Disclaimer: For the last time, they aren't mine. They're Marvel's.

Author's Note: Here it is; the final chapter. It may be a little anticlimactic after the events of the previous chapters, but this is pretty much what I had planned for it. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review; I hope you enjoyed the fic!

How Do I Love Thee...

Five – Sweet Revenge

Spider-Man let him go. Not out of any sense of compassion or anything; Otto got the feeling that he wanted to see Jameson get what he deserved – so long as Otto promised not to hurt him.

"Neither I nor my tentacles will harm one gray hair on his head," Otto vowed.

But, Otto! This Jameson is the man responsible for your problems!

Most of them, yes. Don't worry. He won't get off lightly. "I won't even be doing anything criminal. I just want to have a little talk with him, nothing more."

And so Spider-Man left him. Otto wanted to march straight to the Bugle's main office, but the tentacles pointed out there was no way he'd make it through the city without drawing the attention of more crazy women.

You definitely need a new outfit, Otto.

Black leather? Puh-lease?

If I get a black leather trenchcoat, can you lose the ribbons for now? I want to intimidate Jameson, and I don't think we could do it if you're all so... pretty.

So you do think we're pretty? Oh, Otto! One of the tentacles rubbed his cheek.

Lea-THER! Lea-THER!

But... I want green!

The tentacles permitted him to remove the ribbons, and he stuffed them in his pocket. He thought about just chucking them over the side of the building, but he knew the tentacles would be pissed at him if he did. Otto remembered all the times he'd had Rosie mad at him; this would be just like that, times four. And he wouldn't be able to hide in his lab from the tentacle's wrath.

He permitted the tentacles to take them to a well-known store that carried leather items. Fortunately, the clientele of this store didn't run towards the crazy feminine types, though the store clerk was female. And when he strode past her, grabbed a long black coat that looked like it would fit and a set of matching gloves (since his hadn't been returned with the rest of his clothing), and walked out without paying, she only smiled at him and blushed.

Huh. He hadn't realized his current problem could actually help him with his crimes.

He took a few minutes to let the tentacles cut holes in the back of the coat for the them to fit through, while he ripped out the vest lining to his old coat so he'd have some sort of shirt to wear underneath. Peter's comment about how he looked like a shirtless model who'd really let himself go had kinda stung. Then he headed towards the Bugle offices, making certain to stay out of reach of the people on the streets below. He did pause, just once, after launching himself onto a building with mirrored windows.

Huh. I have to hand it to you – you were right; I do look good in black, Otto conceded.

He could feel the tentacles' pleasure at his words. He ran a hand through his hair, which had developed a permanently windswept appearance. He was making a business visit, after all, and it was only proper to look his best.

When Otto reached the Bugle, he dropped to ground level, and the tentacles slipped under his coat. He had no fancy plans for entering; he just walked through the main doors, his coat flaring around him. He was tall enough to loom menacingly over the staff that worked in the offices on the lower floor, and yet, not one of them glanced up when he walked past. No one paid him any mind until he went to the reception desk near the elevator and asked where Jameson's office was.

The man never even hesitated as he gave Otto directions, though he obviously recognized him. Otto was starting to get the impression that nothing fazed the staff of the Bugle.

Or all of them wished death on their boss. Otto was starting to suspect that was the case.

He made it all the way to the secretary's desk outside Jameson's office without being challenged. She didn't look up from her computer as she asked, "Got an appointment?"

"No, but I'm sure Mr. Jameson wouldn't want to refuse me," Otto said.

"He's about to go out to dinner with his wife," the secretary said. "Maybe he'll be able to fit you in when he gets back in an hour. Or you could talk to the city editor, Mr. Robinson. His office is right over there."

"Look, Ms..." Otto began.

"Brant," the woman replied automatically.

"Ms. Brant. How about you let me in, and I don't tear this place to pieces?"

The woman finally looked up. Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment as she tried to place him. Otto tapped the copy of the Bugle's morning edition that sat on her desk, and her eyes widened.

"Uh..." the woman said. One of the tentacles slipped through the open front of his coat and smashed the phone on her desk so she couldn't immediately call the police, then went back in to hiding.

"I'll just let myself in," Otto smiled, opening the door to Jameson's office.

Jameson was seated behind his desk, talking to a short, matronly woman Otto presumed was his wife. At Otto's entrance, he glanced up, then scowled. "Not another one of you freaks. Look, I already heard the one about how this isn't reality, it's all a computer simulation, and that you're the one who's going to save us all. Get out of here before I call security."

Otto blinked. Okay, I admit, I do look like some kind of Matrix reject, like some sort of cross between Neo and a sentinel, but does he really think I'm that crazy?

You do listen to the voices in your head, he was gently reminded.

"Security? What security? I just walked in here, and no one said a thing to me."

