AN: I do not own anything you recognize. I don't own Oc, Spidey, etc. it's Marvel's. I"m not making any money! cry!
Thanks for the reviews. I heart reviews. And to Agent Silver, the reason that his name is spelled Oc, is that I started writing it that way thinking "WTF?! Adding a K?! THere is no K in octopus! $#()!!!!" and then I started spelling it "Ock" but changing it would be WAAAY to a painful, as the entire story is now about eighty pages.
So yes, I am lazy. I am also wierd. I love being lazy and wierd.
" ONWARD AND UPWARD! But hopefully not upward." probaly incorret quote from a fic, that i forget which wone it is. But not mine.
Our Future
By me! Karina of Darkness.
With the woman out of the way, Oc's arms walked him over to the computer. Or, what was left of it. Not much of it was left, either way, "Really did a number on the woman's computer, didn't you...." The tentacle nodded in agreement, trilling in pleasure again.
With nothing to amuse him or his permanent companion, the two of them scampered out the window.
The arms brought him up the building and he looked up at the night sky, one of his arms taking off the sunglasses and setting them in his pocket as he looked out into the night, noticing the moon, or rather, lack thereof. He zoned out a bit, just watching the stars.
Some time later, a strange noise suddenly shot out from the distance. Curious, the pair walked over to the edge of the building, glancing out. A flash of red and blue caught Oc's eye, and it moved in a sort of UUUU-shape.
...Oc knew that blue and red thing. It was Spiderman.
A biting rage formed in his mind again. This boy had tried to drown him.....
The tentacles reached out for the edge of the building so he could push himself off and aim for the so-called superhero. He was on the edge of the building when his own sense was knocked back into him. At the very angry protest of the tentacles, Oc stepped back from edge and turned back, glancing again up into the moonless night.
He could only pray that Spiderman hadn't seen him. But his most urgent problem was his angry mechanical arms – they wanted revenge on that boy and they wanted it quickly. He was running out of things to bargain with, and this was a very rare occasion. For the time being, he merely pleaded with them to settle down, and to his great relief, they did. They warned, though, it was only temporary, and he was quite understanding of that fact. With a still grudging though in his mind, they sunk down onto the roof sulkily. He knew asking what time it was would receive no answer (and it wouldn't, agreed the arms in his head) so they crawled back down the building and into Kat's apartment.
Otto glanced at the clock – it was just about two in the morning.
The arms' impatience didn't help his own fidgeting as he waited impatiently for Kat to return. The tentacles wanted to attack Spiderman, wanted to attack Katarina.....and again, he was running out of bargaining tools.
Who am I kidding? Thought Oc to himself, She's right. She'll not return for hours. He could almost see the sneering tentacles in his mind. He didn't know what to say to them and they knew it.
Sometimes he damned his own brilliance. Specifically, now. He glanced off to the side, hearing the arms' voice ringing in his head.
Why not cause chaos? It would be interesting to make your reentrance as such....do kidnap the woman. It works out both ways...she returns here, and you make yourself known....Don't you want both of those? We know you do.
The idea was painfully tempting. So painfully, in fact, he felt his own mind begin to agree with it. Persuasion or not, he wanted to be known. It was part of his ambitious nature, part of his own desire. Spiderman's words came just as painfully (if not more) back to him – that sometimes, you have to give up your dreams.
Those weren't words of a college student, superhero or not. He had tried very, very hard to erase Spiderman's identity from his mind, but somehow, he couldn't. How could the boy who had told him so many times how dangerous his experiment was been the same boy who he had tried to kill?
He blamed the attempted murder of so many innocents on the arms. And they hadn't exactly denied it, either. Peter Parker – the brilliant yet lazy student who was Spiderman....somehow, it seemed impossible to him. Even to a nuclear and fusion scientist, it seemed so....so just impossible.
He shook off his wanderings. It was best not to think of people like Spiderman and Parker, people like himself two weeks ago. His arms' mind prodded at him to use the idea. Prodded rather insistently.
