AN: I actually had no intention of putting this up until I came upon this review that I really wanted to reply too and didn't want to forget. So you get a new chapter.
Read Mindless! It's on Deviantart AND ! It's written by me and Erin )
Disclaimers: I don't' know Ock. I own Mae and Kat.
Now this review I really wanted to reply to. Not because it's bad. Because I like it and it asks the questions the previous chapter is meant to get people to ask!
"So the two have been friends for two years, well if Mae talks behind her back and Kat knows, you've just undermined that friendship straight off, especially taking into consideration Kat's character - the type who wouldn't take crap like that."
Bah. In my high school, I know people who talk shit about their friends they've known for two years all the time. Besides, Mae's character is designed to be a bitch. Besides, you make a lot of shallow friends.
"And I'd change Mae - it's utterly vital, at least for Kat that they rally her to their cause, otherwise she's going to inform the police, then where would Kat stay?"
Where indeed! I wonder where they could go! Maybe if you keep reading you'll find out where, eh?
Our Future
By me. Woo. Steal and die.
Otto shivered in the rain. He stood under an awning so the rain didn't' hit him, but that didn't do anything about his previous soaked condition. His arms hung low around him, sensing his mood.
I am a freak, aren't I? He asked his arms, leaning against the building. His voice was quiet, devastated. His arms curled around him, trying to comfort him as best they could.
Most certainly not, Otto. You seem quite normal to us.
No...I am. I am a freak, just like Mae said. I have you... He glanced toward one of the red lights, which blinked, then sunk into the darkness, and......I am...
You are no different from them, Otto. Except, perhaps, you are intellectually superior. It is us that separates you. Which, is quite literally impossible. It is us that separates us, not you. You, as much as it disgusts us, are much like them. It is our fault, of course, that you stand where you are. But there is nothing you can do about that position now, unless you wish to make it worse.
.........thank you.
As Miss Morrigan....or Kat, as you so fondly call her, says, get your ass out of that depressing craphole you put it in.
She told you that?
Actually.....The arms' voice was tinted with shame, and Otto was surprised, We created it ourselves. Does it sound like something Miss Morrigan would say?
Otto laughed and shoved the nearest tentacle away, "Yes, it sounds like her. Do not go turning her. I daresay one of her is enough."
Do not have fears of such a foolish thing, Otto.
Oh...
Yes?
Thank you.
You, Father, are quite welcome.
Let's get back to Kat's place. She'll no doubt be worried sick.
It will make her ill?
No. Just go.
The arms turned and smashed through the awning of the building upwards, climbing to the girl.
The trip was not a long one, not by a longshot. They were only two buildings away and nine floors down. One of the arms rapped sharply on the window, and with a little gasp, Kat threw said window open.
"My god, Otto! Take that clothing off you're soaked!" She helpd him out of the coat and threw it aside, then took his shirt after he had pulled all of his limbs out of it. She looked and him and sighed and began to speak in such rapid fire that it took the doctor and his mechanical arms several seconds to figure out what she was saying after she was gone talking, "ohmygodOttoIcan'tbelieveMaesaidthosethingsandshewashereandohmygodshe'll callthepoliceandwehavetogounlessyouwanttobearresstedandohmygodI'msorryshesaide thosethingsandIcan'tdoanythingandohmygodwherewillwe---"
"Shut. Up." He gave her stern look.
"That drenched rat look does not go for you."
He rolled his eyes, "We'll head back to my apartment. I doubt it's been sold, people probably think it's cursed. You'll get the drenched rat look too, so I don't suggest you comment on the way I look when you'll look just as bad in about two minutes.
This time, however, Kat put on some better clothes, a blazer, a hooded sweatshirt and another sweatshirt over that. She also grabbed an umbrella, and a backpack that jingled and rattled and clunked and made all sort of strange jangly noises, "Alright I'm prepared!"
Oc shook his head, "Grab onto my back and we'll go."
"Is your apartment far?"
He shook his head, and she jumped up. Reaching for her celly, she managed to just grab it as Octavius vaulted himself out of the window and out into the storm.
Making their way down the blocks wasn't exactly easy. The arms shook and blinked to try and keep the water from distorting their vision and the fact that both Kat and Oc, despite all precautions, were soaked and shivering made them extremely uncomfortable. Oc had never been more grateful for his high windows then now as he smashed through one and dropped down, his two bottom arms absorbing the fall for him as they set him down on his feet. He glanced around as Kat dropped from his back, a pained expression taking on the doctor's face.
