It all began with the sounds.

The sound of people chattering above him. The hum of machinery. At first, it was white noise, indecipherable. But slowly, it came into focus and the words started to take shape in his mind enough that he could assign meaning to them.

Medical terms, mostly what it was.

His sense of smell next returned and the scent of the sterile environment, of disinfectant came next. There was no denying it now, he was in a hospital, that much he was sure of.

Taste and touch came back to him after that. He could feel metal on his spine and the heavily-starched sheets on his chest. His tongue reached out and tasted cotton. Sure enough, he was on his stomach, someone was operating on his back.

He realized then that his eyesight had yet to return. He opened his mouth, which felt dry as a desert and tried to force out the words.

“My… my eyes…” he muttered.

“He’s awake?”

“Hurry, put him down!”

“My eyes…” said Octavius. “Why can’t I see anything? What have you done to my eyes?”

His limps started to flay out, but they weren’t his normal arms of flesh and blood. Instead, they were arms made of a titanium alloy, almost indestructible. All four of them moved in a panic, swatting away the surgeons like the buzzing, irritating flies they were.

One surgeon struck the wall at just the right angle, his neck snapping. Another had his windpipe crushed by the mechanical hands at the end of an arm. A third surgeon had the arm wrap around him like a python, quickly squeezing until no air was left in his body. The fourth arm went through another surgeon, impaling him.

The arms responded to Octavius’ commands, planting themselves on the ground and raising him from the gurney. He turned so he was right-side up, suspended in midair. One of the upper tentacles removed the bandages from his eyes. Octavius looked at the tentacles in amazement.

His hand reached behind his back, feeling along his spine. He could feel the metal of the harness’ brace. And he could feel where it met his skin. But there was no gap. On the contrary, the metal had become fused to his body, to his spine.

“Incredible…” he said. He struggled to recall what had happened before, what he last remembered. It was blurry, he knew that much.

He spoke to Osborn in the lab. Blackmailed him. Norman responded favorably and Octavius returned to work. Of course, then there was a bright flash.

An explosion…?

Osborn… naturally, who else? But how did he survive?

The arms circled around Octavius and the realization came to him. “Yes, yes of course. You defended me. And… the explosion… it fused you to my spine.”

Octavius’ arms smashed through the wall, creating an exit for him. The arms latched onto the side of the hospital and lifted him out, allowing him to scale down the building.

“Osborn… you’ve made your last mistake!”

ARMED & DANGEROUS

Part II: Reaching Out

By Dino Pollard

Spider-Man released his webline and flipped in the air, quickly falling towards the traffic below. He landed on top of a bus and lay flat on its surface, his hands virtually bonding him to the roof.

Okay… now what? he asked himself. My options are either go back to the dorm where I’ll have to deal with Flash or try to sneak into the house. And the latter’s not an option. If Aunt May did find me, that’d just raise a whole lot of questions that I’m not in the mood to answer. But I don’t want to have to deal with Flash, either. Maybe I should’ve asked MJ if I could crash on her floor?

Peter leaped from the bus as it approached a low overpass. He soared over the pass and shot out a webline, swinging from it.

Don’t be ridiculous, Parker. Even if MJ were willing to go for it, there’s the chance Anna Watson could find out. And she’d tell Aunt May, which puts me right back at square one.

What about Gwen…? No, after what happened with Flash, she wouldn’t be willing to do it, either.

He could see Empire State University’s campus off in the distance, growing closer and he swung towards it.

What am I worried about, anyway? I’m freaking Spider-Man! I don’t need to worry about sleeping in a bed. Just gotta find a nice, secluded rooftop, web myself a sleeping bag and pillow, and I’ll be good for the night.

…well, except for getting up every hour to make a new one since the webbing dissolves after that period…

It’s still better than nothing. And I can get up early in the morning, head back to the Towers and grab a shower before class. Right now, it’s the only option really worth pursuing.

He landed atop the student union, scanning the area below. He caught sight of the hot dog place across the street. Open late and he realized he barely ate anything all day.