With a heavy sigh, Otto nodded and turned back to the window.
Do not hurt anyone.
The tentacles reached out and grabbed the window, catapulting him out. He fell several stories before one of the arms reached into the brick of the building and stuck him firmly to the building.
The night air feels good, reflected Octavius, as the arms pulled him along the brick easily and skillfully. His mind was at ease and at peace. He had a strange feeling that this was because the arms were getting their way, and they promptly agreed.
He stood (or it would probably be more correct to say his tentacles were stuck firmly into the building and he floated there) on the side of the building. Inside, he could hear the deafening noise of the club. The arms were fairly sure this was where Kat was, but even if it wasn't, there wasn't any loss. The arms wanted to cause this chaos....and they were. It was their show, and Otto stayed out of it.
One of the arms shattered a window on the top of the building and held himself to the ceiling. He was not noticed, and he expected such. The band blared Marilyn Manson, and light flashed and blinked, and people danced in an incredible mob, bouncing off each other and screaming at the top of their lungs. He couldn't pinpoint anything specific, but he was sure that there were more then a few indecent acts going on at the time.
He did not see Kat, neither did the extra arms. The arms mentally shrugged at this, but Otto was upset. He wanted to see Kat here, so that he could justify the situation. But she was not here, and his own conscience gave him an uncomfortable stomachache.
He was psyching himself up to argue with the tentacles to leave again when air rushed over his face. His feet landed unsteadily on the ground and as he snapped back to his senses, he realized that all around him was panic. The arms shot out, weaving through people and smashing machinery, destroying the stage and instruments, smashing through the bar and destroying hundreds of dollars of alcohol and glass.
The arms urged him to speak. To make some daring, witty comment to the populace. They had been smart enough to put the sunglasses on the human's face, so when Oc looked at the people around him, they did not see the confusion or the problems in the human's eyes. He felt their incessant prodding in his head again.
"I'm back."
He turned in a full circle to lock eyes with everyone looking at him. Or rather, they only saw the reflective metal of his sunglasses. They didn't hear the half-heartedness in his tone, only the words that came out of his mouth.
There were moments of stunned silence, moments of intense shock. The people stared at him as he watched all of them. Finally, there was a sound. A frightened squeal from a woman in the back, though about what, was unknown. That roused the crowd.
Chaos erupted again.
Otto could feel the arms' glee. They loved every moment of this. The arms shot into the raving crowd and grabbed people, then dropped them only feet away. They hurled the shards of glass into the crowd. There were screams. He knew that. There was panic and disorder, anarchy to the extreme. He didn't want to be here --- letting the arms come here and do this was a mistake. He wouldn't make this mistake again.
Forcing control onto his extra extremities, Oc used his extra arms climb up the building and onto the roof. He jumped roofs as quickly as he could. The arms were cursing and sputtering at him, hitting him with wave after wave of a mental barrage. But he ignored it this time, jumping and climbing and grabbing roof after roof until finally, he reached the end and plunged himself into the Hudson River, exerting as much control over the tentacles as he could not to save himself. He would die this time. Death would be peaceful—no worries about this other mind or what it did or what it wanted to do or how it did it, or being discovered—
--- a sharp jolt brought him back to his fall...or rather, his stop. He realized now, he wasn't falling. He was hanging by some cord. On his back. one of his real arms went to feel it. It was thin but strong, like a spider's web.
....a spider's web....
He was being pulled up now, by Spiderman. The arms still hissed and sputtered in rage, but now he wasn't sure whether they were angry with him or Parker.
After what seemed like a long while, his head finally did not have building to lean on, and his entire body tumbled over the side edge of the building. He stood, wearily, taking off his sunglasses and planting them in his pocket, then sat on the edge of the building. The arms, still mostly under his control, hovered behind him, blinking at the superhero.
"Take off that mask, Parker." Otto ordered wearily, "I'd rather see your face then the face of their enemy."
