Blood by My Hand

A/N: I don't know when this'll be finished at all, so just hang in with me. I also see those hits. Yeah, I can see that you were looking at this. Thirty hits and only one review? Come on, people, you can do better than that...
No warnings, if you paid attention to the summary codes.
Marvel is not mine.

Disgruntled, Norman didn't sleep much. Otto could hear him pacing late into the night. On his way to the stairs in the morning, Otto, shirtless because of the tentacles, paused outside Norman's door for a moment, wondering if he was awake. In this precarious position, they couldn't afford any bad feelings. Any disruption between them could jeopardize their freedom. Silence. Norman wasn't in there. With a slight shrug, Otto continued downstairs. With all that it had been forced to adapt to lately, his brain was already orienting itself with the new camera. Maybe he could do the second one today.

It had taken forever for the boy to fall asleep. He hadn't bothered to take off his shoes or get under the blanket. He'd simply curled up on top of the blankets with his back to the door until his eyes got too heavy to stare at the wall. If he dreamed anything, he couldn't remember.

Norman had come down shortly before the sun rose, and was now just inside the open door of the shelter, leaning against the wall. Silently, he watched the boy.

The teenager gradually became aware of a heavy sensation at his back. His eyes opened slowly and flicked sideways but he didn't move otherwise. The shadow on the wall must have been Osborn, but maybe if Peter didn't respond he'd give up and go away.

"Sleep well?" he asked in a casual voice.

"Fantastic," the youth muttered sarcastically, still not moving.

"I'm sorry to say your aunt did not."

Anger and fear tightened his back and stomach but he wouldn't give this lunatic the satisfaction of a response. He had to be bluffing. Could they really have gotten his aunt while he was locked up down here? Or maybe he meant it was because Peter had been gone all night... Man, what on earth was he going to tell her if... No, not if, when. When he got back...

Norman was fiendishly perceptive. "I have no intention of hurting her," he said, rather less than sincere. "But she is only human."

"Oh, please, what do you know about humanity?" It was a biting rhetorical question. And he kept his back to the other man. He wasn't quite ready to make his escape yet. He wasn't sure where he would go once he got into the woods.

"A great deal. I'm a scientist, after all."

"You're a murdering monster."

"And you're an illegal crime against humanity. We make due, Peter."

He finally sat up and turned to glare at the man in the doorway. "I didn't ask for this. You did that to yourself. There's a difference." The words had struck deep, though.

"Didn't seek treatment for it, did you?" he countered.

"Because when people know who I am, megalomaniacs like you go and pull psychotic stunts like this." He just wanted to go home. Things hadn't been perfect before the spider, but they had been better than this. He couldn't let anyone close to him anymore, and no matter what he did his loved ones ended up hurt in some form or another.

"If you'd come out with it right away, instead of playing hero games, there never would have been a reason for you to keep anything a secret."

It was much more complicated than that in the teenager's mind, but he wouldn't talk to Osborn about it, about Ben, about how one thing had led to another and sucked him into this before he even realized what was happening... In fact, Osborn wasn't in any position to judge him or his problems at all. "I don't know what nutty delusions you've got going on up there, but I don't want any part of them."

"You'll learn. Would you like breakfast?"

"No." He wasn't in the mood to be friendly with Osborn.

"Suit yourself." Norman slipped out, and the lock resounded through the concrete room.

As soon as he was sure he was alone, he jumped up and began pouring over the walls and corners of the room, searching for any way he could get out. There didn't seem to be anything, but he'd keep trying.

Otto was sitting at the kitchen table with his nose in a book he'd found. His tentacles were making pancakes from a box of mix. Norman came up from the shelter, expressionless, his body language impatient. The doctor's eyes only flicked over for a second before returning to the book. "Teenagers, hm?" He responded dryly. Personally, he would have killed the pest by now, but it was more beneficial to humor Norman.

"I keep forgetting that he's just a child." He rubbed his temples, leaning against a counter.

"Do you want some pancakes?" The claw holding the handle tossed the pancake into the air where it flipped and landed right back in the middle of the pan. Otto didn't look up from the book, watching with the camera eye.

"Yes, please." He settled back into a chair, thinking.

The metal appendages got out silverware and syrup. They dumped the pancake onto a plate with two others, set everything in front of Norman, and poured batter to make more. Otto turned a page.

Norman eyed the book. "Thank you," he said, digging in.

