In Doctor Octopus's laboratory, the world-renowned nuclear physicist stared intently at the front page of the Daily Bugle, his eyes gleaming at the image of Squid-Man.
From his school days to his professional career, Doctor Octopus had always been the best, the most exceptional. His brilliance was so overwhelming that he suffered from what he called "idiot intolerance," unable to stomach the clumsiness of those around him.
Even the assistants who made it through his rigorous selection process—already one in a hundred—were met with his disdain. As a result, when he dedicated himself to cracking the puzzle of clean nuclear fusion energy, his laboratory was empty save for himself.
The only help he had came from a few mechanical arms mounted on wheeled bases, the kind typically found in factory workshops.
But these arms were barely adequate for Doctor Octopus, far from the seamless extension of his will he desired.
The Daily Bugle's headline, with Squid-Man's photo, was like a pillow delivered to a drowsy man. It sparked a revelation about what he should do next.
"If I had four mechanical arms attached to my body, controlled by my own neural impulses, my experiments wouldn't have to pause every time an alarm goes off. I'd have the bandwidth to troubleshoot issues in real time!"
The more he thought about it, the brighter his eyes shone. He grabbed paper and pen, swiftly sketching a design. Soon, behind a stick-figure representation of himself, four retractable, radiation-resistant, multifunctional mechanical arms took shape on the page.
Calling them mechanical arms didn't quite fit—they were more like octopus tentacles.
To address the issue of the arms' weight and the strain they might place on his body during operation, Doctor Octopus added a simple yet reliable support system to the figure's back, waist, and legs.
It was just a rough draft, with plenty of refinements needed, but Doctor Octopus couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at the sketch.
His smile didn't last long. A knock at the door interrupted him, and Harry Osborn walked in, followed by a young man who looked vaguely familiar to Doctor Octopus.
"I remember you… Peter Parker, right?"
Doctor Octopus quickly recalled the young man in the checkered shirt and gave him a friendly smile.
As long as no one interfered with his experiments, Doctor Octopus wasn't a difficult person to get along with.
"Yeah, Peter, my best buddy," Harry Osborn said, throwing an arm around Peter's shoulders with enthusiasm.
"I can't abandon the Peter Parker identity," Batman thought to himself. "I need it to do things 'Batman' can't, just like Bruce Wayne's identity."
"So I can't completely drop Peter Parker's old relationships. In fact, I have to actively maintain them—like here with Doctor Octopus."
"This way, when I improve the nuclear fusion formula as Peter Parker and profit from it later, it won't seem out of nowhere."
With that in mind, Batman forced a faint smile and greeted Doctor Octopus.
Doctor Octopus returned a kind smile and a nod. "You're not first-timers here. As long as you don't disturb my experiments, do whatever you like."
Seizing a moment, he pulled Harry Osborn aside and lowered his voice. "Peter seems… off. Three days ago, he was in my lab and suddenly looked like… like he'd lost his soul. He still hasn't bounced back."
Harry, also keeping his voice low, replied, "A month ago, Peter lost one of the people who loved him most in the world."
A month ago was when Ben Parker was killed. Harry had thought it over, and that was the only thing that could explain such a change in Peter.
Doctor Octopus was taken aback by the response. He now understood why the young man's smile had seemed so strained. "As his friend, Harry, you need to be there for him. Peter's a good kid. He needs to pull himself together and keep moving forward."
"That's why I brought him here," Harry said. "I'm hoping he can shift his focus to something else."
Doctor Octopus didn't mind. As a child, he and his mother had often been beaten by his father, but his mother always shielded him fiercely. When she passed away, Doctor Octopus's mental state had been even worse than Peter's was now.
So when he looked at Peter again, his gaze softened further. "Looks like Peter's pretty interested in nuclear physics."
At that moment, Batman was standing in front of an experimental device, studying the data displayed on it with intense focus.
While Harry and Doctor Octopus talked, Batman suddenly spoke up, as if he'd noticed something. "Doctor Octopus, I found the error that triggered the lab alarm last time."
His words immediately drew the attention of both Doctor Octopus and Harry, who hurried over to his side.
The last lab alarm had even set off his "Spider-Sense." Batman had seized today's opportunity to address it, laying the groundwork for refining the fusion formula later.
"I told you Peter's a genius," Harry said, exchanging a smile with Doctor Octopus.
They didn't stay in Doctor Octopus's lab for long. Soon, Harry and Batman left together.
"Peter, I know you miss Uncle Ben," Harry said, standing on the street. "I miss him too. But you can't keep going like this. You've still got Aunt May, you've got me. You have to live on, carrying Uncle Ben's hopes for you."
"I will," Batman replied.
Harry said no more. He climbed into a deceptively plain-looking but unmistakably expensive Cadillac and drove off.
"Now, to the black factory to make nitrogen springs for my first piece of gear," Batman thought.
He watched the Cadillac disappear around the corner, then turned and headed toward the Williamsburg Bridge.
Near the Williamsburg Bridge, beneath an unremarkable old building, several basements had been connected to form a small factory. The air was thick with the metallic tang of steel shavings, mingled with the smells of motor oil and sweat. Batman wrinkled his brow the moment he stepped inside.
"Hey! Who are you? Get out—" A man whose clothes were so grimy they blended with his skin, looking almost naked at first glance, bared his bright white teeth and brandished a crowbar, ready to drive Batman out.
Before he could finish, Batman's fist connected with his face, adding a splash of red to the grime.
"Damn it, a lunatic!" the man howled.
With a clatter, the other workers in the factory gathered around, wielding crude but undeniably lethal firearms.
"Five thousand dollars for one hour of factory time," Batman said, cutting them off by tossing a stack of cash their way, silencing them instantly.
Unlike standard cylindrical nitrogen springs, Batman needed to craft ones that were flat, slightly curved, and shaped like a military canteen.
An hour later, he left quietly with three completed nitrogen springs. After filling them with high-pressure nitrogen at another factory, he returned to an abandoned shipyard.
Next, he only needed to assemble the web-shooters with the nitrogen springs, and his first piece of equipment would be complete.
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