First thing’s first, gotta get some food.

He crouched low and removed his backpack. Inside were his street clothes, which he quickly used to cover his costume. He deposited his gloves and mask inside his bag, slung it back on, and climbed down the back of the building, flipping off and landing in the bushes.

Emerging from the bushes, Peter Parker crossed the street and entered the small restaurant. He placed an order for a hot dog with fries and a Coke, took h is order and sat at a table outside.

Before he could enjoy his dinner, he heard a voice behind him and sighed.

“Thought that was you.”

Harry Osborn sat across from Peter, looking the younger man in the eye.

“What do you want, Harry?” asked Peter.

“Gwen texted me,” said Harry, holding up his cell phone. “Said you had a run-in with Flash Thompson, almost got into a fight.”

“The fight was short,” said Peter.

“It would’ve been if Gwen didn’t step in,” said Harry. “Look Pete, I know it’s hard what with your uncle and all. But that doesn’t mean you should go around picking fights with guys twice your size.”

“I’m not just going to sit by while some blockhead hurls insults at me,” said Peter. “I did enough of that in high school and I shouldn’t stand for it in college. I thought we were all supposed to be adults?”

“We are,” said Harry. “But not everyone is that mature yet. Flash strikes me as one of those guys. And like it or not, he’s your roommate so you’ve gotta deal with it. At least until you can afford your own place.”

“I could switch,” said Peter.

“Easier said than done,” said Harry. “Besides, if you switch, Flash wins—he got to you.” A grin came across the young Osborn’s face. “And you run the risk of getting an RA who’s not as awesome as my girl.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that suck…” muttered Peter, still a little annoyed that the girl he developed more than a passing interest in was dating the guy who Peter quickly found turning into his closest friend.

“Listen Pete, come back to my place,” said Harry. “I’ve got my own room at the frat house and it’s a decent size and we can set you up with an air mattress. That way, you won’t have to deal with Flash at all tonight.”

“Thanks Harry, but I think I’ll pass,” said Peter. “Frat houses aren’t my thing.”

“Relax dude, my brothers are all cool,” said Harry. “You won’t find any Flash clones there, promise.”

Peter considered his options. Now his choices were to accept Harry’s offer or bunk down on a rooftop. When he thought about it, it was really no decision at all.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

Norman Osborn poured himself a scotch. The ice cracked as the warm, gold liquid splashed into the small glass. He took a mouthful, relishing the burn that traveled down his throat and looked to the man who stood in the room with him.

“Could you repeat that, Roderick?”

“It’s Octavius, sir,” said Roderick Kingsly. “He’s still alive.”

“Blast…” muttered Osborn. He finished the scotch and quickly poured himself another. “How the hell did he survive that explosion? It should have killed him.”

“It gets worse,” said Kingsley.

“Oh?” asked Osborn, facing his assistant. “And how could it possibly get worse?”

“Because sir, Octavius is not only still alive, but he’s out of the hospital.”

“Well find him and kill him!” said Osborn. “The last thing I need is him telling someone like Urich all about Van Adder!”

“That’s easier said than done,” said Kingsley. “Not only did Octavius escape, but he escaped after killing the surgical team who worked on him. And he escaped through a newly-made giant hole in the wall.”

“How…” Osborn began but then he stopped himself. “Hold on… how was the surgical team killed? Exactly?”

“It was a mess,” said Kingsley. “One was impaled, another had his neck crushed, one was squeezed to death and one broke his neck.”

“And the hole…?”

“There wasn’t any explosion.”

“In other words, the hole could only have been made with something strong enough to smash it.”

“I suppose…” said Kingsley. “Sir, what are you getting at?”

Osborn threw his glass to the ground and it shattered, the scotch staining his hardwood floor. “Those arms of his. Those damn arms. He still has them.”

“Arms…?” asked Kingsley.

