Well, it is time for another update for this story. And we get another glimpse of one of the villains skulking around. We get to see how his plans are proceeding along with everything else going on in this story. I hope you enjoy.
He never heard his brother approach until he was right behind him, Roderick placing a hand on his shoulder and startling his twin. Daniel always hated how stealthy and sneaky his brother truly was, though no one else ever seemed to realize it. It used to creep him out when they were children. And those traits continued to bother Daniel when Roderick slipped into his lab without warning.
"Daniel, have you been a busy scientist?" he said in an overly-friendly manner, the man a mirror image of his more nervous brother. "How are my newest special projects coming along?"
He reached for a stack of papers, knocking over a cup holding pens and pencils in the process. He was rather fond of the mug. Even chipped from various accidents over the many years, the mischievous little cartoon hobgoblin painted on the side was intact and clearly sticking a "kick me" sign on the back of cartoon man. Daniel remembered buying the cup on a whim back in college, thinking it was amusing and that he needed something to drink his coffee. Now he kept it for storage at his lab station. He needed that little hint of personality and individuality because Roderick seemed determined to smother it. And he couldn't stop his twin.
Shuffling through the pages anxiously, Daniel tried to find the relevant information for him. He never asked where his brother obtained the various plans, formulas, and even prototypes he would ask to be recreated. He didn't ask because Daniel was afraid of what the answer might be. Legality and common decency weren't really large concerns for Roderick. What he wanted, he got.
"The plans you copied for the glider, the concussion and incendiary bombs, the smoke and gas-emitting bombs, and the combat armor proved relatively easy to replicate and improve the designs," Daniel reported carefully. "The blueprints were very detailed and the mechanics were rather understandable for the engineers. It wasn't as complicated as Stark's arc reactors or his Iron Man suits, but they should still make an impression when you unveil them. The glider isn't quite as effective as Stark's repulsor technology, but it is close. And they're already working on copying the armor designs for combat in deserts rather than more tropical climates. The green shade would stand out too much."
"If I unveil them," he said thoughtfully. "There might be a way to make better use of them. It is just a question of short-term benefit versus long-term. The previous purpose for them would certainly solve my competition problems in a unique fashion. It is worth consideration." Roderick nodded to himself before glancing back towards his brother and asked, "How are your efforts with the vial of formula going?"
Daniel glanced down nervously, flipping through the pages to buy some time. He already knew the answer since he'd personally worked with the substance while delegating the more technological projects to others. He was better with biochemistry than he was with engineering and mechanical work. And he recognized what the formula was intended to be, even if his brother didn't say anything when he delivered it. Daniel knew it was supposed to be a super soldier serum and did his best to work with it. He just wasn't certain how Roderick would handle the results so far.
"I've already identified and replicated the formula based on the sample provided," said Daniel cautiously. "But after the initial testing with lab rats, there does seem to be the problems you mentioned might be a concern. Most demonstrated increased strength, endurance, durability, and a heightened healing factor. But a few became more aggressive, acting insane at times. I've been trying to work on reducing those symptoms while also looking for difference in the rodents that might have influenced which ones reacted badly. But trying to adjust the formula might take years to complete."
"Years?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "That is unacceptable."
Daniel looked away and said apologetically, "If you want it to have any military or commercial use, then I'm afraid those are the facts. The possible side effects are too extreme to risk it and so far we have no way to tell which recipient will react badly to it. And that's not even counting the time it would take for the required trials on more lab rats and the later human trials, which we can't even consider until the current problems are handled. I'm sorry, but there is no way to speed it up. Not without great risk and ignoring all forms of legality, which would limit your potential customers."
Roderick was silent, but there was a calculating expression that made his brother nervous. Some people might underestimate the fashion designer. He was shrewd and had a strong will, but so many people still thought of him as a harmless man with a sense of style. Daniel knew better. He was smart, ruthless, proud, and somehow pragmatic and impractically self-centered at the same time. He was dangerous when provoked.
"What about adjusting the formula so it will work safely on at least one person?" asked Roderick.
Alarm began to hit Daniel hard. That question could theoretically be completely innocent, but he knew his twin. He suspected Roderick's plans were dangerous to everyone.
