cemetery perimeter.
I guess I'll never know.
Peter shot a web across the street. It caught onto a nearby tower and he yanked himself up, hurtling high up above the rooftops with a twist of his wrists. As he swung through the city streets, feeling the drizzling rain soaking through his suit, he realized how few guarantees there were in life. Everything was one big gamble. But there was one thing he was sure about. Octavius was gone, but not for good. This lesson was one he had learned well: time was a healer…and once enough of it had passed, Doctor Octopus would be back.
And there was nothing more dangerous than a man with absolutely nothing left to lose.
Epilogue
Otto stood on the dock in the steady rainfall; his arms crossed behind his back while the sleek tentacles gently wavered around him. He extended his hand out and gripped the gloved hand of the man standing before him, giving him a single firm handshake.
"So we have a deal, then, Octavius?" the man asked. Otto smiled.
"Of course," he said, plucking a small vial filled with purple liquid from his pocket. He dropped the vial into the open palm of his new partner, returning his arm behind his back. Norman held the vial up between thumb and forefinger, gazing at it from behind the mask and cackled, dropping the vial into the pouch slung across one shoulder.
"Aaaahhh. This is like Christmas! This serum – you have no idea how long I've waited to finally hold it in my hand," he chuckled. Otto smiled faintly.
Fool. The thought crossed both of their minds at the exact same time. The green and purple-garbed man hopped up onto one of the posts lining the dock. Thunder rumbled again in the distance.
"All is forgiven, then, Doctor. You've just ensured all the funding you'll ever need for your projects. I expect great things from you in the near future," he said, gesturing wide with his hands. Otto dipped his head, one tentacle watching over his shoulder intently.
"You needn't worry about that, Norman," he said; rain running in streams down his brow and over his cheeks, dripping off his chin. The Green Goblin laughed again and hopped off the dock, rising up above the water on his glider, turning and throwing off a salute in Otto's direction.
"Sorry to do business and run, but I've got other deals to make and people to maim, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be scurrying along now," he said, rising higher into the sky and then disappearing into the distance, the gray smoke trail nearly invisible against the desolate sky.
Otto turned and looked back at the rubble that had once been Andy's warehouse and slowly smiled.
Norman Osbourne, you are a great fool to believe I would ever consider you a worthy enough man to be in the same league as myself. Most certainly not an inferior individual as psychotic as you. I am the mastermind of this operation – you are but an expendable pawn. Soon enough you'll understand that. He began to walk down the pier, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it in his cupped hand, flinging the spent match out into the water. Rain continued to run down his face as he clenched the cigar between his teeth.
However. I don't mind reaping the benefits of such a partnership for the time being. Otto plucked the cigar from his mouth and laughed, wisps of smoke curling around his head as he walked atop the fallen roof of the warehouse, the tentacles stretching out around his body and as the claws snapped shut with sharp-sounding clacks.
Otto Octavius Incorporated.
He liked the sound of that.