“Yes, you moron, arms!” shouted Osborn. He walked over to the table and picked up the phone receiver. “Octavius developed a harness with four mechanical arms that could be controlled cybernetically by linking to his spinal cord. Those arms are made of a titanium alloy and are powerful enough to withstand high levels of radiation! Imagine what they could do to a human body?”

“I don’t think I have to, I already saw what he did to the surgical team.”

“Precisely,” said Osborn.

“Who are you calling, sir?”

“We need help on this,” said Osborn. “Someone who can stand up to Octavius. And I have just the man.”

Peter had just started to drift off to sleep when the piercing sound of his cell phone jolted him awake. He looked at the call ID and saw it was an unknown number. “Who the…?”

He accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Parker, I need your help.”

“Who is this?” asked Peter.

“Who do you think it is, you little infant? It’s Norman!”

“Osborn?!”

“Yeah, what’s up?” asked Harry, slowly raising his eyelids and sitting up in bed.

“Nothing Harry, sorry,” said Peter. He stood and left the room, going out into the hallway.

“Where are you?” asked Osborn. “Who was that just now?”

“None of your business, that’s who,” said Peter. “What the hell do you want, Osborn?”

“I want you to swing on your little webs to my place immediately! Someone is trying to kill me!”

“I’m waiting for the part where I’m supposed to care,” said Peter.

“Listen you brain-dead idiot! This man is dangerous and exactly the type of menace you’re supposed to fight!”

“I thought I made this clear to you the last time we spoke,” said Peter. “I’m not your personal little superhero and I’m done taking orders from you.”

“Parker wait! Park—!”

Peter disconnected the call and turned off his phone. He went back into the room and Harry was now fully awake and staring at his friend in curiosity. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Peter. “Just some asshole.”

Osborn slammed the receiver on the cradle. He lifted the whole phone and yanked hard, pulling the cord from the wall and throwing the phone through a glass window, just a few feet away from where Kingsley stood. The man just calmly watched the phone shatter the glass, then turned his gaze to his boss.

“I take it that didn’t go well?” he asked.

“Shut up,” said Osborn. He looked up at Kingsley following a brief pause. “Make the call.”

Now, Kingsley looked surprised as well as a little scared. “…I don’t think you want to do that, sir.”

“I believe I already told you to make the call,” said Osborn.

“Sir, if you get involved with him, you’ll never get out again,” said Kingsley. “Even worse, what if it comes back to you? He’ll dig into your background as much as possible and pull out anything he can find. If Octavius could connect you to Van Adder, it won’t be long before he does.”

“Make the fucking call!” exclaimed Osborn.

“Right,” said Kingsley, taking out his cell phone. He dialed the number he hoped never to call again and almost on cue, the wall of Osborn’s mansion exploded inward as a steel arm burst through it.

“No…” said Osborn.

Four mechanical arms effortlessly carried in a man who wore a long, brown coat and dark glasses to shield his eyes from the light. Otto Octavius wore a sinister smile on his face as his arms snaked around him.

“Hello Norman,” he said. “I do believe we have much to discuss.”

“Otto… listen,” said Norman. “What happened back at the lab, it was… it was an accide—”

One of the tentacles shot out, wrapping its hand around Osborn’s throat, not squeezing hard enough to crush his neck, but just enough so he could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“I’m not mad about the accident, Norman,” said Octavius. “In fact, I should probably thank you for that. Thanks to you, my arms and I are now one. However, there is still the matter of that little raise you promised me…”

Osborn gasped for breath and Octavius slowly released him just enough to allow him to form words, albeit with significant effort.

“…of… course… you’ll get your… your money… I swear…” said Osborn.

“It’s not that simple, Norman,” said Octavius. One of his arms hovered before Osborn’s face and the mechanical hand flattened and began spinning, transforming into a buzz saw. “You see, I’ve decided that money isn’t good enough. I require my pound of flesh.”

“Don’t… don’t be a fool, Otto!” gasped Osborn.

“Otto? You killed Otto Octavius, Norman,” he said. “My name is… Dr. Octopus!”