It had been a few weeks since Otto’s encounter with the KRAB and the Octopus had become a shortly lived social media fad. Superhero news was no emerging trend in New York, the place was practically littered with them, but the strange circumstances around Otto’s first battle with a supervillain did manage to keep his 15 seconds of fame going for a tad longer than it would have – maybe 20 seconds of fame at a push.
Opinion was divided though, as it so often was on the streets of New York City. Some admired him, embracing the plucky young crime fighter as their own – seeing things like his impromptu slingshot across the city as an ingenuity and knowledge of the city many others lacked in the Big Apple. Others saw this as incompetence, noting how stressed and ad-hoc the plan was in the first place.
Not in the least mentioning his villain himself. People were simultaneously grateful as they were suspicious. The fight had taken place hundreds of miles off the coast of New York, with no witnesses other than the crew. The grainy security cam footage – or what was salvaged of it only served to muddy the waters further. Conspiracy theorists and those with ulterior agendas alike cried accusations of crisis actors and of a manufactured superhero situation serving more to disrupt maritime trade routes and gear the public up for a squeeze on the economy.
Otto struggled not to pay heed to it all. The attention was intoxicating. He’d spent all of his life in the shadows – at the back of the classroom. Hiding from the world and wishing someone would notice him, now they had.
Despite his best efforts though, life moved on. Both on social media and in his personal life. People eventually stopped talking about the Octopus, and Otto had opted to take a small break to focus on his studies, and his upcoming interview at Oscorp.
”…Do you think I should wear a suit? I don’t even know where to get one! Should I shake his hand when we meet? Or is that too formal for my friends dad? Do I call him ‘Sir’, or ‘Mr. Osborn’?” What felt like a thousand questions had fell from Otto’s mouth in a slurry of anxiety.
His best friend, Peter Parker sat opposite, waiting for the onslaught to stop. When it finally did he didn’t know where to start answering the questions. “Uh, yeah you should definitely wear a suit, I can lend you mine. Yes, shake his hand. Call him Mr. Osborn no doubt he’ll ask you to call him Norman. I’m not answering the rest I forgot them halfway through.”
”Ah, c’mon, Pete I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.” Replied Otto, with a glum, slightly annoyed tone to his voice.
”This is the biggest opportunity of my life, man, I could use a little help.”Peter shot him a look that could kill a lion and rose from his chair. He shrugged his shoulders moving over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. “I dunno dude. I guess.”
”What’s the matter man? What just because you decided not to go for the interview you’ve got to punish me for it?”Peter sighed, not even turning to face his friend. “Yeah
I’m the asshole here, you’re
totally right.”
”What’s your problem? We’ve not properly seen each other for a few weeks I thought you’d be happy to see me!”“Yeah, not for lack of trying. On my part at least.”
”What’re you my girlfriend now?”“No, I’m your best friend, Otto. I’ve been trying to speak to you for ages now, but you’re either never around, too tired, or busy. You’ve barely even spoke to me about Ben I thought we were closer than this, man.”
Realization fell on Otto’s head like a pile of bricks. He’d been so swept up in his own life, and his double life as the Octopus that he hadn’t given any time at all to checking on Peter. For a moment he thought about telling him everything, about the suit, his powers, and his fight with the KRAB. He bit his tongue, he’d considered telling Peter previously, his expertise would have come in extremely handy when designing any prototype gadgets, but ultimately he decided it was too much of a risk. Getting someone involved in this crazy decision could only lead them to getting hurt.
”I, uh…” He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?
”Look, Pete, I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve been a shit friend recently. I’ve had so much on my plate recently, which isn’t an excuse, but…” He trailed off. He was never very good at this sort of thing.
Peter sighed again. “I know man, it’s fine. It’s just been a tough few weeks for me and I was really hoping to speak to you. I know I’ve got MJ, and Harry, but it’s different – we’ve been friends since forever we’re like brothers.”
Otto nodded.
”You’re right, brothers to the end. I’m sorry.”“Stop saying sorry, we’re good. What’s been keeping you so busy these last few weeks anyway? You got a secret girlfriend or something?”
”-yeah, something like that I guess…”“Damn, you old dog. I guess you really will need this internship with Harry’s dad if you’re going to pay for that. Trust me, bro, girlfriends cost serious money.”
