Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel.

Author's Note: Hmm… Karina of Darkness, you made an interesting point. I think, subconsciously, I am trying to show that the tentacles are bastards. Why? I'm trying to distance them from how I wrote their personalities in "How Do I Love Thee…" I don't want anyone to think "Oooh! Pink ribbons!" while reading this fic. Though the death does actually serve a purpose. Plus, I always cause deaths on Halloween. I can't help it! And, before anyone comments on this, yes, I am aware that I referred to them as 'tentacles' in chapter one and 'actuators' in this chapter – I should probably go back and change that. It'll help further distance this fic from my other one. Also, this chapter isn't as good as it could be; I lost what I had originally written, and it's not so good the second time around.

Moonlight Becomes You

Two – Octopus Bait

October 29

The main office building of Quest Aerospace was a massive skyscraper in Manhattan's heart. It was the hub of the multimillion dollar industry, and it was where Steven O'Connell spent most of his time. His office was on the uppermost of the business floors; above that, access was restricted.

O'Connell ruled from this office, a lavishly appointed room with plush carpets, wood paneling, and his own mini-bar. He spared no expense to flaunt Quest's success, and it seemed to impress most of his clients. The man seated across from him, Lucas Mondale, had been in the office so many times that he'd ceased to be impressed. Now he just looked anxious. "What's wrong, Lucas?" O'Connell asked, though he had a good idea of what had brought the man here.

"General Heilman called again," Mondale said. "He wants to set up an appointment to tour the labs. Steven, he's going to want to see the research. When he finds out we don't have it-"

"We will," O'Connell assured him. "We just need to wait a little while longer." He gave his associate a confident smile.

"He's getting impatient; I don't know how much longer he can wait. He's already upset that we called the press conference. He thinks we're trying to use our contract with them to drum up more business." Mondale was silent for a moment. "I think this is a mistake. Lying to the US military-"

"You don't have any confidence in me, do you?" O'Connell was still smiling, but there was an edge of anger to his voice. "Give it a few more days; the pictures haven't been out long. Believe me, the payoff will be worth it. We'll more than recoup our losses from the attack on our exoskeleton prototype."

"You don't even know if he's alive! And even if he was, what makes you think he's still in the city? Even the Bugle hasn't had any reports about him, and they printed a story about crop circles in Central Park! You spent a fortune hiring that… that girl, and I don't even want to think about what that thing upstairs is. What if it's all for nothing? If we lose our military contract, no one will ever trust Quest Aerospace again!"

O'Connell leaned forward. "Call Heilman; set up an appointment for him to visit us next week."

Mondale frowned. "We won't be able to show him what he wants."

"We will." Now O'Connell smirked. "There was a death last night. One of the extra night watchmen hired to work in the cemetery over Halloween. His body was crushed. The gate was off its hinges, and the current police theory is that vandals ran a car through the gate and hit the man, then dragged his body further into the cemetery to hide what they'd done. Perhaps they're right… but it seems like quite a coincidence that they found the man's body lying over Mrs. Octavius's former grave." O'Connell leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin.

Mondale paled. "Then he took the bait?"

"He took the bait. I told you to have faith in me, Lucas. Make sure the guards are prepared; my guess is that tonight, Doctor Octopus is going to pay us a little visit. I want to be certain we give him a proper welcome."

XXX

Incredible… I may as well be invisible. It was broad daylight, in a highly populated section of New York, and yet, no one seemed to even see Otto. With his tattered coat, his scraggly beard, and hat pulled low to hide his features, he looked just like the rest of the homeless that infested the alleyways. No one looked at him; the only indication that anyone knew he was there was when they gave him a wide berth, as if they could catch something by passing too close. It was an invisibility he would have loved to have had in school.

It made the task at hand so much easier. The main office building of Quest Aerospace was a place he'd only been once, when he'd pitched his theories to them before turning to OsCorp. It was where the director had his office, and this was the man Otto wanted to speak to. This was the man in the photo next to his Rosie.

Beneath his coat, the actuators stirred but stayed out of sight. After months of being in hiding, they were anxious for action. It was the only reason they weren't protesting this little venture. "Soon," he muttered, and they stilled. A couple passing him by glanced up, then hurried away.

He walked the perimeter of the Quest building, trying not to be too obvious in his scrutiny. It had several entrances, from the main business entrance to the more secure employee entrances around the back. What do you think?

It is well guarded, and there are security cameras covering the walls, so we would be spotted if we tried climbing up the sides.

Otto leaned his head back, trying to get a good view of the roof. He wished he could climb one of the nearest buildings so he could get a view from the top, but he didn't dare reveal himself, not yet. Tonight… He'd have a plan by tonight. For now, though… it was time to scrounge up a meal. He grimaced in distaste; this daily ritual was a reminder of how far he'd fallen…

The past couple of months had been a real eye-opener for Otto. After waking up on the bank of the East River and realizing he had, somehow, survived, he'd been at a loss for what to do with himself. His dream was over, his wife gone, his life in shambles. He faced jail time for his crimes, and he'd never work in the scientific community again. He'd never fit in among normal humans again. He was left with this pathetic mockery of a life.

