FATR: Sage and I switch off control of Otto from time to time, when my character load becomes too intense and she only has one character to deal with. I am proud to take personal responsibility for converting Sage to a Mac fangirl. It is "Opening the Gate" that converted her and almost converted me. Beware. Let's see, we have several more Dark Tower references, but I believe Sage is set to go off on a Dark Tower rant a few chip chips from now so hang tight. And yes, Femme Mishima, Otto had no idea what he was getting his cute little self into when he picked us up, teehee. Just you wait until the next two chip chips or so, when I get into my rant about the Great Converter. CD Anders and I aren't really writing the fic together like Sage and I are. I was more of a consultant for Anders. Sage and I are actually taking turns writing pieces of this. BTW, there is not looking like this is going to turn into romance, so I'll just let you get onto this installment, with the reminder that Sage and I don't own jack shit.

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"Holy crap; cool!" Sage peered in at the plush interior, raising an eyebrow. "Funky..." Some small, framed print caught her eye, despite it seeming to be only a small charcoal sketch, a skeletal, crowned figure on a nag. She took a few steps forward for a better look, not quite crossing the doorway. "Isn't that a Durer?"

"It is."

"Cool...he was a very talented man. Have you gotten the chance to take a look at his sketch for Goya? 'The sleep of reason breeds monsters,' I believe is the quote it illustrated."

"I have a compilation of Drurer's work." The conversation ended with that. They stood around the room under the weight of the silence. It was broken by Ana's laughter.

"Never a bad thing, I guess." Sage turned, raising an eyebrow at Ana, and despite efforts to suppress it, began to smile. "You're a nut, you know that?"

She was an Otto fangirl, and they had been abducted by Otto. If they had landed in the reality of one of her other objects of fangirldom... well, things may not have turned out so well. "It just occurred to me. I mean, I'm a bit of a Michael Myers fan as well, what if we had ended up there instead?" Ana knew the idea of being eviscerated shouldn't be that funny, but things had been so absurd lately, she had to laugh. "Or what about Freddy..." she giggled.

"Then we'd be stuck together in the sisterhood of the severely screwed, rather than that of the simply screwed." Sage started to chuckle, as well. "However! I'm assuming the Crimson King is responsible for this, and to quote about the Random; while seen as malevolent by many, the force is strangely protective."

They really were quite odd, the both of them. What was this Crimson King Sage was going on about now? And there was, of course, the comment that had drawn him down the building in the first place. "There was something I meant to inquire of you before. Earlier, I overheard a comment about somebody's eight-limbed--"

"No offence, but IT WAS HER!" Sage pointed at Ana, caught at the midpoint between completely serious and curled into a small, hysterically laughing heap on the floor. She still didn't know which she would act upon. "I already have a crush." One which was probably as fictional as Octavius was supposed to be, whiling away the time in Endsville, at the moment, in all probability.

Ana blinked and looked from one to the other. "Well, that's not entirely untrue, I suppose," she blushed. Just then a door at the back opened and out walked a green clad figure. His large green tail swished restlessly behind him.

"Hey, Ock, Fisk's commin by at eight tah see-"

"Hey," Ana pointed. "You're Scorpion, Mac Gargan, whatever. Sage, look, it's another... Sage?"

"Awesome!" Sage was watching, delighted, and with a renewed grin. Hell, the way this was going, one of them would own Oxford Blues, Sharkmeat Pie, something along those lines!...actually, in retrospect, if one were to look at the narration of The Fifth Quarter, Stark's works probably would appeal to Mac, the short stories especially; short, brutal, and violent. But well-written, nevertheless... "Hullo!"

Ana blinked and a grin spread across her face and she nodded knowingly. "Oh, yes, I know that look." In a lower voice she whispered, "Sage is in looove..."

"Hey, screw you!" This response was indignant. "I'm not in love, I've yet to be in love--with one minor obsession, but that's more for conversation!--and I'm pretty sure I'll end up some weird cat lady when I'm old." She made a small opoponax gesture, out of a mix amusement and frustration. "However, I still think certain people are cool, and accents are funky. Now that I've finished my rant," The Wee One turned back to Mac, "How're you doing?"

"Hones'ly? A little confused." Mac looked to Otto for an explanation.