Jameson glared. "Wait for me in the car, honey," he told his wife. "I'll take care of this." Jameson hadn't seemed to recognize Otto yet, but his wife had. As she walked past him, she ran her hand along his arm and flashed him a coy smile. Jameson didn't notice; he was busy fishing a cigar out of his drawer. "All right, so we don't have security. Okay, make it quick; I'm getting ready to go to dinner. What do you want?" His hand was lifting the cigar to his lips when it was suddenly snatched out of his fingers by one of the tentacles, which had slipped through the holes of coat to fan around their host.

"A smoke," Otto smiled. "Believe me, after the day I've been having, I need this way more than you do."

"Y-you're Doctor Octopus!" Jameson yelped, finally exhibiting the keen observational skills that had made him one of the city's top journalists. "What are you doing here?"

Otto winced. "For starters, I'd like to know what you were thinking when you came up with the whole 'Doctor Octopus' thing. It doesn't exactly inspire fear, does it?" One of the tentacles handed him a lighter, and he lit the cigar, blissfully taking the first puff.

Jameson recovered his composure, encouraged by the fact that Otto wasn't beating him to a pulp with the tentacles. Otto had to admire the man's courage. "Oh, c'mon! You've got eight arms! What else would you be called? Would you prefer to be Tarantula-Man? Doctor Spider? Science Squid?"

"I have six arms," Otto corrected flatly. "And I would rather be called by my own name."

"Too late. The Bugle's been using it so often, I'm afraid you're stuck with it. Besides, you're a supervillain. You need a name! Something catchy that our readers will remember! Just think; every time they even see an octopus, they'll think of you and shiver with fear!"

"Or wonder what kind of lame supervillain would be named after a sea creature." Otto glowered down at Jameson.

"Hoffman!" Jameson's yell made Otto jump. A nervous-looking man entered the office, heading straight towards his boss's desk without so much as glancing at Otto. Jameson's got this guy really well trained...

"Yes, sir?" Hoffman squeaked.

"I seem to remember you having something to do with coming up with the name 'Doctor Octopus.' How would you like full credit for it?"

Hoffman's eyes lit up, but then he frowned. "Really, sir?" Hoffman sounded wary, as if Jameson never offered anything unless it was advantageous to himself. Otto wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

"Would I offer something like this if I didn't mean it?" Jameson barked.

"Ah..."

"No, of course I wouldn't! I mean it, Hoffman. Full credit. Every time someone says it, you get a quarter. No, make it a dime." Jameson gave Hoffman what was probably supposed to be a friendly grin.

"What's the catch?" Hoffman asked.

"No catch! Think of all the perks! Every time someone says Doctor Octopus, they'll think of you." Hoffman started to look excited. He clearly seemed to think he was finally getting the recognition he was due. "Just one thing, though... See that guy in black standing behind you? Explain to him why you compared him to some jellyfish."

"Mollusk," Otto automatically corrected.

Hoffman turned, and from the way the blood drained from his face, he must have immediately recognized Otto. This was confirmed when he slumped to the floor in a faint.

"There's your man," Jameson said, pointing to Hoffman. "Eviscerate him, not me."

"I'm not here to hurt anyone. Actually, the name is not why I'm here." Otto stepped over Hoffman's prone form and dropped a rather crumpled copy of that morning's Bugle on Jameson's desk.

Jameson looked down. "Yeah? What about it?"

"What about it? Mr. Jameson, since this morning, I have been buried under a pile of women, I have been clawed," he pulled back his coat sleeve to show Jameson the still-raw scratches on his arm, "smashed, groped, had my privacy invaded, my clothing stolen, and been hit on by men!"

"You have a problem with homosexuals?" Jameson asked.

"I do when they grab my butt!" Otto spat. "And all because of some highly inaccurate article your paper put out!"

"'Highly inaccurate?'" Jameson demanded. "Are you accusing me of libel?" He grabbed the Bugle and flipped to the article. "My reporters are all professionals! They wouldn't print something untrue! What about the article is so libelous?"

"Uh..." truthfully, Otto hadn't really done more than glance through the article. "Well, for one thing, I do not have an Oreo fetish."

"Ooooh... Are you going to sue me now?" Jameson looked unimpressed. Otto didn't blame him; what did he have to fear? Even if Otto did bring him to court, he somehow doubted that they'd let the famous Doctor Octopus leave.

"No. I'm going to talk to you like a reasonable person, and ask that you print a retraction."

Jameson stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Yeah, right. Do you have any idea how many papers this sells? I mean, check out these photos one of my freelancers brought in earlier." He showed Otto a glossy black-and-white picture of a pile of women, one gloved hand the only visible part of the man trapped beneath. "Priceless! The great Doctor Octo – excuse me, Octavius – defeated by a mob of unarmed women."

Damn you, Parker! He was the only one who could have taken the picture. "That's it, Peter; next time, I'm going to do more than kidnap your girlfriend," he growled. He didn't know he'd spoken aloud until Jameson looked up at him.

"You kidnapped Parker's girlfriend? How many girls have you taken hostage?" He looked like a bloodhound on the trail of something big.

"Just Peter's girl – you know, the feisty redhead. Mary Jane or something like that."

Jameson was momentarily speechless. "You mean my son's fiancé?"

