Chapter Text
To Otto’s understanding, the spell cast out across the globe should have reinstated balance by returning him to the universe from which he originated. At least that was what the wizard had declared several times over, threatening to erase their short-lived universal travel before being stopped by this universe’s Peter Parker. Otto thinks he might have been just as irate with the webslinger if he were in the wizard's shoes.
Perhaps before Peter switched out the chip, the doctor might have felt as such. Otto exhales with a wistful smile, disappointment clinging to his reformed self when he realizes he won’t get another chance to interact with the brilliant student again, only to be left with a distant memory of his existence, always lingering close, but never within reach. And so Otto waits for the spellcast to complete its mission, removing Spider-Man’s enemies and allies alike one by one.
Electro vanishes with a bittersweet look, having lost the one thing that instilled a sense of self-importance; Norman remains slumped to the ground with a pained expression of intertwined sorrow and respite directed up to the shattered sky, watching his dear friend fade into non-existence within this universe; followed by the Peter that watched his downfall into villiany, all grown up after so much time had passed, clutching at the stab wound the Green Goblin inflicted upon him in his final villainous moments; and the other Peter quick to follow into journey back home, returning to the life he had endured with his villains, now reformed with a second chance of doing better. Flint and Dr. Connors were hidden within the wreckage of the monument, surely on their way back all the same.
The runes cast towards the cracks in the sky thrum with light and vigor, a spectacle Otto could never have dreamed of. He was a man of science, not magic; however, Otto had no choice but to accept the limitless possibilities achievable through magic and science, individually and in support of each other.
Waves of light ripple across the horizon overhead, making their way towards the expansive oceans, likely finishing their course with the small remote islands speckled throughout the Indian Ocean. Shattered pieces of the clear sky stitched themselves together, wiping the evidence of an imminent catastrophe.
But then the light stops, and against all odds, Otto remains in a world that knows nothing of who he is and what he has done. Everything feels out of place: choosing not to dwell on the matter, Otto is in favor of reuniting with anyone else involved in the disastrous fiasco.
Strong currents of water begin splashing against the base of the demolished monument, drowning out the sound of falling pipes and splintering boards of wood behind him, crashing and burning from the rough abuse the former villains had caused in their fit of reluctance to accept change.
For a moment, Otto blinks once, then again, looking around at the carnage and emptiness, unable to spot any of Peter’s friends or the webhead himself. Using his actuators to propel himself upward and towards the top of the torch, he grimaces at the severed arm from his ill-met encounter with Electro, compensating for the dead weight with heavier movements distributed between the remaining three actuators. Before he can reach the top, a new blinding light encases him, and the doctor pauses, wondering if it is a delay in the spell reaching him, remaining still to be whisked into his rightful plane of existence.
Instead, in the blink of an eye, his surroundings change, no longer dangling from the top of the torch. His feet are planted against the pavement along a bustling street of New York, shoved and brushed by hurried strangers, inconsiderate of their surroundings. Spinning around to take in the view, Otto isn’t immediately able to identify which universe he was in – but the longer he considers the circumstances, the spell would have returned him to the bridge again, where he was set to have his final encounter with Spider-Man.
Stricken with uncertainty, there were more pressing matters at hand in this new universe for him to explore. Otto contemplates his next move heavily, grunting in confusion with furrowed eyebrows. Aside from Peter, his friends, and the wizard, there was no one else Otto could turn to.
A familiar voice boomed out over the crowd, beginning to spew biased opinions and slander to the masses. None of the outlandish remarks or claims rang true from what Otto had seen firsthand, but Jameson’s broadcast up on a giant LED screen at the top of one of the many towering buildings was the best lead the doctor had in his search for this universe’s Peter. The longer he painstakingly listens, a feeling of unease pools in Otto’s stomach the longer Jameson speaks, catching the change in tone when he declares Spider-Man to be a coward for not unmasking himself to the world.
Nothing made sense at this point; Otto didn’t return home as was promised, and now Spider-Man suddenly regained his secrecy? The entire time Peter dragged them around, he seemed to have spectators at the ready, split between hero worship and screaming about murder. Everyone knew who Peter was here, especially Jameson – so what changed?
The spell that had been cast must have contributed to this, but for the effect to be so widespread, Otto had to question if it was an intentional stipulation or a calculation gone awry. While finding the wizard might clue him in, it could also turn out to be a waste of his time if everyone simply forgot who Spider-Man was. Shifting his eyes between several common goers, Otto begins stopping people in his path, asking about Spider-Man’s status.
Careful about using Peter’s name, Otto simply asks if Spider-Man’s identity had been revealed; he was met with looks of insanity, questioning his overall awareness regarding the events of the world in general, treating him like any other civilian in this universe. After a few more attempts with varying lengths of interrogation, Otto was quick to realize that whatever had happened with the spell, no one knew of Spider-Man’s identity, in turn leaving him at ground zero with no leads or contacts in a world he didn’t belong to.
