Disclaimers...and claimers too: I own Kat...I do not own Spidey, Oc, his tentacles, whatever the case may be, I am making no money off this..blah blah blah blah....disclaimers should go jump off a cliff....
Dedicated to Sehkmet aka Jen Tanner for telling me I was screwed.
The doctors at the end of this chapter piss me off, it may be rewritten. I already rewrote parts of this chapter, acutally. It's just not a good chapter I just don't like the doctors..
And I love reviews, they are the reason this story is about 100 pages right now. You inspire me. I love you all, really, I do.
Anyway. Back to my fic.
...Our
Future......
..KoD
Oc screamed – he'd just killed Peter Parker! Killed SPIDERMAN! He fell to his knees and smashed his own head against the pavement, sending his mind reeling. In a confused state, he again wrenched the control of his tentacles away and jumped off the building, and this time, he'd hit the river. And he'd drown.
But of course, it wasn't that easy.
Feet above the water, as he was praying to god for his redemption, he fell onto something which pulled him back onto the pavement. Something metallic and tight was slid over his extra arms, binding them together. He felt cuffs placed around his real wrists. And in his half-dazed state, he was pushed into a car and sat there, blessed unconsciousness not coming.
He didn't know how long it was till he was roughly shoved back out of the car and into a building. He sat there in that strange, deadened state. Another time passed until he finally came too. He finally blinked and looked around, his eyes blinking into focus. His head hurt abdominally. Something sticky was on the side of his head, and after thinking for a moment, he realized that this was blood running down the side of his head from where he had smashed himself against the concrete.
"Awake in there, Doctor Octavius?"
He gave a little preoccupied nod. Now, he wanted to know what was around his tentacles. He glanced at it and thought for a moment, then came to the conclusion that whatever it was, it was meant to surge electricity from the appendages. He tried to move him, and the thing gave a jolt that seemed like a split second of being burned alive. It was so fast, he wasn't really sure if it was there at all.
The arms' mind was quiet. Too quiet for Oc's comfortableness. It's conspiring, he thought to himself, on how to escape.
"Can you answer me?"
Otto turned to where the voice was coming from, behind a set of bars that occasionally crackled with electricity. He was in a cell created specially for him, "Yes, I am competent and conscious. Would you mind a towel to staunch the bleeding in my head?"
The bars were powered down, then lifted. Two doctors came in surrounded by seven or eight policeman wielding charged weapons, and the doctors began to wipe and clean the wound. He had bashed his head in quite badly, and would require stitches. They wiped up the blood and pressed a cloth to it, then pulled a syringe.
"Don't anesthetize me." He said quietly.
"Why, doctor?" Asked the doctor with confusion.
"Just, do not, please."
The other doctor glanced at Otto, "Are you quite sure?"
"There are few things I've been more sure of in my life."
"Yes, doctor, if you say so..." The two doctors shrugged to each other and placed down the syringe.
The other doctor picked up the needle and threaded it. He carefully pierced Otto's skin, who took it unflinchingly. Twelve times, the needle went through, creating six large stitches, and Octavius remained still the entire time.
One of the doctors cleaned it again, then placed a large bandage over it. The two nodded to each other and exchanged a quiet word with the policemen. One of the policemen nodded back , and the doctors left.
Oc looked up at the cops, who returned his gaze with a hard, cold stare.
"You have me in here for a reason, do speak it," said the ex-scientists to the others.
"Get back in your cell, Octi," was the grunted reply. With quiet obedience, he did so, watching as the bars were again charged with volts of electricity.
"I am well aware of my rights, sir, and one of them is to be told why I am being held here."
The two of them exchanged a whispered conversation and the other cop turned to Oc, "You destroyed a building, sent three people into the emergency room in critical condition, killed one of them, and sent over two hundred people home with various light injuries."
The imprisoned man went pale, "...dead?"
"Yes, dead."