Otto sat in the lavish waiting room with the soundtrack to his anxiety being the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the off-beat bebop tapping of the receptionists keyboard. Occasionally she’d blow a bubble from her gum and the loud
pop would only serve to heighten his nerves even more. Even less frequently was the sight of anyone else entering – or accidentally opening the door to the room. It was obvious that visits to Norman weren’t very frequent, the vast majority of people either gave the message to the receptionist or mumbled an apology and something about being lost before heading back the way they came with their tail between their legs.
He adjusted the tie in his slightly-too-snug suit he borrowed from his decidedly skinnier friend and looked down at the mostly clear green folder in his hands. His entire professional career was in there, detailed in a CV that had been revised and revised a thousand times in preparation for the interview. All his studying, experimenting, and writing boiled down to a couple of pages stapled together. He hoped it would be enough.
Finally the phone rang on the receptionists desk and she answered it, giving a short nod before placing the phone back down and calling out to the nervous nerd sitting in front of her. “Mr. Osborn will see you now.”
Gulp.
Otto could practically his heart beating out his throat. He’d take another confrontation with a mechanical monster over this. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to get out of here, to run away and never come back destined for a life of mediocrity. But then the words of his friends echoed through his head, words less of encouragement and more like statements of fact. They knew how much he deserved this job and how good a fit he’d be in the company. Part of him believed them, but that nagging part at the back of his head telling him he wasn’t good enough was always there to sow the seeds of doubt.
He entered the lavish office feeling more like a peasant petitioning the king than someone interviewing for an internship. It was maybe the nicest room, Otto had ever been in. There were paintings on the wall that must have cost more than his family home. The man himself was sat, staring out of that huge window that could’ve been a beautifully painted fresco of New York City rather than a true depiction of the multifaceted boroughs that lay below.
”-Uh, Mr. Osborn, sir? I’m here for the interview, it’s me Otto, Harry’s friend?” Otto stood at the far end of the room clutching his folder like a shield. He was in his early 20s and yet being in the presence of a man like this made him feel like a little kid again.
Osborn turned in his chair in a relaxed manner, before standing, straightening out his suit and facing Otto. “Ahh, Otto. Of course I know who you are, Harry has talked so much about you.” He rounded his antique, mahogany desk and fastened the middle button on his suit jacket, extending out his spare hand towards Otto.
Otto stared back at the hand like Norman had offered him the holy grail. Shellshocked, he stood and stared for a moment, and then a moment longer, then a moment too long.
“C'mon kid, are you going to make me cross the room? Come and take a seat.” He beckoned him over using that same hand. Otto realised how far away he was and how long he was talking to respond. In an effort to make up for this mistake he rushed over and perhaps too eagerly shook Osborn’s hand.
”Oh, sorry, Mr. Osborn, Sir!” He took a seat in the directed chair and watched the imposing businessman sit opposite.
“Please, Otto, call me Norman. Mr. Osborn was my father, and I’ve not been knighted so sir definitely isn’t necessary.” He leaned over slightly “-Yet, that is. There’s still time to get on the king of England’s good side.” He winked.
Otto let out a nervous laugh in reply, unsure what to say. He let out a small cough.
”Well, uh, I just want to thank you for the great opportunity, Mr. Norm, I mean Norman. I really appreciate it.”Osborn smiled like a shark, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers. “No problem at all, son. But I view this less as an opportunity I’m giving you and more of one we can both take advantage of. I’ve looked over your work, and suffice to say I’m very impressed.”
Otto blinked, amazed that he had spent the time to research someone like him.
“You have?”“Of course. You think I personally interview every intern who walks into Oscorp?” Norman gestured lazily toward the folder still clutched in Otto’s hands. “That’s merely the abridged version, I assume. I make it a habit to know who I’m inviting into my company before I let them anywhere near my work.” His eyes flicked up. “You’ve got an interesting mind, Otto. Ambitious. Creative. A little reckless.”
“I- well, innovation requires a certain level of-”“-risk.” Norman finished for him, smiling. “Yes. I’m far too familiar with the concept.” There was something about the way he said it that made Otto’s skin prickle. “Tell me, Otto, these prosthetic concepts of yours. Neural integration, adaptive response systems… bio-mechanical feedback loops-” He tilted his head. “How far along are you, really?”
