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The first and last thing Otto Octavius remembered was how much the light burned. Bright, fluorescent light, who's unnatural rays ate at him as if it were a chemical agent. It exhausted him, made him want to retreat back into the darkness of slumber, away from the pain. The only thing that kept him awake was the sound of a distant, yet familiar voice.
“Look! He’s waking up!”
Otto was too dazed to recognize where the voice was coming from, but he knew it was the voice of Norman Osborn, and when Norman Osborn was talking, you listened. Otto’s consciousness crawled closer to the agonizing light. He could just barely make out masked faces and muffled voices through the fog of pain behind his eyes.
“Put him back under. I don't want him awake until we finish.”
“Sir, if we put him back under again he might not wake up. He's gravely injured.”
Gravely injured? Otto was coming to now, holding onto the words. He didn't feel gravely injured. The light hurt his eyes, yes, but the rest of his body didn't hurt. In fact, he couldn't feel it at all. He couldn’t-
His eyes shot open. And it was blinding.
He was in a surgery suite, surrounded by attending nurses and doctors who swarmed him with medical scalpels and prods, soldering irons and welding torches.
‘Welding torches?’ he thought, vaguely. He tried to swat away the offending tools, but his hands wouldn't obey. He could barely turn his head to Osborn, who towered over him. Octavius tried to speak, but could barely summon the air. It felt like there was something in his throat.
“Mr. Osborn?” Otto choked out, “Mr. Osborn, what's happening?” Otto's voice wasn't his own. It was grating, artificial. Norman stared through him.
“Is the harness ready?” He sounded almost bored.
Otto became aware of a hydraulic hissing somewhere beyond his perception. Someone else spoke, just out of view.
“Yes, Mr. Osborn. But, doesn’t this all seem a little… excessive?”
“Hah! Perhaps, but at least we’ll know if the money I spent on the good doctor’s ideas was worth it.” Norman’s voice was ice cold, dripping with bitter amusement. It was the contemptuous voice Norman used when speaking of his most inept employees. Otto had often joined in, laughing with Osborn at the failings of his colleagues, mocking them, knowing he was better than them all. Otto could never fail. Otto was special. Superior. Norman had told him that himself.
“Mr. Osborn, please, I’m frightened.” Otto’s memory was returning now. There had been an explosion. He had been working on a new energy source for Oscorp, one that would outshine Stark’s new arc reactor. It hadn’t been ready for testing, Otto had known that. It was too unstable. But Norman Osborn had insisted.
Finishing his business with the other voice, Norman finally cast his gaze down to Otto. A placating smile spread across his face as Otto gasped for air. Something was trying to breathe for him.
“You should count yourself lucky, Otto. A lesser man might have died. Fortunately, I was there to save you.” There was still soot on his face, his perfectly slicked-back hair left windswept by the explosion, and yet he had found the time to change into a fresh suit.
A surgeon entered Otto’s limited field of vision, he noted how the surgeon’s eyes desperately tried to avoid meeting his.
“The harness is ready, sir.” It was the other voice Otto had heard, muffled by the medical mask he wore.
“Put him in.” Norman said pleasantly. The smile on his face had spread into a predator’s grin that never quite reached his eyes. The surgeon’s eyes, in a moment of weakness, glanced at Otto’s.
“Sir, the patient is awake. We should- he can at least verbally consent to…this.”
Norman snorted. “Really? He doesn't seem awake to me. Otto, raise a hand if you can hear me.”
He couldn't. Norman smiled again.
“See? Isn't that enough to quiet your conscience?” Norman took a step closer to the surgeon, his voice falling to a harsh whisper, “Otto is like a son to me, do not presume to tell me how to care for my family.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air, “Put him in.” He spat. Otto heard the surgeon mumble apologies and scurry off. He tried to turn his head to follow the man, but it was too much. Norman was still talking.
“I'm afraid you've been rather badly injured, boy. Paralyzed it seems. With some serious damage to your respiratory system. It's important you don't work yourself up too much,” Otto felt Norman give him a condescending pat on the head, like a sick pet. The hydraulic hiss grew louder. “But don’t worry, we’ve found a way to ensure you remain useful.”
The attending nurses sat him up suddenly, clutching his trembling arms and snapping shut the buttons on the gray bodysuit he now wore; but not before Octavius noticed the rhythmic flutter of the two lung ports that adorned his torso.
Otto’s eyes widened as he felt something cold slither around the back of his neck and work its way down his shoulders, under his arms. He could feel himself being pulled off of the cot and into the air. Suddenly suspended, Otto’s body hung doll-like and his long, black hair—normally kept back in a ponytail—fell loose in his face.
It was an odd thing. Otto recognized the mechanism holding him in its thrall. He had designed it. It had earned him his doctorate in engineering and a place amongst Oscorp’s top research scientists.
It was a system of hydraulic arms, AI-controlled actuators designed for working in deadly environments no human hand could enter. It had been grafted, with little care, onto some sort of shell, connected to what appeared to be diving gear fused to an auxiliary ventilator. The tentacles writhed as though they were trying to escape—twist out of the sockets that kept them immobilized. Suddenly, Otto realized what the welding torches were for; the final piece that needed grafting: him.
Otto gasped again as the heavy harness closed around him in pieces and he was left dangling in the armature that supported the suit. The doctors surrounded him like flies, poking and prodding. The lack of sensation made it only more disturbing as the first of four ports were welded to his back and implants were placed along his spine.
Slowly, a new sensation began to form. He blinked rapidly as the implants forged a connection between these wild tentacles and the movement center of his brain. The writhing stopped and the arms suddenly fell limp. Bewildered, Octavius reached out, to raise an arm, as Norman had requested.