"I wouldn't risk it. This resembles the attempts at recreating the super soldier serum and they never work well," Daniel warned uneasily. "I remember the other reported attempts and what little is known about the original formula from Dr. Erskine. Almost all biochemists know something about it. They tend to be very personalized with their results, depending greatly on the recipient's physical and mental state. The exact effects depend on the person. And if you try it…"
"What? You think I can't handle it?" asked Roderick, crossing his arms. "You think that I'm not good enough for it to work?"
"I didn't say that."
"It will work for me. I deserve it. If Norman could handle the effects of the formula, then I can certainly benefit from it," he snapped, making his brother jump back while purposefully ignoring the name Roderick mentioned. "He let himself get drawn into a petty feud with the costumed vigilante. That was his mistake. He took a useful tool for business and squandered it for personal reasons. I'm better than that. I'll use it to eliminate my competition without involving others, leaving loose ends. I'll use it to better handle my greedier black market contacts. I won't use it for revenge or frivolous purposes. That's the actions of a fool and only leads to self-destruction."
As he always did when Roderick discussed more problematic topics, Daniel went into denial and tried to forget the details. He knew better than to remember it. He did whatever Roderick told him and tried to forget what he suspected about his twin's actions. Daniel was just another tool for the man, using all his skills, traits, and knowledge to assist his brother however necessary. He'd even impersonated Roderick in public a few times when he needed an alibi or simply to be in multiple places at the same moment. Whatever Roderick wanted, Daniel made sure he got it and pretended not to realize what was happening.
"Give me at least some time to minimize the risks," Daniel said quietly, resigned to what was coming. "I'll see what I can do to improve the formula."
He nodded firmly and said, "A little time should be all right. The rest of the equipment can be improved in the meantime." Then he smiled at Daniel in a friendly manner, making the nervous twin shiver. "I knew I could count on you, Daniel. You never disappoint me."
"I know better than to risk it," he said.
"morning, Father should get up, need breakfast," chirped Flo quietly in his head, pulling Otto reluctantly from sleep.
He didn't need to open his eyes yet and he wasn't willing to risk it either since he took the goggles off at night, the weight too much of a hindrance to sleep properly. Instead, Otto let the four cameras feed him the images of his surroundings as he tried to wake up properly. He wasn't always a morning person in the past and the actuators didn't properly sleep, making it hard to fall asleep sometimes. Add in the fact his "bed" was a pile of old cushions, blankets, and scraps of fabric against a wall that managed to form a semi-reclined position where he added a pair of pillows as buffers between his shoulders and the metal actuators… and his reluctance to get moving in the morning became very understandable.
Flo and Mo fed Otto images of his own tired face as they looked towards him while Larry and Harry's cameras were glancing around the former office of the warehouse, keeping watch for possible threats. The space had been straightened up since he'd first moved in, emptied of trash and filth. Other than the cushions and blankets piled in the corner to sleep against, it was fairly empty. It was also the only part of the building that wasn't on ground level, making it even more difficult for someone to sneak up on them using the ancient and creaking stairs. That didn't stop at least one actuator from remaining on guard all night just in case, staring at the empty space.
"morning, Father," Flo repeated. "get up, eat"
"All right, all right," mumbled Otto, reluctantly sitting up the rest of the way. "I'm awake. I'm getting up."
Otto pushed off his trench coat that currently doubled as a blanket while Mo gently pulled the goggles back on his face. With his light-sensitive eyes now suitably protected, Otto could open them and observe the world properly. Blinking tiredly, he then took on the tricky task of threading the actuators through the hole in the back of the trench coat so he could put it on. Clothing wasn't as simple now that there were several long pieces of metal fused to his spine. Shirts didn't really work and even coats were a hassle. Winter would be particularly unpleasant, bundling up against the cold being essentially impossible now.
Once he finished the necessary acrobatics to pull the trench coat on, Otto finally stepped out of the old office/impromptu bedroom. His various efforts to improve the warehouse were making it feel more comfortable and less like a temporary dwelling. The place certainly had electricity and running water now, but it was more than that. Through a combination of scavenged wood, repurposed old crates, and even a few pieces of furniture that someone tossed out that he'd repaired, Otto built a decent-sized work table that now supported his cobbled-together computer and the growing collection of tools and random cannibalized electronics. A little further away were a sturdy metal stool, a folding chair, and a solid wood crate with a blanket draped across it that served as a table. That was where he headed in a tired mental fog.
