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Part 1
He waited by the Statue of Liberty, the actuators supporting him as he crouched down on the foot of the statue. The cool midnight air felt gentle against his face as it went through his curly hair, sending wisps of it in different directions. He shivered as goosebumps arose on his arms, but he ignored the cold. He fought against the urge to sleep as he checked his watch, taking in the salty stench of the waters by him.
It took so long for him to build up the courage to go near a body of water.
Wasn’t it supposed to be today? He tried to recall his brief conversation with his Peter prior to the Green Goblin attacking. He mentioned that it was around the end of October when he was removed from his universe. For the past week, Octavius had been camping out here, waiting for his Peter to return.
There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was matted, and hunger tore through his stomach, but he sat still regardless. Give him another half an hour, and then he would leave.
He had a small device here that detected movement just in case. Perhaps he should call it a day and try to get some sleep. Sleep came a lot easier than it used to. For that, he should be at least grateful.
With a growl and a few muttered curses about not being able to take another day, there was a faint, golden glow behind him. He turned around, his actuators at the ready, hovering above him and right under his arms.
His previous anger melted in concern as he saw his Peter appear, falling to the floor as he clutched his stomach.
“Dear boy, what happened?” he asked, running to Peter’s side and tucking his arm under Peter’s arms, elevating him. Peter exhaled sharply at the sudden movement as he tightly held Octavius’s coat until his knuckles went white.
Octavius stopped moving and lifted Peter’s other hand, grimacing at the stab wound that laid underneath it. It was still oozing blood, the crimson shining in the moonlight.
“Peter, you feel warm.” Otto pressed a hand to the other’s forehead, immediately taking it away. “I think it’s infected.”
“Green Goblin…. stabbed,” Peter managed to choke out, gritting his teeth as much as his jaw could.
“I’m so sorry, dear boy. I should have stopped him when I had the chance,” Otto felt tears build up in his eyes.
“Not your fault,” Peter winced, leaning against Octavius.
Octavius scooped up Peter, placing a hand under Peter’s back and another under his legs, carrying him like a child. He felt so light in his arms. Peter nestled against him, burying his face into Octavius’ coat.
“Don’t worry. I have some medical supplies back at my home. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Just stay awake for me, alright? I promise I’ll take care of you.”
“Stabbed,” Peter whispered, and his eyes widened as he laid his eyes on Octavius for the first time that night. “Doc, I thought you drowned.”
“I see. Now come on!” he snapped at the actuators.
The actuators carried him across New York, traversing multiple buildings. Otto shifted Peter in his arms so he could feel the breeze as they moved. Peter did, sighing slightly at the relief. It felt nice against his burning skin, almost like a gentle kiss. Finally, they stopped in front of an apartment building. The actuators carried Otto down on a fire escape.
He stepped onto the platform, opening a window and stepping through it, entering a nicely decorated apartment. holding onto a fire escape. Otto stepped down on it, opening a window. He stepped through it, entering a nicely decorated apartment.
He laid Peter on the couch, placing a pillow under his head.
“This is your home? It’s nice…” Peter commented, but it was cut off by a scream.
Otto jumped at his side, immediately removing the suit to reveal the wound. The blood oozed through it, yellow pus around the corners. It looked like a gaping hole, the muscle inside pink and soft. The smell of iron hung in the air. It took everything in Otto not to flinch as memories of the hospital came flooding back in droves.
“Motherfucker!” Otto cursed loudly, tapping his head to get rid of the flashbacks. One actuator grabbed a medical kit while he grabbed a sewing kit and took out a needle. Another actuator grabbed a pot, filling it up with water and letting it boil.
He ran to the sinks and washed his hands. “Remind me to murder Norman next time I see him,” he fumed to the actuators.
The actuators clicked back in anger, their hissing filling the air. With a glare, Octavius silenced them. He could be angry later. He threw on a set of rubber gloves, casting a glance back at Peter, who held onto the side of the couch with so much force, his face contorted in pain.
