Let's go over and read the reviews from the (heavy sarcasm) adoring fans, shall we? Thank you to K9, who has followed this story from the beginning: Forget plot-syrup. This story is unexpectedly becoming plot-molasses.
I recently got LadyKayoss' review on my already completed Austin stories and let me just say-cute is not the word that comes to mind. Especially when we're talking about Doc Ock's son and Spider-man's daughter, and they both have their famous fathers' powers.
On to the story! I suppose what happens in this chapter was inevitable, considering the circumstances, but there's also a lot more going on. So, read, review, and enjoy!
Chapter 6: Grafted to Four Tentacles
"Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?"
John Milton, Paradise Lost, 10.743-45
"uhhhhhhhh…"
"She's awake."
"where am I?"
"We'd better explain everything."
"where's mom? where's dad?"
"No! Let her figure it out on her own. We have monitored her. She and her blonde friend are familiar with him."
"The witness to the capture?"
"Yes. We will have to pay her a generous amount to keep quiet."
"She may not accept hush money."
"A girl like her will. I know her kind. Blonde hair, blue eyes, suntanned, rosy skin. Probably one of the cheerleader types. Spends all her money on designer clothes and dates with football players. She'll accept it."
"hello?"
Octavia's groggy eyes came into focus on a tall woman wearing a white lab coat. She was imposing, with long black hair tied in a ponytail, olive skin, and eyes like black holes.
"where am I?" she murmured.
The woman looked down at her. "You are quite safe. You're in a private hospital. My name is Dr. Grace Morrison. What are the last events you can remember in the last week?"
Octavia strained to recall. "um…I was assigned an autobiography for English class…and I looked for information about my birth parents…and I couldn't find any…"
"You know you are adopted?"
"Yeah…"
"Go on."
"and then my back started to itch…more like my spine…and then I saw this weird birthmark, my best friend swore it looked like a little octopus, but she sees octopuses everywhere, she loves him…"
"Loves who?"
"oh, I don't remember, some kind of comic book villain, a mad scientist…why are you asking me this stuff, I feel like I'm gonna hurl…and everything's so blurry…and then some guy in a black suit came up and shot me…"
"Don't worry, Octavia, I can explain everything. There's no need to freak out, as you teenagers pithily put it."
"Why would I freak out? What's there to freak out about?"
Octavia's eyes swam into focus. The first thing she saw was one, two, four bright pink lights. The pink lights were attached to four huge, snake-like metal tentacles, trimmed in metallic magenta, hovering over her, as if they were…staring at her?
"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" Octavia screamed. "What the hell have you done to me! What the hell are these!"
"They're your new actuators, Octavia," Dr. Morrison said.
"What the hell are you waiting for! Take them off! Get them off!" Octavia screamed. She tried to push the tentacles away.
"It's really no use, Octavia, they're bonded for good. Didn't you say you wanted tentacles anyway?"
"Why would I want them!" yelled Octavia. Forgetting that she probably sounded crazy rambling in front of these scientists, she continued. "Why the hell would I want the freaky things? Why didn't you go put some on Jordan, she's the Doctor Octopus fangirl…"
"But she is merely a fangirl. You are more." Dr. Morrison took a tape recorder out of her pocket and pressed the play button. Octavia's words came back to sting her. Didn't they always say be careful what you wish for, you just might get it?
"…you have to admit the idea of the four actuators is intriguing. I mean, they'd sure come in handy, outside the laboratory as well as in. I mean, the first thing I'd do if I had tentacles is to smack some intelligence into Brittany Gibson's head. Too bad it's only comic book fiction…"
Dr. Morrison pressed the stop button. "It was hardwired into you from the beginning." She fast-forwarded the tape, then pressed the play button again.
"I know—maybe your biological father is some kind of a criminal or supervillian. Your trench coat, your brown eyes hid by sunglasses, your passion for science, your jokes about taking over the world…"
"Your friend—Jordan, is that her name?—the 'fangirl' as you called her, was more accurate than she thought. But not completely accurate."
"Explain!"
"Twelve years ago, I headed a scientific experiment named Project Octopus. I was a young psychologist, with big dreams and a bigger ego, trying to solve the famous nature versus nurture question. The question is thus: What has more influence on a child's life—genetics or environment? If a little boy grows up to be just like Dad, is it because he shares his father's genetic traits or because he grew up observing his father?
"You see, Octavia, there is a reason that you could not find any information on your birth parents. You have none. You have no mother. You have no father.
"You are a clone, Octavia. We took DNA from Doctor Octopus himself—your young friend's crush—and produced a perfect, female replica to be raised in a stable environment and answer the question. That replica was you."
"What? Are you saying—the only reason I exist is for some scientist's crazy experiment!" Octavia was angry now.
Unperturbed, Dr. Morrison went on. "We marked you, Octavia, precisely so we could identify you to complete the realization of your identity. That octopus on your back is no birthmark. We tattooed it there to distinguish you.
"And about your back itching? It was a normal reaction, too. That was from the sophisticated system of extra neurons, stem cells and computer interface we built into your spine to accommodate the arms.
"Why did you—or Jordan, for that matter—not discover the similarities? Certainly, you've read enough of those half-truths called comic books. The messy brown hair, the brown eyes, the fondness for sunglasses and trench coats, the obsession and talent for scientific pursuits. After all, you are the exact genetic replica of him."
The truth hit Octavia like a block of adamantium. "So…you played God, created me…and then turned me into a freak just to complete your little Frankenstein's monster? Do my parents know about this? They'll have your head!"
As Octavia's anger mounted, the tentacles rose threateningly around Dr. Morrison.
"They fully know about your origin. They raised you as we told them to. Why do you think they wouldn't talk to you about your origins? Why do you think they wouldn't let you read the comic books?
"Of course, you'll get out of here once you're fully recovered. But we'll have to monitor you for the rest of your life. Your case study will finally put the nature versus nurture question to rest—"
"Be quiet!" Octavia yelled.
"You're gonna win me the Nobel Prize, Octavia, and—"
"I said be quiet!"
A tentacle, acting on Octavia's unconscious thoughts, grabbed Dr. Morrison by the throat and flung her right through the window. Mercifully, Grace died upon impact.
Another female scientist, this one with creamy skin, dirty blonde hair, and eyes the sparkling gray of tritium spoke up. Octavia did not know it, but this woman was her creator, the geneticist Dr. Nancy Melitta.
"Oh my gawd, girl…you killed her!"
"Oh my gawd…I did!" responded Octavia, with a mixed feeling of astonishment and horror.
