FATR: I had so much fun doing these two parts! Seriously, if you're ever going to participate in RPGs, the villain is the most fun character. You can get away with things you could never do in real life! Wow, so far, these were the best times to be Otto and Mac. Well, this and the Liberty seen that's coming up soon, possibly with the next chip chip. Hannibal Lector makes his first appearance here. Watch for it! And be alert for other references!

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On the arriving flight--from Guatemala, if anyone cared to know--an aging gentleman, dressed in muted greys, wrinkled his nose in distaste at the approaching aromas from the young man across the aisle; sweat, despite the thin--and exceedingly garish--tropical-print shirt he wore, something dry, almost dusty, the next chemical and acidic, although just as dry, and the last was somehow the worst; some awful cologne which, judging from his appearance and the distance between them, could've been brewed in a child's chemistry kit.

Ana sat at the laptop typing random searches into google. Heehee, apparently there weren't Keebler cookies here, which could either be good news for Sage or bad news for Sage. "Sage, remember what you said earlier about ruling ebay? Do you really think we could rule ebay?" She stopped to think. "Is it even possible to sell an idea over ebay?"

"No, but your soul, yeah..."She shrugged, sighing. "Too bad, some cash would be nice. I can only rent my soul. However.... what does it say there about Stay-Puf't marshmallows?"

Ana typed it in, hoping to find a news report about a giant marshmallow man attacking a city, but no such luck. "Yep, they have Stay-Puf't marshmallows here, and sadly none of them ever attacked the city."

"How very sad." A thought occurred to her, and Sage almost collapsed in a small, laughing heap. "Oh, man! How bout this, search for a restaurant; The Raunchy Taheen!...if no dice there, how about Silence of the Lambs?"

Ana laughed, readjusted her position in the arm chair, and typed in 'The Raunchy Taheen.'

Mac was lounging on the couch next to Sage tossing M&Ms in the air and catching them in his mouth. "Yah wanna go out an' do somethin?"

"Sure. As soon as the Ultimate Evil--I've had a few bad experiences with Google–is done this, which could just be a bit." She smiled, and held out the tattooed hand. "Two questions, though; can I have an m&m, and what do you have in mind?"

Mac passed her the bag of M&Ms. "D'know... yah like video games?"

"Subscriptions to Nintendo Power and Ultimate Gamer." Sage was grinning now, taking a handful of the candies before passing the bag back. "Anything from Pokemon to Harvest Moon"

A rather mischievous expression crept across Mac's face. "Alright. We're hittin Game Stop."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Sage? I'm not getting anything except porn sites here..."

"The hell!" The fantasist turned, blinking and indignant. "The Raunchy Taheen is supposed to be a fictional restaurant! Some people are sick... I won't ask." Now, Mac was blinked at, although in an cheerful manner. "Did I happen to mishear you? Hitting a place?"

Ana looked up, intrigued as well. "You have a Game Stop here?" Her eyes brightened. "And we're going to rob it?"

Mac's grinned widened at the apparent success of this idea. "Tha's what I said."

"Marvelous!" The Wee One stood, laughing, and applauded. "As I have yet to be to a Game Stop, I am only assuming, but I think I can safely say they're probably all pissy with warranties and have murderous late fees. It's justifiable."

Ana was giggling and clapping uncontrollably as well. "This is awesome!" Her lap top started to fall. She grabbed it, closed it, and looked a bit sheepish.

Mac had switched into thoughtful mode now. "'Kay, le'see... I's not tha' far, an' we got three people, so roof travel is out. Guess we gotta go in on foot. Hold on a sec while I get my coat."

"Alright." Excited, and, with the amount of sleep that had been about lately, 'cheerfully manic', Sage was not clapping. But almost. "Isn't it, though? And people've said I'd never see squat."

"And just think, our parents will never ever know," Ana beamed.

Mac returned from his room wearing a long trench coat and a fedora. "Yah girls got anythin with a hood on it, or somethin?"

Ana dug through her trusty book bag and pulled out her blue hooded sweatshirt. It was her favorite one. She had found it in the boys department at JCPenny, and the kicker about that was the little glittery white skull on the chest.