Otto hesitated. The
truth flickered through his mind. The arms, the suit, the night sky rushing past him as metal limbs carried him between buildings, the KRAB, the way his body had changed - evolved.
“Theoretical stages, mostly.” he said carefully.
“I’ve built small-scale prototypes. Nothing fully realised.”“Hm.” He leaned back again, crossing his arms. “That’s curious.”
Otto’s grip tightened slightly on the folder.
“Curious?”“Yes.” Norman’s tone remained casual, but his eyes didn’t soften. “Because the work I’ve seen suggests someone capable of pushing far beyond ‘small-scale prototypes.’ Someone who doesn’t wait for permission.” A pause. “Someone who might test their own limits.”
This wasn’t how he thought the interview would go. It felt more like torture by the Spanish Inquisition. Otto felt his heartbeat spike and heard the blood pumping in his ears.
For a split second, he considered it – telling him. Not everything, but just enough. Enough to secure the internship, the resources, funding, a lab – everything he’d ever dreamed of. Norman Osborn backing him would change his life overnight.
But then the thoughts of his life recently came back to him. The man screaming inside the metal cockpit. The fishing trawler torn in half. The terrified faces of the crew onboard the trade ship. Power, without responsibility.
“I like to innovate.” Otto replied finally, forcing a small, awkward smile.
“But I’m not reckless.”Norman held his gaze for a few moments in silence – eyeing him up like a predator. Then slowly he smiled again. “Good answer.” He said with a wink, pointing a finger gun at him.
Otto felt the tension in the room deflate and then reinflate with something else, a different kind of anxiety.
Norman stood, turning slightly toward the massive window behind him. “Do you know what separates people like you and me from everyone else, Otto?”
Otto blinked.
“…I’m not sure I’d put myself in the same category as you, sir- I mean - Norman.”Norman chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked out over the city. “It’s not intelligence. Plenty of intelligent people end up doing very little with it.” He tilted his head slightly. “It’s not even ambition. Ambition without action is just daydreaming.” He turned back towards him. “It’s
application. The willingness to act on an idea before the world is ready for it.” Otto shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Norman took a step closer, resting a hand lightly on the back of his chair. “Harry tells me you and, Peter have been working together for years.”
“Yeah. Since we were kids. If you can call that working, he’s my best friend.”“Mmm.” Norman nodded. “Bright boy, Peter. Very bright. Different from you, though.”
Otto frowned.
“Different in what way?”“He hesitates.” He smiled. “Second-guesses himself. Questions whether he
should act, instead of recognising when he
can act.” He gestured vaguely. “A moral compass like that is admirable, of course. But it can also be… limiting.”
Otto didn’t like where this was going.
“Pete’s one of the smartest people I know.” he said, a little more firmly than intended.
“And he’s - he’s a good friend.”“I’m sure he is.” Replied Norman smoothly. “But being a good friend doesn’t build the future, Otto. People like
you do.”
Silence overtook the room again for a moment. Otto could feel the fabric of the too-tight suit pulling at his shoulders. He suddenly felt very aware of the weight of the conversation. Of what Norman was really saying to him. Of what he was offering.
Norman moved back behind his desk, picking up Otto’s folder and flipping it open - not to read it, but almost as a gesture. A formality. “So.” he said, closing it again. “Let’s not waste any more time.” He looked Otto dead in the eye. “I’m offering you a position here at Oscorp. Internship, to start. Direct access to one of our research divisions.” A faint smile. “Assuming, of course… that you’re willing to apply that mind of yours
properly.”
“…You mean - I got the job?”“Pending a few formalities.” Norman replied. “But yes, Otto. Welcome to Oscorp.”
Otto let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He felt relief, excitement, validation all crashing into him at once.
“Thank you, Norman, I won’t let you down, I swear-”“I know.” Norman interrupted with that same smile. Somehow this came across more unsettling than any other part of the conversation. He extended his hand again. This time Otto didn’t hesitate, he shook his hand with confidence. As their hands shook, Norman’s grip tightened, just slightly. “Tell me, Otto how do you feel about marine applications?”
“Uh, you could say I have a vested interest.”“Oh yes.” he said. “I think you’ll find we have a mutual interest there. I look forward to reviewing your work.”
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