` I've done it all (for her) `
Doctor Otto Octavius experiences an agonizing rush of memory in lieu of his new surroundings.
/ No Way Home (2021) - Spider-Man 2 (2004) /
Doctor Otto Octavius had always considered himself a man of science and fact. His first love was physics, and his second was Rosie. Rosie, who he had met far too long ago. Rosie, who he had swept off her feet without ever knowing it. He hadn't meant to charm her as deeply as he had; honestly, he had never seen himself as somebody capable of attracting women. She was like a miracle, with long brown hair and these dazzling brown eyes that made his knees feel weak. Before he had met Rosie, he had promised himself that the focus of his life would be science.
Otto didn't keep many people close, especially people who didn't share his same interests. It wasn't out of malice or self-isolation, but he could never fully interest himself in what they had to say if it wasn't something he could sink his teeth into. There was one person, though, a friend who had been consistent ever since Otto had met him in high school. Curtis Connors, who he had been partnered with for a chemistry project in his Freshman year, was irritatingly persistent. Even after their project ended, Connors insisted on sticking around— following him about to talk about whatever was on his mind at any given moment. It had been annoying at first, but after the initial adjustment to having a friend, it wasn't as bad as Otto pretended it was.
He found, however, one minor problem with their friendship. Curt had always tried to set him up with women, women who were all dizzy and unserious, women who never lasted long into first dates before they excused themselves to the bathroom, and never returned. Otto had begun to believe it was his fault… perhaps he was too unattractive, or perhaps he wasn't exciting enough. He had always brushed it off as foolishness— he was a man of his craft, with no time to chase women around aimlessly for something as simple as a romantic entanglement.
Rosie had changed all of that; she had, as simply as possible, changed the fundamentals of his entire being. For the first time in his life, Otto Octavius found himself pining after a girl. Rosie wasn't just a simple girl; however, she was the most perfect girl he had met, so singularly captivating that he wondered what somebody like her was doing without an equal to keep her company.
"I haven't found anybody interesting enough," She told him one night over a casual dinner. "I couldn't waste my time with someone who couldn't keep up with me." Rosie had laughed, and Otto had spent the next few months chasing that laugh— that effervescent high. He started to keep up.
Every book recommendation, every reference she made, he latched on to in a desperate attempt to impress her. For what felt like the first time in his life, something seemed more important to him than science. He never once slipped up in his studies, but he found himself willing to, all for her. She noticed; he knew she had noticed, and she acted so beautifully clueless. She loved the way he vyed so desperately for her attention, and how badly he wanted to impress her.
That initial dinner was the moment she had fallen in love with him, and everything from then on had been a beautiful chase. Rosie had never been very interested in the attention of men, but there was something different about Otto. Something worth letting him stumble around blindly after her. She found his awkwardness endearing, the way he tried to so subtly relate to her, or the way that he intentionally made himself look presentable on the days he knew he'd see her.
To no anticipation of her own, she found herself eager for every little interaction. Every exchange between them, every time he'd ask what she was reading or if she wanted to do homework together. Rosie had always been quite frankly suspicious of most men who wanted to be around her. College men were inappropriate and loud, most of them here to party or invest in degrees that were overall useless. She had met one too many frat boys, and had started ignoring men altogether… until she met Otto.
When she had confided that in him, Otto had almost collapsed. He was her exception? Him? He had never been anyone's exception to anything, especially not a girl's exception. It almost felt like a slap in the face for the universe to deliver someone as wonderful as her at such a time in his life. He hardly believed in spirituality or fate, but she had to have been some kind of miracle. He began to work immediately after graduation, attracting the eyes and attention of other scientists. He flourished, but he couldn't have done any of it if it weren't for Rosie. She took care of him, something he often forgot to do on his own. Otto had never known a love as unconditionally gentle as Rosie's.
Their wedding was nothing dazzling or expensive, but it was framed constantly in the back of Otto's mind as the most perfect moment in the history of moments. It had pushed him to tears for the first time in his adult life, which was not a particularly easy accomplishment. Otto and Rosie had bought a nice apartment shortly after, and lived comfortably. Otto went back to school to get a PhD with Rosie's full support, and for a long while, everything was okay.
Not long after getting his PhD, Otto crossed paths with another scientist, a businessman by the name of Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn, the head of Osborn Industry, was so laughably strange that the two had befriended each other quite quickly. Otto didn't keep many close friends, partly because he lacked the time to properly socialize, and partly because he found that having a big social circle was frivolous. Norman, like Rosie, truly believed in Otto… and as strange as it was, it was almost exciting to be backed so wholeheartedly. Otto had also, by some grace of god, had befriended Norman's son as well. Harry was young and arrogant, and Otto could see where he got his confidence from.
After Norman's passing, Otto withdrew from the world for a surprising amount of time. Before then, Otto had never found himself having to mourn anyone, and the loss of such a dear friend had hit him harder than he'd expected. The news had come quite strangely… in a news broadcast, announcing the death of Norman, supposedly at the hands of Spider-Man. A so called hero had taken the life of a dear friend of his…
Not long after, Otto was visited by Norman's son, Harry. It was an odd visit… Otto half expected Harry to be beside himself with grief, but he seemed just as well as someone who'd lost a parent could be. Harry wanted to invest in a project that Otto had been working on for some time. A sustainable fusion power reactor, one that could power all of New York and beyond. Oscorp provided him with materials worth more money than Otto had ever seen, and it was all hands on deck from then on. Rosie was practically Otto's shadow, helping him with anything and everything, while still making sure he took time to worry about himself— as much as he protested.
