Go read "Falling Feels Like Flying". Myself and Erin are writing another Ock fic.

I own Kat and Mae. Ock is Marvel's. Read, damnit. FFnet beats up my bold/italics. Take a hint to where t3h tentacles speak, it's pretty clear.

Our Future.

By me. KoD. The kod.

His temper peaked and he was thankful that he wasn't faced toward the girl and she couldn't see his raged expression. He was quiet, and didn't answer. His hands clenched at his sides and he felt that fury cause him to shake.

"Otto?" She asked carefully, "Otto, are you alright? Did I say something wrong?"

"No." He said through gritted teeth, his shaking stopping, "The bathroom is three doors down on the right."

"...thanks..." Concerned, she slipped out of the room. The man turned the other way when Kat tried to see his expression, and her own brow wrinkled in concern.

"Avoid the glass," He mumbled, though his caution went unheard. The woman was already down the hallway, and his little voice didn't reach her.

"Why am I so angry all of a sudden?" He asked himself, asked the arms, "All she did was ask a question. A simple question. What's going on?"

The tentacles didn't reply, instead continued to work very diligently on their broken brother.

Otto mulled over this, "A simple, easy question. She wanted to know where the bathroom was. And she needed a bathroom to wipe the blood off her face. So, why did it make me so angry? Was it you who did it?" He looked again to the tentacles, who again, were silent, "Answer me, damnit!" He hissed, "Why was I so furious when she asked? You know the answer and you're not telling me."

We are trying to complete repairs on the broken one of us as quickly as possible, as you said. Please stop asking us questions.

You're avoiding the question! You know the answer. He snarled at the mechanical appendages in front of him. I know you know the answer. Tell me what it is.

Will you leave us to our work if we answer?

Yes.

The arms placed down their tools and all blinked at Oc, giving him angry stares. Their red lights spoke of impatience and the three of them matching his glare.

It made you angry because of it's sheer normalcy. You wish you could ask a simple question. We make things more complicated. We are your problems, your bane, and it because of us, you cannot be normal. You will never be normal. You will always, always, have us. And as much as you wish you could be like Miss Morrigan, wish you could go back to living the life of a typical human, wish you could continue your work in peace, it will never happen. She makes you angry because of her patience, we daresay friendship with you. She makes you remember what your old life was like. Your normal life. She makes you be hopeful that you can go back to living that life. You cannot. There are thousands of individuals who would never, ever, do what she has done for you. She has looked past us, Otto, even we have grown a certain grudging fondness for her. The public would never look past us. They stare at us and disregard you. You are lucky, yet, hopelessly unlucky, to have met her.

Now, that we have given you what you want, leave, us, alone.

Otto blinked in a stupor. They were right. They were always right. Always, always, right. Kat made him remember what he had been like. What he had done. What other people were like. Not even his own thoughts could make him remember, and yet, this girl, this little college student could. Where was the connection? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

Nothing except those damned mechanical actuators attached to his back.

He hated them. Hated them for what they had done to him, to his life, to his world. But yet, he was so attached to them. Attached to them in more then one way. He needed them, needed to hear their mind to comfort his own and their tentacles to help him where he failed. This dependency had become natural to him. Natural, just as a smoker craves his cigarettes and the drunk needed his alcohol. Both, sending their addict into a downward slope.

He didn't think of his health often. Not nearly often enough. His mind had been focused on escaping the police or fixing the broken tentacle. Or even making the fusion reactor, so much before. Not being seen, or Kat and her work...but suddenly, it seemed like he was addicted. Addicted to the tentacles.

There was nothing he could do about his addiction, though. He couldn't break his addiction like a smoker or a drunkard. So...why did he worry? Why did he worry about something he could do nothing about? It seemed futile. Stupid, useless, and nothing except more worries. And he had plenty of those. Didn't need anymore.

"Are you alright, Otto?" The voice was tinged with fear and concern as Kat reentered. Her face was clean now, a bit wet as well. The black thread showed up ever more against her pale skin without the blood around it. She had tried to use her bangs to cover it, like he had done, but to no avail.

"I'm fine," He murmured, staring blankly at the arms.