You promised not to hurt anyone......
He didn't receive an answer, and he wasn't surprised, "Anything else?"
The policeman shook his head.
At this, Otto stood up quickly and stepped closer to the bars, "You have to let me out! I have to get someone! Please."
Both cops snorted, "Nice try, Doc Oc."
"No...really. Please, I beg of you, I need to get out..I need to get someone."
"I'm sure they can be gotten too by one of us."
"No, they can't....they're on top of a building that you can't get too by any way but the outside. I need to climb up it."
"Who are you looking for, Oc?" The cop on the left cocked his eyebrow.
"Spiderman."
At this, the one on the right burst out laughing, "To kill him, right?"
"No, I need to save him. He's dying, if not dead. And I won't let him die. I won't let another death on my conscience. Please, I need to get him. You have to believe me! This is urgent. I swear over my wife's grave, I'll come back as soon as I get it. I'll even bring him back here. I need to get there!"
"I don't know, he sounds pretty desperate."
"What happens if he runs off?"
"Then we lose our jobs."
"You have to," Otto pleaded again, "I don't know what I can give you if you do, but I whatever you can get, within reason...I can get it."
The cops again exchanged looks, "I want all the gold from the city bank."
Shaking his head, Oc replied, "I won't steal anything anymore."
The two again exchanged glances, then back to Oc, "Fine. Don't come back and I swear over MY wife's grave, you'll regret it."
Octavius stepped up and motioned to the thing around his tentacles, which was promptly removed. His handcuffs taken out also, he tentacle-walked over to the entrance and tipped his hat, then dashed out.
Oc had no idea where he was. He climbed up the nearest building and noted the Hudson –he was faaaar away.
Are you there?
Of course.
Can you get me to Peter Parker's body?
Of course. We know exactly where he is.
Will you?
What's in it for us?
You don't get that electric ring back around your arms.
Deal.
They took off, at amazing speed. Oc could never get them to move this fast – he supposed it was all about motivation. He received an agreement to this thought as they bounded across the buildings.
It was not long at all before they landed him on the building where the hero's fallen body lay. Rushing over, he scooped up Parker in his arms. The boy wasn't bleeding as much as he had been...but he was bleeding, nonetheless. As a last minute thought, he grabbed the Spiderman mask and put it on the unconscious boy.
He waited for the arms to propel him back, but nothing happened.
Take us back?
What's in it for us?
I don't know...I'll think of something.
We do hope you think of something satisfactory.
Finally, he was launched across. They did not have that same reckless speed that they had on the way to the body, but the pace was impressive anyway. As the arms flew him over the buildings, he wondered how long he had been out of it. From there to the station was a long way, and in the busy city streets, it would take a good half hour to hour to get there. In what was only taking the arms twenty minutes, approximately.
With a final crash he landed back at the station. The two cops gaped in amazement at the body, then dialed 911.
"We need an ambulance at the police station at 51st and 12th. Spiderman's unconscious and bleeding badly."
What time is it?
5:02 AM.
My gratitude to you.
The ambulance arrived in record time for that, as several people rushed out to help. One of them looked at Oc and raised an eyebrow and was rewarded by a cold stare. They shrugged and loaded Spiderman onto the ambulance, then rushed away at record speed (again).
The two policeman looked a bit awkwardly up at Otto, "We didn't expect to you keep your promise."
"I though you didn't." Oc smiled thinly, "Though, I thank you for letting me go. I do not know how to repay it."
"Saving Spiderman would be repayment enough." Replied one of the policeman, "We should put the cuffs back on you."
"You can put them on my wrists, but not my extra arms....there are certain circumstances which forbid it."
"I suppose you've done your good act of the day.....but, you do have to get into the prison."
"I have no problem with that," he tentacle-walked into the room and watched the bars activate from behind them.
"So...how did you get that thing on the side of your head?"
"I smashed my head into the roof." He gingerly touched the bandage over the wound.