The scientist in question crossed his human arms, sighed slightly, and began. "During a small scuffle with our wall-crawling acquaintance, I sought a means of leaving without being further harassed. These two attracted my attention with a... rather interesting... comment, and, as a result, were used as that means." He shrugged, spreading his hands. Tentacles One and Two mimicked the action to a lesser degree. "And that, is why I've returned with unexpected company."

Ana had a brief, quiet, and internal fangirl moment watching the tentacles.

Mac nodded. "An' how long are yah stayin?" He asked the one who was favoring him with a mildly starry-eyed look.

"I have no idea." Now, able to switch the shoulder her bag rested on, Sage did so with evident relief. It was surprisingly heavy, a number of hardcovers crammed in with clothes and foodstuff. "Until something happens to greater alter the situation, I suppose; we got kicked out of the airport for supposed fraud."

"I'm still silently loathing that bastard," Ana agreed, a little cheerily considering the words. "I suppose I wouldn't feel too sorry if I found his corpse minus an organ or two."

"I know! I mean it's like; okay, two people lost. The only help we got were bus passes and shoves out, basically." Sage nodded. "Personally, I hope he has his nuts ruptured, or something to that effect...regardless, though, we're here now."

Ana nodded enthusiastically. "It sure beats the hell out of Bangor." She gave Otto a sideways glance, saw one of his tentacles watching, and quickly looked away.

Mac smiled. They weren't half bad, really. He extended a hand to the shorter one. "Name's Mac, but'cha know tha' already. An' yah are...?"

She shook it, cheerful. "Sage, pleased to meet you." Even under these conditions, and why not? They weren't bad conditions, if one were to look at the larger scale. "So, how goes life?"

Mac was surprised to hear this. It's not everyday that someone is glad to see a super villain. "Pretty much been tryin tah find a way tah turn normal again. Knocked over a newsstand yesterday..."

"Good luck with that, man." At the mention of newsstands, Sage shook her head. "God! Some of those things are terrible; worst headline I ever saw was like 'Bigfoot Hooker Tells All!' and runner-up goes to 'Trout-People Invade Alaska.'" Fortran events were always mocked...

Ana blinked. "Wait, is that a hooker with big feet, or Big Foot's hooker?"

"Judging by the cover, it was Bigfoot as a hooker."

Ana and Mac laughed hysterically at the image that conjured to mind. When Ana's laughter subsided, she turned to Otto. "Hey, by the way, there's something I've always wondered..."

"And what would that be?" An eyebrow was raised, although it wouldn't really show behind the glasses. Some habits of expression were hard to break, was all.

"There's this rumor I heard, I've actually participated in extensive debates about it... Um, you're tentacles, or actuators, or whatever, do they really talk to you?"

"Extensive debates?" A small smile; if nothing else, it was amusing that they'd carry on discussion of such a topic to the point 'extensive' could be used in an accurate description. "I don't believe I'll ask with whom, but yes, they do. End debate?"

Ana grinned. When she got home, if she ever got home, the things she could tell the fangirls at Heck, maybe she'd even write a story about it. "Just one more thing, if you don't mind my asking so many questions... Are they, like, one entity or do they have separate personalities?"

"Must you know?"

In the background, there came a cheerful remark: "Shot down!

Chuckling at that, Octavius considered his answer, using the dramatic silence, before breaking it with a simple, reasonable reply. "They're 'like' both, depending on the situation, although it's usually, and most accurately, the latter."

"I knew it," Ana whispered to herself. Though she doubted anyone on would believe that THE REAL Dr. Octopus had told her that. She nodded at the octopus and said, "Okay, now end debate."

"Alright. Now," he shifted his gaze to Mac, making a small do-carry-on gesture with one hand; One twitched, just faintly, its motion following the action. "what was it you were saying before interruptions of introductions and odd queries?"

Mac stared at him. "Why can't'cha jus' speak plain English for once, doc?"

"But I am. However, it's beside the point; what was it you were going to tell me?"

Mac looked puzzled for a second, then realization dawned. "Yeah, Fisk's commin by at eight. Said somethin about a mule."

"I see..." This was given no real response. "I suppose it'll break the monotony."

"What would the Kingpin want with a mule?" Ana asked, looking from one super villian to the other.

"Drug shipping, of course." Octavius blinked, surprised. "Other avenues of opportunity were, to say the least, inappropriate at the time--conspicous. So, an individual was hired to mule a small load."