Grabbing a piece of cotton, he twisted it and shoved it in Peter’s mouth.
“Bite down on this. I know it won’t help, but at least try.”
Peter complied, his mouth now full of cotton. Octavius grabbed a piece of cloth and pressed on the wound. He could feel Peter jump back, an ugly, muffled wince escaping his lips as he bit down harder on the cotton.
“I know, dear boy, I’m sorry. It’s still bleeding a bit.”
He applied more pressure, switching out for another piece of cloth. It soon got bloodied, and the next three did too. Finally, it managed to stop somewhat. Otto elevated Peter a bit, moving Peter’s hand so it was on the new piece of cloth.
“Just hold onto it, Peter, alright?” he then turned to the upper right actuator, “Is the water done boiling?”
The actuator looked back and nodded, taking the needle and throwing it into the pot to sterilize.
Otto rummaged around the room. “Where the fuck is the washbottle?”?” he growled, his voice still with anger, but threatening to break.
Peter looked around, still keeping an eye on Octavius. He had never seen him this angry before. His eyes were just cesspools of black, occasionally softening when he looked back at Peter, then hardening again. Peter saw it, using a web to pull it closer to him.
Otto heard the noise and looked back. Peter tossed it to him, an actuator catching it and filling it with distilled water.
He tapped Peter’s arm and Peter removed the cloth.
“At least it stopped bleeding,” Otto noted. Peter then spit out the cotton, taking in a deep breath of air. Octavius tried to grab a new piece, but Peter raised a hand.
“Let me breathe, Otto,” he said, “It’s eight legs, not eight noses.”
“Are you sure, dear boy?” he asked, cleaning the dirt and debris around the wound.
Peter nodded. “It still hurts. Tell me you have something stronger than Tylenol."
“I do. I had some knee surgery done last month and they gave me some pretty powerful stuff. You’ll probably burn through it, but it should help.”
“Knee surgery?”
“I’m getting old, dear boy. And having pounds of metal welded onto your back isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”
“At least you look good for your age,” Peter joked.
Otto smirked a bit, taking another piece of cloth and patting the area dry. The tension in the room wasn’t there anymore. The wound was nearly treated, so he allowed himself to laugh. “At least your humor is still there.”
He then took some rubbing alcohol and removed any excess dirt and pus. The cloth was disgusting by the time he finished, but at least the wound was clean.
“Alright, I think we’re done. Just need to stitch it up.”
He put the cloth aside, throwing away the set of rubber gloves. His hands shook violently, so he decided against him doing the stitching.
“Can you guys do it?” he asked the actuators around him.
They nodded, relaying an affirmative message to him.
He then heard Peter breath sharply, no doubt from another jolt of pain. His hands shook even more, and for once, he was grateful for the actuators on his back.
Otto turned to the pot of water, throwing on another pair of gloves, then turned to the actuators.
“In you go. One by one.”
And each one complied, going into the pot of water. Octavius made sure that they opened up to sterilize the intricate pincers that were within them as well.
The actuator dubbed Flo took the needle. Otto turned to Peter, elevating him. With some thread that they also sterilized, Otto waited for it to cool, then the actuators got to work on stitching it.
Peter watched them at work, as each stitch fell into line, delicate loops being formed. The intricate pincers worked quickly, each moving like a pair of fingers. He looked up at Octavius, who had a completely glazed look in his eyes. His hands no longer shook as violently as they began to still. Peter imagined that he was relying entirely on the cameras within the actuators as they relayed their visual feed into his mind.
The last stitch was made, and the thread was cut. The actuators moved away and Otto’s eyes got their usual look back.
“Doc?” Peter said, waving a hand.
“Pardon?” he asked, grabbing the wash bottle again and cleaning the wound, patting it dry.
“Nothing, it was just…. you looked like you were disassociating there for a moment.”
Otto tapped his head. “I can escape into them if I want them to take full control. It feels weird though. But I’ve had several years of practice.”
