Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel.
Author's Note: I apologize; for some reason, this chapter didn't come together as well as I had hoped. And thanks for the info on the Electra complex. I had never heard of it before, and the dictionary I consulted when I was looking up the spelling of Oedipus used gender-neutral terms, as if it applied to both males and females. But I did go back and look up the Electra complex, and that one did state it was specifically for females. Huh. Who says you don't learn anything when writing fanfiction? To answer another thing brought up in reviews: Why yes, I am an "Invader Zim" fan, and that is what I couldn't help but think of when I came up with the "Impending Doom" title.
Oh, and I really, really feel sorry for Otto. He may not have been in his right mind before, but after this chapter, he's going to need some serious therapy...
How Do I Love Thee...
Four – Why Me?!
Don't go back to sleep, Otto.
Tell us what you think.
Yes, tell us, Otto.
I wanted a green ribbon, but they wouldn't let me have one. I am not 'special!' Tell them, Otto!
He wasn't sleeping, but how was he supposed to explain to them that he wasn't interested in them in that way? He doubted they even fully understood what they were doing; the AIs were learning, but they couldn't be that complex yet. No; until they either figured things out on their own, or he died of starvation – or embarrassment – he had no intention of opening his eyes and getting up. With his eyes closed, he could pretend the whole world hadn't gone totally nuts ever since the morning edition of the Bugle had come out.
Why are you ignoring us, Otto?
Don't you like the ribbons?
We did this for you! Look at us! Complement us! You said you preferred us to those other women, so prove it!
Hey, did you hear something?
Suddenly, the tentacles snapped to attention, immediately putting aside their feminine demands. If only real women could do that so easily...
Wait... What did you just say?
There is something here, Otto. Can you hear it?
His bed was in what had once been the warehouse's main office, and Otto had shut and locked the door. He didn't open the door, not wanting to tip off his location to whoever was out there, but he could listen through the tentacles' senses. The tentacles remained immobile so there'd be no sound to cover up whatever had caught their attention. The sound was almost too soft to hear, at first, but then he was able to make it out: footsteps. Someone found us!
Spider-Man! the tentacles hissed in unison.
Otto wasn't so sure. While the arachnid was surely on the look for him – assuming he survived his battering by the angry women – Otto didn't think he'd be able to hear Spider-Man coming. Spider-Man was silent; this intruder sounded like...
Like...
Like the prelude to disaster.
Is it me, or are there a lot of people out there?
The tentacles had heat sensors; by shutting his eyes and concentrating, he could 'see' everything that they could. And with the heat sensors, they could see countless bright blobs of heat outside the door – as well as all along the wall at his back. The warehouse was surrounded, and Otto didn't think it was the SWAT team.
Those women found us! Their rage was like a knife jab to his skull, and he almost staggered. They followed us! We'll kill them! Kill them all! You're ours, not theirs! Ours!
Briefly, Otto wondered what he was going to do when the tentacles started to be jealous of each other. He suddenly realized he was going to have to be very, very careful not to play favorites with them.
We're not going to kill anyone, he scolded them. We're going to escape before they realize I'm here.
How, Otto?
By... Uh... It was at that point that he realized his emergency escape plans would be useless. Breaking through the wall wasn't an option, with women surrounding the building and filling the open area of the warehouse. Then there was his escape plan that involved the sewer. That was out, too – he'd have to pass the angry mob to get to the entrance. There wasn't a window in this small office for him to go out – and even if there was, there was still the fact that he was surrounded by a swarm of crazy women. All of his plans were ruined by the women's presence. When he'd made them all, a bunch of crazy, lustful women hadn't been a problem he'd foreseen.
Up wasn't an option, either. The office ceiling was filled with heavy metal pipes that unfortunately hadn't corroded enough to be easily broken through. Given time and the right leverage, he could do it – but not before the women busted down the door and did whatever unholy things they had planned for him.
I'm open for ideas.
Unless you let us slaughter them all, we are in deep trouble, Otto.
Yeah? Otto grumbled. Tell me something I don't know.
You are wearing only your boxers.
Otto blinked and glanced downward. Oh, my... Okay, so he'd forgotten that little fact. Great. Anything else I need to know?
You left your clothes in a pile outside the door.