The day before a big investor showcase, Harry brought a friend over. Peter Parker. A plain-looking boy, a student of Connors. 'Brilliant, but shamefully lazy.' Connors had told him over the phone. Peter was delightful, and Rosie adored him. They had always wanted children, ever since they had started dating, but Rosie was infertile. It was devastating news, but Otto had held her hands and promised that they'd have a child one day, even if he had to steal one. Having Peter around, even for those few hours, Otto saw everything he would've wanted in a son. Peter was smart, extremely respectful— even in his criticisms, and funny. After he left, Rosie seemed quieter… deep in thought, more than was normal for her.
The next day was the showcase, and the…
Otto shook his head, staggering a bit, and steadying himself against Peter's makeshift workbench. These memories flooding back were painful and jarring. The inhibitor chip had been reinstated, and his head was clear now… too clear. Gone were the chittering voices of his actuators, and it hurt, deeper than it did initially. The clarity was so nice at first, no whispers, no violent urges, and then it morphed into something cold, something angrier than it had been without the chip.
Doctor Octavius had never been a violent man, mostly because he had never had much of a reason to be angry. His life, despite its downs, was staggeringly peaceful compared to the lives of people he knew. The loss of the inhibitor chip— the loss of his wife… it twisted his mind into something sickeningly dark. The new chip was supposed to rid him of the anger, right? So why was it still here, still festering, still making him shake with that same familiar sense of loss? His actuators had been all he had left, and he still had them, but it wasn't the same. They were quieter and more obedient. They didn't speak to him as they had before. A part of him hated this new Peter, however young he may be, or however noble his intentions were.
Alongside Peter, was his aunt. His Aunt May, who Otto couldn't look at without needing to cry. This woman was nothing like his Rosie, but they had so many painful similarities. May looked like a younger Rosie… softer, like when they had been in college, when they had first met. Long brown hair and kind brown eyes. May had been kind to him, in her own awkward way, despite her evident fear. Otto hadn't been able to look in her direction after the chip had been reinstated. It brought a rush of sickening nostalgia that dizzied him so severely that he thought he might throw up.
The new Peter was nothing like his Peter; he was smaller and quieter and had an offensive amount of audacity. Something was weird about this boy— he was sure Norman could feel it, too.
Norman. That was the other thing. Norman Osborn, a walking zombie, a vision of the dead. Norman, who Otto (and the rest of society) had assumed was killed by Spider-Man. Otto's head began to spin at the new memory, the information he had been given in the damp basement of that wizard. Dead. The word rang strong, echoing and bouncing around his mind like a bullet.
"Dead. They both died. Fighting Spider-Man. It was all over the news. Green Goblin? Impaled by the glider you flew around on. And a couple years later, you, Doc Ock, drowned in the river with your machine."
Otto almost didn't believe it! News that he had died, coming from a man made out of sand— it felt impossible. But then it settled. From the way his body ached familiarly, to the clear and horrible grief that shadowed his mind, the situation he was in was as real as anything. Not a dream, like he prayed it was. He didn't remember a damn thing from right after he had grabbed Spider-Man to when he was fighting him on that overpass, in a New York that he didn't recognize.
This place was so new, even the apartment they were in was overwhelming. From what Otto had gathered, this wasn't Peter's apartment. It was nice— and scarily modern. Some of this technology was outside of his grasp. He felt, admittedly, a bit ashamed for not understanding some of it. He was sure Norman didn't understand, either.
Norman stood only a few feet away, writing something in what Otto presumed to be a notebook. Otto's eyes drifted upwards and he turned only slightly, looking from the fabricator to Norman's back. Something in his chest told him to reach out, to grab Norman's arm or his hood or something, to prove that Norman was real and alive. He had mourned so deeply, he had grieved so hard, and here Norman was, like a mockery of his pain. He looked… older somehow, and he looked like he certainly felt older. Otto felt older, too. Hardened by the loss of his wife.
His Rosie… oh, how he missed his Rosie. Her laugh, the shine in her eyes when she got excited, how gorgeous she looked at any given moment— but most of all, he missed how deeply she believed in him. He missed how she would talk about him, how she acted like he was the only man in the world who could make her happy. Who was he without her?
Otto was a firm believer that a man was never very interesting without his wife alongside him. Dreadfully boring conversations with colleagues and businessmen always became brighter with their wives. Otto had met some of the most accomplished men of his time, and found them all… well, rather plain without their wives. Was he doomed to become just another boring man? Losing Rosie felt like losing a part of himself that he didn't know he needed, a part of him that was so important that without it, he found himself better off…
If that wizard used his relic, Otto would return to his universe and die. For a moment, the thought was almost like a rush. Almost a relief. Without his Rosie, would it truly be worth it? The boy, the new Peter, he had fixed him— but he couldn't truly fix him. So what, he would go back, fix his machine… and then what? Let himself get arrested? Run away to another city? He couldn't lie low with enormous actuators attached to his torso, could he? What if he couldn't fix his machine? Would he drown? Would he die knowing he caused the deaths of tens of thousands of people because of his stupid machine? His chest began to heave, tears blurring his vision.
"How does it feel?" Norman's voice was gentle, like he knew Otto was overwhelmed. Otto turned and found himself face-to-face with 'the ghost'. Norman's expression was unreadable— but there was a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. Otto took a deep breath and nodded, grounding himself as much as possible.
"Quiet." He answered. Norman didn't say anything else, instead slowly nodding… as if he was coming to terms with something. Norman turned back to whatever he had been writing.
Otto stared down at the ground, taking another breath, this one smaller and quieter. "How does it feel, Norman? You’re about to become whole again. No more darker half. Just you." Otto laughed softly, though it sounded more sad than anything.
Norman turned, once more, to stare at Otto. He cracked a smile, wide, this one more unsettling than his usual grin. "Just me." Norman repeated.
