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The creature’s mind was blank, except for a single thought that bobbed like driftwood in its brain, floating in and out of consciousness.
Rachnid. The word rippled, over and over. Its body was asleep, the only movement, the steady rise and fall of its chest. Yet its mind clung to the word, with feeble claws.
Rachnid.
Yes, I call him “Rachnid.” It seems fitting, no?
Unbeknownst to the creature, two others stood observing it from behind the door to its cell.
“He’s monstrous.”
“Isn’t he?”
“His face.”
“Ah. Yes. That's my favorite part, you see. He was blinded. An accident. Made him entirely useless to me, really. But I gave him a new life. Like you.”
“There is no one like me.”
“Ha! You give yourself too much credit! Don't forget. You may have been exceptional, but I made you superior.”
“...”
“What?”
“...Nothing.”
“What, boy?”
“You're… proud of this…creature?”
“Oh no. No, this is a failure. An expensive, yet a necessary stepping stone on the path to success. That's why I'm giving him to you.”
“What?!”
“Oh yes, you'll be working in close quarters from now on. All of that ‘additional manpower’ you've been asking for.”
“Mister Osborn, what am I supposed to do with that?!”
“He’s sedated now, Otto! He'll recover in time. He responds quite well to orders. Think of him as… your partner.”
“...”
“I'll leave you two to get acquainted. It is your break after all. Lock up on your way out won't you?”
These sounds meant nothing to the being inside the cell, nor did the retreating footsteps, and yet, each mechanical vibration sent shockwaves through its nervous system, as if a stone had been dropped into the surface of a lake and swallowed whole. For what may as well have been an eternity to the creature, it floated, submerged in its own darkness, unable to do anything but await the next tremor.
The door to the cell slid open and the creature’s world erupted into light.
---
A shadow hung in the doorway like a marionette: Dr. Otto Octavius, or what was left of him. The young scientist looked haggard, a doll-like body buried in a carapace of machinery, raveled hair draping a pale, boyish face, and yet, if not for the contorted frown he wore, there was something about the shadow that could almost have been described as… handsome.
As the sound of mechanical breathing filled the small, padded room, it was impossible for Octavius to ignore the reality of the puppet-like life support suit attached to him. Always attached to him. It was…uncomfortable to say the least. Was it only a year ago that he had breathed the air freely? Walked as other men did? How quickly one’s fate could be reversed when they trusted Norman Osborn.
The alleged accident that had left Octavius paralyzed had disappeared from OSCORP records overnight, as had Octavius himself. As far as the company was concerned, Dr. Otto Octavius had never set foot inside the complex. And now, he would never leave it. He couldn’t. Norman had made sure of that. His shiny, new limbs would have him reviled as a monster. And now, he thought, glowering down at the cell’s occupant, Norman had made another one.
“You.” he muttered.
Me, the prisoner thought vacantly. Who am I?
“I suppose Osborn thinks I'll be grateful for this,” Otto spat, “He thinks I’ll forgive him by offering you up like a prize, but I know better…” Octavius leans in, whispering to ears he couldn’t see, wrapped under layers of gauze.
“He’s trying to replace me.”
Traitor, Otto thought. Norman had been like a father to him, yet mere months after Octavius’s accident, Osborn had welcomed own son into the world. Instantly, he had cast Otto aside, as if he were just another broken toy. Of course he had. Osborn had a real legacy now. He no longer had to play pretend with the boy he had once claimed to call his own.
Octavius scowled, cutting ever-deeper valleys into his features. This creature was no different. An attempt to create a legacy. One that Osborn could control.
As Otto breathes raggedly, new movement catches his eye in the dim light. Though some effort has been made to cover the front of the prisoner’s body with a thin medical gown, nothing can be done to hide the four titanium appendages protruding from the creature’s back. A quartet of mechanical limbs. Otto recognized them of course. He had designed them.
Octavius looked down in disdain. How pathetic. Even as Norman attempted to replace his favorite pet, he couldn’t help but turn to Otto’s hard-earned research for ideas. Not that it had helped Osborn any. The arms were a mockery of his best designs. Where Otto’s own mechanical arms had taken inspiration from the prehensile limbs of the octopus, a slight play on the cruel nickname that had hounded Octavius since his college days, these tri-jointed limbs lacked both range of movement and any type of end-effector, more arthropod than cephalopod. They were simplistic. Crude. Clearly, Norman was lost without him. The thought brought the smallest smirk to his oxygen-starved lips as he wound a mechanical arm loosely around the creature’s shoulders.