"Mhm." The book was Last Chance at Eden, a collection of short stories. The first one was all right, about a woman whose body was destroyed by a gang, but she'd had her mind transferred into a monster used for arena fights. The others that he'd read were varying degrees of interesting. When the tentacles set the plate of pancakes in front of him, he finally marked his place and set the book aside, attention switching to the food in front of him.

Norman reached across the table and snagged the book, flipping through a few pages.

Otto's eyes flicked up and then back down. If Osborn was reading, Octavius could work on his project after breakfast. He finished and got up from the table.

"I suppose you're busy?" he said dryly, eyes on the pages.

The doctor mentally twitched a little at that. On top of last night, that gave him a flashback to his wife. "Not at this instant, but I was planning on doing another upgrade today."

Norman looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "Time for me first?"

The kitchen light flashed off the harness as Otto turned to face him. "What did you have in mind?"

Norman watched his face. "Last night was... distinctly enjoyable. What did you think?"

"Well... While I agree, it was only a few hours ago..." And he wasn't in the mood at the moment, though he hadn't been in the mood to start with, either, last night.

"You've slept since then, you're a relatively young man." He sounded reasonable, but there was a heat in his eyes as he looked up at Otto.

He snorted and smiled, crossing his arms over his bare chest and leaning against the counter. With nothing to do, the tentacles merely traced lazy loops and waves through the air around him. "I'm also a nerd with no sexuality."

Norman laughed aloud at that. "None?"

"Little if any," Otto ceded, expression still vaguely teasing.

Norman's hand shot out as an actuator looped near him, and he grabbed it, using it to pull the man nearer. "I doubt that."

"I went for seven years without sex." He didn't resist the pull. There was no real reason to resist.

"Far too long. But impressive control."

"While I appreciate the compliment, it was more of a lack of interest than a presence of control."

"And now? Is there interest?" His eyes revealed little more than amusement.

The tentacle in Norman's hand snaked up his arm to caress his face a bit. "Perhaps a little..."

The madman grinned, and bit the tentacle playfully. "Want to see if you can last this time?" he said, teasing.

"Hm..." Otto's eyes flicked up as he thought. He didn't really feel like a power struggle like last time, so he said, "Whatever you want."

Norman rose, and pulled him towards the stairs. "You need to be more assertive." The power struggle was part of what Norman loved.

Octavius smirked. This hard to get stuff, for him, was beginning to take on the feel of a game. "Get me in the mood to be more assertive, then." It had happened before.

Norman drew him into the master bedroom. "Take those off," he told him, pulling at Otto's harness.

That actually seemed to make Otto a little uncomfortable. "My tentacles?"

He nodded, pushing him back towards the wall. "Unfair advantage." There was one more hesitation, and then Octavius complied, walking the tentacles into the nearest corner and letting them set down. Norman grinned, predatory and eager as he pressed Otto against the wall, right before he captured his mouth in a fierce kiss.

Otto kissed back, feeling Norman over every inch of his previously covered skin. His hands were inhumanly warm, wandering lower and lower. Otto’s eyes slipped closed and he watched through the video feed from the actuator.

Norman unbuttoned Otto's pants, grinding his hips against him. He nibbled and bit at the man's lips, hungry. "What do you want?" he asked him darkly.

He tipped his head back against the wall and smiled at the third person view in his mind. "You removing your shirt would be a start..." Still holding him against the wall, Norman leaned back just enough to pull his shirt off over his head before coming back to suck and bite the angle of his neck. The smile widened a little and Otto traced his fingers down Norman's spine. "Good..."

"Turn around," Norman muttered against his skin, his breath coming fast and warm. "Now." He turned slowly, reluctant to break the chest to chest contact. Norman's hands ran down his side, nails raking lightly, then he pushed his pants down. "Take them off."

The scientist let his pants fall around his ankles before stepping out of them and pushing them aside with one foot. His shoulders were tight, his eyes still closed.

Norman pressed against him from behind, naked now as well. He pressed against him, wrapping his arms around Otto. "Tense."

The silvery tangle of snakes in the corner shifted as the camera changed angles slightly. "Enjoying the view, though..." He liked Norman's back.

Norman looked over his shoulder at the tentacle. "Can you record?" he asked teasingly.

"Might be able to set up a wireless device that can hook up to a television or computer..."

"Wonderful," he growled, positioning himself.