"Why?"
"I was angry with myself and a few others."
Otto sat on the bench and waited quietly after that, because the policemen didn't ask him any more questions, even though he would have answered them. He wished that they asked why he knew Spiderman was so beaten up. That information was the one currently killing his conscience right now. He had been so absorbed in his own self-pity that he had forgotten about the arms, and they had nearly killed the boy because of it.
"May I use the phone?" One of the policemen tossed him the phone from between the bars. He quickly pulled the scribbled number on paper out of his pocket and dialed it, waiting for the phone to pick up.
"Hello.........Otto.......Yes, hello to you too.......... Yes, that was me, the one and only......very, very funny, really, I assure you......police station........because I beat up the club......Heh, yes, they did the same to your computer as that place.......now, don't know injuries yet......ok.....bye." Oc tossed the phone back, and it was quickly hung up.
"Who was that?"
"Someone I recently met, it does not concern you." He turned and faced the wall, obviously with no intention to answer any more questions about the phone conversation.
Speaking of phone conversations, the phone rang inside there only minutes later. One of the policemen picked it up, nodding every so often and making noises of agreement such as 'yes, sir' and 'uh huh' and 'right away'. This continued for several minutes until the cop hung up the phone and glanced at Oc, saying, "They want you to go see Spiderman. Says he's looking for you. Just regained consciousness, has ten or twelve stitches in his neck. I'm sorry to say that I'm gonna have to put one of those rings on you."
Oc shook his head again, vigorously, "You can't."
"I don't have a choice."
"Where is Spiderman being held?"
"Hospital on 22nd and 5th ave, why do you ask?"
Otto turned and aimed his tentacles at the wall behind him. The bars may have been electrified, but the walls were plain steel and that was all. With three loud, strong crashes, the arms ripped and tore a hole in the wall. Oc walked out nonchalantly, his arms climbing up the nearest building and sending him over to the hospital named.
By the time Octavius had arrived at the hospital, the press was swarming. In the back of the crowd, he could see policeman trying to get through the paparazzi mobs. Though, of course, the media cared little for arresting this man, HIM, as long as they could get some words from him. They (as the press often were) were risking their lives to get close to the ex-scientist, getting videos, pictures, and anything else of him. In one way, Oc very much enjoyed it...in the other, he couldn't stand it.
His name was shouted from all directions, the tentacles occasionally lashing out at a reporter here and there, destroying cameras and notebooks. He chuckled to himself as he ignored them --- he was no stranger to the press.
"Doctor Octavius! Doctor Octavius! Can you explain why your extremities are so violent towards the media?"
This one caught his ear, and he glanced off in that direction, "Could you repeat the question, please?"
"Why are your extra arms destroying the cameras?!" She shouted again.
"Because they sense my displeasure towards said cameras, and they also like to destroy things." He responded with an eerie smile. At the end of this, one of his arms reached out and snatched the notebook from this certain reporter and flicked it off in a random direction, sending the woman scrambling for the book, which bore the precious quote.
It would be wrong to say Oc felt bad about crushing the presses' cameras. In fact, he was quite enjoying it. He had never quite liked the press, especially the critics. He had a pretty good feeling quite a few of them out today were critics who were giving him 'I told you so''s.
He did eventually reach the door to the hospital. At this, two of his arms shot out, ripped a pair of cameras from a pair of unsuspecting hands, took pictures of the two empty mechanical arms, and then tossed the pair of cameras back into the fray. The press practically jumped at the cameras and ended up in two large piles over the two cameras. Oc's real arm opened the door, then closed it behind him as he left the massing press to argue over who got to put his arms' picture on the front page.
He slowly scaled the stairs, heading for the emergency room. His demeanor changed, staking a few last laughs from the press, as he face smoothed over he entered Spiderman's room to see what the superhero wanted.