Ana thought this over for a second, then nodded, turning her attention else where. Even though she was one of Otto's biggest fangirls--and this was a once in a life time experience--there were times when her attention span was rather akin to that of a goldfish. Under other circumstances, she probably would have elected to read one of her spider-man comics again, but she figured she should wait a couple of days before allowing people here to see them. There was always her Hellraiser comic. She had gotten collection two for Christmas, and she couldn't wait to read Songs of Metal and Flesh. She wished she had brought Weave World by Clive Barker, but... well, if her lap top had batteries she could start keeping track of everything that had happened. She absently toyed with the action figure as she thought. Oh, Christ, the action figure! She stuffed it in her bag quickly and zipped it up.

"So..." Sage began, then trailed off. The 'so' thing was a sort of verbal identifying mark, known to drive acquaintances to distraction when declared repeatedly over boring days or afternoons; it was said when there wasn't anything to say, and as well, it started too many sentences. "So...it's what, seven-thirty now, so what is there to be done?"

"Personally? Maintenance." Otto turned, intending to retreat to his work area for that purpose. "Doubtless, I'll be back with you, shortly. In the meantime, Gargan, if you would keep a watch on our visitants?"

"So..." Mac echoed. "Yah never mentioned yah name."

Ana looked up. "Hm, oh, it's Ana." She looked at Sage. "Now what?"

"Now, I have no idea..." She shrugged, half-laughing, and turned to Mac. "Well, it seems like we may be here for a bit....care to show us around?" After all, beyond the view of door and windows, it seemed carefully set-up.

"Okay, uh," Mac looked around and gestured them over to a corner set up with a couch, two arm chairs, and a little TV. "Here e have the livin room. Guess it aint really a room, more like an area. The door Ock jus' wen' through goes tah the lab. We ain't really allowed in there." He led them to the other side of the warehouse where there were two other doors. "My room's in there," he pointed to the door on the right. "An' Ock's room's in there," he pointed to the one on the left. "But he's usually in 'is lab. Don' know for sure, 'cause the subject never came up, but I don' think either of yah should go in 'is room without permission either." He stopped as if waiting to see if either one of them had any questions.

"Fair enough." The Wee One nodded. "So! A topic..." It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with mundane discussion in this scenario, right? After all, once the twilight-zone theme song faded, and the temptation to rant and rave about the Random and Purpose was suppressed, it became like forward motion; the only thing which mattered, being the only thing left. "Hobbies, interests? Aside from the obvious, I mean."

Mac pondered this for a while. "Action movies, sometimes reality TV shows, my favorite movie was Bad Taste..." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, yah wanna see my can collection?"

"I liked Rose Red, but as for action, hmn, the Tremors movies were good. Ever see them?" And the mention of a can collection, something so completely random, she broke into a grin. "Sure! That sounds funky!"

Elsewhere, on the side of a road...

"I don't care who's off-shift, you will call another!" In foul temper as hossing his weight almost continously over the past several days had caused his favourite limo to, more or less, begin to burn out, Wilson Fisk watched his driver with a flat glare, the unfortunate man scrambling for the radio. Yes, bullet-proof glass, self-sealing tires, heavily enforced body....but, for all that, a car was a car, not a tank.

In the warehouse, Mac was saying. "Tremors... Giant worms livin in a desert, right?"

"Did you ever see Tremors four?" Ana asked her two companions.

"There was a fourth?!" Sage turned to face her, the opoponax gesture already there. "Oh, man, you gotta be kidding me! I always loved Tremours--Bert kicked ass!--but I never heard about a fourth...."

Mac was opening the door to his room as Ana giggled at this outburst. "It's pretty new actually, though it was straight to video." Her and Sage followed Mac into his room, still chatting. "It was actually more like a prequel, about Burt's ancestor..." Ana trailed off as Mac flicked on the lights. The room was generally a mess, except for one wall which was lined with shelves and shelves of cans. They were polished to gleaming perfection and organized carefully by type, brand, and color. Beer cans, Pepsi cans, coke cans, even josta cans. "Woah..."

The visiting fantasist shuffled over to admire the stacks. "Dude...that's awesome. I don't even remember pepsi max! Wild cherry, yes, but I didn't know that it was ever canned...I applaud. Is there a nozzala anywhere?"