Otto put his palms and forehead against the wall, tilting his head slightly as the camera moved to a lower angle to watch what Norman was doing. The feeling of the cock brushing against his asshole made him feel hot and cold at the same time. Norman was a pretty good size, after all.

Holding his hips, and with no preparation, Norman pressed into him in one hard thrust; not rough but certainly not gentle. "Mine," he growled, his breath hot on the back of Otto's neck.

His head tipped back against the other man's shoulder, but all he did was let out a gasp. It hurt, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "When did you decide that?" Otto chuckled.

"The first time you argued with me in the lab," he panted, thrusting slowly in and out.

A short breathy laugh. "Didn't realize I'd been marked." He turned his head to take Norman's mouth with his own.

Norman's kiss was teeth and heat as he fucked him harder against the wall. "No one ever argues with me."

Otto pushed back against him, leaning forward just a bit so Norman could get deeper. At some point he'd decided he was going to see how long he could hold out after all.

Norman grew rougher, angling himself so each thrust slammed a wave of sensation through Otto. He was losing himself in this man.

Again, a form of stimulation he'd never tried before. Though it made him moan and sweat, he decided he still preferred oral. Or perhaps slamming Norman from behind, where he could watch that beautiful back with his two human eyes and smooth it over with his human fingers... Imagining it, he leaned forward farther still, taking the other man to his full depth.

Norman came first this time, shuddering with a deep growl as he spilled himself in Otto. His arms tightened around him and he sank to his knees, pulling him with him.

The alien heat inside him made him moan softly, muscles shuddering a couple times. He was close. Pulling away from Norman, he turned around and put a firm hand on the back of the other man's neck. "Finish me orally," he rasped as he pushed forward and down, palm at the base of Norman's skull.

Norman resisted, grinning up at him. "Not this time."

The snakes stirred in the corner, the other three lifting their heads as well. "Looking for a power struggle?" Otto's hand didn't leave the back of Norman's neck.

He was still breathing hard, spent but not satisfied. "Just a game."

"A game, hm?" His hand wandered down that wonderful back a little ways, playing between Norman's shoulder blades.

Norman straightened, pushing Otto's shoulders against the wall again as he kissed him. "Control is the greatest game of all," he breathed, grinning madly.

The doctor only raised an eyebrow, his interest just starting to wane somewhat in the absence of immediate physical sensation. He'd have to come up with some non-sexual things for Norman and him to do around here. After all, it wasn't like spending time with Norman was particularly unpleasant. The man and the monster were both admirable.

Norman was persistent, still interested. He rubbed against Otto, almost taunting him to take control of this game.

Something in the altered area of his mind stirred, but outwardly Otto resisted purposely. There was a form of power in that, testing and teasing Norman's resolve. He couldn't completely control Norman, but he could control his own body. "You can do better than that..." he purred.

Norman was catlike, flexible and strong in Otto's arms, his clever mouth teasing at his throat, sucking the bruise there from the night before. He knew Otto was watching them through the camera, and took advantage of it. Any other man, it could have been showing off.

"Hm... Well, that is a little better..."

Norman was getting hard again, rubbing against Otto's thigh. "What do you want?" he asked again, his voice husky.

The scientist smirked. "You know what I want..."

"You got that yesterday."

Otto shrugged, a slightly coy expression on his face. "Doesn't mean I don't want it again..." Then again, the tentacles were giving him another idea. He decided to wait for Norman's reaction, though.

"Earn it," he told him, grinning. "Or take it."

Behind the glasses, something glittered in Otto's eyes as a tentacle slithered across the floor. The tip extended, tapering to a slim, rounded point. It wrapped up Norman's body and pushed into his mouth, going for the back of his throat. "Maybe you'd rather see how much of this you can swallow..."

Norman's eyes widened, his head going back for a moment before he caught himself. Amusement gleamed in his eyes, but Otto had scored a point.

The scientist's grin had widened along with Norman's eyes. He knew Norman wasn't afraid of him, and he wasn't actually going to do anything to really hurt the other man, but he experimentally pushed the tip just a little deeper.

Norman tipped his head back, not breaking eye contact. He swallowed around it before consciously relaxing his throat.

A claw grabbed Osborn's wrist and drew his hand over to Octavius' crotch. "Good," Otto purred as the tentacle slid a bit deeper still. It was an odd sensation. "Stroke me."

Norman curled his hand around Otto's cock, the palm hot and callused. He swallowed around the actuator again, his jaw tightening.