-
One week had passed following the global mind-wipe, bearing little to no fruit regarding the whereabouts of Peter. Frustration began to cloud Otto’s train of thought, desperate for any information that would aid in his search. For the entire week, there had been no web-slinging activity, understandably so, but difficult for the reformed villain. At the end of his rope, if only for a split moment, Otto considered creating a commotion to draw the hero to him, but that would defeat everything Peter had fought and sacrificed for.
Starting from scratch wasn’t a bad idea either; maybe he didn’t need Spider-Man from the get-go. He built himself up before meeting the likes of Peter the first time, and he can do it again. Yet, this time around, it would be nice to have a guiding hand through a timeline that proved to be ahead in technological advancements.
Luck begins to develop near the end of the week in his search: Otto gets his chance when a petty crime becomes a reckless high-speed chase, presenting as the perfect scenario to catch Spider-Man. He invested in a pocket radio to keep track of the level of crime around the city, wholly stricken by the swarm of reports by the day. Spider-Man stood for helping anyone and everyone, and with the amount of crime to go around, getting on the radio would almost have to yield results.
Quick to hit the streets, Otto emerges from the abandoned warehouse near the waterfront he’d been using as temporary housing, hoisting himself up with adrenaline and determination to rekindle with the kind spider, extending each actuator with purpose and haste. Perhaps it was a good thing Peter hadn’t shown himself in the beginning, Otto decides as he glances at the still severed claw, debating on how and where he would legally get parts to restructure the arm.
Chatter on the radio picks up, and Otto can faintly hear a chorus of sirens in the distance, indicating he’s nearly within view of the crime and, more notably, Spider-Man. Scaling the tallest building on the block, Otto gains an incredible aerial view, spotting a rogue sedan veering and weaving through cars and into oncoming traffic.
Spider-Man was nowhere to be seen yet, and with how close Otto has gotten, he’s not sure if he should step into the spotlight and put a stop to the reckless endangerment. The old Otto would have shrugged it off, prioritizing himself above the safety of others – but as of a week ago, Otto is not that man anymore, and if Spider-Man isn’t coming, someone had to do something about it.
-
As carefully as possible, Peter sets his fresh cup of coffee and deli sandwich down on the ledge of the building as he swings over in the moment, making a mental note of where he is, eager to get back to his late lunch.
Normalcy was long gone as of a week ago, suffocating from the weight of loneliness and the pain of looking at MJ and Ned each day he visited the coffee shop. He wouldn’t mind a bit of company from Strange, either, but like the sorcerer had warned, not a single person would remember who he was, including the doctor. All of those memories, all of the hardships and sacrifices, Peter was now solely responsible for carrying those close, cherishing those experiences on behalf of everyone else.
The change had been a significant one, and overall, it had been rough; there was no sugar coating his misery. He relied on spending time with those near and dear to him; he relied on affection in every mannerism. Having to walk a one-way street and start from the ground up with MJ and Ned in particular had been heartbreaking, yet refreshing in an oddly satisfying way. After everything, maybe this was a good thing. He could make it a good thing.
Sirens grew louder as he swung towards the high-speed chase he had picked up on through radio chatter. Police cars came into view, parked, and scattered in a pattern that surrounded the civilian vehicle, preventing easy escape with the vehicle.
As he draws near, little to no commotion plays out below, and it almost looks like everything has been handled and is in the wrap-up stages. Still, to assume anything would be a rookie play on his part. He swings into the scene, landing gracefully near a handful of cops taking down notes and exchanging important information. Being able to walk up to law enforcement casually – or anyone, really – feels surreal after having the entire world breathing down his neck and at his throat not more than seven days prior.
“Sorry, I’m late, I got caught up with a purse snatcher on the way over,” Peter announces, garnering the attention of several police officers.
“Then it was for a good reason. I suppose we were late, too,” one of the officers barked out a hefty laugh. “We saw him come down and bring the car to a complete stop with no effort. Having four extra arms would come in handy,” the officer trails off in thought.
The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, curiosity ready to kill the cat. “Wait, sorry, who did this?”
The officer's partner buds in with astonishment, happy to share with Spider-Man. “We couldn’t ID the man, but he’s got four metal arms coming out of his back. You’d think that would be enough to ID him alone with four metal arms and all.”
Four metal arms– Peter knows what that means, but there is no way it’s him, it can’t be. They all went home to their respective universes. Strange was very precise with the spell; he would have caught something like that–
“Hey, there he is!” The group of officers beckoned to the man dangling from a nearby building. Peter catches himself, thoughts spiraling a hundred miles an hour. Turning his attention to the hybrid, sure enough, the doctor himself is looking down at them with an odd look.
