Chapter Six: Unstable

1:20 am...

By this time, Kraven was perched atop a rooftop across the street from Octavius' lab, watching the situation going on inside. There were two women talking; the wife and a black-haired lady he hadn't heard of. He was waiting for Octavius to show himself, but he hadn't yet.

So he descended to ground level, ran across the street, and positioned himself outside the window, listening to the conversation inside...

xxx

"I don't understand it." Rosie said, pacing the floor. "Why would he just take off without telling me? I mean, I walked out of the room, and I was only gone for maybe half an hour, and he was gone."

"Maybe he just didn't want any interference?" Carolyn suggested, leaning against the desk, a mug of coffee in hand. "I mean, if he's going after a man he intends to kill, maybe he doesn't want to get you involved?"

"That's what I was thinking." Rosie replied as she stopped pacing and walked over to the desk, picking up the note. "But if that's true, why'd he tell me the alias he's using? I could find him that way."

"I really don't know. Did you call the cops? Maybe they can help to find him."

At that, Rosie mentally kicked herself; why hadn't she thought of that?

"No, I didn't... I guess I forgot to do that."

"You didn't think to call the police!" Carolyn said, looking over at her, bewildered.

"No, I was still panicking!" Rosie said, somewhat defensively. "I'll do that now, though."

She walked over to the phone and picked it up, dialing the number of Precinct Ninety-Two...

xxx

When the phone on Capt. Stacy's desk rang, his first thought was to throw it across the room. He was just about ready to leave for the night; why did someone have to call now?

He picked up the phone and said, "Precinct Ninety-Two, Capt. Stacy speaking."

"This is Rosie Octavius, and I have a problem..."

The Capt. had a bad feeling about that as he asked, "This is about Otto, isn't it?"

"Yes, he's gone!" Rosie said, a fearful tone in her voice. "I don't know where he's at!"

"How long ago did he disappear?" The Capt. asked.

"I'd say about an hour and a half ago. I'm worried about him; he just took off without telling me! He never does that!"

"Wait, he left by choice?"

"Yes!" Rosie replied, now sounding on the verge of tears. "He's going after the man responsible for his friend's death, with the intention to kill him!"

"What! Are you serious?" The Capt. asked, horrified now.

"I'm positive!" she said. She was crying now; he could hear it. "Someone has to stop him! I-I'm not sure he's even in his right mind! He's been extremely... unstable, I guess you could call it, for the last week! I think he's been pushed over the edge somehow!"

"Oh, my God..." the Capt. said, putting his hand to his forehead. He didn't want to think that Octavius was actually capable of murder; but then again, he'd killed the Chameleon a week ago. They had dismissed that as temporary insanity, but now he was hunting down another man with intention to kill...!

"We'll find him. I promise." he said.

"Thank you. But I have to ask a favor; if you find him, take me to him. I think I'm the only person who can talk sense into him, now."

I'll make sure of it." the Capt. said. "I'll call if I find out anything."

And with that, he hung up the phone. It would obviously be a while longer before he could go home tonight.

xxx

Outside the window of the lab, Kraven could not believe what he'd just heard. He came all the way here to eliminate Octavius, only to find he had already disappeared!

He got on his two-way and contacted the boss.

"Uh, boss? There seems to be a situation."

"And what situation might that be?" the mastermind said, annoyed.

"...Octavius isn't here. He apparently took off an hour and a half ago."

"WHAAAAAT?"

"Exactly what I said! I think he's coming after you!"

"FIND HIM! And pass this information along to the Vulture as well! We need an eye in the sky to find him, now!"

The mastermind clicked off, leaving Kraven to get in touch with the Vulture...

xxx

A few minutes later, the Vulture was flying low over the city, looking for the eight-limbed one who had eluded him a week ago. He still had a score to settle; after all, Octavius had broken his nose when he struck him in the face.

"Any sight of him?" the mastermind asked over the Vulture's two-way.

