The Haunting of Pier 56
Chapter Four—Small World
Author's Note: Yet another chapter of this story! When I initially started out, I didn't think it was going to be all too long, but it's turning out to be longer than I expected. I am really having fun writing this; playing with the characters of the Spider-Man movie-verse and developing my own unique character. It's quite enjoyable, and I'm hoping you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Read on…!
The next day, he was waiting for me on the front steps of my apartment building. It was a sunny day, so you could practically see right through the ghost. His hands were in his pockets, and for some reason, his mechanical arms (which he always had out) were hidden beneath his ethereal coat. Otherwise, he looked the same as always, his appearance forever frozen in time.
I was having a good day, and I wasn't going to let this ghost ruin it. So I decided to mess around a little bit with him. I mean, come on. If he was going to harass me all of the time, I might as well have some fun with the guy.
He was staring at the ground as I approached, and he looked up when he heard me coming.
"Hey, where are your arms, Doctor Octopus?" I said jokingly. Too late I forgot how touchy the ghost could be.
His arms came out from behind him menacingly. They snapped in my face, and for a second I thought he was going to attack me with them. Then, thankfully, they pulled back, and just stood still behind him, as if warning me not to joke around like that.
"Don't ever call me that again, Mark. Ever. Do you understand?" he growled, every syllable an epitome of hatred and anger.
"Yeah. Can I call you Doc Ock, instead?" I said, knowing I was just going to anger him more.
He gave me a death glare. "It would be wise not to mess with me today, Mr. Rhodes," he snarled. "I have not had a good day."
"Well, imagine that!" I said. I knew that I was pushing Dr. Octavius to the limit, beleaguering him like this, but I just couldn't help it.
I sat down on the steps, casually throwing my books down. "I didn't know a ghost could have a bad day. Tell me all about it."
To my surprise, he didn't lose it or attack me. Instead, he looked me in the eye and said, with disappointment and sorrow in his voice, "I don't know why you find it amusing to torture me, Mark, but I would appreciate it if you would stop. I don't need you reminding me what a bad person I was. I already know that."
The look on his face and the tone of his voice made me feel extremely guilty. Sure, the ghost was 'haunting' me, but I didn't need to treat him this way. I felt humiliated for bashing him, even if I was just trying to be clever.
I hung my head. "I'm sorry," I said ashamedly. "I was just joking around."
"It wasn't funny, and you know it."
"I know it wasn't. You don't deserve any more ridicule or hatred."
"Some people would disagree with you, Mark," he replied, averting my gaze.
I said nothing. I personally didn't believe that he was all that evil. I still hadn't heard the whole story of what had happened ten years ago (and it wasn't like I was going to ask anyone, least of all Doctor Octavius himself), but I now knew he regretted everything he had done then. In fact, I felt that the guilt and regret of what had happened was eating at him, tearing him up inside. But I didn't say any of this to Otto.
Finally, the ghost cleared his throat to break the awkward silence that had descended between us. "Ahem. Back to the matter at hand. Did you find out about Parker?"
I nodded enthusiastically. I had asked my friends Kyle and Jacob, who took physics with Mr. Parker, about it. "You were right. Mr. Parker's first name is Peter. He's obviously the guy you're looking for."
He nodded, unfazed. He had clearly been confident that he was right and therefore had been expecting my answer. He ruffled through the pockets of his trenchcoat, finally bringing out a rather solid-looking white envelope. The ghost held it out to me. "Here, take this," he said.
I turned the envelope over in my hands. It was a uniform envelope; with the name "Peter Parker" scrawled on the front in what I assumed was Doctor Octavius's handwriting.
I rolled my eyes. "I think I know what you want me to do with this," I said.
Otto nodded solemnly. "Yes, you're smart, Mark, I'll give you that." He paused. "I want you to give that to Peter Parker for me as soon as you can."
"You do realize that Mr. Parker probably won't believe me, don't you? I mean—"
"Of course I realize that," the ghost snapped angrily. "Just give it to him."
"Sure thing! I… wait, you wrote this?" I asked, confused.
He shrugged. "I've recently discovered I can interact with solid objects if I concentrate hard enough. It's quite useful."
Doctor Octavius glanced around. "I believe I will take my leave now, as you probably look as though you are talking to yourself. I will see you soon, Mark."
Without a proper good-bye, the ghost vanished. I shook my head. I hated when he did that.
I went up to the apartment I shared with my mother and unlocked the door. Setting my bag down, I began to wonder something. If Otto had written the letter, where had he gotten the materials to do so?
Suddenly, with certainty, I understood. I went into my room, quickly taking inventory.
Sure enough, several of my notebooks, a package of pens and pencils, a package of envelopes, and my clipboard were missing.
Damn that ghost. Couldn't he have just asked?
"Mr. Parker! Mr. Parker!" I called, running after the said science teacher in the crowded hallway. I finally reached him, out of breath from dashing down the corridor.