Don’t panic, Peter, he repeats internally, sucking in a sharp breath while resisting the urge to flee. Otto Octavius hovers in the air, complacent with no sign of advancing, simply staring down at Peter. He’s convinced that through the stylish green-tinted spectacles, Otto has his eyes fixed on him alone, staring right into his core.
Leaping into the air, Peter offers a rushed goodbye with no explanation for exiting the scene unannounced, turning back the way he came, heading for his nearly forgotten lunch. Seeing Otto latched onto that building must have been a side effect, maybe a lucid dream. Except, the officers also saw him, so it’s not impossible. Swinging as fast as the wind would carry him, Peter eventually makes it to his lunch, but barrels straight past it, coming to a standstill in the middle of the rooftop as he peers into the distance in disbelief.
It’s too good to be true; even if that truly was Otto, there’s no way he could remember Peter. The look he gave Peter sent chills down his spine, unable to decode the older man’s expression.
“Come on, Peter… get a grip, it’s probably nothing!” The webslinger pleads with himself quietly, holding his hands above his head, pacing from side to side. Just the sight of the doctor alone caused him to freak out – if he were to interact with him, Peter was convinced it would make everything worse.
And then the deep baritone voice from a week prior reverberates in the air around him, calling his name like Doctor Strange hadn’t cast a spell that detached his identity from the world.
“Hello, Peter,” Otto greets the young hero’s back, watching him seize up like a deer caught in the headlights, “I must say, I didn’t think we’d be meeting so soon again after everything that had occurred.”
Time fell away, stopping when Peter slowly turned to face him, staring through Otto with a ghastly expression, and he truly does feel like he’s seen a ghost. He was still masked, unwilling to reveal himself. Otto stood at the ledge, his actuators hoisting him into the air. One of the arms is damaged, yet to be repaired; Peter isn’t sure which part of this unlikely reunion clues him in on the reality and gravity of the situation.
“How…” Peter swallows thickly, confidence wavering in front of the doctor, “How do you remember me?” The edges of his eyes tingled with pain from the pressure of tears beginning to form. This had to be a cruel joke. He wanted to shrink and hide in the face of Otto, who dons a look of befuddlement and concern following his genuine questions. At times like these, he’s grateful for the mask.
“How do I..? You fixed my chip, dear boy. Why wouldn’t I remember you?” Otto huffs out an innocent chuckle, his smile growing wider the longer he basks in Peter’s company. He doesn’t understand why the younger man’s body language mirrors that of a wounded animal, and it worries Otto to some degree.
“No,” Peter grits out, clenching his fists tightly, “you shouldn’t know who I am. Stephen cast the spell, and everyone forgot who I am. Why didn’t you? How are you even here right now?”
“I don’t understand, isn’t that what you wanted? For no one to know who Spider-Man is?” Otto questions, cocking his head slightly to the side, curiosity growing rapidly.
“Everyone has forgotten who Peter Parker is, not just Spider-Man,” Peter admits heavily, shoulders sagging with a dull exhale as he tugs the mask over his head to look Otto in the eyes, “how do I know you aren’t just a figment of my imagination? That this isn’t some sick, twisted, demented dream?” Peter croaks pathetically, swallowing his cowardice. He knew the aftereffects were taking their toll, but if this sole interaction with Otto was anything to go by, it couldn’t get much easier.
Otto’s actuators move forward to plant him on his feet, stepping closer to Peter. For a moment, the doctor mulls over his options, rendered speechless in the face of this world’s Peter Parker, always stoic and on the mend to assist those in need. Widened brown orbs lock onto his, waiting with baited breath for the doctor’s answer.
“I assure you, I have not forgotten who Peter Parker is,” Otto cups one of Peter’s shoulders with a firm squeeze of the hand, “you are the reason I continue to exist, thanks to not only Spider-Man’s sheer willpower, but yours, as you chose to fight for my second chance.”
This seems to stick with Peter as he peers up at Otto through his tinted shades, searching for a sign that he wasn’t real. But he doesn’t find one, and finally caves, crashing into the older man with a relieved sob.
“Doctor Octavius, I’m so glad to see you,” Peter confesses, burying himself into the dark turtleneck sweater, clutching at the sleeves of his overcoat, “I didn’t realize how bad this was until you showed up again,” quickly stuttering in his awkward fashion, “not bad because of you, but like, because no one else remembers me and it’s been pretty quiet and lonely, and–”
“Peter, breathe,” Otto instructs, planting both gloved hands on the webslinger’s shoulders. He smiles down at Peter, adding to his thought, “It seems I won’t be leaving anytime soon, so we’ve got time, dear boy.”
When he finally pulls himself together, Peter pulls away sheepishly, slightly guilty about invading the doctor’s personal space. His stomach starts to growl, coaxing a soft chuckle from Otto.
