Disclaimer: Stan Lee still refuses to give me Doc Ock. And I refuse to surrender my Ariane. Deal with it.
First chapter, o' course. Still in Ariane's POV. First Impressions.
I have learned many things during the course of my short life. From basic math to advanced calculus, to never stick your tongue on the metal of a frozen pole, lessons I have learned the hard way never leave me. Yet common knowledge is just a thing that seems to escape me for long periods of time.
One such example would be that, compared to my warm Georgia home, New York is friggin' freezing. I'm not comparing Georgia winters to New York winters, either. I'm comparing Georgia winters to New York summers. One would expect someone as intelligent as I am to already know this - and in some ways, I do.
Yet for some reason, there I was. Perched on the roof of a once-abandoned warehouse with blue jeans and a white tank on, freezing my butt off in the middle of September. Not late September, either, but the beginning. When Summer was still at its ripest.
Obviously, my warm-blooded self had been pampered by the hot Southern sun. Now it was getting a reality check.
Luckily for me, before I could become too absorbed by the goosebumps appearing on my bare arms, I heard it: the gentle tinkling of glass breaking, accompanied by four heavy 'whoom' noises. I forced myself to put those thoughts of cold temperatures on hiatus and focus on the real reason I was sitting there, on that particular roof, at that particular peer.
Especially considering my unnatural phobia of water.
He's home. My consciousness relayed to my brain. I nodded, as if someone else was telling me this, and proceeded to edge from my spot on the tin roof to the nearest skylight. My eyes flashed with delight at the sight below me.
There he was. Obviously, he had just arrived from wherever his adventures had taken him, and was finally arriving with what appeared to be the spoils of his troubles. I couldn't quite tell what it was, yet, but I could see his face - and he appeared quite enthralled judging by his expression.
I swear, the biggest smile I've ever had crossed my face. I was so close, so very close, to completing the first part of my destiny that I could already feel the triumph coming on. But I had to force them away, due to over confidence being a double-crossin' horror. Crawling over to one of the holes in the roof, I lowered my head through in order get a closer look. Unfortunately, his items were still out of sight, and a grunt left my mouth.
He tensed.
I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, and automatically my brain kicked into action. My body rolled, and I just barely made it through the hole in the roof before one arm crashed through the roof. Right where I had been. I landed in a position that, if you don't mind my bragging, much resembled those I had seen of Spider-Man. My head cocked to the side, and I glanced up at the Doctor.
"Dude, watch where you're throwing those things."
His face turned furious, and I felt my eyes widen. Okay, that wasn't exactly a good thing. Had to think fast. I absolutely had to thing miraculously fast. Because, I don't know about you, but breathing was something I enjoyed. The arm just above his shoulder, to the left of his head, rose into the air like a deadly snake. It poised itself to strike, and my body tensed.
It shot.
"Doctor Octavius, please!"
The arm froze in mid-lash, mere inches from my face. The claw on the end opened, and I found myself staring into a very bright, deadly red light. Then, the arm snaked back.
"What did you call me?" The voice was quiet, near shocked, and I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. Well, at least I wasn't dead. Yet.
My gaze shifted from the claw to his face, and I found myself studying him as I repeated my previous words.
His face was the same as I remembered it, if only appearing slightly older due to stress and time. It was round, slightly angelic despite all he had been through, and housed two eyes of the deepest mocha brown. On the very top of his head there was that same mop of chestnut curls, only now they were longer and messier.
His eyes, puppy-eyes I once described them as, were studying me carefully. The arms snaked about his head in an almost anxious way, pit bulls waiting for their codeword. For a moment I wondered why his own name had him staring like that - and then i realized it.
He had been called "Octopus" for so long, perhaps he had even grown to accept that as his identity. It was an interesting theory.
"Obviously you know who I am." He commented quietly, "But who are you?"
I didn't move as a claw neared, open and observing me from every angle possible. My eyes remained on his, and I was hoping he would understand I was trying to hide nothing from him.