Mr. Parker turned around and looked at me quizzically. "Mark Rhodes," he said in bewilderment. "I've heard about you. What can I do for you, young man?"
I fished the envelope out of my pocket and gave it to him. "I was told to give this to you."
Mr. Parker accepted it and thanked me. I made my way to my next class…
"Mark Rhodes, please report to the Main Office. Mark Rhodes, please report to the Main Office."
I sighed and collected my things. I knew what this was about…
Sure enough, I was called to Mr. Parker's classroom from the Main Office. When I walked into the room, it was empty save Mr. Parker sitting at his desk. "Come in, Mr. Rhodes," he said, looking up from some work.
I waited a few minutes while Mr. Parker graded someone's test. Then he shuffled his papers and stood up. "Mr. Rhodes," he said. "I believe you know what this is all about." He picked up the envelope that Otto had given me off of the desk. "I want you to tell me the truth, Mr. Rhodes," he said sternly. "Did you write this letter?"
"No sir."
Mr. Parker slammed the letter on the desk. "Otto Octavius is dead. He has been dead for ten years." He looked at me. "Who gave this to you, Mr. Rhodes?"
I shifted in my seat nervously. "I don't think you would believe me if I told you, sir."
Mr. Parker narrowed his eyes. "Try me, Mr. Rhodes."
I didn't say anything.
"Is Dr. Otto Octavius alive, Mr. Rhodes? Tell me that, at least."
I shook my head. "No, sir."
"I thought so." Mr. Parker sat back down at his desk and glared at me with steely eyes. "I don't know why you wrote this letter and lied to me about it, Mr. Rhodes, but pull some 'prank' like this again, and I assure you, disciplinary action will be taken." He started grading some tests. "You may return to class now, Mr. Rhodes," he said, without looking up from his task.
"Yes, sir." I returned to class more than a little depressed. I knew that that was going to happen, but I hadn't had the heart to tell Otto. I mean, I couldn't just tell Mr. Parker, 'Oh, hey, it actually was Otto Octavius that wrote you that letter, but he's dead.' He just wouldn't believe me, and I knew it.
And now I had to relay the disappointment to the ghost, which I really wasn't looking forward to.
Just like I knew he would, the ghost was waiting for me on the front steps when I came home. Something was different than yesterday, though. He was reading a newspaper, his actual hands holding the edges of it while his mechanical arms acted as sentries.
As I walked up the steps, he folded up the paper and tossed it to me. "Thank you for letting me borrow your newspaper," he said, by way of a greeting.
"Yeah, don't even ask first," I muttered, putting the paper in the crook of my arm.
"Well, I do have to keep up with the times, you know," he said defensively. He pointed to the paper. "Spider-Man still makes headlines, I see. And the Yankees still play good baseball." He sighed. "Not much has changed in Manhattan. Ten years…I thought something of importance would have happened."
"I suppose, if that's the way you see it, Otto," I replied, sitting down. I really didn't want to set him off today.
"Well, what did Parker have to say?" he asked, joining me on the front steps.
"Actually…" I really didn't want to tell him this… "He was . He thought you were alive."
To my surprise, the ghost tipped his head back and laughed. It was a bitter, cold laugh, devoid of any humor or happiness. It saddened me to hear it.
"Trust me, if I was alive, hunting down Peter Parker would be the last thing I would do." He laughed again. "I can't believe he thought I was alive. Parker is a fool, and absolute fool. If he would remember correctly, he left me to my fate. He knew I couldn't possibly have survived that."
"'Left you to your fate?' What do you mean by that?"
"Never mind," he snapped. "What happened next?"
"Mr. Parker accused me of writing it and said if it happened again I would be in serious trouble."
The ghost of Otto Octavius sighed. "I suppose you were right in trying to dissuade me, Mark. Pursuing Peter Parker is a lost cause."
I hastily changed the subject, not wanting Otto to get too depressed.
Despite me trying to be nice to him, the ghost was still in his depressed, moody funk by the time he told me he had to leave. He turned to walk away, but then he stopped. He turned around, walking towards me.
"I couldn't help but wonder, Mark…"
"What? What is it?" I asked.
He pointed to my chest. "Why do you wear that necklace? I've never seen you without it."
I took a hand and pulled the long chain out from under my shirt. The chain and the dog tags attached to them had been my father's. I never took it off.
"It was my father's," I said softly.
"May I see?"
Reluctantly, I carefully took off the chain and gently gave it to the ghost. With a translucent hand, he took it with the same utmost care I gave it. He glanced at the dog chain, reading the name. His eyes widened with recognition, and he slowly handed the chain back to me, where I put it back on, where it belonged.
"Your father is Jonathan Rhodes?" the ghost asked in disbelief.
"Yeah. He was a doctor in the Marine Corps."
Otto shook his head. "I knew your father."
"WHAT? From where?"
"From college. We were roommates for some time at Empire State University."
"Whoah," I breathed, shocked beyond recognition. "Small world."
Author's Note: How's that for an end to this chapter? Don't forget to review, please!