“Your humiliation does bring me joy, I'll admit,” Otto hisses into the prisoner's ear, “You do remember me don’t you, Doctor?” A metal claw brushes the prisoner's chin, tilting his bandaged face to Otto’s, “After all. You did this to me.”
The creature stared, mouth slightly agape, the lake in its mind showing no reflection. What had the voice called him? Doctor? Was that his name? Gingerly, he tried it out, his tongue thick in his mouth.
“D-dahc. Doc-tor.”
Otto raised an eyebrow. Babbling? Good lord, what had Norman done to him? The scientist takes a step back, looking the creature up and down before landing again on its obscured visage. Surely there was no harm in a mere peek at the man’s injuries? But as he unwound the wrappings, his expression turned first to horror, then to disgust. As terrible as his own injuries were, none were so disturbing as what lay before him.
The doctor had been informed of the man’s accident, but this was no mere breach of lab safety protocol. The skin around where his eyes should be was all but destroyed by chemical burns. Any corroded skin had been removed to promote healing, but there had been no attempt to graft his wounds back together. Perhaps Osborn had been interested in seeing his wounds progress naturally. Or perhaps he feared damaging the new features that had formed as a result of the experiment gone awry.
Amidst the wounded tissue, there was movement. In addition to two central eyes, six sightless buds stared back at him. Pale and cloudy, these additions looked more like amphibian eggs rather than human eyes. They appeared almost fetal, as if they were still growing. And yet, despite his disgust, Otto’s scientific curiosity was piqued. Eight eyes. His claws itched for a scalpel. He couldn’t wait to dissect this one.
For the creature’s part, it seemed only semi-sentient. It had not spoken a word save for a weak attempt at mimicry. If not for that, Otto might have assumed the thing was brain dead. Octavius scoffed. Sedated or not, this creature was clearly useless to Otto. He glanced around furtively, as if there were a camera anticipating his next move. After all, what was one more broken toy in OSCORP's vast collection?
To his surprise however, just as the doctor raises a tentacle to strike a lethal blow, the creature’s mechanical arms spring to life, locking limbs with the startled scientist. One-by-one, its eyes flick about, before finally focusing on Otto with unnerving clarity. For the briefest moment, the scientist’s presence is recognized.
“Doc-tor?”
The tentacles retreat as the creature takes a step towards him, a bandaged hand extended, as if it were searching for something. For a moment, Otto recoils, almost nauseated at the thought of having to endure touch, only for the creature’s head to suddenly snap back. It’s only then that Otto notices the bundled cables peaking out of its tangled nest of walnut-brown hair, winding up into the ceiling and out of sight, feeding who-knew-what into its cerebral cortex, but effectively tethering it in place.
Though disoriented, it doesn’t discourage the mechanical hybrid. Suddenly, its mechanical pincers flare like wings and begin to rhythmically scrape against each other, like the dragging of a needle over a record. Stridulation, Otto thinks, like a trodden cicada. The noise is terrible, loud enough for Otto to duck his head against his shoulder in hopes of drowning it out.
“Gah! Be quiet!” he shouts, claws menacing. The creature blinks, opaque lids sliding over half-formed eyespots.
“Quiet.” It murmurs, but falls silent.
Now it understood him. Fantastic. He supposed that was what Norman meant when he said the thing took orders. That it would fawn over anything it deemed a threat.
No different than the ordinary OSCORP employee, mere drones that would do anything to save their own skins.
Regardless, the insectoid eyes still don’t leave Otto, their blind gaze boring into his skull, but something has changed now. It seemed less lost, more aware of its surroundings. Its eyes nearly locked with Otto’s, as if it were trying to peer within.
Otto shook away the thought. Don’t tell me you’re losing your nerve now, Octavius, a familiar voice whispered in his mind. This creature clearly wasn’t a threat to him. Not in this state. In fact, with Otto’s genius, it might grow to be a valuable asset. One that belonged to him. Not Osborn. Now that would be a prize worth winning.
“Very well. Never let it be said that Otto Octavius doesn’t repay his debts,” the scientist rasped. He glanced at the discarded bandages. They had needed changing anyway. He raised a threatening claw, just in case the creature was getting any ideas.
“If you make that noise again, I’ll leave you to Osborn.”
“Osborn.” The creature drew back, the very name causing the prisoner’s mechanical limbs to raise in deimatic display, as if it were a prey animal hoping to startle its would-be predator, the medical gown parting in the back to accommodate them.