"Nothing yet, boss." he replied. "I'm looking, though. Maybe I'm just in the wrong part of-"

He was cut-off in mid-sentence as someone, or something, snatched him out of the air. He barely had time to comprehend what had happened before both arms were pinned behind his back and he was being shoved face first into the nearest brick wall, further damaging his already broken nose. Whoever the man was, he did not want to be seen; he took care not to wander into the Vulture's line of sight.

"Alright, listen here, you sorry excuse for a man." the unknown figure said, in a low voice that he did not recognize, but in an accent that sounded vaguely familiar. "I want some information, and I'm going to get it. If not, I'll break more than just your nose."

"You think you're intimidating me?" the Vulture said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I've faced worse than-"

Whatever he was about to say turned into a scream of pain as the man who held him twisted his arm back, breaking it.

"As I said, I want some information. Next it will be your leg. After that, maybe your back. Are you willing to talk now?"

"Yes, yes!" the Vulture shouted, wishing that whoever had ahold of him would just get on with it.

"I want to know who has a hit out for Otto Octavius. Now start talking."

At that instant, the Vulture knew who had ahold of him, and he really wished he would just die before the man did anything else.

"I-I-I don't know! I don't k-know his real name!"

"I know you know!" the man snarled, striking the Vulture upside the head hard enough to make him see stars for a moment. "Now tell me!"

"Don't do this to me, Octavius! I told you, I don't know!"

"You're lying!" Octavius shouted as he threw him into the wall, evidently deciding that it didn't matter if the Vulture saw him. It was obvious that the Vulture had recognized him; he called him by name. "It is never a good idea to lie to me, particularly in light of the way my last week has been!"

The Vulture impacted against the wall, momentarily stunned, not yet willing to get to his feet.

"I really don't know!" Vulture shrieked, frightened out of his mind. "He uses an alias; he's never told me his real name!"

"What is his alias?" Octavius asked, snatching the Vulture up by the front of his bird suit, a cold glare on his face. "And again, you had better not lie to me."

"H-He calls himself the Scrier." The Vulture stammered, looking down at him. "He's got another man out looking for you as well, right now."

"And who might that be?"

"H-His name is Kraven. He was sent over to your lab to look for you."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, the Scrier sent him there to eliminate you, but you were already gone."

"Is he still there?"

"P-Probably." the Vulture finished.

"You know, you should consider yourself lucky." Octavius said, that same glare still on his face.

"Why?" The Vulture asked, suddenly more afraid then he was mere moments ago.

"Because if you didn't tell me what I wanted to know, your death would have been a lot worse." Octavius said, before throwing the Vulture from the rooftop.

And with his arm broken, the Vulture was not able to fly himself to safety; instead, he hit the ground fifteen stories below, and was killed on impact.

Octavius looked down over the edge of the rooftop at the Vulture's broken body, knowing that he had done what needed to be done; the Vulture had seen his face and knew his name. He would have undoubtedly told his boss of the plan against him.

Still, the Chameleon had been one thing; the Vulture was only a nonentity; a cog in a much bigger machine.

Then again, so was Smerdyakov, and look at all of the damage he's done, Octavius thought coldly before taking off in the direction of his lab, to catch Kraven before he managed to escape.

Or worse... before he decided to do something bad to Rosie...

xxx

Meanwhile, Kraven was still outside the lab. He had been awaiting orders from the Scrier on what to do next. Finally, the boss had contacted him with his next set of instructions: to eliminate the wife, and the black-haired woman with her.

He was waiting for the right moment to strike. Finally, the two women had turned their heads away for a moment, and he reared his fist back to break the window and enter the building.

But before he could strike, someone landed behind him, caught him by the fist, and threw him into the wall.

The two women turned towards the commotion, wondering what the sound was, but not daring to walk over to find out.

Kraven did not have time to react as whoever had attacked him picked him up and slammed him into the wall again.

"So, you must be Kraven." the man said as he dropped him to the ground, glaring down at him. "Might I ask what you think you're doing around here? Thinking about entering this building, are you? Maybe thinking about harming the people inside?" He picked Kraven up by the leg, holding him upside down, shaking him roughly. He finally brought him to his eye level, and Kraven could see the look of pure rage that had crossed his attacker's face. It stunned him, even more so than the fact that he was being beaten by the very man he had been sent to assassinate. "This was a horrible mistake on your part, because I will not lose anybody else close to me! Do you hear me!"