He accepted a jar of ointment that one of the actuators handed and gave it to Peter.
Peter added the ointment, “How is the chip working?”
“Like a miracle. Remind me to thank…. you, I guess? I’m grateful, truly.”
Peter gave him back the ointment, but Otto pushed it back, closing Peter’s fist around the jar.
“You need it more than I do, dear boy. Now, where did I keep those painkillers?”
Another actuator handed him two pill bottles.
“Thank you. And thanks for the ointment, I forgot.”
The actuators clicked excitedly as Otto gave Peter the pill bottles.
“I would probably just take one of those. I know it’s not good to share it, but I think we can make an exception here.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Peter said, setting them aside.
Part 2
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Octavius raised an eyebrow.
“Who the hell could it be at this hour?”
He went to the door, opening it. In walked Norman, Harry, and Flint.
“Pardon the language, but what the hell are you three doing here? Especially you.”
“You told us that Peter was coming in this week. I believe you said end of October. We’ve been trying to come in every day, but you’re never home,” Flint answered.
“I was at the Statue of Liberty,” Otto said simply, “And apologies for not answering your messages.”
“Holy shit, Doc, what happened to you?” Harry asked, gesturing to Otto’s shirt.
Octavius looked down and saw that his shirt was soaked in blood.
“Ask your father,” he said with a deadpan tone, shooting a murderous glance at Norman.
Norman’s eyes widened, looking back at the lump that was lying down on the couch. “Ah. I see.”
Peter turned over, groaning as he saw Norman.
“Screw you,” he simply said, then turned back again.
“I would have said something a lot more harsh,” Otto added, walking out the living room.
Norman at least had the grace to look down at his feet. “Apologies.”
Otto went into his room, changing his shirt. He tossed his into the laundry, praying that he wouldn’t have to explain anything to the laundromat people.
“When did he arrive?” he heard Flint ask as he grabbed a chair and took a seat.
Otto walked back out, straightening his shirt.
“Not even an hour ago,” Octavius answered, sitting besides Peter, who struggled to sit up. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. Peter leaned into Octavius, exhaustion overcoming him.
Harry sat down besides his father. “Wait, where did Peter go? And why does he say that you stabbed him, Dad?”
Through the searing pain, Peter got his first glance at Harry and gasped.
“Holy shit, man. You’re….. old.”
Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. “Same to you, Peter. It’s called aging.”
“Nah, I mean, you’re no longer a teenager.”
Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. “You’re not dead.”
Now Harry did a double take. “I what now?”
Norman also frowned. “Peter, does Harry…. die in the previous timeline?”
Peter nodded, feeling a single tear fall down his face.
“Is it because of-”
“We shouldn’t dwell on that,” Flint remarked, “Not good to stay in the past.”
“I’m so lost,” Harry looked around at all the men seated around him, “What the hell happened and why do I feel like I missed some inside joke?”
Peter chuckled, wiping away the tears. “It’s gonna take a while to explain.”
Norman grabbed Harry’s shoulder, patting him on the back. “Like an hour.”
Octavius rose up, and Peter leaned back on the couch. “I’ll make some tea while that’s happening. Chamomile or Earl Grey?”
“Earl Grey,” Peter answered. “And Harry? Just suspend your sense of disbelief as a warning.”
Harry chuckled, placing a foot on his knee, glancing back at Octavius, who was boiling a kettle of water. “My father was some maniacal villain, Flint was made of sand, and Doc back there has metal arms attached to him. And you’re Spiderman. I think I can take it.”
Flint snorted as the tea kettle roared. “I doubt it.”
“Octavius, you have coffee instead? I can’t stand tea,” Norman asked.
“Yeah, why are we having tea?” Flint asked.
Peter joined in. “Since when did you become British, Otto?” he snickered.