With its limbs flared, Otto could see the familiar exoskeleton supporting them. The surrounding skin was red and raw where metal met flesh, and for once, the pain Otto felt in his shattered body was sympathetic. He pushed the feeling away as he grit crooked teeth. No. He would not feel empathy for this thing.
Fool, he thought, You worked for him. You trusted him. You deserve what he did to you.
He scoffed. No, Dr. Otto Octavius would not entertain any similarities between himself and Dr… what did Osborn call him now? Rachnid? The creature’s new limbs certainly drew a similarity to the order Araneae. Not to mention his unnerving new visage.
“Rachnid” continued to brandish its limbs, its head twitching from side to side. Waiting. Evidently, it was still intelligent enough to associate the name “Osborn” with pain. Revenge crept back into the recesses of Octavius’s mind. It was tempting to kill the man, but then, killing him would be a mercy compared to what Osborn would put him through.
Otto pursed his lips. Not like he had a choice. It was Osborn’s will that had kept this man alive through whatever had become of him, and in the face of Osborn’s will, Octavius was powerless.
He took a step forward and impatiently outstretched a claw.
“Walk towards me. Quietly.”
Slowly, the creature obeyed, reaching out until it met with metal, his hands wrapping around mechanical digits as the doctor guided him closer.
“Doc-tor.” Rachnid’s voice was flat and thin, no longer fearful. Otto's lip curled.
“Octavius. Doctor Otto Octavius. You would do well to remember my name, fool,” he returned, yanking Rachnid the rest of the way towards him, “You will find few allies down here.” A second tentacle seized the creature’s jaw, as a third swiftly bound its unsightly wounds. At least it would stop the staring.
“Ah-k. Ock…Ock…” Rachnid struggled.
.
Troglodyte. Otto thought. If Osborn expected him to teach this thing…
“Oc-tavius. Doc-tor Otto Oc-tavius.”
The sound of his own name made Otto blink. How many months had passed since someone had said his name so plainly, without derision? He felt his shoulders relax, almost amused. Perhaps this arrangement would have some unseen benefits after all.
“Enjoying your new playmate, Doctor?”
The creature tore away from Otto’s grasp, its pincers carrying it up and into the corner of the padded room, its attention focused entirely on the figure in the open doorway behind Otto.
“You know, I think it likes you, Otto,” Osborn smirked, “I haven't heard a word out of it in days. Who knew you two had so much in common?”
Otto scowled. Always Norman sought to manipulate him in one breath and belittle him in the next. When Otto didn’t answer, Osborn made his way into the room and marveled up at his latest abomination with an insatiable gleam in his eyes.
“So what do you think of him, Otto? Really?” he asked, his voice full of wonderment.
Octavius looked the creature up and down. Rachnid’s ghoulish eyes still gleamed even through the bandages. His long brown hair had been surgically shaved just below the temple to accommodate what appeared to be a crude knock off of Octavius’s own cybernetic interface, bypassing the spinal column and instead tapping directly into the man's brain. The design was pitiful--barbaric even--but Otto said nothing of it.
“You’ll need a new surgeon. This one won’t be leaving the laboratories.” Otto said and Norman laughed aloud.
“Oh please. We had his replacement lined up weeks ago. OSCORP runs on efficiency, Otto.”
Otto glowered, how long had it taken Norman to find a replacement for him, he wondered. He glared up at Rachnid. And now he'd have to deal with yet another contender to his value at OSCORP.
“What about family? I have no use for an assistant whose interfering relatives might interrupt my work.”
“As I said: efficiency. No one came for you, did they?" Osborn smirked.
Otto felt his already wounded ego snap. One more word. One more word and Norman was a dead man…
But Osborn knew his limits. No more words came from his employer’s lips, just the same sickening smirk. It was paternal, his patience, as though Otto were nothing more than a petulant child on the verge of a fit, and every time, Otto was forced to swallow his pride.
“I…suppose he will be…sufficient. For an underling.”
“Wonderful. In that case…” Osborn taps a button on his wrist and Rachnid seizes, collapsing to the ground in a heap as the cables deliver a painful, but non-lethal charge directly to its brain. Norman grins as the electricity dances through the creature's nervous system. Otto looks away.
“I’ll take it from here, Otto. I have a few more tweaks I’d like to make before I place him in your care. Besides, shouldn’t you be getting back to work?”
Otto opens his mouth to respond, but armed guards run in to haul the unconscious man away and Norman Osborn flashes his teeth a final time before allowing himself to be swept along with them, leaving Otto alone in the darkened cell, with only the gasp of his respirator to accompany him.