The mercenary could not respond as Octavius threw him into the air, before smacking him into the wall much like one would hit a baseball.

Kraven did not have time to even hit the ground as he was snatched out of the air by his assailant, who had started hitting him with both fists and actuators. The blows were coming so fast, and with such fury, that Kraven did not have time to throw a punch himself.

Finally, Kraven lay on the ground, at the feet of his assailant, unconscious and barely breathing. Octavius stood there for a moment, not noticing that Rosie and Carolyn were now standing at the window, staring at him.

"My God, I think that's Otto!" Rosie could be heard saying from inside the lab.

Octavius turned towards the window at the words, before he took off running down the side street, disappearing into the night.

Rosie ran out of the lab, trying to call him back, but it was no use. Octavius either didn't hear her, or just chose not to respond.

At that, she broke down in tears. She didn't know what it was, but there was something that was definitely not right with Octavius. She knew this for certain, now.

She stood there a minute before walking back into the lab. She really didn't know what else to do...

xxx

Octavius was several blocks away, having taken to the rooftops on the actuators, before he stopped to think about his current situation. He still did not have a solid course of action against the mastermind, who he now knew called himself the Scrier.

First, I need a place to hide until this is over. he thought, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. I'll need a way to find the location of this 'Scrier' person. And I'll need to find a way to cover my tracks; surely the police have found the Vulture's body by now, and they'll know it's me who killed him...

...God, I've killed two, maybe three, people in the last week! What's happened to me?

At that thought, Octavius picked up a nearby chunk of brick, knocked loose by the impact of the actuators on the roof, and threw it as hard as he could in frustration. He put his hand to his head and thought, I may have done some things in the past, even though the end justified the means, and they dropped the charges, but they'll never let me off for murder! This could be the end of my career! This could mean the end of my life!

...well, I've come too far to back out now. he thought, his head in his hands, unable to believe that the situation had come to this.

xxx

20 minutes later...

By this time, Rosie had set up the police scanner that she and Curt had set up during the fiasco with Osborn two years ago. She wanted to know if any new developments came up involving her husband, and she wanted to know if, or when, they found him.

She and Carolyn were currently upstairs, where they had set it up, sitting at the table, keeping an ear out for anything that sounded promising. They were talking as well, mostly to pass the time.

"You know, I have to ask..." Carolyn started, taking a sip of her third cup of coffee that night, "...has he always been like this? I mean, this determined? Enough that, in order to avenge his friend, he'd kill someone to do it?"

"No, actually." Rosie said, her head resting against her closed fist. "The closest he came was when he was fighting Norman Osborn two years ago. But he hadn't killed Osborn; merely defeated him, to turn him over to the police. But I think this incident was too much for him. Last time we talked, I got the impression that he believes he's responsible for Curt's death."

"Why would he think that?" Carolyn asked, a confused expression on her face.

"Because, a year ago, I was abducted by the Russian intelligence service." Rosie said. "Him and Curt came to Moscow to find me. In the process, Curt shot the Chameleon, because he was going to do the same to Otto. If Curt hadn't gone to Moscow, he wouldn't have even known who the Chameleon was."

"And Otto thinks he's the cause of it?"

"He asked Curt to come along. Because of it, he feels he's responsible."

At that, the two of them fell silent, just in time to hear a squawk come across the police scanner.

"...we have a one-eighty-seven in the Lower West Side, a man in a green bird suit found dead in a back street..."

The two of them listened closely. This sounded bad...

"...appears to have been thrown from the rooftop..."

"My God..." Rosie whispered, horrified. She knew only one man could have done this...

"...current suspect is Otto Octavius, who was spotted in the area..."

"NO!" Rosie said, standing up abruptly, walking over to the window. "He couldn't have done this! Please, tell me he wouldn't do this!"

The report wound down, but Rosie could still hear the words spoken in her head. He couldn't do this, wouldn't do this!

Would he?

"It has to be a mistake." she said, walking back to the table. "Otto wouldn't do this! I know he wouldn't!"

