I'm not as proud of this as Chapter One, but here it is. Enjoy!
ONE WEEK LATER
"And what kind of person would Dr. Connors count as a close friend?" Juan Sanchez, the Hispanic law student, asked Dr. Smith, the psychiatrist he had had psychoanalyze both Connors and Octavius. Smith weighed his answer.
"Only someone with a high level of intelligence, a strong moral backbone, and a close control of his primal and instinctive urges and pleasure principle, called the id in psychobabble."
Sanchez paced in front of the stand. He had been a lawyer for 8 days, and already he was out-boxing the persecution. Connors had not made a mistake in his choice.
"And would Dr. Octavius fit this profile?"
"Indeed."
"And would he be in danger of relapsing into the control of his artificial limbs?"
Smith shook his head. "No, presuming he took care of his depression properly."
"Thank you, Doctor. No further questions." Sanchez sat down next to Octavius.
The prosecutor, a young blonde-haired man with potent energy called Steve Whitney, stood slowly and walked to the stand. Every movement was deliberate, measured.
"Doctor, you mentioned depression. Would you care to elaborate?"
Smith glanced at Sanchez, who nodded once. "Since the death of his wife, Octavius has been bordering on depression. And since when he attempted to sacrifice himself to end the fusion reaction and survived, he has been caught in a deepening depression."
Mentioning self-sacrifice had elicited a collective murmur of surprise from the jury. Octavius allowed himself a small portion of hope.
"No more questions." Whitney sat down.
"Call your next witness," Judge Baldwin told Sanchez.
Sanchez stood. "I call Dr. Curt Connors."
Connors walked up to the stand and was sworn in. Sanchez paced in front of him, and he watched him, eyes flicking back and forth in a slightly reptilian way.
"Doctor, how would you describe Dr. Octavius?"
Connors carefully calculated his answer. "Vain, egotistical, proud, and the best friend I've ever had."
"Would you care to expound on that last?"
"He was there when I needed him the most. I came into contact with mutagenic chemicals that threatened to change my whole genetic structure. Otto was able to come up with a way to prevent it. He gave two weeks to solve my problem that wasn't even his discipline. It was time he could have been using to work on his dream, nuclear fusion. Instead, he took a self-taught, hands-on, down-and-dirty course on genetics and biology, just to ensure little old me didn't turn into a mutant freak."
"Is it true you kept in close contact with Octavius after you two parted ways at the university?"
"It is. We met for lunch often enough, and he went out of his way to invite me to his lab."
"No more questions." Sanchez sat back down, and Whitney stood.
"Dr. Connors, is it possible you are exaggerating Octavius's role in your incident with the mutagens?"
Connors felt his anger leap up and lay ice over his veins. The Lizard was right there under his skin now, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now was not the time to reveal Octavius's solution had only partly worked. Whitney was trying to get him angry, and he had no idea. If Connors wasn't careful, Whitney would release the Lizard.
"I do not believe so. Traditional medical science had given up, but Octavius hadn't. And he succeeded. There is nothing more to say."
Seeing Whitney's reaction to the controlled response that was not what he had wanted was just enough to reheat Connors's core. Connors buried the Lizard and concentrated on getting Octavius off the hook.
"No more questions." Whitney sat down, and Connors moved from the stand. Sanchez called Octavius next.
Octavius was clad in a simple jumpsuit torn in the back to allow for his four tentacles, and someone had decided to handcuff six of his eight limbs. Utterly ridiculous; Octavius could break them easily. But they served as a reminder that he was currently considered a convict.
Really, there wasn't much they could actually charge him with: Grand larceny in the third degree, kidnapping in the second degree, vandalism as criminal mischief in the second degree, and then it in the first degree. He was labeled as a white collar criminal because of the larceny, and the first degree criminal mischief was probably going to be dropped due to the simple fact fusion reactors did not scientifically fall under the category of explosives.
What made it such a tricky case, Whitney mused was the simple fact that it was centered on high technology and sticky details that required one to fully understand the nuances of all of it. Octavius's defense was claiming his AI extra limbs had forced him to do it, which meant he was not responsible for his actions. Sanchez was comparing it to being drugged or hypnotized. As far as the law was concerned, he was probably right.
"Dr. Octavius, is it true you could easily break those handcuffs?" Sanchez asked.
"Yes." He was being careful to not expound too much or try being clever. There was too much in the balance.
Sanchez stood back. "Would you care to give us a demonstration?"
Octavius nodded, stood, and turned to show his back to the court. His tentacles tensed and ripped apart, tearing the chain with no effort. He turned back around and sat down, his now-free arms setting themselves in his lap.
"Why did you not do that earlier?" Sanchez asked.
"I had no interest to."
"Objection, your honor!" Whitney jumped up. "There is no way to tell if they had not planned that earlier."
"Indeed," Baldwin agreed. "Would the defense refrain from such evidence?"
Sanchez nodded. "Yes sir." He turned back to his witness. "Doctor, how would you describe your relationship with your extra limbs?"
"Now or before?"
"Before."
Octavius considered how to best put it. "They were, and still are, fused to my spinal cord. I was able to control them with my conscious thoughts before the inhibitor chip fried. After that, I was able to… feel their artificial intelligence in my mind. They were talking to me." His eyes revealed his horror at how events had conspired to put him at the mercy of the arms.
"And what were they saying?"
Octavius recalled their hideous words, and it was all he could do to keep from shuttering. "They said to rebuild my fusion reactor. I hadn't miscalculated and had to finish what I had started. At any cost."
"Did you listen?"
He had known it was coming, but he didn't find it any less damning. "Yes." He was not proud.
Sanchez waited for the noise to die down. "Why?"
"I couldn't find the internal strength not to, and what they suggested was so wonderful. It was my dream."