His spidey suit was still on save for the mask. However, his face was down onto the headrest, his eyes covered at the moments. This time, he knew the anger that bubbled alongside his mind.
Not this time. I let you destroy the cameras, and even went along with it.
The arms agreed, a bit grudgingly. Quietly, Octavius moved to stand next to Parker. He then noticed the line of stitches to the side of the back of his neck. There were a good ten or twelve stitches there, and although his neck had been cleaned to put the things in, blood was still matted in his hair where it had flowed previously. Oc's hand went to the to the bandage on his own head, then placed it on Peter's shoulder.
"I'm awake," he replied weakly, "though I'll need a blood transfusion within the next twenty four hours."
"What blood type are you?"
"O positive." he boy on the table gave another sigh.
"The most common blood type --- so we don't see what is the problem."
"No one else has spider genes in their blood."
THAT made sense. Horrible, bloody sense. Parker was going to die because of he was Spiderman. Otherwise, he would have been fine, "You'd need someone else to get bitten..."
Otto didn't know what to say to that...how do you explain that a superhero will die because he is just that?
"And I don't trust anyone else with it. Neither do you."
Octavius nodded wordlessly, "What do I have to do with it?"
"I want you to take the bite."
"You can't be serious." His brow wrinkled deeply, his mouth curving into a frown. He glanced to the passive arms, which, at the glance, chittered their irritation and fidgetiness. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, "With them...if they got control..."
"Can't they only take control of themselves? Of the arms? You could use the power to keep them in check if you wanted."
The thought dawned on Oc as Spiderman spoke it. He was right. And he could feel the arms' irritation at him BEING right.
"My time is up...they may attack soon."
"You know where to find the spiders?"
"Yes. I remember being dragged to a seminar about it, thinking it was unimportant, before I tested a certain experiment of mine."
"Good luck."
"Please stay alive until I get back. I do not think I could live with another death on my conscience, nevertheless of Spiderman."
"I'll make it a priority."
Oc turned and walked out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind them, then breaking off the knob, making it impossible to get in. He tentacle-walked down the stairs and outside. This time, he ignored the press completely, as a matter of fact, he walked right over them, ignoring whomever he crushed with the arms and immediately took off up the nearest building and away.
What time is it?
6:23 AM. Why do you care so much about the time, suddenly? Are you awaiting the woman's return or some such?
I am hungry.
Oc was careful to smooth the lie over the truth, so that the arms believed him. In truth, yes, he was waiting for Kat to return. He also wanted to see the newspaper, to see who had gotten his pictures and what they would make of them. Of course, the photos had been way past any paper deadline, but for pictures of his tentacles taken BY his tentacles, he bet they'd probably make an exception.
Every time the arms crashed down onto the rooftop cement in front of him, they complained. They did not approve of this. But Octavius didn't care. The fact was, he was doing this. Spiderman wouldn't die because of him. He wouldn't let that happen. And if he did.......well, he wouldn't.
He landed with a crash in front of the museum, tentacle-walking over the barriers and into the museum. The screaming of the crowds below did not reach his ears (mianly because of his focus) as the civilians fled under and around his mechanical arms. His eyes scanned the directory, looking for the place most likely to house mutant spiders. He noted the third floor, and nodded to one of the tentacles. The actuator grabbed the wall as its brothers followed suite, bringing Otto up the wall. By this time, the police were thudding up the stairs, baring guns and batons. The doctor snorted - like it was going to do anything.
They positioned themselves around the tentacled terror, guns drawn. Otto drew in a deep breath and shouted, "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO SAVE SPIDERMAN'S LIFE?!"