"For an odd moment, I almost wish my cloak was here. But this should do." A black, knitted hoodie was pulled free of Sage's bag, a faint white-and-grey pattern around the front and sides. "Too bad it's getting beat to crap..." Regardless, she pulled it on, zipping it up and tucking her necklaces away as she pulled her braid free. "But, meh."

"Awesome. Le's go." Mac led the way out of the warehouse and back to the street.

Soon enough, the Game Stop was in sight. "Okay....so, just how is it proposed we do this? Sorry, but lacking the means, I've never done this before. Forgive a noob."

Something occurred to Mac that he hadn't thought of before. "If Spider-Man shows up, both'a yah'll need a quick way tah escape."

Ana grinned and laughed. "Take us hostage, Otto did. It was kind of fun."

"Tha's actually a good idea, but I can't hold both'a yah in m' tail at once."

"I'm smaller, would probably be easier to move with." The Wee One shrugged. "And let's just say that there was this one time, on a fair ride...well, if not such circumstances, I've gotten pretty used to awkward forms of movement." She grinned herself, chuckling. "Thus, I volunteer."

Mac stifled a laugh. A voluntary hostage, he never dreamed he would see the day. "Here's how i's goin down. Sage'll go in first, act like she's jus' lookin 'round or whatever. After a minute or two, I'll come in," here he turned to Sage. "But try not tah look at me until I start grabbin stuff. People ignore each other in New York, an' anythin else'd be suspicious." He turned to Ana. "Yah watch for the web head. If yah see 'im, signal Sage and Sage'll signal me."

"Okay. I'll just wander around and check out the different gameboy games." After keeping a straight face, for a few moments, she burst out laughing again. "Oh, man, this is warped. As for the signal, I have the weirdest urge to quote South Park; 'I'll make a sound like a dying giraffe!'"

Ana laughed too. "'Dude, what's a dying giraffe sound like?'"

"Hey, I've woken my neighbors up on New Years with this; 'Euuwaugh. Euuwaugh!'"

Ana giggled, giddily. "I'll be pointing and gasping like most of the other people, but I'll try to be the first one pointing and gasping."

"Alrighty, then. Man, it's going to be interesting trying to keep a straight face...I'll manage though, by grace of being a good liar." Sage grinned, shrugged, and turned to saunter in. "Now, to check out that Legend of Zelda; Oracle of Ages. Ah, bad memories..." The door swung closed, and, inside, the fantasist could be seen examining the back of the box with a vaguely disgruntled expression.

Ana moved away from Mac and began studying something in a shop window. Mac waited a bit, glanced both ways, and strolled casually into the store. He walked right into the middle of the placed, threw off his hat, flung open his coat, and raised his tail. "No body move!"

"...oh, holy crap." There had been a number of times when the Wee One, in a desperate attempt to pull her ass from the fire, had lied convincingly under close watch. Tone wasn't exaggerated, nor was posture; practice did make perfect, or so it would seem.

The guy behind the counter began reaching for something out of view. Mac whipped around and fired acid at the counter top, just barely missing the man. It was a warning shot. "Hands up! Get 'round front where I can see yah." Mac was having the time of his life. As the man complied, Mac whacked him across the room with his tail. He hit a shelf beside Sage and crumpled to the ground. Mac couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, and frankly, he didn't care. He surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. "Anyone else wanna be a hero? No?" He turned to another hapless employee. She shook her head and shrank away. "Yah damn straight," he cackled like only a super villain can.

Outside, Ana watched with mild interest, though there was no sight of the web head yet.

"Ge' me a bag, bitch." She seemed too frightened to move. "NOW! Before I get real angry." She just about literally leaped over the counter and came back with a plastic bag. Mac began wandering the store, stuffing things in the bag. He spied a little boy clinging to his mommy and whimpering. He leaned down close. "Boo!" The boy squealed and started crying. Mac continued grabbing things.

Outside, Ana heard a faint sound in the distance. A sort of thwip thwip sound. In the distance she spotted a dot flying through the air. "Look!" She pointed the speck out to the gathering crowd. "It's Spider-Man!"

