Peter slumped against the railing, the tritium core safe in his webbing. He looked down. Thirty-nine floors. The city glittered below, oblivious. He thought of Mary Jane, asleep in her engagement. He thought of the five dollars left in his checking account. He thought of the crushing, impossible math of being two different people.
“Thirty-nine floors, Otto,” Peter said, pulling his mask back down. “High enough to fall. High enough to see the whole city. But you’re looking at the wrong thing. You’re looking at the sun. You should be looking at the people down there.” spider man 2 2004 39
Not fire. Arms.
For a fraction of a second, Otto Octavius’s eyes cleared. He saw the crying woman. He saw the young man in the torn costume, bleeding from the lip. He saw the broken furniture, the rain, the pathetic, beautiful chaos of it all. Peter slumped against the railing, the tritium core
“The power of the sun… in the palm of my hand.” The city glittered below, oblivious
Doc Ock’s actuators slithered out of the shattered glass door of her penthouse. The woman still didn't move. She was in shock, he realized. Or worse, she was sleepwalking. The actuators moved with a terrifying, deliberate grace. They weren't attacking. They were searching . The claw on the third arm opened and closed, holding a glinting cylinder—a chunk of the runaway tritium core.
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