This actually did stall the men for a time enough for the arm to shatter the Plexiglas surrounding the super spider and pick it up placing it on his wrist. He tapped it to piss it off, and it sunk its fangs deep into this skin in response. The pain was blistering for a moment, similar to when he had given himself a laser burn working with tritium. Or holding a lit match too close to your skin. It was a strange sensation, but not ignorable. He had been surged with hundreds of volts of electricity - a spider bite didn't compare. He shook the creature off his wrist, and dropped the spider back into its cage and pressed the broken Plexiglas into the spot where it would escape. He prayed the spider would stay inside the broken place and ordered the arms out again. They grumbled, clearly wanting to beat the cops up, but agreed grudgingly. By this time, the policeman had started shooting again, and there were constant 'flick flick ching' noises as one of the mechanical arms blocked bullets, the other three holding him to the side of the building. Those three arms scampered up the wall and shattered a window, climbing out. Otto sighed in relief - had there been a helicopter, he would have no idea what to do. But there was none, so he climbed to the side and on top, making it impossible for the policemen to tell where he was. The actuators made a comment about lack of police helicopter, much like he had, as they moved Octavius swiftly back to Peter. This time, however, instead of taking the steps, he crashed though the skylight in the hall and smashed into Parker's room, who was lying quietly in the hospital bed, possibly unconscious.
Otto moved toward Peter and opened his mouth to speak. But his throat was dry, and he wasn't quite sure of the reason. Nevertheless, he swallowed and opened his mouth again, but the sudden wave of diziness caused him to take a step back to steady himself. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the fuzzy black creeping up on his vision.
One final wave of fatigue, and Otto Octavius crashed to the ground, yanked into a barely consicious sleep. The same sleep that hit Peter Parker, soon before he began his joint life as Spiderman.
The tentacles all glanced at their host, chittering to each other. They began to extend toward Peter, but there was another disgruntled chirp. The top two actuators glanced back at their brothers, who could not reach the fallen hero. The front two clamped down on the tile and pulled Octavius a little forward, dragging his front against the tile. A sleepy grunt of complaint was the answer, but Otto did not awake. The two back arms finally extended nearer the hospitialized boy, all four of them looking at eachother and then at Parker.
"I know you're there." Peter spoke wearily, his voice muffled by the headrest.
One of the arms crept under the headrest as the other pulled off the blindfold. Parker looked at the red eye in the middle of the claw, watching it with a tired caution, "Are you going to kill me?"
The arm shook and rippled in a way that could almost mean no.
"You're not?"
It repeated the gesture.
"Why not?"
The tentacle pulled back from its spot under the headrest. There was the sound of metal against metal and then a sharp, flaming pain in the back of his neck. One of his hands flew up to feel what it was—the mechanical arm was pressed into his neck, and there was a metal wire piercing his skin.
It would not be wise to try and dislodge our arm, as you may kill yourself in the process.
Parker blinked. Was he hearing things?
Yes, you are. Why do you think a wire is in your neck? It is so we may speak to you like this, it is easier.
"So....then, why aren't you going to kill me?" He spoke vocally, not quite sure how to send the arms his thoughts. They seemed to hear him vocally as well, so it worked out, he supposed.
We do not want to hear his morbid complaints about death and destruction. We cannot understand your aversion to it. He spoke that if you were to die, he would kill himself as well. We would not want to see that happen. As you saw, we fight for control over us. Had he tried to commit suicide, he would have summoned up the energy to make us let him drown.
"It's for your own gain."
Everything is for our own gain.
"Why didn't you kill me before?" Peter's hand weakly touched the wound on his neck.
You moved. Had you not, you would have been dead. Unfortunate.
"Does he know you can do this?"
Just as he has his secrets from us, we have our secrets from him. He does not know we can speak to others. And you will not tell him.
"Could you control me if you tried?"
No. We do not have enough connections to your nervous system. We do not yet have enough connections to his nervous systems, even.
"So it's one-way?"
In a sense.
"I...had no idea you were this intelligent."
The arms snorted in his mind. You see now why he faces his problems with us. He lacks the desire to destroy, something which we so hunger for.
"It's like fighting with another person."
Fighting with another mind would be more correct to say.
