Chapter Eleven
Doc Ock struggled to regain consciousness. The slight murmur of voices streamed through his ears once in a while breaking the silence. His tentacles remained quiet and graciously allowed him to sleep. Doc Ock tried to lift his hand to rub his eyes, but found it impossible.
With this new information, he shot his eyes open. He was strapped to a tilted metal table. Metal bonds held each of his limbs sturdy. Otto struggled to no use.
It was as if his appendages had been asleep along with him for once he realized what had happened, they became conscious that they were held steadfast to the ground with metal strands that gripped their heads.
Help! We can't get out!
We're stuck!
Help us! They panicked.
Otto couldn't get them out either. These locks are too strong for my hands. Can't you break free? Aren't you strong enough?
Yes. We're strong enough, but this isn't a good position.
If but one of us were free, we all could get out.
And then break your bonds.
Try harder. He pleaded them. Otto watched concernedly as his tentacles pulled their hardest.
A man slowly emerged from the shadows of the empty room (they had placed him in a separate section of the building to keep him away from the other prisoners). "Well, Doc Ock. So the game finally ends. We've got you at last." He smiled cruelly.
"There was a game going on?" he asked cockily.
"Oh aren't you smart today." The rough looking man commented annoyed reaching over for a remote control. He pointed it at the wall and pushed a button. A screen came out and security footage began showing. A destroyed car, stolen products, and a trashed restaurant. Doc Ock watched the screen without emotion. "That was from over this summer." Another screen came down. "And this one's from your reign." Almost the same thing rolled across that screen. Doc Ock watched it. A taxi cab through the window of a restaurant, the hour hand torn from the clock tower, a robbed bank – these didn't startle him in the least bit. The last one showed across the screen – the hospital room. On the screen lay many people dead, some of which were rather grusum. He was disturbed by the sight, but not guilty of anything. Otto knew he should have cared more about it, but he couldn't. It was as if that part of his brain had shut down over the years.
The man paused the two screens to compare them. "These techniques are exactly the same." He observed.
"Your point?" Doc Ock asked.
"My point is you did both crimes. Isn't that right?" he asked.
"What? No! I haven't committed a crime for around fourteen years!" Otto defended.
"And how are you going to prove that? What makes you think that I'd even consider buying that?" the driller asked.
"Well, if you did your job and investigated the crime scene, you just might find fingerprints." He snapped back.
"Well, who's to say you didn't just use your tentacles? You wouldn't leave any prints then, now would you?"
"For your information, I always prefer to carry the item in my natural hands if possible."
"That wasn't my question, Ock." The interrogator snarled.
"Too bad. That was my answer." Otto glared. Doc Ock had lost most of his respect for the police. After his hard time with them witch-hunting him down, even though he knew that they had the right to and that they were doing the right thing, he still didn't think of them as his friends. In his eyes they were the same as everyone else – they didn't understand or protect him – the only difference was that they carried guns – which he had lost fear of.
"That tongue's gonna get you into trouble." He commented.
"Looks like it already has. But this is probably homey for you, isn't it?"
"No. Believe it or not, I actually have a nice home and family. But his is what your home looks like no doubt." The interrogator said.
"Well, believe it or not, I have a loving family waiting for me at home" Otto snapped.
"That's impossible. How could you support a family when you can't even respect someone else's life?"
"I do respect others' lives!" Doc Ock defended.
Neither of them realized it, but this unorthodox form of interrogation was working like a charm. Although that wasn't the method being used, by insulting and correcting, the interrogator had learned much behind the scenes of the one he was interrogating.
"You're getting off the subject. Tell me the truth. Did you commit these crimes?" the man demanded.
"No." Doc Ock replied.
"Don't play with me, I want the truth!" he yelled.
"I told you the truth!" Doc Ock yelled back.
"How about you stop deceiving and tell it right?"
"How about I stab you through and throw you out the window? I just told you I didn't do it! What more do you want?" Doc Ock glared at the interrogator. The man was quiet obviously ticked off by this comment.
"You need to lighten up and tell it straight." The interrogator calmly stated.
"You want my day in full? I'll give it to you: I woke up at six this morning to work on a project. Then ate breakfast. I went back to working, and then set off to get my daughter from her friend's house, and then…oh yah…I was shot by one of your staff's goons! And then I had to talk to this annoying interrogator with a tacky good cop/bad cop act."