"No more questions."
ONE WEEK LATER
"And what kind of person would Dr. Connors count as a close friend?" Juan Sanchez, the Hispanic law student, asked Dr. Smith, the psychiatrist he had had psychoanalyze both Connors and Octavius. Smith weighed his answer.
"Only someone with a high level of intelligence, a strong moral backbone, and a close control of his primal and instinctive urges and pleasure principle, called the id in psychobabble."
Sanchez paced in front of the stand. He had been a lawyer for 8 days, and already he was out-boxing the persecution. Connors had not made a mistake in his choice.
"And would Dr. Octavius fit this profile?"
"Indeed."
"And would he be in danger of relapsing into the control of his artificial limbs?"
Smith shook his head. "No, presuming he took care of his depression properly."
"Thank you, Doctor. No further questions." Sanchez sat down next to Octavius.
The prosecutor, a young blonde-haired man with potent energy called Steve Whitney, stood slowly and walked to the stand. Every movement was deliberate, measured.
"Doctor, you mentioned depression. Would you care to elaborate?"
Smith glanced at Sanchez, who nodded once. "Since the death of his wife, Octavius has been bordering on depression. And since when he attempted to sacrifice himself to end the fusion reaction and survived, he has been caught in a deepening depression."
Mentioning self-sacrifice had elicited a collective murmur of surprise from the jury. Octavius allowed himself a small portion of hope.
"No more questions." Whitney sat down.
"Call your next witness," Judge Baldwin told Sanchez.
Sanchez stood. "I call Dr. Curt Connors."
Connors walked up to the stand and was sworn in. Sanchez paced in front of him, and he watched him, eyes flicking back and forth in a slightly reptilian way.
"Doctor, how would you describe Dr. Octavius?"
Connors carefully calculated his answer. "Vain, egotistical, proud, and the best friend I've ever had."
"Would you care to expound on that last?"
"He was there when I needed him the most. I came into contact with mutagenic chemicals that threatened to change my whole genetic structure. Otto was able to come up with a way to prevent it. He gave two weeks to solve my problem that wasn't even his discipline. It was time he could have been using to work on his dream, nuclear fusion. Instead, he took a self-taught, hands-on, down-and-dirty course on genetics and biology, just to ensure little old me didn't turn into a mutant freak."
"Is it true you kept in close contact with Octavius after you two parted ways at the university?"
"It is. We met for lunch often enough, and he went out of his way to invite me to his lab."
"No more questions." Sanchez sat back down, and Whitney stood.
"Dr. Connors, is it possible you are exaggerating Octavius's role in your incident with the mutagens?"
Connors felt his anger leap up and lay ice over his veins. The Lizard was right there under his skin now, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now was not the time to reveal Octavius's solution had only partly worked. Whitney was trying to get him angry, and he had no idea. If Connors wasn't careful, Whitney would release the Lizard.
"I do not believe so. Traditional medical science had given up, but Octavius hadn't. And he succeeded. There is nothing more to say."
Seeing Whitney's reaction to the controlled response that was not what he had wanted was just enough to reheat Connors's core. Connors buried the Lizard and concentrated on getting Octavius off the hook.
"No more questions." Whitney sat down, and Connors moved from the stand. Sanchez called Octavius next.
Octavius was clad in a simple jumpsuit torn in the back to allow for his four tentacles, and someone had decided to handcuff six of his eight limbs. Utterly ridiculous; Octavius could break them easily. But they served as a reminder that he was currently considered a convict.
Really, there wasn't much they could actually charge him with: Grand larceny in the third degree, kidnapping in the second degree, vandalism as criminal mischief in the second degree, and then it in the first degree. He was labeled as a white collar criminal because of the larceny, and the first degree criminal mischief was probably going to be dropped due to the simple fact fusion reactors did not scientifically fall under the category of explosives.
What made it such a tricky case, Whitney mused was the simple fact that it was centered on high technology and sticky details that required one to fully understand the nuances of all of it. Octavius's defense was claiming his AI extra limbs had forced him to do it, which meant he was not responsible for his actions. Sanchez was comparing it to being drugged or hypnotized. As far as the law was concerned, he was probably right.
"Dr. Octavius, is it true you could easily break those handcuffs?" Sanchez asked.
"Yes." He was being careful to not expound too much or try being clever. There was too much in the balance.
Sanchez stood back. "Would you care to give us a demonstration?"
Octavius nodded, stood, and turned to show his back to the court. His tentacles tensed and ripped apart, tearing the chain with no effort. He turned back around and sat down, his now-free arms setting themselves in his lap.
"Why did you not do that earlier?" Sanchez asked.
"I had no interest to."
"Objection, your honor!" Whitney jumped up. "There is no way to tell if they had not planned that earlier."
"Indeed," Baldwin agreed. "Would the defense refrain from such evidence?"
Sanchez nodded. "Yes sir." He turned back to his witness. "Doctor, how would you describe your relationship with your extra limbs?"
"Now or before?"
"Before."
Octavius considered how to best put it. "They were, and still are, fused to my spinal cord. I was able to control them with my conscious thoughts before the inhibitor chip fried. After that, I was able to… feel their artificial intelligence in my mind. They were talking to me." His eyes revealed his horror at how events had conspired to put him at the mercy of the arms.
"And what were they saying?"
Octavius recalled their hideous words, and it was all he could do to keep from shuttering. "They said to rebuild my fusion reactor. I hadn't miscalculated and had to finish what I had started. At any cost."
"Did you listen?"
He had known it was coming, but he didn't find it any less damning. "Yes." He was not proud.
Sanchez waited for the noise to die down. "Why?"
"I couldn't find the internal strength not to, and what they suggested was so wonderful. It was my dream."
"No more questions."