Spiderman shrugged, and slid off the mask. Peter Parker's eyes were wrinkled in confusion and even some sympathy as he squatted down next to Oc, "What was that?"
"I tried to kill myself."
"I thought you were already dead." Peter stood up and glimpsed the other way, back to the city. Even from here he could hear the sirens of the police at the destroyed club, "Everyone thinks you're dead."
"I know that." His voice was hollow as he spoke, looking down at the ground, "That's how it was supposed to be."
"That doesn't make any sense. It's hard to keep secret when you destroy something like that." His tone was the least bit accusing in the reply, "And it's hard to keep a low profile with you, anyway." He glanced up at the mechanical arms, which were generally staying in one place. After a rather uncomfortable silence, he asked a bit darkly, "Why aren't you attacking me?"
"I have no reason to."
"Then what was before?" Again, the accusing tone snuck in, "Like when you destroyed that club? Or send that train off the edge? Or kidnapped that woman?"
"Shut it, Parker. That wasn't me." Octavius was bitter and quiet as he responded, his eyes not moving from the floor, "You wouldn't understand."
"Maybe if you tried to explain it to me, I would." The superhero turned back to Oc and squatted down, trying to catch his eye, but to no avail.
Oc finally looked up at Peter, giving him a torn and haunted look, "For the rest of my life, I will hear the voice of the arms. They like chaos, Parker, they like panic and anarchy. They want to cause it as much as possible, yet, every time I see my creation—part of my body now—do that, my heart wrenches. They were the ones who destroyed that club. Who robbed the bank and held hostage an old woman. Then, I was with them. I agreed with all they did—but then, you opened my eyes, Peter. I thank you for that. But they hate you, hate you with such a violent passion that even now they try and retake control of the arms, so that they could rip and tear and mutilate you. Until now, we've made truces to try and stay hidden...but I suppose the game is up now. You can take me to jail if you want, Spiderman....but one way or another, they'll break out. Even if I don't want too."
Peter looked deep in thought. His eyes flashed with sympathy, but after that, his emotion became unreadable. After minutes, he responded quickly, "I see."
"Now do you know why I tried, Peter? Why I tried back then to bring me down with the fusion generator?"
The college student nodded silently.
"It's them who came back that time. And you, this time." He looked back onto the ground, his disheveled hair falling into his face.
Silence spread over the area after that.
"You have to come to terms with them."
"How?!" Otto stood up abruptly, almost demanding, "Let them go on their violent spree of death and destruction? Or perhaps I should spend the rest of my time letting them curse and swear and beat at me, mentally? "He practically glared, "You can't cut them off. They're part of me –it'd be no different then losing your real arms. I could even die from it. You can't disentangle the suit from my spinal column. And you can't remove the AI from the arms. Nor, can it be changed. Are there any other options, Spiderman?" The tentacles moved to slightly in front of the human, signifying his anger.
"You have to try."
"Try what?" Oc sat back down on the edge of the building, "I've run out of bargaining tools, Peter. I have nothing to give them in return for peace."
He sat down next to the depressed doctor, placing a hand on Otto's shoulder, "I don't know what you can do. But I do know you can find a way. You're Otto Octavius..the most brilliant nuclear and fusion scientist in the world! You almost won a Nobel Prize!"
"Great place that got me." He muttered darkly.
"There's surely a way to fix it."
Oc shrugged and pushed Peter's hand off his shoulder, and looked off into the rising sun.
"Of course you could-------"
The ex-scientist blinked at the cutoff, "Could do what, Parker?"
When he received no answer, he turned back. No Spiderman. The arm nudged him, and he glanced down.
At the base of the boy's neck was a bloody spot. He kneeled down and gingerly pressed his fingers into it, feeling the blood flow.
A terrible sense of dread washed over him from one side as an impossible delight rose washed from another.
He turned, slowly, afraid, to look at his extra arms, his stomach clenching painfully.
One of them was bloody.