After his time making due with a battered cooler and such, Otto managed to obtain a mini-fridge similar to what college students might keep in a dorm room. There wasn't much space inside, but he could at least keep a few basic staples. Adding a cheap microwave opened a few more possibilities to the menu. While he still couldn't store or make anything elaborate in the pseudo-kitchen space, he wasn't depending on take-out for every meal either.
Pulling out a box of bargain-brand cereal, Mo set it on the table while Flo collected the cheap dishes and silverware he'd invested in. Larry retrieved the plastic cups and Harry grabbed the carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Otto was still too groggy to properly organize his thoughts for the complicated process of breakfast, so the actuators went through the preparations without much input. By the time he was sitting on the stool, the bowl of cereal was waiting for him.
"Kitten, are you still here? We have breakfast," called Otto as he reached for a spoon.
There was some quiet shuffling around at his words, but he already knew she was awake. She was a light-sleeper, going completely on alert and aware at the slightest sound. She would have certainly awakened at the noise of him and the actuators moving around. The only question was if she was still in the warehouse and the shuffling sounds were her way of answering, the girl normally too quiet and stealthy to make noise on accident.
Even after she stayed that first night, terrified of some nameless horror that compelled her to flee to the warehouse, Kitten didn't do things in a predictable fashion. She didn't stay every night just as she didn't visit every day. Sometimes she snuck out before he woke up. Sometimes she slipped inside during the middle of the night. And sometimes she didn't show up at all. But Otto checked in the mornings anyway just in case she was still around so she could have breakfast.
It was important to feed strays regularly so they would keep coming back, after all.
She crept out of the junk corner of random wires and broken crates, her corner. The girl clearly felt safest with a few hiding spots and an easy escape, so Otto left that part of the warehouse alone as much as possible. From what she'd seen the few times he'd looked around when she wasn't there, Kitten took the offered blankets and built a little nest in one of the half-broken crates. While it wasn't exactly a proper bed, it was a step up from sleeping on the streets like he suspected she still did on the nights she didn't stay.
Otto waited patiently as she crawled out of her hidden location and scurried cautiously into the more open area of the warehouse. There was still caution in her movements and her gaze when she approached him, but far less than when he first met Kitten. And there wasn't fear or dread. Kitten still didn't get within arm's reach if she could help it, but she would easily get within the range of the actuators. They both knew the actuators could grab her if Otto really wanted her and she wouldn't be able to escape in time. The fact she didn't seem to care about that fact indicated either an extreme amount of denial or a small tendril of trust.
"Cereal?" he asked.
Kitten nodded. She curled up in the folding chair across from him, the improvised table serving as a barrier between them. Flo quickly placed a bowl in front of the girl.
"Still no milk in the cereal? Just the cup?"
She nodded again as Flo and Mo finished getting her breakfast ready. The first morning they prepared her a bowl of cereal with milk in the bowl, Kitten clearly wasn't happy about it. She ate it, hunger having long since taught her not to waste food, but he'd recognized a certain lack of enthusiasm. She just wasn't a fan of soggy and milk-saturated cereal. So he and the actuators proved dry cereal instead while she drank her milk from a plastic cup. As long as the skinny, scrawny child ate enough, what did it matter how she preferred her cereal?
As she crunched through the contents of her bowl, Otto couldn't help smiling a little. There was no pattern to when Kitten would show up or how long she would stay, but that didn't change the fact he was growing used to having her around. And he rather liked her company.
Kitten's continued presence did make him wonder sometimes about how he interacted with her. He didn't have much experience dealing with children, but he remembered how his parents treated him in nearly polar opposite ways. And neither one was that great.
Torbert Octavius was a cruel, drunken, violent man who held no patience or understanding for a shy and intellectual son, acting as if his good grades were an attempt to show off that he was somehow "better" than his factory worker father. And when Otto suffered from bullies, his father only added to the torment due to disgust. No son of his was going to be too weak to defend himself.
