Would this have been any other time, it could have lead to a disaster, and that would have cost money. Money, that Norman Osborn wasn’t willing to shell out due to a mistake made by Otto. If he couldn’t handle himself, he’d get another to watch over him - just to keep everything on schedule.

“You have twelve hours to try again.” It was more like several days - they still had time, but Norman didn’t want Otto slacking off now. Not when things were getting so close to completion. “If I hear that alarm... If you cause an explosion... or worse it will be the least of your worries.”

“--- Oww,” he said, lifting his head up for a moment, “Yeah, I can see that. You with all those arms being so touchy. Really, I never would have  guessed, Doc. Just... i’ll get up eventually. Or you know what? Would you care to finish me off now? Really don’t feel like having to deal with everything today.”

ꜱᴇɴᴅ ✪ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʙʜᴇᴀᴅᴊʀʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ?@ock-industries ( currently accepting. )

@ock-industries {x}

1st question

meme | accepting / Send me a ✖ if you enjoy my portrayal of my character.

To add extra effect, he scraped the tips of his clawed gloves against the wall. “Think of it as scientific curiosity, Octavius. I simply want to see if you’d survive if I tear them off - should i make this quick or... piece by piece?” 

@ock-industries {x}

“I’m not asking for your help, Doctor. I’m asking for your cooperation.”

There was a chitter at the Spider’s side as one of her metal tentacles reared up, not unlike a snake coiling to strike.

   Gloved fingertips ground the paper of the letter in a slow, agitated manner. Electrified eyes read the ink, sunken in behind glass. His brow was furrowed as he read that line. Over. And over. And over. 

                                I don’t think you have a choice, Electro. 

   There was some welling anger that boiled in his chest, past the jittery hum that never slept. Choice. His call. Since when was any of this his call?! His Choice?!

   His teeth grit behind that mask. That rubber casing that kept him together. It was like a prison and he hated it, he god damn well despised it. Loathed everything about this situation. 

   This facility, how he heard the whispers of staff, the scoot back from his fellow patients, the blank stares of physicians behind their glasses. He felt small. God he felt so terribly small and yet it made him want to lash out all the more. What was stopping him!? That he didn’t have a choice?! SINCE WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME HE HAD A CHOICE?! 

   He peeled his eyes away from the letter, the document he’d waited so patiently for, his one outreach to one of the few people he felt was worthy enough of trust. He pressed his head into his hand as he rested his elbow on his thigh. He didn’t even finish the letter. He’s done for the night.

   His head hurt. His… His everything hurt…

   He should get some sleep. Setting his letter aside, and laying himself down on the little cot that was never comfortable enough, his mind drifted. 

   And he vowed. 

   He’ll have his choice.