Octavius raised an eyebrow. “I’ve always been secretly British, my dear boy,” he answered, the actuators rummaging around for the tea bags and cups. He turned to one actuator, who tilted his head in confusion. “Larry, get the round cups in the back of the cabinet. No, the one to your left.”
He then turned back to his guests. “Also, caffeine is horrible for you. Tea is a lot better.”
He dunked in some tea bags and handed them to his guests, who took them, but without protest. Peter wasn’t even a huge fan of tea, yet he still accepted the cup. Honestly, anything hot was good right now. He could feel his fever breaking as he took a sip.
“It’s good to have you back,” Harry said, adding 5 cubes of sugar to his cup.
Peter nodded. “Same to you.”
Norman placed down his cup. “Now, about that explanation-”
Part 3
Suddenly, another portal formed within the apartment, emitting a golden light and a low humming noise. A man fell out of it, landing on the dining room table with a huge THUD. His face was hidden, but he wore a dark red cloak and had salt and pepper hair.
All four men turned their attention to it. Harry immediately jumped, grabbing the nearest object and brandished it as he faced the man. He held the golf club above his head, readying to send it down with a fell swoop.
Octavius recognized the man and sent Mo after him, grabbing Harry by the shirt and pulling him back. Harry squirmed under the grip, looking almost like a kitten being held by its mother.
“Doc, what the hell? It’s some random ass man, what if he hurts us!” Harry yelled, kicking his legs. “Let me go!”
Octavius complied, sending Harry crashing to the floor.
The man in the cloak rubbed his head as he sat up.
“The wizard?” Flint said. “What’s he doing here?”
“I thought we were all done with that,” Norman added, “You sent us home. Unless… he wants to redo everything.”
Octavius scoffed, “Don’t be an idiot. Why would he do that?”
But to be safe, he felt the back of his neck, feeling the inhibitor chip there. He doesn’t know why he entertained the idea, but a little voice was casting doubt.
“Is this what you guys were talking about when you said I wouldn’t understand it?” Harry asked, getting up and rubbing his side.
Peter nodded. “Yep.”
Strange looked up at everyone. “How do you know I’m a wizard?”
Flint raised an eyebrow. “We just saw you not even an hour ago, according to Peter. For me, it’s been a few years. Do you not recognize us?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Strange, how do you not recognize us?” Octavius asked.
“How do you know my name?” Strange asked back (“Wait, did he say wizard?” Harry said to Peter), “I feel like I’m supposed to know you. I wouldn’t have been brought here without a reason.”
Norman placed his hands on his hips. “You really don’t remember us?”
Strange pointed to Peter. “Your outfit. It looks familiar. You’re Spiderman in this universe, aren’t you?”
Peter nodded.
“Wait, universe?” Harry asked. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Yeah, remember me? Peter Parker. You brought a bunch of us into your universe. There were like, two younger versions of me. And there were glowy purple cracks in the sky. And you did some spell or something.”
Strange looked back with a blank face. “Is that name supposed to mean something?”
“Peter Parker? Wasn’t he the boy in that universe?” Flint asked Octavius.
Octavius nodded. “Why don’t you remember him?” he asked, his voice low as he clenched his fists.
Strange rubbed his chin, then tapped his forehead with his palm.
“Well, that explains the funny feeling in my elbow. I must have cast a memory removal spell. It always hurts there when I do.”
“Memory removal?” Norman repeated.
Octavius thought for a moment. “The thing you were yelling. That the multiverse was worsening. Keep it under control. Wait, wait-”
He then growled loudly, frightening everyone around him. He raised a fist.
“YOU CAST WHAT?” Octavius yelled, walking to the man, ready to strike him. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM, YOU PIECE OF S-”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry cried out as he and his father grabbed Octavius’s arms, pulling him back. But he was still edging forward, even when Flint joined.
With two webs, Peter trapped Octavius’s feet as the man struggled to move. An actuator wrapped around him, much to his dismay.
“Let me go!” he cried.
“Wait, what happened?” Norman asked. “What does the spell mean?”