Outside... out there... with them... And it wasn't like he had a lot of spare clothing. He didn't exactly fit into most normal outfits anymore. If he curled up in a fetal position under his bed, would they find him?
Those... women are most tenacious. They would find you.
Besides, you would never fit under the bed.
You are not completely undressed! We still have our ribbons!
And this 'bra' thing is still tangled in my segments. Is this not enough clothing for you?
Otto could see only two options: Barricading himself in this room without food and water for however long it took for whatever madness that had infected these women to fade – or for however long it took them to break down the rotting door - or go out there and reason with them. Maybe if he could just talk to them before they tackled him, this whole thing could be resolved without him losing more skin and hair.
I'm going to open the door a crack, and I want one of you to grab my clothing.
We're going out there? Are you nuts, Otto?!
There were probably doctors out there who had debated that very question. He wondered if they'd made money from it. Would you prefer staying in here for the rest of my life? With no food and water, I wouldn't last very long.
There are hundreds of rats in here. We could kill them for you to eat.
If we provided food for you, we would be like your wives!
He hadn't known there was that big a rat infestation. Suddenly, he wanted to get out of there now more than ever. He crossed over to the door. Is anybody on the other side? When the tentacles answered in the negative, he slowly opened the door just far enough for one of the tentacles to slip through to grab his clothing.
Otto? There's nothing here. The tentacle retracted, pulling the door shut behind it.
What?! Are you sure?
Sorry, Otto. They must have your clothing. There was a moment of silence, during which Otto knew the tentacles were discussing the situation without him. We have some ribbon left. Will that help you?
Otto had a horrifying image of himself walking out of the room, pink ribbons wound about himself like a woman's tube top and a big oversized bow on his head. A hysterical giggle escaped him; maybe that would be enough to scare the women away. He knew that he would certainly be horrified.
I'm going to wrap myself in my blanket, he told them. We're going out there, and I'm going to stay calm, and talk to them as though they were reasonable people, and maybe they'll give my clothing back and leave me alone.
Or they will tear you to pieces. One of the tentacles nudged the deep cut on his arm.
Otto tried not to think about that as he draped his blanket around himself. He now wished he'd been able to steal a better one; it may have been the warmest one he could find, but the little yellow duckies weren't going to make statement he would have preferred. Worse, it looked like a toga – he felt like some sort of drunken frat boy.
He took a deep breath. Ready?
No.
Too bad. Steeling his nerves, he threw the door open.
His first thought is that there were far, far more of them than he'd estimated. His second was that maybe living on rats wouldn't be so bad, after all... No. No way was Dr. Octopus going to be defeated by a couple hundred women! He'd never live it down. I bet the Green Goblin never have to deal with anything like this! Lucky bastard.
His entrance drew the gaze of everyone in the room. He heard soft murmurs of, "there he is," and "I saw him first!" and realized he'd have to diffuse the situation quickly before they attacked.
"Hello, ladies," Otto said, plastering a smile on his face. He began to take a few steps forward. His plan was to keep them calm long enough for him to walk towards the door, and then run like hell as soon as he was in the open. It wasn't going to be easy; he was eerily reminded of the scene at the end of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds where the protagonists were walking softly through the flock birds, knowing that one wrong move could set them off... "I'm so pleased that you all came to see me today."
Do you mean that, Otto? The tentacles hissed in displeasure.
You know I don't!
"You caught me at an awkward time, however. I was just taking a nap, and now I can't seem to find my clothing. If you would be kind enough to return it, I would be very, very grateful." Ugh... Are they really buying this? Rosie would have dumped my ass if I'd sounded this pathetic when we were dating. I hate myself for this... However, they seemed to be hanging on his every word, as if his voice had mesmerized them. Maybe this would work after all!
"Uh, here you go, Dr. Octavius," a woman said breathlessly, coming forward to offer him his shoes. He smiled at her, and she blushed. A second woman handed him his socks. Another stood behind her, holding his pants in a tight grip.
"I'll give them back if you listen to a poem I wrote just for you," this one said.
Otto's smile wavered. "Uh, all right." He liked poetry; after all, he'd taken a class devoted to the subject back in college. Admittedly, he'd only taken the class because Rosie happened to be taking it and he'd wanted to use it to get to know her, but it had helped him develop an appreciation for the subject. And realize what a chick magnet it could be.