"That's complete and total bull SHIT and you know it, Tentacle-boy." She glanced down at the arms, apparently not caring about the work. Grabbing a crate, she sat down on it and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "What's eating you?"

Octavius glanced up at her, the dark lines under his eyes showing, the natural puppy-dog look his face had always held also being especially obvious, "Why don't you run away from them?"

"What? This is about the tentacles?" She gave his hair a little friendly ruffle and shook her head, a small smile on her face, "Personally, I find you fascinating. I find them fascinating. The interaction between you two is extraordinary. And just them, well, they're so brilliant, and you must be a genius to create them, and then this and that and...I don't know. You're just...I don't know...nice."

"Nice?"

Nice? The arms all looked up at her, tools in hand – err – claw. The red lights of their eyes flickered in confusion behind the tools.

"Sweet, in your own sort of tentacled way. I don't know. I can't explain it. It's like you're some noble tragic hero. It sounds stupid, I know...but...," She shrugged, "I can't explain it. It just is."

The arms glanced at Oc, and he looked to each of them, then shrugged, "...Oh."

"And," She turned away, then stood up and walked to the back of the room, staring at the wall. Otto didn't turn with her, but the arms did, "I guess I'm a little scared of you too. I mean the first time I met you you almost strangled me, and then again when I came home, you almost strangled me again, and sometimes the arms can be so spontaneous and violent with the club and the media and I...I don't' know, I guess being friendly is one way to stay safe."

Otto's heart sank. He was happy that he was looking away. Otherwise she would see the look of hurt on his face.

So we were wrong. She is not a shadow of your previous life. She also embodies your life now. People fear you.

Shut up. Just, shut up. I don't want to hear your voice anymore.

"And...I guess it's just the kid in me. You're just so...interesting. And my psych major."

"So I'm an extraordinary interesting scary test subject."

"No! That's not what I mean!" She turned back from the wall, "Why do you always do that?"

"What?"

"You always are so negative about everything. I mean your tentacles could be a reason but that doesn't mean you have to get all morbid and mope about it! You know how depressing it is to see you looking like you haven't slept in a week and you're going to cause the end of the world? I mean, I'm going to be like, a convict for you, you could at least PRETEND to be happy! Instead, it's like 'oh yeah look at me, I'm Otto, I'm depressed," She scrunched in her brow to tray to imitated Octavius' deep set forehead lines, "and I'm sad. Boo.' Cheer up, Otto, you need to seriously get happy! I mean, enjoy it for once."

The doctor looked up at her and sighed, shaking his head, "You don't understand," he said quietly, bitterly, "No one understands. You can never understand. I have to settle my own problems. I have to deal with them. You can't understand what those problems entail."

"If you're going to spout this crap about problems, I wasted my time saving you, helping you, being your friend. I need another exit out of this building." She put her hands on her hips and sighed, "I really thought you were better then this pessimistic bullshit. It's not about understanding, you asshole, it's about being. About living. I told them you were a psychologist's dream come true, and it's going to be the criminial—"

Octavius held up a real hand, "Wait, wait. Who did you tell?"

"Why, your arms, of course," She gave him a confused look, "Didn't they tell you?"

"They spoke to you?" His eyes widened, "How?"

"You didn't know they could do that?" She half-shouted.

"I had...no idea." He blinked in confusion, then went to glare at the arms. They did not meet his gaze, and instead went back to working on the broken tentacle.

"Oh....well....."

At this, the mood in the room changed. Kat began to shuffle her feet in the doorway, Otto looked away at the opposite wall, and the arms tried to be especially quiet in their movements.

"So then...you can understand." Octavius said quietly.

She nodded silently, clearly not trying to disturb the silence. It hug around them like some sort of noxious gas, or an electrical spark that only needed a snap of the fingers to alight the whole room in a raging fire.

"I guess I....won't leave." She muttered, sitting back down on her crate, "I'm hungry."

"There isn't much I can do about that."

"No, but you CAN look out the window and see if we can leave the building."

"You're not leaving until my arm is fixed," He responded, "And we still have several more hours."

She grumbled at him in response, "Well, I'm taking a nap. I'll see you in a bit." Standing up and kicking the crate away, Kat grabbed the remnants of what could have been a footrest and used it as a pillow. Slumping down on the cold floor, she tossed and turned and tried to get comfortable, finally falling into an uneasy sleep.