Despite the actuators' insistence that they could get him the money he needed to live a comfortable life in seclusion, Otto had wanted nothing to do with it. No more robberies. No more killing. He'd make do with what little money he had left after the bank robbery, and that was it.

Money didn't last long in New York, and soon he was frequenting missions, such as the one on First Avenue. But even that wasn't enough… Worse, his new lifestyle forced him to break his vow not to hurt anyone. Twice, he'd been jumped by people who wanted his coat, and the actuators had instantly gone on the offensive before Otto could stop them.

But at least he was surviving. Before the accident, Otto had been like those people who treated the homeless as if they weren't there. Now that he'd walked in their shoes, he admired their resilience, their refusal to give up on life when the world had given up on them. Among them, he wasn't a freak, he wasn't looked down upon. He was one of them – so long as he kept the actuators hidden.

Best of all, it was a way to die that the actuators couldn't do anything to prevent. They could kill anyone who tried to kill Otto, they could pull him from a river before he drowned, and they could stop him from committing suicide. But this? They didn't know how to force him to take better care of himself; and anyway, they had no idea what he was doing to himself. After all, he'd spent an entire month feverishly rebuilding his machine living on little more than a couple hours of sleep and whatever snacks he could grab from the nearest newsstand; they didn't know that the human body needed more than that.

Now, though… Otto ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall. My Rosie could be alive. He pulled the Daily Bugle out of his pocket, tracing the photo of his beloved wife with his fingers. Rosie… I've missed you so much. If she lived – no, not if, he had to believe that she was, indeed, alive! – then he suddenly had something to live for. He'd find her, and take her away, and somehow they'd make everything work out.

Otto shoved the paper back into his pocket, then fished out the last of his money, a few pieces of change he'd intended to save for when he was truly desperate. Something momentous was going to happen; he could feel it. After tonight, nothing would be the same for him again. He might as well get a real meal before things went down tonight.

XXX

Night fell early, though New York was never truly dark. Otto stood across the road from the Quest building, watching it slowly empty out. When it looked as if business had finally slowed for the evening, Otto made his move.

He entered through the front door. There was no one to stop him, no customers, or even guards. This disturbing lack of security guards confirmed a growing suspicion. The receptionist was tapping away at his keyboard, and he didn't even turn when Otto leaned on the counter and smiled at him. "Can I help you?" the man asked.

Otto glanced around the lobby. Still no security. "I believe Mr. O'Connell wishes to see me."

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked boredly.

"No… But then, I only just got his invitation." For that's what it was; Otto could think of no other reason for Rosie to be in the pictures from the Quest Aerospace press conference except that O'Connell wanted her to be seen. "I believe he may be expecting me."

The receptionist looked up, giving Otto a curious look. His nose wrinkled as he took in Otto's sad condition. "You must be mistaken," the receptionist said, his tone condescending. "Mr. O'Connell has no business with the likes of you. Go find a handout somewhere else."

"Your people skills leave something to be desired," Otto said mildly. "But if you would just tell me where to find Mr. O'Connell's office, I won't need to hurt you."

"I'm calling security," the receptionist said, his hand reaching towards the phone on his desk.

Don't kill him! Otto thought sharply as the actuators pushed their way out of his coat. "I asked you nicely," he said sadly. "Why do we have to do this the hard way?"

The receptionist only had time to make a strange squeaking noise before one of the actuators hit him on the side of the head with a force that made Otto wince. The man fell over sideways onto the floor, and Otto leaned over the desk so he could see the computer screen. A few quick taps, and he was able to bring up the locations of the business offices. Otto glanced downward to make certain the receptionist was still breathing, then headed towards the elevator.

XXX

"Sir, we might have something here."

O'Connell had been absorbed in the stack of paperwork on his lap, but he looked up when the security guard spoke. He had been in the security office for more than an hour, waiting for the moment their 'guest' arrived. He grinned at the guard's words; while he'd been certain Dr. Octavius would come, there was always the chance the man wouldn't take the bait. I love being right…

"What is it?" O'Connell asked, setting the papers aside and getting to his feet.

The security guard pointed to one of the monitors. "This guy just came right on in the front door. He looks like he could just be some bum, but you said to let you know if we saw anything odd."

The man on the monitor was a shaggy giant in a tattered coat, and O'Connell frowned. This couldn't possibly be the great Octavius, could it? The man and the receptionist spoke for a few moments, and O'Connell made a mental note to fire him for his inattentiveness.