"Ariane Keller." I informed him. I was forced to jerk my head back when the claw got right in my face. "I mean you no harm, Doctor Octavius. I'm simply here to help."
This must have surprised him, for he let out a hollow laugh. "Help? Child, what makes you think you can possibly help me?"
"Okay, I'm twenty-five. That doesn't exactly count as being a child, does it? Second, Doctor Octavius," carefully, I stood, "I don't think I can help; I know I can. Running errands, grabbing what needs to be grabbed. I'm small and agile and stealthy. I can go where you cannot."
His eyes narrowed as he considered this, and I prayed that he would realize I meant no harm. After all, I had no want nor need to fight those arms at the moment - or ever.
"Why, then? And how do I know this isn't a trick?" His voice sounded accusing, and once of the arms snapped at my face.
I gave it a look out of the corner of my eye. "If I wanted to harm you, or have you captured, Doctor, don't you think I would have brought the police. Or Spider-Man? I came alone, did I not?"
He grunted, as if confirming this.
"As for the why, Doctor, the answer is simple. Well, actually," I added, truly thinking about it, "maybe not so simple. But the main reason is this: I have a family legacy that denotes I do this, and plus the fact that I am a follower and student of your work."
I offered a shrug at the end, and he just stared at me. I could tell this was odd to him. After all, how many blondes came up out of nowhere saying they wished to help, and they were once students of his? I mean, really. Not many.
"What do you want in return?" One bushy eyebrow rose in question; the claws all spun slightly, as if in wonder as well. The question caught me by surprise. "Want...? Nothing. I don't... I have a legacy to live up to and a destiny to fulfill. I don't need nor want any monetary commodities in return."
Yes, I'm blonde. Yes, I have an IQ over the level of a turnip. Get over it.
"Really..." The way he spoke made it more of a lingering question. An arm found its way over to me, around me, and then back to the Doctor. "You do realize how that sounds, do you not?"
Well, I did now.
I struggled to think of how to word what I wished to say. I had to be quick, but I also had to be smart. Two things that didn't always go well together - especially with me.
"I'll learn from you," I blurted, "Study what you're doing and try to understand. My father's wealth is all that I'll need; I won't take anything you get. Please, Doctor Octavius, just give me a chance? A trial run!"
His brow furrowed at my words, and I could tell he was in deep thought. Obviously he was considering the pros and cons to accepting the aide of the woman who had come out of nowhere and demanded nothing in return. After all, looking back at it now, even I had to question my own sanity at the proposition.
The arm that had gone around my back began moving, and me with it. It slowly pulled me up closer to the Doctor, and I put up no restraint against it. As I neared, his thoughts became a small buzzing noise in my head. I quickly shut them out. Listening in, after all, wasn't polite.
Oh.
Did I forget to mention that I'm a mutant? Must have slipped my telepathic mind.
A different arm left its protective position beside Octavius to hover over. It's claw opened with a snap, and I swore it hissed at me.
"Very well." He murmured, "I suppose there is no harm in this."
The claw jerked back in surprise, and let out a near-shriek. I winced, as it was right by my ear, but looked up at the Doctor with a grin on my face. The claw had unnerved me, yes, but I wasn't about to let that bother me. Not one bit. The claw came back, and opened its mouth - er, whatever - to hiss at me again. Only this time, it was more of a warning than a threat.
"But," the Doctor stressed, "Do know I will, of course, be watching you. And if I see any hint of betrayal, or any sign of that wretched arachnid..." The claw snapped within three inches of my head. I swallowed. "Understood, sir."
He seemed to relax now that his point had been realized, and the claw withdrew back to his side. His lips turned upwards in an attempt to smile; he probably hadn't done so in a long while, so it took some effort. But I understood what he was trying to do.
"Excellent." He nodded; the arm around my waist moved to my shoulders, "Come, we have buisness to attend to."
Okay, that was it. Next chapter: Contemplating. Ock's POV.
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