The metallic appendage didn't go any deeper. Otto closed his eyes and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He ran his hands through Norman's hair and over his back and sides. Norman stroked him, with controlled slowness. He definitely looked amused. Otto rather liked the slow pace. It was the fleeting swiftness of sexual pleasure that made it seem pointless to him. After a bit, though, the claws grabbed the back of Norman's head. The tentacle withdrew as he pushed the other man's mouth to his cock. He wasn't going to take no for an answer on this.

Norman cackled and shut his mouth firmly. The slender actuator wrapped around Norman's member and squeezed uncomfortably. Norman had told him to be more assertive, and Otto intended to take full advantage of the suggestion. Norman made a surprised sound, but he didn't open his mouth. There was somewhere else he wanted Otto's cock. Not his throat.

"Come on, you do me and I'll owe you something." He shook his head, grinning with teeth shut tight. Otto didn't care enough to beg for it. He released Norman, getting to his feet as he called over the harness.

Norman rolled his eyes, reaching to catch his wrist. "New at this. I didn't want it in my mouth." He stressed the last word, letting Otto think of where else he might want his cock.

Based on what he'd felt with the tentacle, though it was tighter, Otto didn't imagine it would be different enough from vaginal sex to matter too much. Though Norman's shoulder blades were hypnotizing... A teasing smirk. "And you think what you want matters because..." Norman grinned, showing off the elongated teeth. "Hm..." The tentacles pushed Norman onto his hands and knees.

He laughed, surrendering for the moment. "Smart man."

Otto chuckled, dropping to his knees behind Osborn, and ran his fingers over the smooth, warm flesh. There were scars, bullet wounds suffered as the goblin, and he traced lines between them with his fingers. "You're just lucky you have a sexy back."

"I always thought it was my jaw that was my best feature."

"Hm." He ran his tongue up the other man's spine, up his neck, tasting the salty skin. "Well, your eyes aren't exactly aesthetically unpleasing either, I suppose..."

"Mmm." He craned his neck against his tongue. Norman was a creature of sensation. And vanity.

Using his teeth, Otto pulled at Norman's earlobe as he entered him. "Mm, like having your ego stroked, hm?" There was a slight twist in his voice on the word 'stroked.'

"Yes," he purred, pressing back against him, has back arching.

Closing his eyes and putting his forehead between Norman's shoulders, Otto started pulling out and thrusting back in over and over again. The feeling of the initial penetration was Otto's favorite part.

Norman was an active participant, rocking back against him, taking him as deep as possible. He reached back to grip Otto's hip, pulling him against him. "Yes...."

Fucking him slow and deep, Otto traced his hands up and down Norman's sides, breathing his scent. The exhalations tickled warmly across the other man's flesh, condensing on the scientist's glasses.

"Harder...." Norman purred. He smelled of brimstone and sweat, a hot, dangerous scent. Otto grinned slowly as his hands moved on to Norman's chest, but he didn't comply right away. He ground back against him, claws digging into Otto's hip. The scientist could feel Norman's heart, a steady pulse, strong and fast.

The stroking, caressing fingers moved lower still, on Norman's stomach now. He allowed his pace to quicken somewhat, but it still wasn't as hard as he could be. It wasn't out of concern for the other, though. He was simply playing with his partner.

Between his position and the tentacles holding him, Norman couldn't do much about it. He growled, half-irritated, half-amused. "Harder!"

A little faster. "You mean like this?" Octavius teased. The questing fingers finally found and wrapped around Osborn's cock.

His breath caught, growling in his throat. "Yes...."

"Or maybe more like this..." Faster still, really ramming in there, as the fingers began to squeeze and stroke.

He gasped, lifting his hips against Otto. "Perfect...." He moaned, his eyes shutting. "Perfect, Otto."

Otto grinned, closing his eyes and watching Norman's face through the camera. This third person perspective thing was kind of fun now that it wasn't disorienting. He looked strangely human, gasping and writhing in pleasure under Octavius. But his teeth were still inhumanly sharp, and claws dug into the carpet. It was hot inside Osborn, and seeing the other man's reactions brought Otto closer, almost to the edge.

"Now," Norman hissed at him, taking him as deep as he could. "Now!" In Otto's hands, he was tight, burning, ready.

Almost with a half nod, Otto let himself fall over it, pressing in to the hilt and holding as he climaxed. Norman came with a howl, his back arching under Otto, supporting them both. With a heavy sigh, Otto withdrew and sat back, metal snakes twisting on the carpet around him.

