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His first thought was to just run away. The moment he saw Otto in this cell he felt a stitching pain in his chest and found it hard to breathe.
It’s a terrible idea, Norman. A terrible, terrible idea.
He would probably leave right away if he didn’t notice how the man he came to visit started to raise his eyes. Norman was far from his cell, so there was no way he saw anything other than his silhouette… but Otto knew it was him and Norman was sure of that. It was far too late to back out.
He tried to look confident, but nothing about this situation was making him feel confident. He was coming back to him, like a dog with a tail between his legs, to beg him for help, which he had every right to deny him. Every step towards the cell of Otto Octavius was making him feel more and more vulnerable and he felt like he won’t have much of his boldness once he gets there.
It felt like many minutes, those couple of steps. When he finally reached the glass that was isolating Otto from the prison’s corridor he stood there for a while, waiting for the man to address his presence. When he finally spoke, Norman felt so much coldness in his voice it was almost as he was stabbing him. Then again, Osborn knew that was what Otto desired to do.
‘What do you want?’
Norman had everything he wanted to say planned, but suddenly all the words left his mind and he couldn't force himself to say anything.
‘I…’, he started, but Otto didn’t even move to face him. ‘I need… your help.’
He heard a chuckle and then Otto finally stood up from his chair and turned around. It was a while since Norman had seen his face and he suddenly felt another wave of sadness and regret. He tried to hold an old friend’s stare, but he failed, causing Otto to laugh derisively again.
‘You have the nerve to show up here. I expected the worst of you, but I did not expect you to be this pathetic.’
How many times has Norman heard such words? Probably way too many he could even try to count. And he always just smiled or even laughed, always knowing he was in the winning place and never caring about anybody who said it. But now, with Otto? Of course he knew how he felt about him. But hearing this was something else, something much worse and he clenched his fist, but not from anger, only to calm himself down somehow.
‘Please… Otto.’
This time it was Octavius who lost his control for a while. His face pulled with disgust, though there was some sadness in his eyes he clearly tried to hide. He rapidly moved closer to Norman which caused the latter to step back instinctively.
‘No. I don’t want you to use my name, to say it like you used to say it years ago. You have no right to do that and you have no right to beg me for anything. Leave, before I find a way to get out of this cell and strangle you at this very moment.’
Norman started to breathe even more heavily and despite Octavius’ words made one step towards the glass. He looked in Otto’s eyes, trying to find any compassion and to his surprise, he did. They shared a very brief moment when the gazes of both of them softened, but after a second Otto looked away and when his eyes laid on Norman’s again there was only anger in them once more.
‘I wish you would strangle me. You have no idea how many times I prayed somebody would just fucking kill me already.’
Otto spat with contempt and walked back to his chair.
‘Ask and you shall receive, old friend.’
The irony of the last two words caused another wave of stabbing pain in Norman’s chest. He felt so weak, but he knew he couldn’t leave, not yet. He sat down, leaning against the wall next to the glass. Otto looked at him with anger, he opened his mouth but then resigned on whatever he wanted to say. He sighed and then spoke again:
‘What do you want, Norman?’
Osborn tried to gather words once again, took a deep breath and realizing this might be his only chance started to talk:
‘Spider-Men. You know who they are.’
‘And?’
‘They took him away from me. My Harry. My son. I managed… I cured him, Otto. I saved him. And then… they ruined everything. They took everything from me. I need their names. I need to take everything from them the way they took everything from me.’
His words, at first filled with sadness, said at the verge of tears, turned to anger and hatred. When Otto didn't say anything, Norman’s face softened again and a single tear ran down his cheek.
‘I can’t do it again. I tried everything and it was the only way. I had my Harry back, he was alive and he was well, he was happy again… he started working right away, he started the foundation, because he wanted to make the world a better place… he was so good, Otto. Somehow he didn’t become like me, he became like his mother and she would be so proud of him… and now it’s all gone. It’s… god, it’s all gone.’
Norman couldn't hold his tears anymore and just started sobbing in the corner. Otto didn’t move at first, forcing himself not to go and comfort him, although his whole body wanted to do so, but then finally gave up and walked to the corner of his cell to sit by the glass wall next to Norman.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’, he asked.
‘What?’
‘If you had only been honest with me. We could have figured something out together. Without people getting hurt.’
Norman didn’t answer. He looked away from Otto and tried to hold back his tears.
‘I don’t know,’ he said after a moment of silence. ‘I should have told you. But I was scared. I was doing terrible things and I was scared I would lose you.’
‘And you did. You lost everything, Norman. Just because you were unable to ask for help and so full of yourself.’
Norman shook his head.
‘Was it worth it, Norman?’
‘What the hell do you want me to say?’, he shouted. ‘Yes, you were right! Of course you were. And yes, I fucked everything up, like I always do. It’s my fault. Everyone I ever loved is either dead, in coma or in jail and it’s all because of me. This whole fucking city is in ruin because of me. Because I was never good enough, because I thought I could do everything by myself and because I couldn't stand the thought of somebody being better than me. And you were always better and I wanted to hate you for it, but I loved you too much. So I figured out it would be best to ruin you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Fuck!’
Tears were running down Norman’s face again. Otto was calm, or at least he was trying to pretend so. His hands were shaking and he was trying very hard not to put them on the glass to get as close to Norman as he could.
‘Good to know you’re not completely out of your senses,’ he said, avoiding Norman’s eyes. ‘That at least you can still see and admit whose fault all of this is. Funny, how I still remember the look on your face at the very beginning, when you believed the world is yours. And now, look at you. It’s somehow reassuring, how all of us can fall and lose everything. Even you, Norman.’
Osborn raised his eyes at Otto and pursed his lips in anger.
‘What else do you want from me, Otto?’
‘I want to see how you suffer. You have no idea how long I waited to see it with my own eyes.’
Norman shook his head and laughed suddenly. He stood up and raised his hands.
‘Then look at me. I’m glad to be of service, you son of a bitch.’
Octavius smiled. He stood up and pointed his finger at Osborn, touching the glass.
‘This is how I felt. How everyone felt. You lied to everybody, you failed everybody. Failed me, Norman. I adored you, I thought you were the greatest person in the world. And I was so wrong. You deserved everything that happened to you.’
‘Okay.’
Norman took a deep breath, turned away and without any more hesitation started to walk away from the cell. Suddenly Otto’s next words, spoken with some unexpected softness, reached him.
‘But I want to help you.’
Norman stopped.
‘We have a common goal. And I think you can help me.’
Norman turned to Otto again, just to see a man he once knew, he once was lucky enough to call a friend and whose friendship he lost. A man who loved him deeply and who he loved and still failed. Otto Octavius was once again soft, compassionate, he once again had love in his eyes when looking at Norman. Osborn wanted to just come to him and touch his face, beg for his forgiveness and cry on his chest. But he only stood still a couple of feet away.
‘I have something to do. One last thing. And it might be something that can help you get your revenge. Come to me again in a few days, Norman. Maybe we could help each other.’
Osborn nodded his head. He wanted to say something, but had no idea what. He stood in silence for a while, then turned away to leave saying only:
‘Thank you, Otto.’
Octavius nodded his head, following Norman with his eyes as he was walking down the corridor to the exit.
Norman Osborn didn’t even wipe away his tears when leaving Raft. None of this mattered anymore.