Chapter Text
"Failure".
It was unfortunately a word Otto was familiar with. His father would scream it. His peers would whisper it. Norman Osborn would imply it.
A word he hated with every fiber of being.
It was the very reason he became a scientist, worked so hard to get where he was, gave up the relationships he loved- Even before the arms came into his life, something within him knew the sacrifices he made were not worth it.
Because success meant nothing when nobody recognized you for it.
When the mechanical arms fused into his spine, they all claimed it changed him. Made the pitiful sniveling doctor into a monster. But Otto knew better.
It made him free.
They say what you do with power makes a man. But with the arms in his grasp- this was retribution for every stone ever hurled Otto's way. Everyone was going to recognize him whether they wanted to or not.
Then the Spider-Man came.
And for three years, some sniveling idiot in a Halloween costume became the greatest hurdle Otto's ever come across.
It didn't matter if he tried to capture the arachnid, kill him, or stay as quiet as possible- this clown was determined to hunt Otto down and make a fool out of him.
Sipping his fourth shot, Otto's fingers tapped onto his desk. He has to be going about this all wrong somehow.
Spider-Man wasn't undefeatable. Otto has seen what the goblin has accomplished. He frowned, leaning back into his chair.
He finds it a bit insulting that the arachnid would hesitate to fight a man in a green suit more than him. Then again, the web-slinger did act a bit differently ever since that girl was dropped off a bridge.
Otto doesn't have all the details, but he remembers some interviews where a witness claimed to have seen Spider-Man cradle her body.
Perhaps, the mind was a lot more fragile than he believed.
Either way, with the parts Mysterio has stolen, there's no doubt Spider-Man would interfere again. Pressing a computer tab, the lights above flickered. Otto was a stubborn man, he could admit that, but not one to make the same mistakes twice.
As the screens above turned on one by one, Dr. Octopus smiled.
He had eyes across an entire city after all.
"What kind of man do you want to be"?
It was three years ago when Uncle Ben asked him that question. It still hasn't managed to leave Peter since.
At the time, he didn't really understand what Ben meant. It had only been a month since he had been bit by the spider. Weeks since he had gotten his first wrestling gig. All Peter could think about was how Life was finally paying him back what it owed him.
So when Ben grabbed him, told him he had something really important to say, Peter didn't take him seriously like he should have. Looking back, it was like he somehow knew it was his last day on earth.
"What kind of man do you want to be"?
As much as it hurts, he understands now.
Swinging from building to building, Peter soared high above Queens. It's been three years since that awful day, three years since he chose to be Spider-man. While it hasn't made life any easier, not a day goes by where he isn't reminded of how much his city needs him.
Such as Mysterio getting away. Again.
It's the third time this month Peter's caught the guy stealing computer hardware. The second time he's managed to get away with the goods too. Skidding across a rooftop, Peter lifted his mask over his nose, gasping for air. To make matters worse, other than Mysterio's heist, it was a quiet night. Nothing to rid of the sinking feeling in his gut.
Mysterio now has the parts to create something truly awful, and if Peter's hunch is correct-
The Sinister Six was back.
Catching his breath, he had half a mind to sit down. On top of coming home late, the last thing he needs is a panic attack. Awkwardly smoothing the top of his head, Peter took a deep breath.
He was going to be okay.
Probably going to be covered with bruises and possibly a couple of broken bones, but being alive counted for something right?
After lightly smacking his knees, Peter stood up and shot a web. The blinking camera behind him going unnoticed.
With the sun shining through his window, exactly where his face is, like good considerate sunlight, Peter blearily opened his eyes. He glanced at his alarm clock.
Thank god it was Saturday.
Slapping on whatever he could find, Peter walked down the stairs and straight into the kitchen. Sitting at the table, Aunt May turned away from the plies of paper sitting in front of her and looked at Peter. "Hello sleepyhead, the mail came in, some of its for you."
Pulling a chair out, Peter sat down. "For me?"
Aunt May nodded. "Mh-hm. Most of its from the Bugle and Middleton. However, There's this blank one- it says it's for you but there's no name on it".
As Peter grasps the letter, May leans forward and whispered, "I think it might be the internship."
"Aunt May, I submitted that application months ago."
"Oh, you never know Peter!" She stood up from her seat, heading toward the fridge. "It may have taken them a long time to see yours, you don't know how many applications those fancy laboratories get."
After turning the envelope around, Peter began to rip it open. "Makes it all the more likely they won't accept mine."
"Peter, I've read your application. It's like you live in a another world. You'll do fine."
Taking it out of the envelope, Peter straightened the folded paper out. "Thanks for the confidence, Aunt May."
"I wasn't talking about your grammar. Although it needed a little work--"
Peter sat up straighter. "And you're telling me now!"
She turned, "Oh, I didn't want to break your little heart. You were so proud of it."
"You're breaking my heart right now."
Closing the fridge and holding out a plate of leftovers, May scoffed. "Oh hush you."
Peter smiled, shaking his head. Looking down at the paper, the top read;
Hello Spider-Man
Blinking, Peter read it again.
Hello Spider-Man
He knows Aunt May just sat down, he can smell the food on the plate she just handed him. She's telling him to take care of himself. But Peter can't hear a thing.
He can feel May place her hand on his arm, he's not looking at her, but her eyes must be wrinkled with worry. She's asking him if he's alright.
Peter swallowed.
"I'm okay, Aunt May. I--"
He stood, the chair beneath him scraping against the tiled floor. "Something has come up, I need to go."
"Peter...? Peter, what's wrong?"
Wrenching the front door wide open, Peter ran down the sidewalk, Aunt May calling after him.
Hello Spider-Man,
It's been a while, though the same can't be said for Mysterio.
I have been thinking about these past three years. For the longest time, I've never understood why I could not defeat you.
I've come to an epiphany recently. I think you'll appreciate it, as it doesn't result in your end.
We're watching you.
Follow my directions, and perhaps May Parker will have a pleasant evening.
Your call,
The Sinister Six