“Don’t you see, you idiot!” Octavius seethed through his teeth, struggling to break free, “The spell was calling everyone who knew Peter Parker. So, he had to wipe everyone’s memories so they don’t know him, to stop the multiverse from breaking. HE’S DAMNED THE BOY TO BE FORGOTTEN!”
He spit out the last sentence with so much venom, Strange was surprised he didn’t die on the spot from mere exposure.
“Wait, what?” Flint asked.
“What the fuck, wizard man!” Harry roared, “That’s really cruel!”
Peter looked up at Strange, his fists now turning white. “Tell me it’s a lie.”
Strange wrung his hands. “It sounds probable. Probably explains the sudden gap in my memory.”
“But his friends, his relatives- his aunt just died- So that means HE DOESN’T HAVE ANYONE! YOU PIECE OF SH-”
Now Peter went to Strange with his fists ready to strike a blow. Flint now got up, grabbing the man and keeping him away, both Osborns also holding him back.
“You monster, you piece of vermin! He’s already been through so much! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM?” he screamed, his voice cracking at the last sentence.
Murderous thoughts flashed through Peter’s mind. Snap his neck. Break his back. Let his blood run through the streets of this New York. His face grew red as he struggled against the men holding him back. His teeth gnashed as his parental instinct kicked into high gear, the ringing loud in his ears as his sixth sense went haywire.
“I promise I apologize for whatever I did. I really didn’t mean to hurt him. But it was the only way,” Strange said, holding out a hand to Peter. “But this is why you don’t mess with the multiverse. We know far too little about it to be playing with it like this.”
Peter looked at him. “So why are you here?”
“I think whatever happened with you and the two other Spidermen has tossed everything into the shitter. We need to fix the multiverse again. And I think you can help. It must be why I was sent here.”
Peter’s anger diminished and the men let go, falling back as they nursed their arms.
“He can’t,” Octavius protested, squirming under the grip of the actuator, “He just recovered from a wound. I can’t lose you again, dear boy.”
Tears built up in his eyes as he looked at Peter. “I’ve already lost one person to foolishness in unknowns, I can’t lose another. It’s too dangerous, like he said. We know little to nothing about the multiverse as a concept. Don’t go, Peter. I’m speaking to you as a mentor. Hell, I’m speaking to you as a father. Please don’t.”
Peter looked back at Octavius. The actuator let go and he ran to embrace Otto, who stroked his hair and held him tight.
“I almost lost you tonight, dear boy. The wound could have killed you if I wasn’t there.”
“I know. But that’s the risk I must take. As Spiderman, I have to save people. I need to go.”
Octavius let him go, placing both hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Goddamn that valiant spirit of yours. But I’m coming with.”
“Otto, I can’t ask you-”
“I know a little bit about the multiverse. I’ve had nearly 20 years of reading on it. It may be faulty, but it’s the best we have.”
Strange crossed his arms. “As much as I would disagree, I think we may need you two. You seem to be the most knowledgeable about it. And that’s saying very little.”
“Alright then. I’ve missed this, getting back into action,” Octavius grinned, clapping Peter on the back. Peter just groaned, webbing for his mask.
“I just want a break. Can’t I get one?” he complained, placing the mask over his face.
“Have fun, I guess,” Harry said, waving back at Peter. “Although I’m still so fucking confused.”
Peter waved back. “Same here, Harry. Same here.”
“We’ll hold down the fort, Octavius,” Norman said, sitting down on the couch.
Flint just sat down, joining him. “I don’t do cleaning, just so you know.”
Octavius smirked. “Fine with me. Food’s in the fridge. Don’t go in the lab unless you want to die.”
Harry did a double take. “Wait, what-”
Strange did a hand motion and opened up a portal. “Come on, time’s a-wasting.”
“Ready, Doc?” Peter asked, looking at his mentor besides him.
Otto clenched his fists, his actuators already hovering over him and ready to attack.
“Why not?”