A tentacle whirred to life, obeying his command. He opened and closed a claw, feeling his own mouth fall open in shock. He reached out again to another arm, causing all of the claws to click up and down against the tile floor. It felt like wiggling his fingers.
He was brought out of his amazed stupor by a raucous laugh. Norman Osborn’s eyes were glowing. He clapped his hands together in awe.
“Amazing…” He breathed. He strode closer, stroking Otto's closest arm, “How does it feel?” he asked it.
Octavius recoiled from the sudden sensory input, drawing the appendage out of Norman's reach. Osborn's gaze followed its movement. The gleam in his eyes deadened as he reached Otto, though his teeth were still showing in a grin.
“What do you have to say, Otto?” Norman said.
What did he have to say? Otto's brows knitted as his eyes moved past Osborn, his mouth trying to form words. The doctors were staring at him in horror, most of them still tightly holding their welding torches or soldering irons. One young medical student’s hands shook as he buried himself in his clipboard, scribbling notes. Only the surgeon who had spoken earlier had the decency to look away when Otto's gaze fell upon him. What did he have to say? His own shaking hands weakly formed into fists. He blinked back tears as the light stung his eyes. What did he have to say?
“What have you done to me, Norman?” he whispered.
Norman's smile fell. His lips pursed, now matching his grim countenance. An eyebrow raised.
“I was expecting a ‘thank you,” he said, before waving over the surgeon who still refused to look up at Otto, “release the restraints.”
The structure holding the body harness in place released, dropping Otto suddenly into the full weight of his new body. He tried to compensate with his new limbs but failed, falling onto his own arms and legs. He looked up at Norman through curtains of hair to find his employer laughing at him. Laughing. Otto brought a claw forward to tuck his hair away as his own fists clenched again and his teeth bared. Otto's pupils dilated as the actuators contracted and he lunged at Norman.
Norman’s eyes widened as he saw Octavius’s plan a second before he attacked, diving out of the way with a gasp. Otto attempted to right himself for a second lunge, but his claws skittered clumsily on the slick tile, sending him shoulder-first into the wall. He cried out in pain before letting out a frustrated growl. He righted his limbs, raising one up before sending it crashing through a table of implements, sending surgical implements scattering. A doctor screamed. Annoyed, Octavius swatted them aside, feeling something snap under his strike. The doctor hit the wall before tumbling to the floor, where they laid silent. Otto turned his attention back to Norman.
The operating theater was in chaos. The young student had thrown himself under a desk, his hands over his head in an effort to protect himself. Several doctors had run out of the room entirely, calling for backup. The surgeon had his eyes closed, his back against the wall. He appeared to be praying. And at the center of Otto’s field of view was Norman Osborn, still on the ground after diving clear, his fresh suit now torn at the seams. His eyes were wild, his hands tearing at the tie around his neck as if it were constricting him. Alerted by the screaming, armed security filled the room, falling into a defensive formation around Osborn.
“TAKE HIM DOWN! FOR GOD’S SAKE, TAKE HIM DOWN!” Norman was howling.
Octavius reared back to strike, but he was too slow. Crackling shots rang out, the stun guns unloading their charges into Otto. He crashed to the floor and could only wrap himself in his own tentacles to block out the bright fluorescent light above him as convulsions wracked his body into unconsciousness.
—————
When Otto awoke again he was in the dark. Alone. Slowly, he stirred. Feeling returned to his new limbs as his mind clawed its way back to consciousness and the neural link again made them one. The nest of arms unfurled to reveal a cell, awash in green light due to the diodes on its occupant's limbs and torso. It was completely silent except for the quiet intake of air through Otto’s gill-like ventilator ports, followed by his own raspy exhale.
“Now then Dr. Octavius, if you're quite finished embarrassing yourself I'd like to have a word with you.”
Octavius jumped at the sudden sound of Norman's voice. He whipped around, his stringy hair now plastered to his face. His arms carried him back into the shadows, the nest reforming, as if it would hide Otto from Osborn’s wrath. Norman continued.
“You have already wasted enough of my precious time and money, Otto. First, you blow up my lab, ruining years of research, then, after I save your life, you repay me by attacking me? Smashing up my medical facility? Terrorizing your colleagues? I swear, I already have an actual child on the way, must I take care of another one here?”
Otto bit his tongue, the comment deeply cutting his ego. Norman shook his head, looking at him with insulting pity.
“I’ve given you a home here at Oscorp. Paying for your schooling, plucking you from the poverty that defined your youth. Did everything I could to be the father you never had, because I believed in your ability. Your genius.” Norman sighed, “Perhaps I was wrong.”
Otto didn't know what to say, still peering at Norman from between his tentacles. Shaking his head again, Norman began to walk away.
“W-wait!” Otto panicked, afraid to be alone. “Please don't leave me here, I can do better! I promise!” He rose up on his tentacles, taking a step towards Norman. Now that the adrenaline was gone, they shook like a newborn deer. Norman paused, waiting, “Mr. Osborn, please. I'll do whatever you say!”
Norman smiled.
“I'm glad to hear that, Otto, I really am. We were doing such good work together, I do hope we can put all this behind us and pick up where we left off.” Norman approached the cell controls, “We are all scientists here, after all.”
The force field surrounding the cell dissipated. Cautiously, Otto approached the doorway, testing the boundaries of his new surroundings. Norman outstretched a hand, and Otto took it, gently wrapping his claw in Norman's firm grip. Osborn spoke:
“It's good to have you back, Dr. Octavius.”