"Well, you did say he didn't seem right lately..." Carolyn said, unwilling to believe it, either. "Maybe he really has been pushed over the edge."

"But I know him! He couldn't!" Rosie responded, taking a seat, tears rolling down her face. "I don't understand..."

xxx

Meanwhile, having found an unoccupied apartment to hide for the night, Octavius had heard that report as well, having 'acquired' a police scanner from an empty squad car a few blocks away.

Damn it! They already know it was me! he thought, shaking his head as he leaned back in the room's lone recliner, a glass of scotch in hand, the now-empty bottle lying on the floor. Then again, how could they not? I'm pretty sure by now, the police know the situation with my disappearance; Rosie probably filed a missing persons report, or something.

He walked over to the window, a bit unsteadily, pushing the curtains aside, looking out over the city and the light snow now falling.

Well, I suppose the first thing I ought to do is go around the city, searching for anyone who may know anything about him. Chances are, someone has to know his name, or at least where he lives. And if nobody knows, I may have to search the police records for anyone with the alias 'Scrier'; chances are, he's got a criminal record, and that alias may be on record somewhere... I'd probably be better off saving that as a last resort; I don't need to add breaking into a government building to my list of charges.

Satisfied with the plan he'd formulated, he walked over to the battered couch and flopped unceremoniously onto it, ignoring the sting of the actuators after having fallen directly on them. He hoped to be able to sleep peacefully tonight, but he knew that, more than likely, the nightmare he'd been having would intrude again.

Nevertheless, within twenty minutes, he was out like a light.

xxx

In his dream, he saw the scene that night replayed; he saw the shot hit his friend, the stunned look on his face as he fell to the ground, lifeless, his eyes staring into nothingness.

But in this dream, the man with the gun wasn't the Chameleon; it was Octavius himself!

And, throughout the dream, he could hear Curt's voice saying, "You did this to me... how could you do this? You cost me my life..."

xxx

Octavius sat bolt upright on the couch in a cold sweat, screaming as loud as he could. It was a moment before he was able to calm himself down. He hadn't seen the dream played out like that before; that was worse than all the others had been.

He put his head in his hands, trying to block the nightmarish images from his head. He could still hear Curt's voice speaking in his head, a remnant of the dream that he could do without.

I need to get out of here for a bit. he thought. I need to clear my head.

Making his way out of the apartment window that he had originally entered through, he silently made his way along the rooftops, keeping out of sight of those who were still out at this late hour of the night. He had hoped that, by getting up and into the cold winter air that night, that he'd be able to clear his head, but instead, the dream kept replaying itself in his head, getting more horrifying with each repeat.

"God, it won't go away!" he said, running frantically along the rooftop on all four actuators, clutching his head, overcome with panic. "Make it stop!"

Suddenly, he found himself falling towards the ground, five stories below. He had overshot one of his leaps and missed the next building entirely. He screamed as the ground rushed up to meet him.

But, instead of what would likely be a fatal impact with the concrete, he landed in a giant snow drift. Unfortunately, he landed wrong, and heard a sickening pop and felt a horrific flash of pain as his left shoulder tore loose from its socket.

His right hand shot up to his damaged shoulder, and he looked around through a red haze of pain, only vaguely aware that he was screaming. There were only a few people around.

But in his current state of mind, combining the pain of his injured shoulder, the adrenaline rush of having fallen from fifty feet up, and the entire bottle of scotch he had gone through earlier, he could barely think straight to come up with a plan of escape.

Still screaming, he did not yet make a move to get up, and he barely realized it when a man walked up to him and asked, "Hey, are you alright, buddy?"

"M-My arm..." he managed to say, shivering. "I-It's hurt... I think I broke it..."

The man looked concerned as he carefully helped the injured scientist to his feet. He said, "How'd you do that?"

"F-Fell from the r-roof..." Octavius said, trying to stay on his feet, cradling his dislocated arm. He was suddenly starting to feel very dizzy. "Oh God, my head... think I hit my head, too..." He shook his head to fight off the blackness that had started to border the edge of his vision.