The woman handed him his pants, pulled a rumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, and began. "Oh, Dr. Octavius, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways! One, two, three, four, five, six..."
By the time the woman hit twenty-five, Otto realized that this was all there was to the poem. And she was still going on. "Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two..." Otto twitched. This wasn't poetry; it was cruel and unusual torture.
"Uh, right, thanks," Otto said, pushing past her. "Does anybody have my coat?" he asked hopefully.
"Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one..."
"I have it!
"No you don't! I have it!"
"You lying bitch! I found it first!"
Uh-oh... Otto had the horrible feeling things were suddenly about to go bad.
The crowd cleared around two women who had hold of the ends of his coat and were engaged in a vicious tug-o-war with it. "I'm going to give it to him, and he's going to go out with ME!"
"Let go! It's mine to give to him!"
"Hey, will you two just give it to Dr. Octavius? He's obviously not going to go out with either one of you freaks!"
"Yeah... and the ducks are kinda scaring me..."
"Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four..."
First one woman ran forward, grabbing an end of the coat, then another moved to assist the woman on the other side. This was enough to divide most of the women into teams, and suddenly they were all fighting for the honor of giving him back his coat.
"No!" Otto yelled, but the women didn't hear him over their own cries. And then, suddenly, horribly, there was a loud ripping sound. The coat's weave had been weakened by the tears Otto had put in the back to make room for the tentacles; it couldn't take being pulled in so many directions at once. Suddenly the women all went flying backwards as his beautiful long coat became a much shorter one.
Otto could only stare. He felt like he'd lost a best friend. "My coat..." he said weakly
"One hundred and thirty-seven, one hundred and thirty-eight..."
Otto! Now would be a good time to run! The women are stunned!
"My coat..."
Ooh! Can we get black leather now?
"My coat..."
Will you shut up about the damn coat already? The upper right tentacle darted forward and snatched the upper portion of the coat from the women still clinging to it. Here. Let's go before the next thing ripped in half is you!
The tentacles forced him into action. For the third time that day, Otto found himself running for his life, though he made sure not to lose his grip on his clothing. He'd put what remained of it on as soon as they had escaped this madness.
Which was easier said than done, of course. The warehouse Otto had chosen had once been in the middle of several others of its kind, but many had collapsed with age, and now the area was very, very open. And very, very crowded... the countless crazy women that read the Bugle had made use of the open space by packing as many of themselves in as possible.
Without being told, the tentacles lifted him above the level of the crowd and walked him over their heads. While the women would have eagerly flung themselves at him, they were a bit more wary of going after the tentacles, and moved out of the way whenever a tentacle's pincers descended. Otto would have been pleased, but on thought kept nagging at him: could they see up his boxers?
Otto, they're following us! There were a few buildings around them now, but there was too much space between them for him to travel on top of them. Can we please kill them?
Otto thought quickly. What could distract the women? Stop for a moment, he commanded. The tentacles obeyed, though they complained. Otto extricated a sock from his handful of clothing and waved it like a flag. "I have a gift for one of you lucky women!" he said. With that, he flung it into the crowd.
Total chaos erupted as the women fought over the sock. Gogogo! he told the tentacles, and they obeyed instantly, moving with speed he hadn't even known they had. The wind tore the duck blanket lose from his shoulders, and it went flying backwards. We need to find somewhere that I can get dressed. Not on top of a building – if Spider-Man's still looking for me, I don't want him to see me in my boxers.
The tentacles ducked around the corner of a building. There didn't seem to be anybody in sight, so Otto figured it was safe. He began to pull on his pants, which had mercifully survived their captivity with the writer of the 'poem.'
"Pink ribbons? A bra? Oh, darling, we told those women you were one of us!"
Otto blinked. He hadn't even noticed the three men round the corner, all of them watching him with a peculiar expression. "I... beg your pardon?"
One of the men came closer, placing a hand on Otto's arm and giving him a lascivious smile. "It's okay. We know why you were so scared of those women."
Oh... My... God...
The other two men joined the first, patting Otto comfortingly.
Otto? Why are these men holding you like all those women wanted to?
Why are they looking at you like that?
Otto... they're scaring me...
Get me out of here now!!!!!