Mary Octavius, on the other hand, seemed loving and nurturing in comparison to her husband. She even tried to defend her son's intellect to her husband, though insulting the work of manual laborers didn't really help soften his temper at all. She pushed her son towards academic excellence, but there was a dark side to her treatment of Otto. Especially after Torbert's death, and even before technically, she used emotional manipulation and guilt to mold, control, and isolate him from outside influences. Otto didn't even realize what she was doing until years later, but she actually continued it until she made the mistake of commanding Otto to break up with his new girlfriend in order to take care of his mother instead. It was a difficult choice, but Otto never regretted choosing Rosie and walking out of that house.
The point, however, was that neither of his parents treated him in a healthy manner. And other than Curt and his son, Otto rarely saw a proper adult-child interaction that wasn't similarly dysfunctional. There were multiple reasons why he and Rosie never had children before her death, with his work being just one of the more obvious ones. But he'd been concerned that he may inadvertently repeat his parents' actions on a new generation. And though Rosie reassured he would never be like Torbert and Mary Octavius, they had decided to wait. Then it was too late.
But so far, he felt relatively confident about how he was getting along with his stray. He might be a supposedly-dead criminal with homicidal actuators fused to his back and yet Otto knew he wasn't treating Kitten as badly as his parents or possibly even hers, based on what he'd guessed so far. She was safe, fed, and increasingly comfortable in his presence. Even with no idea what he was doing and uncertain about the future, the girl wasn't facing physical violence or emotional manipulation. While he couldn't exactly label the situation or the relationship towards the small child who occasionally stayed with him, Otto could take a small amount of comfort from the fact he wasn't repeating the same mistakes as those who raised him. He was better than that when it came to taking care of a child.
That was something he'd never expected or considered. And perhaps if he had taken a chance years ago, then he might have changed everything. He might have a family.
"Rosie would have loved you," he said quietly as he watched the girl.
Apparently not quietly enough since Kitten looked up, staring at him questioningly. Otto just smiled wistfully and shook his head.
"Never mind. Just a small regret about what will never be."
Mary Jane threw another kick just as the instructor called a brief time out, all the students relaxing thankfully (or collapsing tiredly to the padded floor in one case). Breathing hard, she pushed a few strands of sweat-soaked hair back out of her face. This particular instructor was infamous for going hard on even the newest students, pushing them to their limits. Several people took the class out of a desire to lose weight or gain a bit more muscle tone only to limp out in pain. He treated every class as if they needed the skills immediately to save their lives. And that was exactly why Mary Jane signed up.
She was dating a costumed superhero. There was no denying it. And even before she started dating Peter, she was kidnapped by two dangerous criminals to use as a hostage and attacked by a gang in an alleyway. There was a reason he'd been afraid to start a relationship before. She would be a tempting target for any enemy of Spider-man should they learn the truth. The kidnapping and villain attacks could only grow worse. She knew the dangers of dating Peter and accepted them, but that didn't change the fact that she was now the biggest damsel in distress target in the entire city. There were definitely more kidnapping and murder attempts in the future.
But Mary Jane wasn't going to stay a helpless victim.
She knew what her future held, so she would prepare for it. Kick-boxing and Krav-Maga lessons were added to her schedule. Eventually she might need to narrow it down to just one fighting style, especially if her time and finances became too tight, but she would have to wait to see which worked best for her. She already added a can of pepper spray to her purse and a smaller one to her keychain. She was still debating the merits of a tazer alongside her other preparations, but Mary Jane suspected she would ultimately get one. It paid to cover all her bases.
She took a quick drink from her water bottle as she listened to the latest directions for the new move. Peter might have strength, the ability to spin webs and stick to walls, and some difficult-to-explain Spider Sense thing, but Mary Jane refused to be helpless just because she was normal. She refused to be useless and powerless. And she wasn't afraid of hard work. That same determination that earned her roles in plays would ensure she developed the necessary survival skills to date a superhero.
"All right, now that we're warmed up with something easy, let's really get into it," announced the instructor.
While a few people groaned at the announcement, Mary Jane just tightened her short ponytail and smiled. She could do this. She could make this work.
Peter fought villains in the past to protect her. And she knew he would put her safety before his happiness, even if that meant someday breaking up if the danger seemed too great. She knew Peter would do it. That meant Mary Jane would have to ensure the threat never grew that extreme. She loved him. Surely she could fight to make their relationship last? And if that meant learning to fight literally, so be it.