With the distraction gone, the arms went back to work. Otto mulled over his own thoughts.

There was no clock in the room that the two of them were in. The passage of time mattered little.

A light nudge by one of the mechanical arms awoke Kat from her sleep. She groaned and swatted at in, turning the other way. At another insistent prod, she finally opened her eyes and blinked, "ow."

"Ow?" Replied Otto Octavius, her apparent companion and current tentacle-boy.

"Do not ever sleep on a hard floor and use a wood block as a pillow," She stood up and rubbed her neck, "That hurts like a bitch. What's the reason for waking me up, tentacle #2?" She looked at the mechanical arm.

"Watch," Octavius motioned to the two actuators, one, which was undergoing repairs, the other that was being repaired. The mechanic tentacle crossed two wires, another arm soldered them. The tentacle placed a metal plate over the wires and looked at its companions.

"We don't have a metal gluey thingy..." She looked at the plate and the arms, then to Otto, "What are they going to...?"

He shrugged as the third arm soldered down the plate. The fourth revealed a razor sharp spike.

Kat cocked an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter, watching closely. The spike began to spin, quicker and quicker, till it reminded her very much of a dentist's drill to sand a tooth. Otto winced at the spinning arm began to literally sand down the soldered plate.

If they are one and the same......then sanding down yourself must hurt like a bitch. Kat thought to herself, watching the spinning spike fixed the plate, so it would be impossible to even tell it was put on there to begin with. The spike stopped, retracted, and the red light looked at the man. He nodded to it, then closed his eyes. His brow wrinkled in thought, and the repaired arm's red light (was it an eye? Sometimes it seemed so much more then just a light) began to flicker on and off. Again, Otto's face scrunched up in an even deeper concentration. It flickered again, till finally the light strengthened and brightened. The newly fixed tentacle opened, then snapped it's claws. It slowly raised itself off the ground and glanced at Octavius, then Kat, then at it's three brothers. Chittering in what could only be thanks, the arm lowered down again and shut, the red eye flickering to only a glimmer as it went into some sort of stand-by mode.

It is completed.

The deadened light of the fourth claw did not extinguish itself in Otto's mind. It's presence made the human feel complete. Although the arm itself was in stand-by, it's mind was now fully awakened.

We have been repaired?

You have. Your brothers and I fixed you.

Our thanks to you. And Miss Morrigan?

She helped save you from that saw.

The saw! That human---

Otto's eyes hardened in concentration. Kat lifted an eyebrow, though she said nothing. You are in no condition to fight, and I will not let you. That, is an order. Your actuator does not work properly. It needs to be tested.

Are you saying our work is not satisfactory? The tentacles were angry at the questioning.

Your work is satisfactory, if not better. But it will still need to be tested. We must be positive it will respond to my commands, and to yours as well. If not, we risk having another repair. I would not like to risk that. Nor do I like returning to this lab.

It makes you uneasy. Though, another repair would be a terrible waste of time and extremely inefficient. Your thought for testing is acceptable. We apologize for...what is the saying....jumping the gun.

It is quite all right. I have become used too of your gun-jumping.

You are paranoid. Their voice was hinted with the faintest tone of a smirk.

I believe I have the right to be paranoid with all of you. He replied indignantly, his own facial features smirking as well.

"Hey, Otto?"

He was broken out of his conversation and glanced over at Katarina, "Yes?"

"Do you want to go back to the apartment? I still haven't eaten lunch. Or dinner. I'm starving. What the hell TIME is it, anyway?" She glanced out of the high window, "It's dark."

It's approximately 10:08 PM.

"It's about 10." He replied, his thoughts still focused on the once broken arm. It wearily lifted itself and laid on Otto's shoulder, and he gave it a pat with the oppisite hand, "And I'm hungry as well. I haven't eaten since....noon."

"Well I haven't eaten since this morning, so you quit complaining," She rolled her eyes, "So, how are we traveling?"

"We'll give you a piggy-back ride. That way we can test the repaired arm and carry you and avoid the streets."

She nodded, stretched out again, "That stupid board killed my neck," She muttered, then with a bit of help, jumped and climbed and latched onto Oc's back, "Let's go."

