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Chapter 14: "We were right…"

Spidey perched on the darkened rooftop of an apartment building and peered into the darkness below. She could see the cupola of the Moroney Clinic, but it was lit up, and would not have been a good spot to remain unseen. One of the ledges down the side of the building she was on may do. She cautiously crawled down the side, keeping in the shadows as much as possible. She was unsure where the security cameras were, but she didn't want to take the chance that they pointed up at the hospital wing of the clinic. When she had reached a level where it was easier to see details below, but still unlikely to be spotted, she settled comfortably cross-legged and prepared to wait. She shivered a little; it was a wee bit chilly now night had fallen. She watched a security guard make his rounds; about every ten minutes, he appeared around the corner of the old house and walked up the drive and into the courtyard.

The courtyard was lit directly by one light, set under the eaves at the corner. Because she was far enough above it, it didn't obscure Spidey's view of the courtyard area. Indirectly, lights from the surrounding buildings shone into the space, creating a darker gloom in places. Spidey could see that the guard wore a holster at his hip - she'd take a long time getting used to cops wearing guns, that is, wearing them so openly. Not like back home…

Another figure approached - another guard, taking a breather and a smoke. Their voices floated up to their unseen observer.

"Quiet night?" said one.

"Yo," replied the other, taking a pull on his cigarette, "Watch out for da creepy-crawlies outta da tunnel - I saw one tryin' to escape."

"Ah, you're so full of shit, Man."

"Yeah, I gotta have a dump real bad."

"I bet."

"Watch it all da same; dere mus' be some reason why we gotta guard dat door…"

"I was told it was because of those recent break-ins."

"Yeah, right!"

The guard on patrol chuckled. "I reckon it was Spider-Man dropping in on them the other week. Scared the shit out of them."

Up on the wall, Spidey grinned to herself under her mask.

"Yeah, old Web-head is real scary - gotta make sure he don' get past me!"

"Like you are now."

"Yeah, well." The guard nervously took one last drag on his smoke and threw the butt onto the ground behind him. Then he quickly looked around and picked it up again. In the light, Spidey could see a flash of fear cross his face as he did so. "I betta dispose of dis proper - don' want any hassle." He went through a door in the outbuilding without a farewell or backward glance at his mate - Spidey could just see a slice of light vanish as he shut the door after him.

"Interesting," she thought.

The original guard continued on his rounds. Spidey debated with herself how much longer she should stay - she had no idea what the time was, except late. Nine more of the Ambulatory Gun's rounds. That should give her about an hour and a half.

She watched Amby pass under the light five more times, started wishing she had something else to do, or at least an mp3 player or something so she could listen to music while she waited. She shifted slightly, then froze. The slice of light from the door had appeared, and the shadow of someone standing in the open doorway was spread out across the asphalt of the courtyard, framed in the light. The figure stepped forward and the door closed behind it. As it slowly came nearer to the corner light, Spidey could see that it was a large man, wearing a trench coat and sunglasses. Sunnies at night? How cool…not.

Then she bit the inside of her lower lip to stop herself from gasping - for under the open coat, she had caught a glimpse of steel - a titanium-steel appendage. More appeared from inside the coat, snaking about in a sinuous yet purposeful way before they at once retracted under the coat again.

So, that was Dr. Otto Octavius. In real life, in the shadows, he was a daunting figure, menacing even; quite different from the slightly ridiculous character - looking like an Elton John gone to seed - portrayed in the comic books. She really hoped she wouldn't need to fight this man - now she had seen him, she could imagine what those arms were really like. Was he, or his metallic arms, the creepy-crawly the guard had talked about?

Dr Octopus walked down the driveway, buttoning up his coat as he went. Spidey decided to follow him, see where he went. Quietly, quickly, she scrambled up to the roof again and across to the street side. Doc Ock was already around the corner and heading down 57th Street, his head turned to watch the road and the cars approaching.

As she followed above him from rooftop to rooftop, Spidey supposed he was on the lookout for a taxi. He hailed one and eased his bulk in through the cab door. Spidey sighed. Although there was enough traffic that the taxi would not be speeding through town, one yellow cab looked much like another - she hoped she'd be able to track it without losing it. She remembered the spider tracers, but they were something that never struck her as amazingly practical - you had to be close enough to your target to get the tracer to attach to them and if the wrong person got hold of a tracer they could use it against you, but perhaps attached to the taxi? Spidey knew she'd have to get closer to the vehicle to throw a tracer at it, and that she had to do it soon, before the cab reached the high density traffic areas midtown.

Hoping like hell that the Doctor was not looking behind, Spidey swooped down on a long line of webbing, threw a tracer and swooped back up again. Back up high, she studied the cab for any signs she'd been spotted. Nothing. She still couldn't afford to drop back too far behind; if the cab stopped and disgorged its passenger, she might not notice and end up following an empty taxi.

She followed the taxi across town along East 57th, until it reached 5th Avenue and turned down into it. Spidey wondered where they were heading - she wasn't lost as such, but didn't have her bearings until they passed the Empire State Building. As they kept going down 5th Ave, Spidey hitched a lift on the roof of a van a few vehicles back from the cab. She kept her body low and hoped she wouldn't be too noticeable up there but she needn't have worried, no one paid the slightest attention to her. Up ahead, she could see a huge triumphal arch, like the arc D'Triomph in Paris. She had no idea what it was called - at this moment she felt keenly her lack of New York knowledge.

