Master Controller

As night fell, a fine mist began to drift from the sky, and bright lights illuminated every street and alley in New York. The blonde girl darted across rooftops, moving swiftly from building to building.

She traversed half of New York on foot, arriving outside a gloomy factory. Like a monkey, she nimbly scaled a three-meter-high iron fence and landed in a crouch within the dark courtyard.

Gwen took a deep breath, forcing down her unease, and cautiously stepped forward.

The vast factory was devoid of any light, darkness silently enveloping everything, shaping the tall factory buildings and structures into jagged forms. A cool breeze snaked through the gaps in the doors, sending a chill down her spine.

Gwen began to feel a flicker of doubt. The burning, stinging sensation had been constant since she jumped into the warehouse (though she didn't yet know it was a dangerous warning from her Spider-Sense). She couldn't explain why, but some instinct had deeply imprinted this address into her mind, like a map with GPS navigation.

The factory door wasn't locked. She heaved the nearly five-meter-high door open and ducked inside. The interior was a pitch-black mass, even more impenetrable than the outside. The stinging sensation guided her as she fumbled her way to a basement entrance. She grabbed the door ring and pulled up a heavy steel plate, revealing a downward-sloping staircase.

Gwen felt her way down the stairs, a faint white light dimly illuminating their outline. She reached the bottom and found herself in a dimly lit metal room. A man sat in a swivel chair with his back to the entrance, four limp metal tentacles extending wildly behind him, casting four long, thin shadows on the wall in the dim light.

Gwen felt her heartbeat begin to falter. She tried to mask her unease by asking, "Who are you?"

"I've been expecting you. I knew you would come looking for me," the man's voice rasped. "I just didn't expect you to be the first one. Quite an unexpected surprise."

The swivel chair slowly turned, revealing the man's sinister, chilling face. He had a flat-top haircut, wore dark green lenses, and was dressed in a respectable black suit. Four metal arms swayed behind him like tentacles.

Gwen recognized him.

"Otto Octavius, Doctor Octopus?" she asked in surprise. "Didn't Spider-Man catch you?"

"Yes, it is I, your creator," Otto said, crossing his hands under his chin. "My memory has been problematic for some time. I couldn't piece together the fragmented pieces in my mind—all thanks to that failed Oz Human Experiment at Oscorp. The lab explosion affected my sanity, oh, and it also fused this thing to me, making it impossible to get rid of."

He manipulated one of his tentacles with his mind, bringing it before him. Its sharp claws clicked twice.

"It was agonizing at first. The control centers for these four extra arms merged directly into my spinal cord, causing me unbearable pain," he said. "But soon, I learned to control them, to coexist with them. I picked myself up, tried to build a new laboratory, and restart my career. That is, until that detestable Spider-Man appeared, repeatedly thwarting my plans."

"But you were robbing banks and trying to steal equipment from other labs," Gwen frowned. "He was just doing his job."

"Great men do not concern themselves with trifles," Otto said coldly. "For a long time, I was plagued by that hateful wall-crawler, but due to my memory issues, I couldn't recall who he was. But after Spider-Man threw me in prison, I had plenty of time to recall and organize my thoughts, and then I finally remembered: the accident at Oscorp, the Oz serum, and Spider-Man's identity."

He chuckled. "So you see, in a way, it's thanks to Spider-Man's help. When I worked at Oscorp, I was the senior head of the Oz serum project, so I knew the Oz Equation and how it worked. So I approached the CIA, revealed Spider-Man's secret, and promised them I could create more." He paused, shrugging. "And thus, you came to be—my most perfect creations."

Gwen bit her lip, clenching her fists. "You did this to us."

"I created you," Otto corrected. "In other words, I am your creator. Your lives, your destinies belong to me. The purpose of your birth is to serve me."

"No, you're not," Gwen said, fearlessly, her emerald eyes blazing. "The meaning of life is created by oneself. It belongs to no god, no one, and certainly not to a mad scientist hiding in a basement living in a fantasy."

"Hmm, interesting," Otto replied, not angered, only showing an intrigued expression. "It seems someone has filled your head with some strange notions. But it doesn't matter. Once I catch you, I'll make the necessary adjustments, and you'll be more than happy to serve me then."

The sound of a steel plate being lifted echoed from the entrance again, and multiple footsteps approached along the stairs. Gwen instinctively turned, seeing two Spider-Men and a figure in a blue and black suit with a red cape appear at the top of the stairs.

The moment their eyes met Gwen's, they froze as if struck by lightning.

"Gwen?"

"Hi, Peter," Otto said, sitting back in his chair, chuckling. "Meet Gwen Stacy, Spider-Woman. A clone I specially made for you. Aren't you touched?"

Peter snapped out of his shock, clenching his fists, his gaze towards Otto practically spitting fire.

"Otto..."

He could no longer stand it. He lunged past Gwen, rushing towards Otto without hesitation.

"What have you done!"

A chilling gust of air pursued him from behind, the cold mixed with the prickle of Spider-Sense on the back of his neck. Peter reacted with lightning speed, shifting his body as something long and thin brushed past his neck with a chilling whisper.

Without time to process, another sharp sting hit him. He twisted in mid-air, flipping sideways, his movements agile as he changed direction several times in an instant. Grotesque weapons assailed him under the cover of darkness, the air currents feeling like clubs, or perhaps spears. Peter dodged several blows before finally, with one misstep, he was slammed hard in the abdomen by a steel arm. The immense force, weighing over ten tons, crashed down, making him feel as if his internal organs were about to shatter.

Only then did they notice that the four tentacles behind the Doctor were not the only things lurking in the darkness. Countless steel tendrils, like black snakes hidden underwater, moved silently, poised to strike, ready to deliver the most fatal blow to any prey that wandered into the room.

Otto slowly rose from his swivel chair, the metal tentacles writhing wildly behind him.

"See, I just said it. I've finally gotten used to coexisting with this cold machinery," he said with a smile. "In fact, I've even started to enjoy it. I've upgraded the neural link fused to my spinal cord, amplifying the signals to allow me to command more arms. Now, the number of arms I possess... is far more than just four."