At the instructor's command, she threw a swift kick that would someday be strong enough to knock a man to the ground. Mary Jane flung herself into the rhythm, imaging the faces of anyone who ever doubted, underestimated, or belittled her abilities as her target. Future kidnappers wouldn't know what hit them.
"You have something already?" said Harry, barely stepping inside the lab before receiving the surprising news.
"It wasn't easy, but I was highly motivated, Mr. Osborn," Morbius said, looking paler than the last time they spoke and yet triumphant. "The sample and the previous reports you provided were very helpful, but I still needed to go back to the original formula in order to figure out why it interacted so badly with the subject's mental health in some cases. I doubt that anyone would be able to completely eliminate the risk of possible side effects without greatly reducing the desired results in the process, but I did reduce the frequency and severity of those side effects in the lab rats. Now they would almost be considered to be at an acceptable risk level for the next stage of testing."
Harry couldn't help being impressed. It was one thing to know Morbius was a brilliant man with a Nobel Prize. It was quite another to see him perfect a formula no one else in Oscorp could manage. Actually, since they were basing it on the super soldier serum from the 1940s, the fact Morbius fixed the Human-Enhancer Formula meant he'd just exceeded the efforts of possibly hundreds of scientists. He'd certainly earned his promised funding.
"You have exceeded all of my hopes and expectations," said Harry. "I can't thank you enough for this. Now my father's final pet project has a happy ending."
"It was my pleasure, Mr. Osborn," Morbius said. "The experience was very enlightening and inspirational for me. It actually gave me a few ideas on how to approach the cure that I've been working on."
With shaking hands, he handed back the stack of paper and a vial. The substance was a little more yellow than the green shade he was familiar with. Morbius didn't have to say a word for Harry to know this was the corrected form of the formula.
"While I did write down the new formula and process of creating it, I didn't publish anything yet," continued the scientist. "You requested that I keep it quiet and I have done so." He smiled ruefully and said, "I don't need another Nobel Prize anyway."
"Again, thank you for your discretion," Harry said. "In the future, the circumstances may change and you'll be free to publish what you've done. Until then, I appreciate you indulging me on this matter."
Morbius nodded, looking uneasy for a moment. It wasn't guilt for his secretive work. This was something else. Harry recognized the expression. He wanted to ask a question, but was nervous about bringing the matter to the attention of his boss. Harry could guess what he wanted to know.
"The first portion of your new funding is already yours," he said. "I actually finished arrangements for it last night. That was what I was coming to tell you, Dr. Morbius."
"Before you knew I was finished?" asked Morbius.
"I was fairly confident you would succeed eventually, so why should I make you wait too long?" he asked. "I know that your personal project is time sensitive."
Glancing down towards his pale, slightly shaking hands, Morbius said, "Yes, I suppose you could say that. Thank you, Mr. Osborn."
"Not a problem. I wish you all the luck in the world with your cure. You have my full support."
So while Roderick is trying to get an improved form of the Human-Enhancer Formula as soon as possible, Harry has beaten it too him. This proves that once again it is better to reward someone for success rather than terrify them of failure. Plus, Morbius had the old notes and is a Nobel Prize-winning expert in biochemistry. That gives him a bit of an edge.
Yeah, Otto's family life wasn't the greatest, which is part of the reasons in the comics it is so easy to shove him down the slippery slope towards villainy. The drunken and violent father? It was in the comics. Emotionally-manipulative mother? In the comics. The only difference is that she succeeded in making Otto break up with a woman because she "needed" him, only to go out on a date herself. That led to him standing up for himself for the first time towards her, which shocked her enough to give her a heart attack and die. That depressed him pretty severely, leading to Otto being distracted at work and causing a lab accident…
But in this version, Otto chooses the girl and leaves his mother while in college. Thus he marries Rosie, makes friends with Curt, and actually has a decent chance at life for a while. Of course, then "Spider-man 2" happened, but at least he's doing a little better than the comic version.
Also, Mary Jane is doing the most practical thing someone dating a superhero can: she's adding some defensive skills. People are going to attack and kidnap her. That's the way it works. But at least she can make it harder on them.
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.