Eventually, the taxi slowed and stopped outside a group of buildings just before they reached the arch and it's surrounding park. Spidey rapidly leapt from the van as it passed and into shadows at the side of one of the buildings. She crawled up to the roof of the low building, and was in time to see Dr. Octopus emerge from the cab after he had finished paying his fare. He stood on the footpath, surveying the buildings before he went up the short flight of steps to one of them and knocked on the door. It was not long before his knock was answered and he went inside.

Spidey was curious - where was she, and what was inside the building. Cautiously, she lowered herself down on a web line and upside down, read what was written on a board attached near the front door: Administration, Department of Biomedical Engineering, Empire State University. Empire State University. Peter Parker's old stamping ground. What business did Dr Ock have with them? And on a Saturday night too… But first of all… Spidey dropped down into bushes at the side nearest the cab, and shot out a thin string of web to snare the tracer just before the cab moved off again. She felt relieved to have retrieved it.

Up on the roof again Spidey sat, pondering what she had heard and seen so far tonight. She decided it wasn't worth waiting for Dr. Ock to come out again - she'd head back and talk to Pete.

This time, Spidey crawled down from the roof and peeped in at the open window before bowling in - not that she expected anyone else to be there this time, but knowing that relying on her spidey-sense sometimes put her in awkward situations, best to make sure…

Peter was still up, sprawled out on the couch watching television. It was some sort of game show, where the contestants were competing not for prizes, but jobs. The host was at least equally insulting to both contestants, belittling their attempts to show their skills in their chosen professions. The audience participated in the destruction of the contestants' confidence as well. You could almost see the desperation of those people who had chosen to attempt to gain employment by appearing on such a programme. Erica removed her mask, and just stood there watching too, bemused and horrified by the idea. Then the ads came on, and she still stood watching. She had never seen anything quite like it.

Peter sat up with a little start when he saw her there - she had been so silent coming in, and he himself had been engrossed in the show, that he hadn't realised she had returned. He grinned to himself at Erica's wide-eyed mesmerised stare at the TV. He got up and waved his hand back and forth in front of her face. She snapped out of her vacant state and focussed her gaze on Peter instead. "I've never seen anything so… so… crass!" she exclaimed. This time it was Peter's turn to be bemused.

"What, don't you have TV in New Zealand?"

"Yeah, but not like this." She replied, flapping her gloved hand at the television. She stopped. "Though it's getting closer, I must admit - we've got some of your talk shows on air, Jerry Springer and so on."

"You mustn't watch them then, if you think this is crass," laughed Peter.

"No, I don't," admitted Erica, "I spend my evenings at home reading, or on the 'net mostly." Her eyes strayed again to the TV in the corner, where the audience was now voting which contestant should get the job. With an effort, she returned her attention back to Peter.

"How come you haven't got a computer? I meant to ask when we were doing our research this morning - the Internet's a great tool for that sort of thing."

"Can't afford it. I use the access at work, or the public library if I need to."

Erica looked around the shabby apartment, noticing the state of it again, the second-hand furniture reminding her of her student flatting days. But even then, working part-time to pay for fees and rent, most students could still afford a computer - having one was almost a course requirement nowadays.

"You big fraud." she commented.

"True!" Peter protested. "Manhattan is not a cheap place to live. It would be more affordable if I moved in again with Aunt May - and I've had to do that at times in the past - but you know the reasons I've had to live here…"

Sighing mightily, Erica started stripping off her gloves. "Yeah, I know."

"Learn anything?" asked Peter.

Erica told what she had seen and heard that evening as she took off the web shooters and inspected them. She looked across at Peter on the couch, and saw he had an almost resigned look on his face. She could only guess at what he was feeling at the news.

"So," he said, "You were right about Doctor Octopus being involved…"

"Not really," interrupted Erica, "All we know for certain, is that he is around again, and up to something. But in all fairness, it could be something totally unrelated to Spider-Man's loss of powers - it really is only speculation and hunches we're working from."

"That's usually been the case - usually what I've worked from. Anyways, I don't see what else we can do. We have nothing else to work from. You can't just put an ad in the paper: Wanted - Ray-man. Please reply to box 123. Or cruise the streets in the hope that he'll suddenly appear for a reprise. And besides… if Doc Ock is up to something, we've got to find out what it is… he's dangerous…"

"O.K, I can accept that he's dangerous to cross, especially after seeing his arms. But does he have to be 'up to something'? Megalomanical madman he may be, but whatever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

Erica watched Peter's eyes become hard in a grim face. Whoops, she'd upset him now.

"Look," he said quietly, "I'll excuse you this time - this convinces me that you really are from an alternate universe - but don't make the mistake of underestimating Dr. Octavius. He is dangerous, and not only when crossed. He is also insane. He does a good job of concealing his madness, but nonetheless, he is mad. He is always 'up to something'."