"You're digging yourself into a hole, Ock."
"No, I'm digging you one. You've almost run out of threats, haven't you?" Doc Ock asked.
The interrogator got up in Otto's face." Look, you're making it harder on both of us. Why don't you just cooperate?"
Although hated the cop might have been, Otto knew he was right. He had gotten carried away with his pride that he had forgotten about clearing his name; and a death threat might not have been the best way to do that. "Ok listen, all I want is to be released back to my family. I didn't do those crimes." Otto stated calmly and peacefully. The interrogator was quiet and stared at him. "What am I supposed to do to clear my name? I've given you the truth." He said a little annoyed.
The man crossed his arms. He looked into Doc Ock's eyes trying to decide whether to believe him or not. He had done so many crimes, who wasn't to say he wasn't just putting on an act? The man had already been emotionally scarred by Ock; his wife was the Chinese woman in the operating room that one night. His feelings of anger were getting in the way of his judgment. "I'm not buying it." He said.
"I—what do I have to do to prove my innocence? Just tell me." Otto pleaded.
"I don't think you can. Where I'm standing, you're guilty. But, you are a citizen…technically." Otto looked at him strangely. "So, whether or not you deserve it, you get a trial Friday. Until then, you're staying right here." The interrogator said unlatching Doc Ock's hands.
Otto pulled them out quickly and rubbed his wrists; the bonds had been tight and uncomfortable. His wrists were blistered and sore because of the extent that he had been strung there. The man clasped them together with handcuffs. "And buddy, I know you can get out of here and all, but I would suggest staying put if you want to even have a chance at being declared a free man."
Doc Ock sighed in defeat as the man unlatched the bonds from his stomach, knees, and ankles; he stepped down the small metal steps coming down from the metal table. The interrogator pushed a button releasing his tentacles. They lashed out but Doc Ock told them to behave.
The man led him down the hallways to his cell.
We must get out.
You know that.
We're getting out tonight.
We will be free.
That way we will get back on task.
No. We have to stay here. Doc Ock said reluctantly.
The man opened an empty cell door. Doc Ock slowly walked inside. The man closed the door and walked off.
Doc Ock sat down on the bed with a sigh. He hated this. He knew he could free himself in a second- like he used to- but he had to go the long way- the right way.
Why are we staying here?
"Because we need to. It's the only way to get out." Doc Ock answered.
But that doesn't make sense. The way to get out…is to get out.
Staying put won't get us anywhere.
Is this another one of those human customs?
"Yes." He answered with a sigh. "Well, we have enough time, we could work on writing out notes." The tentacles searched the room and found a dusty notebook wedged in the wall with a pen.
They brought it to him and he opened it. It was a diary of the previous prisoner. "'July 12, 1993:
'I have often wondered if my cat powers enriched a taste for tuna. I'll find out soon enough for today's tuna day in the lunchroom.
'-Cat Woman' interesting." He commented tearing the page out, crumpling it up, and throwing it on the floor. The diary entry would have intrigued him more, but he had no time to read some prisoner's written feelings, he had work to do. Doc Ock uncapped the pen, put it to the dusty, stained paper, and wrote.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWw
A few hours had passed and Otto continued writing. This new project he was working on wasn't going to fail, not like last time. This time it was going to work; he was going to regain his title.
All of a sudden he heard an explosion from down the hall. Otto jumped up and ran to the prison door. He clasped the metal bars in his hands and stuck his bottom left tentacle between the bars to find out what was going on. After a few seconds, it came back and looked at him.
It's our daughter. It replied.
My daughter! He corrected them trying to see around the corner for himself.
"Put your hands up!" a policeman yelled running past Doc Ock's cell with a gun. Otto grabbed the officer with one of his tentacles and banged him against the bars. He dropped him to the ground and reached into his hand. Otto took the gun and hid it under his pillow.
More men ran past with guns. Otto grew nervous; if he stayed put, his daughter might get shot. If he broke out to rescue her, he might never see her again.
We need to get out.
Our daughter needs us.
Doc Ock toyed with the bottom of his shirt uncertain of what to do. Shots rang out and Anna screamed. Otto gave into the tentacles influence and tore the cell door open. He ran out ready to give his life if necessary. "Don't you touch my Anna!" he yelled as he turned the corner, but all was silent.