"Hey, Otto, you alright?"
"I'm fine."
She sighed, "Arguing with you never works. Fine. Don't....kill yourself or anything. Where's your bedroom?"
He turned, "My bedroom?"
Kat nodded, "Yeah....the bedroom. You know, the place, with the bed."
"Don't sleep on my bed, Kat. That makes me feel rather uncomfortable. I wouldn't prefer it." Six eyes, two real and four mechanical, turned to look at the girl. A tiny shudder passed through the college student at the stare of the six lenses, biological or not, "Do not do it, Katarina."
"Fine, fine," She held up her hands, "Peace, Tentacle-boy. Don't need to get all worked up about it. Can I sleep on the couch?"
One of the tentacles pointed down the hallway, then pointed upwards. Kat walked off that way, grumbling to herself about the strangeness of certain tentacle-boys. Her voice was finally covered up by the thudding of feet on steps and was followed by the slamming of a door. The china in the cabinets in the kitchen (where he stood) rattled, and Octavius winced
"I was never much for believing in ghosts and other such supernatural things, but the feeling in here could change that." He received no reply from the AI of the mechanical arms fused to him, and discovered they were somewhat deep in thought – about what, he didn't care and probably didn't want to know anyway, "It's only been...what...a month? A month and a half? Since we sat here together. Sat and talked about the future. About Nobel Prizes and Oscorp. I should pay Harry a visit, I suppose. I'm sure he'd be so pleased to see me," Oc chuckled, "No time like the present, I suppose..."
He wandered into his bedroom. At first, he thought that stepping inside would activate some mental land mine, trigger something that would cause him to hate himself more then he did, but with the first tedious step, nothing happened. With a sigh of relief, he asked one of the arms to pull out a shirt. Not a sweater. The arm complied with a nod as it opened one of the draws and tossed him perhaps the only loose-fitting shirt he currently possessed.
"Please? It'll look cute on you. For me?" Rosie had given him the sweetest smile in the department store as he glanced at the shirt, not exactly pleased.
"For you, then, Rosie." He shook his head and planted a kiss on her cheek, taking the shirt as the two of them walked through the aisle.
The memory made him blink and shake his head, a fresh wave of sadness crashing into him. The actuators' AI hissed at his remembrance, but he shoved them away. The tentacle subconsciously clenched the shirt a bit too tight, but then handed it to the doctor, "I'd say it has four too few holes in it...." Shaking his head, he held the shirt out. A spike protruded out of one of the arms and made four nice sized slits in the shirt. Shrugging himself out of the current stolen shirt he possessed now, he dried himself off with a towel pulled from a towel rack, then slipped the new shirt on, the arms sliding through the new holes. His drenched coat would have to be worn, though, as before he had acquired these arms, he had scowled upon anything that hanging that long. Now, the long coats covered his arms very well, and he had even grown a certain grudging fondness for the style.
He grabbed a hat from his closet and a pair of sunglasses from his dresser drawer. Placing him on his face and glancing into the mirror, he decided he looked obscure enough. His hair had not dried much and he still had that 'drenched rat' look. The tentacles sunk under the coat, and he slowly went to the door of his apartment and left, praying to whatever god would listen.
He took his first steps out of the building, on the street, and looked nervously around from under his hat. There were people out, not many but people nonetheless. He stepped into the crowd, still praying, and began a brusque walk down the street. He tried to remember the address of Osborn, and happily, it came easily to his mind. He entered the building and frowned, trying to recall the floor he was on. That didn't' come as easily, nor did one realize how high they were when they climbed buildings.
Top floor.
......where did you see it?
How else could he haves such an impressive apartment?
Octavius mentally kicked himself. He pressed the button for the top floor as the elevator door slowly closed and it began to rise.
Thankfully, he was alone in the confined area. He looked up at the mirrored walls, seeing himself reflected into the reflections of the reflections. The four holes in his coat were especially conspicuous...he had never really realized them before.
With a quiet 'ding', the door slid open on the top floor. He stepped out and watched the door close, then turned and faced another door, this one of elegant mahogany. Very out of place. He raised a hand, and rapped on the glass.
"WHO IS IT?!"