"The roof!" the man yelped, pushing his light blond hair out of his face. "Look, I can help. You don't look like you're in any condition to try and get to a hospital. My apartment's right over there-"

The man did not have time to finish his sentence as Octavius pitched forward, no longer able to stay on his feet.

The man caught him, gently laid him on the ground, and removed his sunglasses so he could look him in the eyes. He said, "Hey, can you hear me? You've got to stay awake. You've probably got a concussion. I'm going to help you."

Octavius opened his eyes, which the man noticed were bloodshot, and said, "F-Fine... just don't... don't try anything stupid..."

Oh, God... the man thought as he helped Octavius to his feet once more, and escorted the very disoriented scientist to his apartment. What have you gone through?

xxx

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Octavius remembered was waking up on the couch, his arm in a sling, his trenchcoat lying on a table across the room. He had a ferocious headache; he was starting to think more and more that he had a concussion.

"You're awake? Finally."

At the voice, Octavius tried to sit upright, but the pounding in his skull intensified, and he laid back down quickly.

"Oh, God. This is not a good feeling at all..." he muttered as he put his hand to his head.

The man walked over to him and asked, "How you feeling?"

"Like someone struck me in the head with a sledgehammer." was Octavius' reply.

"Um, yeah, about that..." the man said. "You have a pretty decent concussion, my friend. I don't know what you struck your head on. Maybe it was just the force of impact?"

"You had better be joking." Octavius said, staring at the man with a look of disbelief.

"I wish I was." he replied as he handed Octavius a glass of something. "Here. I think it'll help with the pain."

Octavius took the glass, took a look at the contents, then handed it back to him.

"No, thank you. Think I've had enough to drink tonight as it is."

"If you say so." the man said as he drank the contents himself, then set the glass on a nearby table. "What's your name, anyways?"

There was silence for a moment before Octavius asked, "You promise not to call the police?"

"Call the police?" the man asked, confused. "About what?"

"Never mind." was Octavius' reply. "My name's Otto. Dr. Otto Octavius."

The man was silent a moment before a look of recognition lit up his face.

"As in the famous atomic scientist!" he asked, wide-eyed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"No freaking way!" the man said. "I don't know why I didn't see the resemblance sooner!"

"I take it you're a fan?" Octavius asked, eyebrow cocked. Why did these moments of recognition always come at awkward times?

"Oh, definitely!" the man said, shaking his hand. "My name's Brigham Fontaine. I've followed your work for years. This is awkward... what happened to you?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yeah, you're right, I probably don't." Brigham replied, taking a seat in a nearby chair. "But I still can't help but wonder."

"Well, I'd rather not elaborate." was Octavius' reply. "But there is one question I have to ask you: have you ever heard of a man who calls himself the Scrier?"

At that question, Brigham couldn't help but scowl, and his fists clenched as he said, "Yes, I've heard of him. He's responsible for the death of a good friend of mine."

At his response, Octavius was shocked. How many people had the Scrier killed over the years!

"Do you know of any information that might help me find him?" he asked.

"I wish I did." Brigham replied. "I'd love to be able to put a bullet in his brain for what he did to my friend. I take it he's done something to you?"

"He's got a hit out for me." Octavius answered. "I'm going to kill him. But I need some information."

"Well, I've got none, but I know of a man that might. He calls himself 'Louie the Snitch'. He's an underworld informant who used to be in the inner circle of organized crime. He usually works downtown. Maybe he'll prove useful to you."

"I sure hope so. Thanks for the tip."

The two of them were silent until Brigham said, "Well, I think it'll be safe for you to sleep now, and I'm quite tired myself. I'm not sure if you'll be here in the morning, so I'll just say right now it was nice meeting you, if under unusual circumstances."

"Likewise."

"Well... goodnight." Brigham said as he walked towards his room, flicking the lights off as he did.

Octavius laid there in the darkness, thinking on the situation. He now had another lead that he would most definitely follow first thing tomorrow.

But he could still hear the remnants of his earlier dream, replaying in his head.

I'm trying to avenge you, Curt. he thought. As I said I would. Isn't that enough?