Peter blinked, amazed. This was the "smart" part in the smart arms? Otto was a genius to create something this intelligent, even though it was clear he didn't appreciate or marvel at the sentience of the arms, given the fact the doctor probably fought with them more times then Peter had captured crooks, "Do you mind...," Saying it felt weird, and he stumbled, "ehm...leaving my head now?"
You know that we hate you. The voice of the arms was cold and could easily be called mechanical. It did not speak with any sort of emotion...or none that he could sense. It was possible that Octavius, with the practice he was bound to have, could hear it. But, we have grown a certain grudging fondness for him, despite his humanity and flaws And we will not face his whining about your death.
Again he heard that sound of metal against metal and almost felt the wire being drawn out of his neck. The tentacles walked over to the corner of the room, dragging the unconscious doctor with them. They sat him down somewhat cautiously, then floated around, peered at everything and blinked for some time.
Time mattered little to both of the wakened inhabitants. Parker knew it was not nearly twenty-four hours, and the arms couldn't have cared either way.
Otto slowly opened his eyes, his senses come back to him slowly, "Yes...I'm fine..." he responded to the arms vocally, not really awake enough to think back to them. Peter, who was now sitting on his hospital bed still in his spidey suit, watched the man slowly stand, glancing back at the arms, then to the superhero, "I didn't expect you to be alive."
"Neither did I."
"They didn't....?"
He shook his head.
Oc blinked in amazement, hardly believing, "Well then....I suppose we can give you the blood transfusion now."
He nodded this time.
The arms helped him to his feet and they quickly climbed down the stairs, bursting into a lab. He congratulated the other mind on its good guess – they were testing blood samples here.
"What do you want?" asked one of the doctors with a scowl, "and what are you doing here?"
"I can provide the blood for the blood transfusion for Spiderman."
Another one of the doctors came over, "Is that so?"
Oc nodded, "It is so."
"We'll have to do a blood test on you if you want that to happen so badly, though I'm not quite sure why would considering that you did try and kill him not long ago.."
"You don't need to understand, nor do you need a blood test. I know I'm right. And if not, he'd die anyway. He has nothing to lose. All I have to lose is blood cells. Now quickly, he has less then a day."
The stunned pair beckoned their fellows over and the group of about six followed the ex-scientist into another room.
He held out his arm, and the blood was quickly taken into the bag. He kept in conversation with the arms while this happened, about Spiderman. Their conversation amused Otto, but the tentacles' mind still kept their ability to chat with others a carefully guarded secret. A few insult were traded, a few compliments suggested. More insults then compliments, as per usual. The doctor practically smirked to himself – he'd made a pretty nasty AI.
Time flew, and the needle was pulled from his arm. The bag of blood was unhooked and taken upstairs, and Oc did not know quite what to do with himself right now. He could go see Kat, or he could go back to the police station...what a choice.
He would not consider a life of crime. This wouldn't happen. He'd rather be hit with the arms' barrage for the rest of his life then do something like that again. Finally deciding on going to Kat's house, he stood up and launched up the building.
Yes, yes, we will take you to the woman's house. We knew you were anxious to see her again. Please, for our sake, do not form an emotional attachment.
Otto chuckled, Even if I were, I think the greater question is how could she form an emotional attachment with me......or more specifically, you?
A brief snort was the response of the arms as they set Oc down and scanned around. They then jumped off in one direction, flying in the air and latching onto the next building, then climbing up this building and flying to the next one and so on and so forth until they stood upon the building in which Katarina had her apartment.
Octavius was not quite sure what to say to her, or what exactly to do. It was Saturday, she'd have no classes, and by now, (8:13 AM, the arms added), she was bound to be home, if not with Jay as well.
He scuttled down the building and opened the window, creeping in and peering around. He heard and saw no one. The apartment was as bad as he had left it very early that same morning. He was about to leave again when the door slammed open, a sober girl and a drunken man entering.