The motion, by grace of excessive outdoor lighting, was clearly visible; cursing under her breath, Sage took a small step back, allowing the loose knit of her sleeve to catch on a corner of a box--Oracle of Seasons, actually--and tip it to the ground with a light clatter. It wasn't a bad choice; trying to find the best sword had been a pain and a half.

Mac heard the thump and grinned, preparing himself for what would come next. He turned to Sage and stalked closer, growling. "I said don' move..." He raised his tail just as the web head swung through the door. He jerked around, pretending to be surprised, the pissed off look on his face coming more naturally.

Peter had let one villain get away today, and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He had no idea what had happened to those two girls. Why hadn't they run, or put up more of a fight, or something? Then again, he had thought he had heard one of them call Ock... but he couldn't think about that now. "I thought you retired, Gargan."

Mac smirked insidiously. "Eat acid, bug brain." His tail let loose a stream of the corrosive green liquid. The spider back flipped out of the way, the acid instead causing a several hundred dollars worth of property damage instead.

I have to get him outside, Peter thought, barely dodging another stream of acid.

Those were... those were... Sega games. Oh, relief. 'Get N, or get out,' was still fondly remembered, and after progress through the Super Nes, Gameboy Colour, and all to follow, it had apparently held true. For lack of anything better to do, the Wee One observed the fight, considering palming a game or two up her loose sleeves, but thinking better of it.

"I'd say you are as ugly as a baboon's behind, but I wouldn't want to insult an innocent baboon," Peter taunted, knowing the extent to which Mac despised insults.

Mac clenched his teeth and his hands balled into fists. "Shut up!" He swatted at the wall crawler with his tail but only succeeded in taking a chunk out of the ceiling as the vermin slipped away. Seizing upon the previously thought up plan, Mac snatched Sage up with his tail so that the acid shooter was aimed for her head. He hoped the bug wouldn't recognize her from earlier, but he doubted it.

Again: Damn, this was awkward, and as that line had already been used--although while still short of breath from geese-chasing--there was only two other phrases which could sum the situation up. "Oh, dear god...opoponax!"

Peter froze in a crouched position and rose slowly to his feet, hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Aw man... aw man... Okay, Scorpy, let's just put her down and talk about this, arachnid to arachnid. Okay?"

Mac tightened his tail impulsively. "Outta my way, bug brain, or the girl gets an acid facial."

Well, if no longer as comfortable, it still wasn't too bad...Although, this did remind one a fair deal of some Far Side cartoon. Or two, or three. "... harsh.... no further comment!" And thus, one was given more than sufficient time to reflect upon how 'May you live in interesting times,' was a curse.

Peter began to back away slowly. "Just don't do anything rash." He stepped aside, hands still up. When Mac was outside, with his back turned, he could cover the end of his tail in webs, thus disabling the shooter. On the other hand, Mac's acid had been known to eat through his webbing from time to time. Plan B would work all right, though. He gently tossed a spider-tracer that adhered itself to the hem of Mac's coat.

Ana looked around as Mac ascended the building then she quickly slipped off into the shadows.

Elsewhere...

"Sir, I cannot help you here! This is the C desk, go to the B desk, and they will send you where you need to go..." Ulimahn.

Meanwhile, the Guatemalan flight was just arriving, its decidedly travel-weary flock of passengers bubbling out, shuffling, clutching their bags, and rubbing at their eyes. Among them was young Robert Dean, scratching at the shoulder of his polyester shirt, the likes of which had been specially tailor to hide unsightly bulges under one's armpits. He wandered aimlessly through the crowd, albeit in a twitchy manner, glancing over the faces of people waiting for the supposed contact; no luck, thus far.

Meanwhile, the gentleman from across the aisle, earlier, was approaching C desk, only to receive the standard response. "Sir, I cannot help you here! This is C des--"

"I know it's C desk, I was sent here by B desk. I require only one of the timetable char--"

"My shift is almost up. I cannot help you here."

Otto, even with the dark glasses on, could have spied the garish shirt ten miles away. Slipping his glasses slightly down his nose with one hand in order to study the youth with greater clarity, the scientist confirmed his target. He strolled up to the young man, hands in his pockets, careful not to let anyone bump into his back--lest his children be disturbed. "Robert Dean, I presume."

