It was over. Finally over.

Those were his last thoughts as he sank towards the bottom of the river, along with his life's work. It had been for nothing. He had worked to better mankind, but instead he caused pain and destruction.

This was for the best, he thought as he closed his eyes, his lungs burning with the need for air as his heavy arms dragged him further into the depths. Finally, unable to hold his breath any longer, he opened his mouth and sucked in a lungful of water, sputtering and coughing, which only allowed more of the liquid to enter. His vision blurred; dark spots formed and quickly grew to envelop his sight. The last sensation he felt was the pressure of his actuators wrapping tightly around him, seemingly seeking comfort. As his mind faded, he reached out to put a hand on them, offering comfort to the things he had come to regard as his children. Then he felt nothing.

--

He was awake. Everything was bright, much too bright. Shielding his eyes, he requested that the actuators look around for him. Without his glasses, he couldn't see much of anything. Having stared into a miniture sun does tend to damage corneas.

Their claws/heads (he was never really sure what to call them) swiveled around, opening to allow their cameras to get a clear picture of their surroundings and projecting the image into his mind. He seemed to be in New York still, but there was something off about it. The skyline wasn't quite right.

Confused but quickly realizing that he needed to move soon if he wanted to avoid being spotted, he told the actuators to find somewhere they could hide out. They lifted him into the air and began to carry him off toward some of the older buildings nearby to see if they could find an unoccupied one.

After finding a suitable hideout, he sat and tried to remember how he got here. "I was at the docks. I had built my fusion reactor. Then Spider Man- no, Peter Parker (he still couldn't believe it was him) stopped me. I was pulling the reactor into the river, and I sank. Then...", he trailed off, not able to remember after that.

Father.

It was one of the actuators.

Father, you were dying. Why did you do that, Father? I thought that organic organisms were programmed to preserve their lives.

He sighed; he hadn't expected this line of questioning from them. Then again, they had asked him for comfort, so in a way, he guessed they were like children. Always learning and full of curiosity.

"We are. But I was... malfunctioning." He decided to try to use their current vocabulary to help them understand better. "When a human goes through traumatic events, such as excessive physical or mental damage, they can malfunction. The part of them that is there to preserve them turns off."

So...you wanted to die?

Another actuator asked, sounding almost hesitant.

"Yes.", he confirmed.

The actuators froze for a moment, then repositioned themselves so their cameras could be pointed at him from the front.

Father, is it because of us? We caused you excessive physical damage. Is that why?

They asked him, their concern evident.

He blinked in shock. "NO!", he yelled, making himself jump. "No", he continued more quietly, "it wasn't because of you. You helped me. I wouldn't have survived the accident or anything afterwards if it weren't for you." It was distressing to him to know that his actuators- no, his children blamed themselves for his attempted suicide.

But, you said-

"I know, but I just meant that as an example. It wasn't the physical damage. It was... well, I lost my wife. She was there during the demonstration, and she... she didn't make it out." Tears began to fall from his eyes as he recounted it to them. He knew that they had been so focused on their task and protecting him that they most likely hadn't paid attention to the others at the demonstration.

Father, is there a way to repair this malfunction? We can help.

Yes, we can help! We're great at repairs!

Yes Father! Let us help!

We want you to function correctly. Tell us what you need.

The actuator's voices rang out in a chorus of agreement inside his head.

He laughed sadly, shaking his head. "There isn't much to be done. At least, not by you. I know that you care for me, but in order to help me I need someone who can better understand my malfunction. Thank you, though", he said with a soft smile.

...we can understand, Father.

One of them said quietly.

We were so scared. When you sank, we thought... we thought that you were gone.

A second said in a way that seemed almost upset. They must have developed their own emotions, or an equivalent to them.

We thought we had failed you. We don't want to fail you.

Another interjected.

We thought you wanted to get rid of us. That you would rather destroy the work and yourself than exist with us...

The last added sadly.

It finally dawned on him. They thought that he tried to kill himself to get away from them. "I swear, it had nothing to do with you. You hurt people, but you were only acting in what you thought was my best interest. I was in shock. The only thing I knew at the time for sure was that I needed to finish my work. That it would help people. I was so lost in my grief that I thought the only way to rid myself of it was to help as many people as possible. And I truly thought I was. But I was wrong. Not you, me. This was my fault. Please don't blame yourselves." He was out of breath and practically sobbing by the time he finished.

Sensing his distress, his children moved to wrap around him, enveloping him in an embrace reminiscent of what they had done when he was sinking into the river. He knew it was as much for his comfort as theirs.

He leaned his back against the wass he had propped himself up against, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest for the first time in days. As his breathing evened out and his mind slipped into sleep, he thought to himself that he would really need to get new clothes tomorrow.

--

The next day, he awoke to find a pile of clothes near his feet. Confused, he sat up and glanced around, looking for whoever might have left them. Finding no one, he only grew more confused.

Father, you said that you wanted new clothes. Did we do well?

One of his children spoke up.

We tried to get you something like your current clothes, so that you would be comfortable.

Another added.

Laughing slightly, he looked at them, stunned. "How did you manage this?", he inquired.

It was Flo's idea.

One of them offered.

"Flo?", he asked more confused than ever.

We have decided that we should have names. Children have names, do they not?

The one on the left side of his head responded.

"Ah. That makes sense. So who's who?", Otto asked, curious.

They introduced themselves as Harry, Larry, Flo, and Moe.

"Alright then, so how exactly did you get these clothes?", he repeated his inquiry from earlier.

We went to one of the buildings close to here while you slept, and retrieved clothing from several stores. No one saw us, it was dark and there was no one around.

Flo explained.

Otto sighed. "I greatly appreciate it, but you can't do that again. It's called stealing. It's not right." He added, "but you didn't know that, so I am not upset.", knowing that if he didn't they would become upset and guilty again.

Looking more closely at the clothes, he saw that they were right. It was indeed a very similar outfit to the one he was wearing, and it looked to fit him as well.

Slowly, with the help of his children, he changed out of his wet, dirty clothes and into the fresh ones they had brought him. He almost wondered how they had moved that far without him waking up, but he realized that it had been at least three days since he slept previously. It was no wonder they were able to leave and come back without his notice.

Now changed into his new clothes, he decided to set out to find someone familiar. Maybe he could find Parker, and ask him just what the hell was going on. Surely he would know.

Before he left, he noticed that there was a pair or dark glassed dangling from Harry's claw. It was shyly offering them to him.

I found these for your optical malfunction.

Harry said hopefully.

Smiling, Otto reached out and took the glasses. Putting them on, he made his way out into the city to search for answers.