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All Peter wants is a good day, and it seems he hasn’t had one of those in months. It should have been simple. Dr. Strange had looked at him so furiously for not considering it, that talking to the M.I.T. admissions officer should have been simple. Of course some new madman had to show up and starting wrecking the bridge with some (awesomely) terrifying metal tentacles, ranting about some machine he’s misplaced.
Where do these guys keep coming from?
(It’s almost nice the guy is seemingly mad at him, though, for all that Peter’s never met this guy. He’s a little tired of fighting Mr. Stark’s personal enemies.)
He’s just starting to get the hang of dodging these metal arms and the cars they’re throwing, when an orange, almost pumpkin-shaped bomb rolls onto the scene and blows up a couple of abandoned cars behind them. A green, pointy-eared elf on a hoverboard emerges from the smoke as Peter and the tentacle guy stare.
“Osborn?” says the tentacle guy, and the elf’s head jerks toward him.
“Dr. Octavius!” The elf flies closer, lifting a hand to his chest as though wounded. “So rude! Going around, shouting out secret identities like I’m just wearing this silly mask for fun!” After a pause, the elf shrugs with a laugh. “Oh well! Take it up with Norman later!”
“I don’t have time for this—foolishness,” says the apparently named Dr. Octavius—and fine, it’s fitting for a made-up supervillain name, but Peter is more used to them just being… slightly more on the nose. Like. Like Doctor Octopus, or something.
He bets the guy doesn’t even have a real doctorate.
The elf on the hoverboard starts circling them slowly. “Hmm… You know, Doctor, you look different. I like it! It’s a good look…”
The M.I.T. admissions lady is still trapped in her car, precariously close to the edge on a bridge made unstable by all the fighting. Peter tries to inch away while Octavius and Possibly-Osborn seem focused on each other.
A tentacle makes a grab for him and Peter barely dodges. “Not so fast, Parker! I want to know what you’ve done with my machine!”
“What is even the point of wearing a mask around you, Otto?” says the elf. “It’s no fun if everyone knows who he is.”
And that makes no sense. “Everyone does know who I am! Where have you been? Who are you guys?” says Peter, exasperated.
“Quiet, bug,” the elf snaps, “I’ll get to squashing you later. Something far more interesting has come up.”
“Enough of this non-sense,” says Dr. Octavius. His tentacles finally seem to lose interest in chasing Peter, irritated enough to focus on the elf. “Norman Osborn is dead, so who are you?”
“You say such hurtful things, honey,” the green elf purrs, and something seems to enrage Dr. Octavius enough that he screams as he leaps at the hoverboard with two tentacles outstretched, his fight with Peter temporarily forgotten.
Peter takes the out and runs to rescue the M.I.T. admissions officer. She murmurs something about him being a hero, but Peter just urges her to run off the bridge while the supervillains are distracted.
He feels he’s missed something when he returns to fight. The green helmet has been discarded, and Dr. Octavius and the elf are making out in midair, a tangle of tentacles balanced precariously on the hoverboard as it drifts away.
“What the fu—!” says Peter just as an orange portal sends him back to the Sanctum.