And then they appeared. Serpents of metal and circuitry, they fanned out around their host. With breathtaking speed, one of them knocked into the receptionist before turning to Octavius. "Beautiful, aren't they?" O'Connell murmured. He wondered what his predecessor had been thinking when he'd turned down Dr. Octavius's appeal for funding.

"Sound the alert," O'Connell said quietly. "I want everyone in position. Make sure the elevator stops on the tenth floor. C'mon; it's time we greeted our guest."

XXX

The elevator music was going to drive him crazy. The discordant slaughter of what had been a perfectly good Beatles song made Otto want to smash the speakers with the actuators, which were practically quivering in anticipation. Destroying something would take the edge off their eagerness. But he held them in check, thinking all the while that something like "Flight of the Valkyries" would make better entrance music.

He leaned heavily against the wall, shutting his eyes and breathing shallowly. The upper actuators curved around him, cold metal pincers nudging him like anxious dogs. Father? Are you all right? You are trembling.

It's… anticipation, he lied. He wouldn't admit to them that he was afraid. He was afraid of what he'd find, or wouldn't find. If it wasn't Rosie, he didn't know what he'd do. He was hanging on to sanity by a thread; if this was just some cruel trick on O'Connell's part, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

But… what if it was her? Would she welcome him with open arms… or with disgust for what he had become? He wasn't the man she'd married, and he never would be again, no matter how hard he tried. Her rejection would break him.

The elevator ground to a halt, and Otto's eyes shot open. He'd managed to make it up to the tenth floor without picking up any passengers, and he'd hoped that would continue all the way up to O'Connell's office. He didn't want to hurt any more innocents, but he would if the need arose.

The doors slid open. No one was standing outside. Irritated, Otto hit the button for O'Connell's floor, but the elevator remained immobile. A trap, Otto thought grimly. Is there a way out of here?

The actuators examined the elevator carefully. We could easily smash our way through the floor or ceiling and climb the shaft walls.

Since the elevator showed no sign of moving, Otto remained inside, peering through the door. Beyond was darkness, though the actuators would be able to guide him with little difficulty. I think we'll just leave through the door. Mr. O'Connell went to great lengths to bring me here. I don't think he'd do this if he wanted me dead.

You don't know for that for certain; it could be coincidence. Do not let your emotions overcome your caution. It may not be her.

Otto clenched his teeth. What are the odds that this is all just a coincidence? he asked.

The actuators were silent for a long moment. Since he knew they could calculate odds in less time than it took for him to ask, he guessed they were reluctant to answer. The odds that this is a coincidence are one in a million. We agree that he wants you. However, you shouldn't be so confident that he wants you alive; perhaps you have done something to his company, and he brought you here to kill you.

Then you'll just have to make certain he doesn't get that opportunity. But I have a hunch that he wants me for something other than revenge. The actuators stirred restlessly; instinctual feelings such as 'hunches' were not something that they trusted.

Maybe it isn't revenge, then. Maybe he wants to take us from you. Quest is a company that would benefit from having us, yes? We should go up – or leave this place entirely!

Otto stepped out of the elevator, ignoring the actuators' hisses of displeasure. Although they craved action, they thought he was being a fool. You will get us killed this way!

He decided not to point out that their tactics for robbing a bank – just walking inside in broad daylight with no thought for security – were little better than his decision to walk headlong into the obvious trap. Let us take you up the elevator shaft! We will surprise this O'Connell and force him to give us what you want!

The elevator opened into a corridor lined with what looked like several glassed-in laboratories, though a peek into the nearest revealed that it was empty. All of them were, and Otto realized why after taking a few steps: the entire tenth floor was in the middle of being renovated. The four labs closest to the door were intact, but beyond that was a wide, open area where walls had been knocked down. There were piles of rubble and stacks of building materials, framed-in areas covered with plastic, tables littered with tools… There were far too many places for people to hide. The only lights were a series of fluorescent strips at the far end of the cleared area.

The actuators had ceased their protests and focused on getting them through this alive. The upper two had switched on their heat sensors and slowly scanned the area around him for ambushers, while the lower two were tensed, ready to strike. The metal spike sprang from the throat of the lower right with a metallic scrape that seemed unnaturally loud in the empty space.

There are five men behind that wall, the actuators informed him. He could suddenly see through the upper left's camera eye, revealing the orange blotches of their heat signatures. He continued to walk forward despite the distraction of the image partially obscuring his vision. There are two more behind that pile of lumber to the right, and six in various positions ahead of us. He was disoriented when the images from the upper right's camera flooded his mind, merging with the images relayed by the upper left and giving him a nearly 360-degree view.

What do you want us to do, Father?