“I noticed you had a meal sitting out on the ledge,” Otto starts, turning back to see birds surrounding the items defensively, claiming the human food for themselves, “keyword had. We can discuss more of what you’ve told me over lunch, your choice.”
When Peter sees the same thing, the argument dies on his tongue, sighing in defeat; he was looking forward to that sandwich, too. On the bright side, lunch wouldn’t be spent in silence, graced with Otto’s reformed company.
With a raised eyebrow and arms tucked to his sides neutrally, Otto sought clarification on the webslinger’s train of thought when the mask goes on again and Peter beelines for the ledge behind them. “Will I be having lunch with Spider-Man, or Peter Parker?”
Halting abruptly, heat pools at the base of his neck and under his eyes, and he sheepishly rubs his nape in embarrassment. “I should probably change, huh?” Peter ponders openly, deciding to stop at home to change first. Looking back at Otto, Peter jabs a thumb at the city behind them with a crooked head, “We should probably stick together then. We can make a quick pit stop by my apartment first.”
-
Confirming the coast was clear, Peter slides one of the worn-down window panes up with his fingertips, slinking inside with little effort. Quickly making his way to the door from the exposed bedroom, he unlatches the deadbolt, opening the door with a creak of evident lack of maintenance. Otto stands at the entrance, saying nothing of the unsightly area, smiling at the reemergence of Peter. The doctor can sense his nervousness from a mile away, patiently waiting for an invitation in, attempting to expedite the process with subtle hand movements directed his way. Peter does get the hint and awkwardly steps aside for Otto, quickly latching the deadbolt behind him and removing his mask again.
Going from the condo Otto had occupied briefly with the others to be involuntarily fixed, albeit eternally grateful to Peter for the gift, the new living quarters nearly gave him whiplash. It was as basic as they came, nothing more than walls and a roof and the necessary amenities.
Exploring the apartment wasn’t something Peter had any trouble with due to the marginal downsize from the apartment he shared with May before his world fell apart. Having everything within proximity worked better for him anyway; it’d be hard to lose much of anything with so little space.
Then again, it might be hard to hide things for the same reason, too.
Stepping around his guest, shaded eyes scanned the bleak environment, Peter broke the silence. “It’s not much, but the landlord didn’t require ID or credit. I don’t have much cash either, but we all have to start somewhere,” he admits bitterly, setting the mask in the nightstand drawer by the bedside, “I’m gonna freshen up, so feel free to make yourself at home.” Grabbing a new set of clothes, Peter shuts himself in the bathroom, leaving the man outside to do as he pleased.
Otto steps further into the apartment when the bathroom door latches shut, his boots echoing against the wooden floor with each step he makes until he stops at the window Peter had climbed into, gently shutting the pane. Turning his head, small and medium boxes tucked away in a corner of the main room caught his eye, hiding what Peter had left.
A small toy figurine with minimal detail caught his eye on the table next to the window, adorned with plastic bolts of lightning and a hood; next to the figurine was a stack of books with loose sheets strewn inside and spilling out. Curiosity gets the better of him, further inspecting the books, reading GED Study Guide: 2024 Edition on the cover.
Which, in turn, does give him whiplash this time, eyes stuck on the supposed year. Not only was he stranded in a foreign universe, the timeline was further ahead by 20 years from when his final breath would have been drawn. It would explain the highly advanced technology Otto had witnessed in Peter’s suit.
Opening the cover, Otto thumbs through the pages of the book, skimming through the material, mostly elementary for someone of his caliber. His head reels from everything as the facts begin to sink in. Having no ID, no other form of payment aside from cash, to studying for the GED when he recalled the snappy lady from the bridge telling Peter M.I.T. would reconsider his application in thanks for his heroism.
When Peter told Otto that everyone had to start from somewhere, he didn’t consider the severity in the logistics: the spell didn’t set him back a few measly steps – he was an entirely new person in his universe, starting over with nothing but himself.
The bathroom door opens, and Spider-Man is nowhere to be seen, replaced with a casually dressed student, sporting white and red hi-tops, faded jeans, and a long-sleeve graphic shirt. A few strands come loose from the freshly combed head of hair, falling above his eyebrow. Mindful not to stare for longer than appropriate, Otto had to admit Peter knew how to clean up.
Peter places the folded suit in the dresser across from the bed, setting aside the responsibilities required of his double-standard life. Grabbing his wallet and room key, Peter pulls a thick coat from the back of one of the dining table chairs and dresses for the December weather.
“I think I’m ready to go if you are, doc.”
Quietly shutting the book, he glides the tip of his fingers over the cover in thought, humming thoughtfully before moving away to meet Peter. “Lead the way, and I will follow, dear boy.”
-