"Yeah, man, you the check I was told about?" Almost in a skeptic manner, the day's mule raised an eyebrow, the motion causing his thin outbreak of acne to ripple, almost. "Hard to see how you couldn't be, I mean."

At C desk, the argument was over; discourtesy was unspeakably ugly, and the older individual did not wish to be exposed to any more, for the time being.

A thin smile slid across Otto's face. "Let us relocate to a more secluded area." As he turned and began walking, he brushed past an older individual--well educated by the looks of him--but paid him very little mind.

"Yeah, sure." Shrugging, Bob followed him. "Any place you got in mind?"

The doctor turned, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head to himself--he was tired, almost letting his imagination and the trip get the better of his composure--and, with a faint reluctance to return to the mobbing crowd (it stank) he sauntered back, intending to collect his luggage, a certain small, velvet bag in one of the black cases, in specific

Not a long while later, the two figures were making their way across an abandoned section of the parking garage. It had been closed off for construction purposes, and was currently completely empty. Otto had one of his children peeking out from under the hem of his coat, scanning for security cameras. As they located them, they disabled them with an infrared signal.

"Anyways, dude, I gotta get going..." With some effort and the muffled protest of the tape used to secure the bags in place, both were freed and held out. "Here. Cause, now, there's a half-dozen raspberry doughnuts calling to me." He was still twitchy.

The scientist freed his tentacles and accepted the bags with the top two. "You wouldn't be attempting to 'pull the wool over my eyes,' as it were?"

"Course not!" Robert tried to look indignant, and failed miserably; he'd long since lost any shred of dignity, or decency, he may've had. The most he could manage was an expression of sulky pride, which had all the elaborate, gaudy trimmings of a bad liar.

Otto smirked. "Then you won't be adverse to sticking around for a few more moments." The bottom two tentacles rose, pincers blossoming to full size to bath the young man in red light.

Heidi Dean's eldest son's thoughts at the moment were best summed up in a simple syllable, a four letter word of, or so it's supposed, Anglo-Saxon heritage; '...Fuck.' This was, however, not what was said. He may've been a stupid man, was a stupid man, but had always held out some faint hope he could pull his ass from the fire. "Nah,"

"Excellent." The two tentacles that had been trained on the boy turned to the bags. Otto let the silence stretch on, never taking his eyes off the boy. He could almost smell his fear. The two tentacles finally relaxed and Three moved up to the scientist's ear, seeming to whisper. Otto's eyes flicked sideways towards the tentacle, then back to Robert. There was an insidious glint in them now. He dropped the bags and all four tentacles moved into strike position.

Oh, mother---' "Hey, hey! What's this about? I swear to god those are the bags I picked up in Guatemala, the same! I had help taping on the bags, and where did you think I got the shirt, Sears? I got them from the first contact, dude, what the hell?"

"We know baking soda when we see it, you delinquent snake." Otto hesitated a bit longer, hoping he would try to run.

This was the result, sorta; mixed with an extremely half-hearted bluff. "Look, okay, settle down, just settle down, mellow out. We'll go in, call Guatemala--after all those vending machines I have enough change, and see just what the deal's supposed to be," still going on in this vein, Robert made to return to the main area, at something which was almost a brisk jog.

The human octopus launched one of his tentacles into Robert's back. Once he was down, the scientist clamped another pincer around his ankles and dragged him back. Otto dangled the youth upside down at eye level and slid off his glasses to send an unshielded death glare right into Robert's eyes. "I was presented with specific instructions to follow. I am no more fooled by your evasion tactic than I was by your charade."

"I don't care, those are the bags!" Besides, if he owned up, he was only more screwed...

Otto chuckled malevolently. "You refuse to confess, we draw out your death." One of the stronger bottom pincers latched over Robert's chest and began to squeeze, tightening a fraction more every time he let out a breath.

"But it wasn't ME! I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me, the guy who helped taping or who brought the shirt or--hell, the guy who brought the tape, anythinganyoneatall–" It appeared he'd go on this way for a fair while, panic running rampant and break dancing on any semblance of rational thought.

"You ought to conserve what little breath remains to you." The tentacle's grip tightened, bones cracked, and the boy's chest collapsed like a shoe box under a semi. "Now, to take out the trash..."