Otto blinked as the heat images disappeared, leaving him once again with his own dim vision. Let's see what they want, shall we? At his command, one actuator lashed out, knocking into the pile of lumber and sending the two men behind it running. The actuator picked up a claw-full of two-by-fours and flung them forward. He was rewarded by the screams of one of the men in hiding. Otto grimaced; he hadn't intended to hit any of them.

There are more men, closing in on us and blocking off our escape. They are staying out of our range. They are all very heavily armed.

But they aren't firing. Which means that they do want me alive. "I'm here to speak to your boss," Otto said loudly, his voice dropping into a low growl. "I assume he didn't go to all this effort to bring me here to have me killed." The actuators weaved through the air around him, doing their best to be menacing. The soft clicks made by their motion were the only sounds for a long moment.

"Dr. Octavius," a voice said from behind the line of armed guards ahead of him. The lights above him came on, and Otto winced. Even with his sunglasses on, the abrupt change from darkness to light was enough to make his eyes water.

A young man pushed through the guards and stood before Otto, though he was careful to keep out of the actuators' reach. "I'm Steven O'Connell, director of Quest Aerospace." There was a phony smile plastered on his face. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Where is she?" Otto hissed.

"She's safe," O'Connell said. "We have no plans to harm her." Yet, he didn't say, but something about the man's attitude suggested it. O'Connell turned to one of the guards beside him. "Mr. Ross, would you please fetch Mrs. Octavius?" The guard gave him a sharp nod and hurried off.

"Then… she's alive?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. The hope in his voice didn't fit the image he was trying to project, and could only be used against him. The actuators were right; his emotions would get them into trouble.

"Yes, though you must understand, the accident left her a little… damaged," O'Connell said.

Otto didn't hear anything past the 'yes.' His Rosie was alive, she was here, and they were bringing her to him! He'd grab her and smash his way out of this place, and they'd leave this city and try to lead a normal life… No, worry about this later.

"Why do you have her?" Otto demanded. "No, I know the answer to that… you wanted to get to me." O'Connell nodded. "Why?"

"Do you really need to ask? You're one of the most brilliant scientists alive; Quest Aerospace could benefit from your contributions."

"I'm also a wanted criminal and a madman who listens to the voices in his head," Otto said flatly. The actuators curled around him, their 'eyes' focused on O'Connell. "I'm a very dangerous man, Mr. O'Connell."

"So am I." O'Connell dropped his friendly demeanor. "I will have your help, preferably given willingly. But, if necessary, I can make do with what my scientists can figure out once we pull those smart arms of yours from your corpse." He gestured around him. "There are enough of my men here armed with armor piercing bullets and explosive rounds to take you down if I give the command. While I'm sure your creations could stop some of the bullets, I doubt they'd be able to protect you from all of them."

He speaks the truth; many more men have entered during this conversation, and all of them are out of our reach. We're trapped. There was an accusatory note in their harmonic voices, but Otto didn't apologize. He'd come here for one purpose: to see his wife. And if O'Connell really did have her, then he would listen to what this man had to say.

"Of course," O'Connell continued, "I'd prefer not to harm you unless it's absolutely necessary. That's why I've made Mrs. Octavius my guest."

Rage surged through him; he wanted to lunge forward and snap O'Connell's neck with his bare hands. He couldn't believe that his man was so casually talking about hurting Rosie! He ground his teeth, and the actuators tensed, waiting for the order. But he fought down the urge. Killing O'Connell would be satisfying, but the gunmen would mow him down before he could find Rosie. "What do you want?" he asked hollowly.

Before O'Connell could answer, one of the men behind him murmured something, and O'Connell moved aside to let two people through. One was the guard he'd sent off, and the other… the other…

It was her. He wasn't dreaming; he knew that mane of dark, honey hair, the graceful lines of her body, the beautiful, gentle face… Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, and there was something strangely empty in her normally lively features, but he didn't care. It was Rosie, his Rosie, here, alive! He took a step towards her, ignoring the tensing of the guards around him. They no longer mattered; nothing mattered except Rosie. He whispered her name and held his hand out to her.

She finally seemed to notice him, her gaze flicking to his hand before her eyes rose to meet his. He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

For a long second, there was nothing. Then her eyes widened, and her lips parted in an ear-splitting scream. She whirled and ran, pushing past two baffled security guards who reacted too late to stop her. O'Connell and his men stared in the direction she'd run, clearly thrown by her reaction. Otto could have ordered the actuators to kill them all then, and they wouldn't have been able to stop him in time. But he didn't; he couldn't. Rosie's scream still echoed in his mind, drowning all rational thought. She'd been scared of him… scared! He'd thought that rejection was the worst thing that could possibly happen, but he was wrong. Her terror was like a knife to his already-broken heart.

To Be Continued…

The end seemed too rushed to me, but I couldn't get it to work out. Maybe I'll fix it later, if I can come up with a better way to do it, but for now, you'll have to live with it. It's gonna drive me nuts, though…