Mac was actually beaming with pride. "'M glad someone 'preciates it. Ock calls it a unsanitary habit or somethin like tha'."

"Pshaw, I still have my first can of guava juice; it never lost the smell--oh, man!" This exclamation was delighted. "You do have a nozzie! That's awesome..."

At this point, a belated Kingpin had just made his entrance, complete with escorts. Upon seeing the immediate area empty, he let loose a bellow only aging, hefty persons can. "OCTAVIUS! GARGAN!"

Mac jumped practically a mile and rushed out into the main room, nearly tripping on himself in his hurry to get there. "Yes, sir, here, sir," he panted.

The ground was shaking a bit as well, heralding Otto's appearance through the lab door. Using all four tentacles, he moved with a fluid sort of grace that made Ana's cheeks flush a slight pinkish color. "Pardon our absence, Master Fisk. I had surmised that this trio would remain here."

"...No commet, ki."

Fisk allowed the silence to weigh itself for another two beats, then, shaking his head, began. "As I'm busy tonight, I won't ask--for the time being. However, you two," He gestured to Otto and Mac, the flab on his arms jiggling in a manner not unlike that of jello in cheesecloth, "will also see to work being done. The mule arrives tonight; however, he has been known to play, to phrase, certain tricks, in the past. Octavius, you are required to test his load upon arrival, seeing whether it's the same load he recieved before boarding the flight. If it is, simply have it ready for pick-up tomorrow evening--he'll be contacted again, at a later date. If not, simply dispose of mule and baggage, but quietly. The both of you may go, but only Octavius is necessary. Questions?"

Ana again had a quiet fan girl moment imagining Otto dispatching a man with those exquisite tentacles of his.

"No, sir," Otto answered.

"Excellent. I believe you already have a short profile and pictures of our mule, a mister Robert Dean?"

"Yes, sir," Otto smiled and briefly flashed an envelope he had tucked into the hidden pocket.

"Why does Ock get all the good jobs?" Mac muttered to himself and kicked at the floor a bit.

"In that case, I will leave you to your endeavors." With that, and a mode of movement not unlike the Stay-Puf't Sailor, Wilson Fisk made good his exit.

"...well, that was different."

"If my lap top worked, I could do some google searches and find out who else is here," Ana whispered to Sage.

"Well, what's the matter with it? Google's evil, but it's better than nothing, and no worse than those damned Keebler Elves."

"It died shortly before we hit the turbulence." Ana's eyes shifted to her sex god. "I bet he has a battery. I'd ask him if I wasn't so shy, damn fangirlness..."

Sage considered, and made an offer; "I have a bunch of double-A batteries, if they'd work. If not, I could ask, I talk to perfect stangers all the time."

"You know, it'd be hilarious if the elves were real here..." Ana snickered. "Go ask him."

"Those elves are evil in pint-sized packages! But fine." Sighing, and inwardly pondering when the whole Keebler Elf thing had started, the sojourner approached Otto, choosing a different form of address this time. Hey, it was still polite. "Excuse me, sai Octavius?"

The scientist turned around. "Yes?"

"I'm asking on behalf of myself and Ana, if you'd have something you'd kindly let us use to revive her laptop. Would you?"

Behind the glasses Otto's eyes flicked up and to left as he considered this request. "Indeed I do. I am currently in a bit of a rush, but I imagine I could spare an extra few moments." He disappeared into his lab and returned quickly with an extra battery. He presented it to Ana himself. "I expect you to return this."

Ana nodded, eyes wide. "Of course, doctor... I appreciate it."

One of Otto's tentacles placed his hat on his head. He tipped it as a parting gesture, rose up on his tentacles, and climbed out through a high window.

Ana stared after him. "He is so dreamy..."

"Aww, how sweet..." General, perpetual amusement at life, and all things it involved had apparently returned, in full force, to Sage's outlook; the remark was made with a chuckle, and the grin, or at least a smile, seemed to be more and more constant. "Man, we need to get you a few dozen cameras, a felt pen, and a tattoo artist, so you can have lasting proof of this mess. However, here we are...anyone have a suggestion for wasting time?

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FATR: Don't try too hard to wrap your individual brains around the dimensions of the warehouse. Very little in this fic will actually make logical sense, I'm sure. Just go with the flow.