In the holding cell of the Manhattan Police Department, Spencer, the "Spider-Slayer," sat dejectedly on a cold bench, a stolen dinner spoon hidden in his sleeve.
He wanted to live, but Norman had ordered him to die before midnight tonight.
Osborn Industries had already sacrificed over fifty homeless people for their experiments. Judging by the twisted expression on Norman's face earlier that day, Spencer had no doubt Norman wouldn't hesitate to throw his entire family into the mix.
After a long internal struggle, Spencer aimed the spoon's handle at his eye, then slammed his head against the wall.
"Norman, you have to spare my children…"
His final thought flickered through his mind as Spencer collapsed motionless on the cell floor.
"I hope Dad gets released soon."
In a Queens, New York apartment, Alistair Smythe lay awake in bed, staring at the wheelchair beside him.
The apartment's walls were thin, and he could clearly hear his mother tossing and turning in the next room, occasionally letting out a sigh.
"The news said Dad destroyed a ton of protected plants in Central Park. He might be facing about five years in prison."
"But Dad's a scientist. Mr. Norman from Osborn Industries will definitely bail him out… As soon as morning comes, I'll use that line to comfort Mom. Hopefully, it'll make her feel better."
A whistling sound came from outside—not like a car, but more like the jetpacks he'd seen in movies.
Alistair didn't think much of it. Probably just a car or a neighbor's kid playing with a remote-controlled plane.
But then—crash.
The window in his mother's room shattered. A hollow, piercing laugh rang out, followed by his mother's scream.
Then, a sickening thud, and the next room fell silent.
Alistair's mind went blank. He instinctively reached for his phone to call the police, but before he could, his door was kicked open. A severed head was tossed into his hands.
"Mom…"
When Alistair realized what he was holding, a surge of strength flooded his paralyzed legs. He wanted to run, to call for help.
Just as he was about to defy medical odds, that sinister laugh echoed in his room again. Alistair saw the figure who had killed his mother standing at the foot of his bed.
With a single swipe, the attacker ripped Alistair's heart from his chest and crushed it. In his final moments, Alistair saw the killer clearly: a green-clad figure, eyes glowing yellow, a devil in the flesh.
The next instant, Alistair's consciousness faded. A pumpkin bomb dropped to the floor, beeping ominously. The Green Goblin, riding his glider, smashed through the roof and soared into the sky.
Boom!
The pumpkin bomb detonated, flames and thick smoke engulfing the apartment. The piercing laughter gradually faded into the night sky.
Drip, drip.
The sound of water echoed in the quiet sewers.
Batman moved silently through the Brooklyn sewers, heading toward the spot where Doctor Octopus had clashed with the police earlier that day.
Only one corner separated him from the site of the battle. A faint clanging sound reached his ears, as if someone were hammering metal.
He cautiously peered around the corner. Doctor Octopus stood with his back to Batman, his four mechanical arms working simultaneously to repair experimental equipment damaged in the earlier fight.
Click.
The armor on Batman's forearm slid open, revealing a microcomputer. He attempted to hack into Doctor Octopus's mechanical arms.
The previous day, in the lab, Batman had seen it clearly: though the four arms were linked to Octavius's nervous system, a chip translated neural signals into electronic ones to control the arms.
If he could hack the arms, dealing with an out-of-shape, middle-aged scientist would be much easier.
But…
"Failure. No electronic signal detected from the arms."
Batman's gaze shifted to the base where the arms connected to Octavius's body. There, he spotted the destroyed chip.
"The chip's destroyed, yet Octavius can still control the arms. They're no longer driven by electronic signals but are directly linked to his nervous system."
"Is this what turned Otto Octavius, a seemingly cold but world-conscious nuclear physicist, into the murderous Doctor Octopus?"
In moments, Batman formulated a hypothesis. He stepped out from behind the corner.
A hypothesis was just that—a hypothesis. Batman needed to test it to devise a targeted plan to restore Otto to normal.
Whoosh!
The instant Batman emerged, Doctor Octopus remained facing away, but all four mechanical arms snapped up simultaneously, their three-clawed tips opening and closing like striking vipers.
The arms' reaction made Octavius turn. He stared at Batman approaching through the sewer.
"Sneaking around, hiding in the shadows. Here to stop me?"
Batman stopped, maintaining a ten-meter distance from Doctor Octopus.
"No. I'm here to help you."
He had no intention of fighting immediately. They were beneath a busy downtown area, and combat could easily cause collateral damage.
"Dressed like that, I don't believe you're here to help."
Doctor Octopus grinned, and two of his mechanical arms braced against the ground, propelling him toward Batman.
As he launched forward, the other two arms shot over his shoulders, one aiming for Batman's chest, the other for his head. Doctor Octopus gave no room for explanation, attacking with lethal intent.
"His behavior is completely different from before. I can't tell if it's the arms influencing him or if they've amplified the darkness he's kept buried."
A chill ran up Batman's spine, his trained "danger sense" seeming to slow time itself.
Instead of retreating, Batman advanced. The arms' tips grazed his shoulder armor, sparking as they passed.
His right hand flicked, and two batarangs—slightly thicker than standard—flew silently toward Doctor Octopus's mechanical arms.
"…Are you joking? Throwing batarangs at my arms?"
Clang.
As expected, the lightning-fast arms deflected the batarangs. Doctor Octopus sneered mockingly.
Batman said nothing. His left hand swept across his utility belt, and a gel bomb flew out. Doctor Octopus caught it with an arm, glanced at it, and tossed it carelessly to the ground.
"If your only tricks are throwing weird gadgets, you're wasting my time."
Doctor Octopus glared coldly at Batman. The tips of his four arms extended sharp spikes.
"The chip's destroyed, and the arms are now controlled directly by his nervous system…" Batman calmly retrieved a new tool from his belt: a sonic device.
The next moment, a high-frequency noise—nearly inaudible to humans but devastating to precision mechanical sensors and direct neural feedback systems—flooded the arms' control system and surged through Octavius's neural network into his brain.
"Aaahhh—!"
Doctor Octopus let out a bloodcurdling scream, as if his brain were being pierced by countless needles.
His arms twitched and spasmed violently, like rogue pythons thrashing against the sewer walls and floor.
The sonic device, or "sound blaster," had been developed after Batman's fight with Daredevil, but it proved equally effective against Doctor Octopus.
Swish, swish.
Two more batarangs flew, hitting the gel bomb Doctor Octopus had discarded. It burst, and the special chemical liquid rapidly expanded and hardened, encasing Doctor Octopus's feet and pinning him in place.
Huff, huff.
Doctor Octopus panted heavily, Batman's relentless attacks sending his heart racing and chest heaving. One arm struggled to rise, reaching for Batman.
But the arm's speed and strength were noticeably weaker, and Batman dodged effortlessly.
As Doctor Octopus gritted his teeth, trying to overcome the sound blaster and gel bomb, he noticed faint white smoke rising from the two thicker batarangs he'd deflected earlier.
Throughout the fight, Batman had kept his distance, so Doctor Octopus's heavy breathing had inhaled much of the gas.
"Tranquilizer gas?" Doctor Octopus asked, already knowing the answer.
Batman didn't respond. Another custom batarang flew toward the now-passive Doctor Octopus, this one laced with a sedative.
Just as he'd prepared multiple plans to take down the "Spider-Slayer," Batman had devised several strategies for Doctor Octopus, including contingencies for failure, such as creating specialized bombs tailored to the arms' mechanics or attempting to sever them.
But those weren't needed. Doctor Octopus was thoroughly defeated by Batman's meticulous preparation and flawless execution.