His eyes grew in horror and he pulled back. Anna was standing in the middle of a defeated army lying on the ground. She wore Otto's trench coat, hat, and sunglasses. Otto gasped at the sight; she looked just like him – in the image he had tried so hard to prevent.
Anna's tentacles noticed Otto first and turned towards him. Anna looked up nervously. "Anna, I…I" Doc Ock was speechless.
"Come on Dad, we need to go." She said taking his hand and pulling him along.
"But Anna, you—you," Otto began again. He felt so disappointed. His daughter had killed. Anna, his little girl, not so helpless anymore.
"We need to hurry. Before they send reinforcements." She stated hurriedly. She didn't even seem to care about the deaths.
She's been listening. He thought as he pulled away. "I have to stay here." Otto stated.
"No you don't, because I'm here. Please Dad? We want you home." She said, her voice quivering.
Otto pulled her closer and hugged her. After a few moments of silence he set her squarely in front of her. "Anna, staying here is the only way out. I have a chance to clear my name and, by jove, I'm going to take it."
"But what if they don't free you?" Anna asked as tears built up.
Otto paused, "…Well let's not think about that right now. The reinforcements aren't here yet, so let's talk. How's your friend…uh…Hillary?" he asked wiping them away.
"Fine. She's doing fine." Anna squeaked.
"Is Mom ok?" he asked concerned.
"She was really worried about you."
"And I her." He answered with a smile. Otto's eyes trailed down to his daughter's leg, which was wrapped in a bandage from the knee down. "What happened to your leg?" he asked as one of his tentacles curiously lifted the edge of it. Another one scanned it.
"Oh, it's nothing." Anna assured him as one of her tentacles pushed Doc Ock's tentacle away from her leg.
She was shot. There are traces of led in the wound.
"I'm told you were shot." He said with a face of solitude.
"I'm fine. Mr. Parker took care of it." She stated lowering her eyes in thought.
Father obviously doesn't realize what he's in. Anna's tentacles said. They knew Otto as "father" because that was what Anna referred to him as.
He is troubled.
Being home will clear his thoughts.
We want to speak to them! Please let us! Otto's tentacles pleaded.
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please…
Otto sighed and rubbed his eyes. Fine. But only one send and return. He looked up at his daughter. "My appendages wish to speak with yours. It's degrading, and pretty stupid, but could you speak for them?" he sighed embarrassedly.
Anna shrugged. "Uh, this is kind of a bad time, don't you think? We were talking." She said with a broken face. She wanted to talk to her dad before he had to go. Anna knew that he probably wasn't going to be freed; this may have been her last chance to talk to him freely.
"Just one comment. Please, Anna?" Otto pleaded.
Anna sighed. "Ok."
Otto was quiet waiting for his tentacles to make the decision of what one question to ask their children. "They ask: 'what are yours working on, and how is it coming along?'"
Anna answered, "They answer: 'An algebra chapter and it's going superbly.'"
See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?
You're lucky that I did that for you. Don't push it. "So back to us, how's school going?" before Anna could answer, a dart shot and stuck into Otto's neck. He cringed in pain and turned to see an officer crouched behind a corner. "What is up with you and injections!" he exclaimed tearing the needle from his skin and crushing it on the floor.
Forgetting his goal to be a good example to Anna, Doc Ock threw a tentacle at the man. He rolled out of the way. Otto had just launched another when he heard guns click as if being loaded by at least twenty men. He turned slowly around and, behold, standing there were many policemen holding guns on him. "Get out of here, Anna." He commanded as he made ready to defend himself.
"No, I want to stay here with you." She protested grabbing his arm.
"I gave you an order! Now go!" he yelled. Anna stepped back startled. She then ran out of the room in tears. Anna got out but sat atop a neighboring building and, looking in slightly at her father trying to fight off the police, saw him become slower and slower until eventually he collapsed and the men drug him to a jail cell. Disturbed by this, Anna looked away; she felt she could have prevented it.
We could have stopped it.
But you insisted on listening to father.
We knew what was good for him, but no one listened. They lectured.
"You're right." She admitted. "We could've stopped it. But we didn't. Now it's too late." Anna assured herself. After the scene was all over, she climbed down and headed for home.