"Sorry," apologised Erica. She stood up from the chair she'd been sitting in, intending to go have a shower. She should have censored herself - she had forgotten for a moment there who she was talking to - of course he had had the first-hand experience of dealing with Dr. Octavius; she had only read about him. She tried recalling all that she had read - yep, he was a bad'un all right. Definitely one of the worse ones Spider-Man had to deal with.

"Sorry," she said again, "I forg… I mean, I didn't realise how dangerous he was… is."

Peter regarded her seriously. "I wonder if you still do," he said eventually. "In a fight he is a tough opponent, not only because of his arms, but his intelligence too. You not only have to be super fast, but you have to use your own intelligence."

"Exploiting his weaknesses?" suggested Erica. She recalled something of the kind happening in the past.

"He hasn't many."

Erica stared at her booted feet. "I don't want to fight him," she said at last.

"No, I bet you don't." Peter heaved himself out of the couch and put his hand on Erica's shoulder. "Don't worry, cuz," he said gently, "We'll try not to get into a situation where you have to - we only have to get Ray-man, or his alter-ray - if we can do that, then I'll do the fighting."

"Ummm, I'll go have a shower now, if you don't mind."

"Why should I?" Peter removed his hand, and Erica left the room, feeling almost depressed.

She could see more complications arising the longer she was here, the longer she had to act as Spider-Man. It was just not as simple as she had initially thought it would be. Erica ran the water for her shower, adjusting the taps until she got the right temperature - hot. For one thing, she didn't have the same motivation as Peter - that of getting home was good enough for impersonating Spider-Man for a while; getting into small scraps, even though, she only half admitted to herself, the fighting still terrified her - but to continue the role and fight big-time super-villains…? She just didn't have the motivation for that. Erica shampooed her hair and rinsed it. She didn't particularly want to acquire the motivation for that sort of thing either - how screwed up would that make you? Look at Peter, constantly feeling guilty and trying to assuage his guilt… She reached for a towel and started drying herself off. Mind you, she supposed his mantra wasn't too bad as a motivating force. It was repeated often enough in the comics: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility. Yeah, that'll have to do. She knew she could do it, she had the power - now came the responsibility part of it. Erica pulled a shirt over her head. It was more than just getting home, she realised. While she was here, she had to do this task.

She opened the bathroom window, and went through into the bedroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. The door into the living area was open as she had left it, and she went through to find the TV off and Peter sitting at the table with a bottle, a jug of water, and two small glasses. He had obviously been waiting for her to come out, as he had not yet opened the bottle.

Erica inspected it as she came nearer, vigorously rubbing her hair with the towel to dry it. She let the wet towel drop onto the lino as she sat in the other chair and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to flatten it down a bit. Peter was twisting the cork out of the bottle - a single malt whisky.

"Lagavulin. You are a fraud!" Erica had regained her normal cheerful state. Peter was apologetic.

"A gift from an admirer," he said, referring to the whisky. "I hope I didn't upset you before…"

Erica was surprised. "You upset me? I was annoyed at myself - for speaking without thinking and upsetting you!"

She watched the golden liquid glug into a glass as Peter poured it. He sloshed a bit of water into it and pushed it across the table to her, then poured some of the same into his own glass. "Well now, now that the little family misunderstanding is cleared up, let's drink a toast."

"Who to?" asked Erica, picking up her glass and taking an appreciative sniff.

"To Spidey! May his webs never grow shorter!"

Erica giggled. "To Spidey!" she repeated, and they clinked their glasses together and drank. Erica sighed as she felt the whisky burn down her gullet. She took another sip, relishing the peaty finish. She noticed Peter had taken a small sip of his and had then set his glass back down on the table. "Must've been some admirer," she said appreciatively, "This is good stuff." Peter wrinkled his nose.

"I only opened it because there was someone else to drink it - hate the taste of whisky."

"What, a good Islay malt? Pete doesn't like peat? Profanity!" Erica teased, then more seriously asked, "Do you think I should call the Department of Biomedical Engineering tomorrow and see if I can find out what Doc Ock was doing there?"

"You can try, but I don't think you'll get far."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday. They'll be closed."

"Oh." Erica took another sip. "How about on Monday then?"

Peter shrugged. "If you think you'll get anywhere."

"I've got to try anything. Actually, I'd like to get inside that tunnel, see what's in there."

"Could you do it without being seen? Oh, stupid question." Peter continued, seeing Erica grin at him. "Still, I think we'd have to find out as much as we can before we attempt that." He stood up, picked the wet towel off the floor. "I'm off to bed. You can finish off my whisky if you want. Sleep in in the morning, mebbe we'll go to brunch later." He smiled at Erica as he went through the bedroom door. "Sleep well."

Erica sat finishing her whisky and thinking. She didn't feel like having any more, and although she felt it was a waste, she tipped the contents of Peter's glass down the sink, and rinsed the glasses out before placing them upside down on the bench. She yawned suddenly. Her lack of sleep the previous night was finally catching up with her. As she spread the blanket out on the couch and changed for bed, she hoped she could achieve something tomorrow to bring them closer to their goal. 'Maybe…' She sighed.

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Next: Hot Coffee