You are fit for travel?

The fourth arm flickered to life. The arms snapped once or twice, the light glowed a brilliant red and it peered around.

We are ready.

Oc gave the fixed arm an order to climb. It latched onto the side of the wall, the claws dug in with perhaps excessive force, showing their strength. The next arm took a higher chunk, and then they brought Otto Octavius and Katarina Morrigan up to the building. It was raining.

Correction, it was pouring. The rain didn't bother the mechanical tentacles. They were designed to resist just about everything. Heat, magnetism, and water, they were actually pretty close to being invulnerable too. They shook the water off them every few minutes to make sure nothing shorted out on the recently repaired tentacle, as neither them nor Otto knew how the plate would hold in dealing with the water. Speaking of Otto, well, the man was soaked. His hair and clothing were dripping wet, his body chilled to the bone. He shivered as the arms climbed. Kat was drenched as well. She had lost the hairtie in her hair somewhere between her rush to the hospital and now, so her waist-length brown hair was plastered to her shirt. The shirt itself was also stuck firmly to her body, the red and black design on it slowly bleeding into itself due to the cheapness of the shirt and the harshness of the rain. Her khakis were also sopping wet, rain pouring into and around her sneakers and socks.

Lifting the window, the three of them stepped inside. Kat dropped from Oc's back, "Okay, don't go anywhere! I'm going to get some towels. And take off that coat, too. And...however many shirts you're wearing under them. You'll catch a cold. Jeez, so will I, let me get some new clothes on....." She hurried away, making puddles with each step

Oc was taken quite aback by the somewhat rushed orders. The arms looked at eachother and then at him. With a shrug, he dropped the coat and prepared to pick up and hang it on the coat rack--

"CLOSE THE WINDOW, DICKHEAD!" Shouted Kat's voice from somewhere. Otto turned back to see the rain lashing into the apartment and continuing to soak Octavius' back. One of the tentacles closed the window.

She called me a dickhead.

Why is that a negative inference? Are dickheads not necessary to survival?

Otto gave a hearty (and much needed) laugh, then shook his head. The arms could be so oblivious to the finer points of culture, including slang such as 'dickhead'. It was a comfort to him, knowing these machines weren't perfect, weren't human, didn't know everything. They were still machines, still as literal as he had created them, and knowing this made him feel confident that they were still his creations, instead of his children. OR pupils, ready to surpass their master

There were about three more minutes of silence until Kat again reentered. She was dressed in dry clothes, a green T-shirt with a less-then-decent saying on it, and a pair of blue jeans. Her wet hair was tied into a bun at the top of her head, a towel around her shoulders. She tossed several more large towels to Otto, one, which he used to wipe his face and ran it through his hair. The other he used to try the tentacles that he beckoned over. Cleaning off their metallic surfaces, he avoided thinking about what he was wiping off. He ran the towel over the claws of each arm and then threw it over his shoulder.

She picked up his absolutely drenched coat and carried it with some disdain to the coat hanger, setting a towel under it to catch the water it was dripping.

"Your shirt too, Otto, you'll catch a cold."

"Why would you care?" He asked, voicing the arms' question.

"You'd give it to me, and then I would be sick. And either way, I'd have to take care of you." She gave him a little smirk.

"They take care of me," He cocked his head towards the tentacles.

"Yeah, well, they lack a certain human touch," She replied dryly, "And, I have no shirts to fit you. I apologize. I do not have tentacle-boys over often."

She called you Tentacle-boy.

Yes, I fail to see the significance.

She was calling you Otto previously.

Does it matter what she calls us?

The arms mentally shrugged, We were just pointing it out.

I did not need your help to do such.

Miss Morrigan is talking to you.

"What? Sure." He answered distractedly, "Whatever you say."

"Alright. Then start unbuttoning, damnit."

He blinked again. He could see the arms smirking in his mind. She had been telling him to take off his shirt. Otto sighed, and in a slow, resigned motion, undid his shirt. He slid it off his shoulders, and the arms shrugged themselves out of it. One of the tentacles handed it to Kat.

