Part Two
"Where is he?" The head of security screamed to the young woman cowering in a corner of Octavius' cell amid the dead bodies of the guards. "Damn it, where did Dr. Octavius run?"
"Octopus, it looked like an octopus." She murmured.
He sighed and spoke into his mobile radio, "Octavius is on the loose, I want everyone on alert; we can't let him escape. Got that, people?"
Downstairs in the hospital's heavily guarded lobby, security members nodded, "We understand you, sir." He replied nonchalantly.
Suddenly, the elevator doors burst forward smashing one guard into the wall with lethal force. Out of the empty shaft, Otto emerged his tentacles dragging him into the lobby.
"Crap, the subject is in the lobby, repeat he is in the lobby." One guard yelled in a state of total panic fumbling for his machine gun.
"I don't want to hurt anyone!" Otto screamed only to be answered with gunfire. He deflected the bullets by covering his face with two of his tentacles with amazing speed. "Stop or I'll do something both of us will regret!" He pleaded again with only the gunfire intensifying. "Damn you."
Otto smacked one guard aside and crushed another. His tentacles responded to his every thought; the coordination was stunning; he was on enemies before even Otto realized it. He grabbed a guard one to each of his tentacles and slapped them against the wall with such impact that the floor shook.
One rushing towards him with a feeble nightstick was stopped cold in his steps when one tentacle smashed into his face throwing him straight through the guard post. Otto stared quietly across the lobby in silent horror at his work. Every one of them was dead a life extinguished at Otto's hands. He buried his face in his palm for a minute, almost unable to bear the responsibility.
The distant sound of an elevator traveling down the shaft tore him from his self-imposed pity. Otto bolted for the exit, ripping it apart with ease and escaped.
"This is a lot of BS." Peter declared loudly, "I can't believe this is happening." He said furiously sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless but wearing jeans. MJ had her hands wrapped around his chest while they both silently stared at the television in his room.
Norman Osborn talked to the officer in a conference that had already taken place hours before. "The answer to me seems obvious."
"How can you be so sure that Spider-Man is responsible for the group that kidnapped your son, until now he's never shown any inclination to meddling in economic affairs?" Asked the reporter from a crowd of his colleagues.
Norman sighed deeply, "Because I found this left in my mailbox the other day." He held up a torn fragment of Peter's costume. "Along with a note informing me that H-Harry was already dad. The police assure me the fragment is authentic after comparing it to other fragments of his costume found from other incidents."
Peter grimaced, "That son of a-."
"Tiger? How can you blame, Mr. Osborn? He doesn't know it's not you, somebody else obviously has an axe to grind with you."
He looked at her anxiously and made no sort of reply. Peter assumed that he had lost the piece now in Norman's possession during their last confrontation.
"Is something wrong?" MJ inquired reading his face like a page from an open book, "What is it?"
Peter's frown took an even more somber tone. How could he even begin to tell her? How could he tell her that Osborn was the Green Goblin? That he blamed Peter for Harry's death and in a way he too felt responsible. "Nothing."
"What are the police doing in response to this new information?" Another reporter for the Daily Globe asked.
Norman seemed to almost smile, "A new warrant is being issued out adding to the one already out for the death of Wilson Fisk. Spider-Man is also being put onto the F.B.I Top-Ten most wanted list. In addition I will reward two million dollars for any information leading to Spider-Man's capture."
Peter turned the television off. "Jesus Christ."
"You won't be able to step out the door in costume without a squad of NYPD nipping at your heels." MJ said, her voice heavy with tension, "What are you going to do?"
Slowly to his feet, Peter rose. This was a strike directly at him; the name of Spider-Man had never held much weight. People in the streets, they considered him something of a fool, a kid playing cops and robbers, but he had always appreciated that for the most part everyone agreed with his intentions no matter the result of his efforts. Osborn had just crossed that line and was now running what was left of his dignity through the mud. This was a bluff, Peter knew Norman had no expectations of law enforcement being able to catch him; this was only designed to show Spider-Man that he could attack through a very public venue while Peter was restricted to his alter ego. He spoke below MJ's hearing purposefully, she didn't need to be involved; "He won't intimidate me."
Otto entered the burnt out wreckage of his laboratory. The black spots on the floors were all that remained of his colleagues. He moved debris aside with his tentacles, looking for his salvation.
During this time, Otto cried, he laughed and he pondered killing himself. The rags that hung from his body only glorified his depression.
"There's no way to deny it." Otto told himself in between sobs, "My work was responsible for the deaths of the men who followed me. My arrogance led to their downfall, I should have seen this coming; I could have stopped it." Otto wiped his eyes, "Now, I've killed of my own free will."
Otto collapsed to his knees among the wreckage and vomited into a burnt out trash can. He rubbed his lips with his fingers gently as he descended into the height of his depression.
Then finally, something caught his attention. It was a reflection of the moonlight on a small object. He burrowed through the twisted metal with his tentacle and with it retrieved a sphere.
"Yes, this will do."