Norman pulled himself up to his feet with a lazy, satisfied grin, and looked down at him. The tentacles pushed Otto to his feet, too. Two dragged over his pants and he stepped into them. He still had to find three more cameras and attach them all. Norman watched him, getting dressed himself. His expression was unreadable.

Otto ran his fingers through his hair once as he headed for the door. The tentacle eye was on Norman, though.

Norman followed him. "More work to do?"

"I've decided to add the other three all at once after all. The adjustment period wasn't as long as I'd anticipated."

"Heh. That'll be useful."

"Indeed. I'll never be blind in a fight again." He was making his way to the security room to see if he could find anymore unused camera's in the supply closet there.

"There's a video phone in the study if you want to disassemble it."

"I did look at that yesterday," Otto responded as he began going through the closet. "This design is more ideal for this particular purpose."

"Mmm. Good luck." He kissed Otto's cheek as he passed him, wandering off to find other things to entertain himself.

Near his ankle, the red eye turned to watched Norman leave. There was a pause, and then Otto went back to collecting supplies. He spent the rest of the day shut up in the room he'd claimed working on the tentacles, coming down in the evening only when he got hungry. By then he'd successfully updated the rest of the actuators, though the nanites were closed over two of them.

Norman spent the day planning, turning his mind from idle past-times to strategy and counter-strategy. In the evening, he descended to the bomb shelter again.

Peter had spent about two-thirds of the day planning, and the last third of it standing by the door waiting, the bed's blanket in hand. He didn't know where he'd go once he got out, but he was desperate enough to try anything. As soon as the door opened, he flung the blanket over Norman's head and launched a punch at him.

It landed solidly, the element of surprise working on his behalf. Norman shouted, fighting the blanket for a moment before simply shredding it.

Peter didn't bother to stay and fight, or at least not in this little room. The youth took off up the stairs while Norman was distracted, frantic, pounding steps. Otto heard them as he was approaching the kitchen door.

Norman was chasing him, changed enough that it was easier to run on four legs than two. "Peter, stop!" he bellowed.

The boy didn't look back, shooting into the kitchen as Octavius opened the door. Peter didn't stop, using the momentum of his flight behind a punch to the super-villain's face. Even as the man stumbled back with a hand over his eyes, the tentacles attacked, chasing Peter to the ceiling. He tried to dodge them, but they were following him with greater accuracy than when he'd blinded Ock in the dome.

Norman leapt for the boy, claws sheathed. "Otto, don't hurt him," he ordered, growling. "Peter, think! Where would you go?"

Anywhere but here. If he could knock these two goons out, he was sure he could find a phone in this place. So, instead of answering, he aimed a kick for Osborn's head. Instead of letting it connect, he grabbed Peter's ankle and jerked. The youth came off the ceiling, dangling from the massive fist. He still didn't give up though, twisting and kicking, trying to break Osborn's grip.

Norman tried to grab an arm as well, still trying not to hurt him. It was difficult, in this form and this confined space.

As a super-human, he didn't wear out easily, but it had been a long time since the boy had eaten as well. "Let go of me!" He tried to use his free hand to punch Osborn in the face.

Norman's head snapped back and he grabbed the hand. "No," he growled, pulling the boy into a bear-hug.

"You can't keep me here..."

"You can't leave until you understand!" The boy's struggles subsided slowly, but his jaw was still clenched angrily. Norman set him on his feet, his hands on his shoulders. "Peter, you distrust me. We've established that. Now, start from there and learn something."

He knew Norman could have hurt him during the fight if he really wanted to, but Peter was still wary. He tried a different tactic. "Look. I just want to go home. I won't tell anyone you're here."

"You have to learn." He was adamant on that point.

Frustration showed on the youth's face for a moment. "If I listen to whatever it is you have to say, will you let me go?"

"It's more than just listening." Norman pushed him into a chair. "You think we're monsters."

"You murdered your own wife."

He stared a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Her death was not at my hands."

"You threw MJ off a bridge."

"I did know you'd catch her."

"Whatever..." The youth crossed his arms and looked away.

He sighed, shrinking back into his own skin. "Peter, you're more mature than this."

He was a tired fifteen-year-old boy backed into a corner. His eyes tracked back up to the man standing over him. He thought about arguing some more, but he wanted to get out of here, so he waited for Osborn to get to his point instead. It wasn't like Osborn had ever given him a reason to believe him before, but mostly he just didn't want to admit that someone like Osborn could be right about anything.