"No, she's Peter Parker's girlfriend, or so I assumed. When I took her, she was about to kiss him and I had to throw a car at them to get their attention." Otto wondered how the conversation had taken such a bizarre turn.

"She left my son for Parker? I'll kill him! I'll wring his scrawny little neck..."

Well. He'd unintentionally found the perfect way to get back at Parker. "Back to what we were talking about before," Otto said, interrupting what was building up to quite a tirade.

"What? Oh, right... It's too late to print a retraction. The evening edition is going to be on its way to the presses in about ten minutes. It'll all blow over by next week; it always does," Jameson said. "Now, if you meant what you said about not killing me, I need to go and have dinner with my wife."

Otto tossed the stub of his cigar to the floor and ground it under his heel. "All right," he said mildly. "I guess there's nothing I can do about it. Enjoy your dinner. And tell your wife I said 'hi,'" he added.

And with that, he left. As he promised, he hadn't harmed Jameson, though he could feel the tentacles' disappointment. All in all, the talk had gone about how he'd expected; Jameson hadn't gotten his position by being the easily intimidated type. He hoped the city editor was another matter... He'd have to hurry, since he was certain that by now someone had called the cops.

Otto slipped in to the office Brant had shown him, just as Jameson swept past on his way to see his wife. The man inside was hastily giving the evening edition one last look-over before being brought to the press, but he looked up as Otto entered, and his jaw dropped.

Otto gave the man his most charming grin. "You're Robbie Robertson, right? Do you have the power to stop the presses?" The man was too frightened to speak; he could only nod. "I'd like you to do me a little favor while your boss is gone..."

XXX

Otto perched atop the corner of the Daily Bugle building, his coat billowing around him and the tentacles fanned around him. He knew that, in the failing light, he looked like some sort of gargoyle leering down at the city below him.

He knew he should probably be getting out of there, even though the cops had already come and gone, but he wanted a good view of what was going to happen next. The Bugle's evening edition had gone on sale half an hour ago; now it was time to see just how many of these women in the city truly were swayed by the articles.

You are sad about what you have done? the tentacles questioned. You have gotten rid of the women!

"I know"He hesitated, aware he was treading in dangerous territory here. "But it felt nice to be wanted again. Knowing that they only desired me because some stupid article told them to... well, it hurts. For awhile, I wasn't some freak to be feared."

You aren't a freak, Otto. They curled around him, and he lightly patted each closed set of pincers. We would never reject you just because of some stupid paper.

Otto didn't want to even think about what would happen if the tentacles rejected him. He had the feeling it would be very messy. "I know. And I appreciate that. It's just... it makes me really miss my Rosie. She loved me as much as all these women claimed to."His shoulders slumped. "I miss her so much!"

The tentacles were quiet a moment. Then one of them ventured, You still love her. You aren't over her yet.

"I don't think I ever will be."

Then... then perhaps you aren't ready for our affections yet. The voice was tinged with sadness.

"I'm sorry." And he was; while he couldn't return the tentacles' affections, and wouldn't even consider it, he knew what it felt like to be rejected.

It is all right. We understand... Father.

'Father...' At least he now had one less thing to worry about. "Thank you," he said softly.

Look! They come! The tentacles turned their attention to the crowd of women bearing down on the Daily Bugle. Otto couldn't hear them from this height, but he could well imagine what they were screaming, with another name in place of his. Otto grinned.

It had been surprisingly easy to persuade Robbie Robertson to print a retraction of the 'Most Desirable Man' article due to a miscount – and say that the real winner had been none other than the paper's illustrious publisher, J. Jonah Jameson. He hoped that Jameson enjoyed the attention.

Below him, the women stormed the Bugle building. I think this is going to keep everyone busy for awhile, don't you?

The tentacles' delighted laughter echoed through his mind as they began the climb down the side of the building. Oh, Otto knew he'd still have to be careful – Peter had said that women had actually voted for him, and he didn't think all of them would change their minds about him just because of a retraction article. But this would get rid of the worst of them.

They stopped once at the window to Jameson's office, just in time to see the publisher backing away from the women entering his office in a screaming mob. Jameson whirled, looking for some escape route. His eyes met Otto's, and he shook his fist in rage. "You'll pay for this, Octopus!" Jameson's voice carried through the window. "Every year! Every year you will be this city's most desirable man!" Otto gave him a cocky salute, and dropped below the window just as the press of women crushed Jameson against the glass until he resembled one of those Garfields that people stuck to their car windows.

Now what, Father?

We still have experiments to perform, and equipment to steal – er, liberate. I wouldn't say that life is 'good,' he told them, for the sadness he felt still weighed heavily on his heart, but it's as good as it's gonna get. C'mon; I never did get that equipment from ESU, and we really need to show off how good we look in black leather, right?

You know, green tights would look awfully good with this coat!

'Awful' being the key word.

This coming someone who still has a bra tangled in her circuitry?

Okay, so maybe things could be a bit better. He wondered if he could teach them the concept of 'grounded.'

The End