She rolled it up in a little ball and tossed it in a corner that seemed to be thick with wrinkled clothes, "Dirty clothes pile is growing again....need to go wash shit..." she muttered to herself, kicking the pile for no reason. Finally, she collapsed down on her cough and sighed, "Do you want to get me some food?"

"No."

"I hate you," She replied, standing up and looking at him, "Well, I must say, for the super de duper Doctor Octopus, you still have a few pounds to loose, hm?" She smirked and strolled into the kitchen.

Otto was silent and gave the back of Kat's head a brooding glare. The arms' confusion echoced in his head. Why do you care about your stomach? For that matter, why does she?

Society.. He answerd back tiredly, Don't worry about it. It's unimportant...society sees those with more weight as being worth less then those with muscles and no fat on their bodies.

We see.

"Hey, Otto, hungry?!" She shouted from the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," He responded quiety, sitting down on the couch. She walked in with another bowl of ramen in hand, then noticed him.

"Off the couch, you wet lug!" She smacked one of the tentacles with the spoon. The arm grabbed the spoon and crushed it with eas in response, so she poked Otto's shoulder, "You'll ruin my couch. Like you ruined my spoon."

He turned around and glared at her, "I don't care about yoru couch, or your spoon. I do care about you pointing out all my flaws. Shall I mention your chest, of lack thereof? Perhaps the acne on your forehead?"

Apparently, that pushed more buttons then Octavius had meant it too, "And maybe the MECHANICAL TENTACLES attached to your SPINE?!" She shouted at him, "Maybe you're giving me more trouble then you're WORTH!"

Oc blinked in surprise, considering the sort of power that threat held, "I didn't mean to-"

"Oh. RIGHT." She growled at him, "Get of my F'in COUCH!"

This time he actually did listen, "I'll just go." One of the arms snaked into the dirty clothes pile and pulled out his soaked shirt.

"Out into this storm?! You'll get pneumonia before the policemen catch you. Sit...not on the couch....and brood. And I am going to get some f'in rest. I'm haven't gotten any sleep since I nailed you with the bat. Wake me up and I'll strangle you with your own tentacles." Snatching the shirt back, she threw it back onto the pile. With that, she dragged herself into the bedroom and Otto heard the deadened thud of the body hitting the bed.

Oc leaned against the window, listening the crashing sounds of the rainstorm outside. His head was empty and blank, thoughts unorganized. The arms were quiet. The silence, save the storm, unnerved him. He had gotten so used of hearing their voices (or was it voice?) in his head that the lack of it set him on edge. He glanced into the storm again, almost considering going into it.

Kat would kill me.

Why would you care what she would do?

Otto blinked. Why did he care? She didn't have the power to fight him, arms or no arms.

You are growing feelings for her. The tentacles accused, and there is little you can do to deny this. You do not want to get on her 'bad side'. It is why you are not on the couch.

I hate you. He barely suppressed the mental growl and turned away from the window. H wasn't sure whether he did it because he wanted too or to prove the mechanical arms wrong, but he sat down on the couch and stared bleakly at the blank TV screen.

Their voice was tinged with sarcasm as they replied. He could almost hear the smug smirk as well. We hate you too, Otto.

He didn't' want to turn on the television. He knew they'd be on it. Knew that him and the arms and Kat would be on, telling about how he escaped from the hospital and how she helped, and there was one more figure but no one could figure out who it was and this that and the other thing.

He could predict that the arms would ask why he didn't want to see this, and he knew that he would give then an unacceptable answer. He knew them well enough know, knew how they worked and how they thought and the way their mind(s) clicked. He knew their thought process and hopes and wonders and curiosity, knew their way of doing things and way of NOT doing things.

The door SLAMMED open. In the doorway was a girl, about 20, Kat's age. She was taller and skinnier, her clothing a bit more revealing, her hair black and cut to her ears, streaked with obscene red.

"Kaaaaattty!" She shouted into the apartment, not yet noticing the stunned Doctor, "Kaaaaattty! Your HELL-SPAWNED demon of the abyss is here!!!!" She sauntered in, "Jeez girl this place is a MESS!" It was only now she realized that there was no answer, "....Kat?" She finally glanced around and noticed the now completely stunned Octavius.

The expression gave Otto a pretty good idea this girl was an avid reader of the Daily Bugle.