He just shook his head. "I was coming to get you for dinner. Lessons can wait."

Peter contemplated refusing again, but knew he wasn't really proving anything by starving himself. With a tired sigh, he nodded.

Norman looked over, checking on Otto. The doctor was leaning against the wall, watching them through a tentacle, with the glasses off, his head down, and his hand over his eyes. The punch had broken them and they had cut his face, but it wasn't serious. Head wounds did tend to bleed more, but the injury itself didn't really hurt that much. With another sharp glance at Peter, Norman got a damp cloth and held it out to Otto. "Your eyes...."

"They're fine..." He took the cloth and started cleaning the blood off his face, watching himself through one of the cameras and watching the boy with another. Parker just sat and watched them, looking perhaps a little awkward, but not like he was thinking of running.

Norman nodded, and claimed a plate. He'd made dinner earlier, and he slid the plate across to Peter. "Eat."

The boy started to and then paused, looking from Norman to the food and back again. How did he know there wasn't something in it? Norman served himself from the same dishes and took a bite of everything, his eyes on Peter.

Peter's attention returned to the food and he ate without looking at either of the other two. Otto used the tentacles to serve himself, one hand keeping pressure on the cloth. If Osborn hadn't reminded him not to hurt the kid, he probably would have tried to at least draw blood, if only to even the score.

Norman sat opposite Peter and ate. "What do you study?" he asked the boy.

His eyes flicked up and he blinked. The question was oddly... mundane? It threw him a little. "Like... In school?"

"Yes." He appeared to be making dinner conversation. "You're in the sciences, obviously."

He shrugged, looking down at his food again, uncomfortable. "English, math... General high school stuff..."

"What do you study outside school?"

"Before I used to mess around with some of my father's old stuff..." His eyes were still down.

"Oh, yes. Richard Parker. The man was brilliant," he said with an only slightly condescending smile.

Peter only shrugged, eating. He'd cooperate if they asked him questions, but he didn't really feel like talking to them, especially not about his father.

"Do you remember him?"

A mental sigh. It didn't seem he'd get out of talking about it. "I was really little... I have old family movies, though..."

"Oh? That's a good thing to have. A son should know his father."

Peter muttered something about Harry as he took another bite of food.

Norman frowned faintly. "He's not important to this."

Peter just shook his head and put the silverware down. "I'm full." Really, Norman wasn't one to be talking about a son knowing his father.

He wasn't. But he wasn't the first to admit that, either. "You've barely eaten. Clear your plate."

Nervousness was making him feel a little ill. "I'm full," he repeated, eyes flicking up to meet Osborn's at last. Otto only watched this with the cameras, amusement carefully hidden.

Norman's expression didn't change. "Finish your plate and you may go."

This nut wasn't his father. Peter didn't even consider him a father figure. "I don't feel well."

"If you're ill, I'm sure the doctor can take a look."

"I just want to go sleep..." Peter didn't want to admit it was nerves, because that would imply they were getting to him, which they were, but still... "Please?"

Amazingly, Norman's face softened. "Finish the main dish and we'll call it even."

Peter paused, and then nodded, doing as Norman asked. It was a fair enough deal. Norman didn't pester him for more conversation, and when he was done, he merely ushered him back to the basement. Part way down the stairs, Peter stopped and turned around. "Where's my backpack?" He had pictures in there that he wanted, but he didn't add that.

Norman paused a moment, and turned. "Otto, did it make it inside?"

Otto thought a moment. "It's upstairs." He'd taken it and the web-shooters to the room where he'd been working on the tentacles, intending to look at the web formula and perhaps find a faster means to dissolve it.

"Can I have it?"

He nodded, gesturing to Otto to go and get it.

The doctor nodded back, turning off lights as he made his way upstairs. The cut just above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding, and he needed another pair of glasses. It didn't take much time at all, and he covered his eyes again as he walked back into the lit kitchen, holding the bag out to Peter.

The boy took it and went back to his ‘room.’ It had occurred to him that they had more than likely gone through it. He was certain the web-shooters were gone, but what else would they have taken? Everything looked as though it has been rifled through. But the only things missing aside from the obvious were most of his pens and pencils, and the photos that had been in his wallet. The only things he wanted, the photos. He flipped through the wallet again, scowling. Why would they take those? Did he want to know?