He was up the side of the building almost before he finished his command. Fortunately, they were far enough into the city that the buildings were now close enough together that Otto could put several blocks between himself and his male suitors.
What did those men want?
Does it matter?!
They made you very uncomfortable.
Otto wasn't in the mood to explain homosexuality to the tentacles. Instead, he went back to dressing himself. He stared mournfully at the ruin of his coat, the only article of clothing he could fit over his upper torso. At least the tentacle harness doesn't get in the way of pants, or I'd really be in trouble. He sighed and zipped up the leather vest that served as the coat's inner lining.
"Love da ribbods, Doc," a peculiar voice said. Otto tensed; had those men found him again?
He turned, then sighed with relief. "I'm glad it's just you, Parker."
"Really? Cuz you wered't so glad whed you bade dose girls hid be and break by dose."
Otto blinked. "What the hell did you just say?"
"By dose! Dey broke by dose! Wid deir purses! Dere was a girl wid fibe dollars word of peddies id her purse! Fibe hudred peddies! Id hurd, you sudubabidge!"
Otto tried to sort that one out. Had he just been insulted? "Peter? You sound like you're speaking an alien language. Is there something wrong with your nose or something?"
"Id's broked!" Spider-Man shrieked.
"Sorry," Otto said, not feeling that way at all. "Want to hear about my day? Women ripped pieces from my hide, men actually hit on me, my coat is ruined, and the tentacles have decided they're teenage girls with an Oedipus complex."
"Elecdra," Spider-Man corrected. "Whed deir girls, id's an Elecdra cobplex."
"Whadeber," Otto muttered. Then, "Argh! You've got me doing it, too!"
"Sorry." He sounded as apologetic as Otto had earlier. "Waid... You addracded bed, doo?" He gave a snorting sound that might have been a laugh, but it came out funny and made him yelp, "Ow!"
"I 'addracded bed'?"
"Guys," Peter clarified. "You dow. You're righd, dough... your day is worse. Ad leasd I heal fasd."
"And it's all thanks to the Daily Bugle," Otto snarled. "Why me? Why?!"
"You're jusd de vicdib ob de year," Spider-Man said. "De crazy girls always go afder de guy de Bugle chooses."
I'm their 'victim of the year?' I should go over there and give them a piece of my mind. But that wouldn't make the past few hours just disappear. No, I need to make a point. I need to make sure they never make a fool of me again.
And then he had an idea. A wonderful, awful idea. He asked Peter, "These women... they do this every year, do they?"
"Dey wend afder Harry lasd year. Sub ob dese are de sabe girls."
"So... they only want me because of the stupid paper, not out of any feelings for me?" Despite his feelings for the hoards of women that dogged his tracks, he couldn't help but be a little hurt.
"Mosd. I did read a lod of ledders aboud you, so a lod ob girls are dinking ob you, bud halb dose girls jusd chase you 'cuz you were chosed."
So he could get about half of them off his back, then... He smiled wickedly.
Spider-Man's voice was suspicious. "Whad are you going do do, Dr. Ocdabius?"
Otto grinned savagely. "I'm going to go talk to J. Jonah Jameson."
To be continued...
Spider-Man Translation Guide (or, a select few sentences to show how to speak 'highly exaggerated broken nose speak.')
"Love da ribbods, Doc," is "Love the ribbons, Doc."
"Really? Cuz you wered't so glad whed you bade dose girls hid be and break by dose." Is "Really? 'Cause you weren't so glad when you made those girls hit me and break my nose."
"By dose! Dey broke by dose! Wid deir purses! Dere was a girl wid fibe dollars word of peddies id her purse! Fibe hudred peddies! Id hurd, you sudubabidge!" With a liberal use of consonant exchanges, this becomes "My nose! They broke my nose! With their purses! There was a girl with five dollars worth of pennies in her purse. Five hundred pennies! It hurt, you sonuvabitch." Tut, tut, Spidey... you shouldn't insult Ock's mom.
My grammar isn't really bad – when Spidey says 'broked' or 'chosed,' he really does mean broken or chosen!
"Bed" is "Men." Boy... it's a good thing Spider-Man heals fast because if Mary Jane had to put up with this, I think she'd go nuds. Er... nuts.
Now you should know enough to be able to figure out the rest on your own! Or go steadily insane, as I have secretly planned...
Just one more chapter to go!