Chapter Eight: Strange Occurrences

By now, the sun had come up over the city, momentarily breaking through the clouds. Octavius was heading down to talk to the man Louie the Snitch told him about yesterday.

I really hope this Tinkerer knows who the Scrier is. he thought as he knocked on the door, making sure there were no police around to see him.

It was a moment before the door swung open, and an old man was standing in the doorway. He looked to be about eighty or so years old, and he walked with a cane.

"What can I do for you?" The Tinkerer asked, looking up at him.

"I've come to ask you a few questions." Octavius said as the Tinkerer ushered him in. "I'm looking for someone, and I heard you've got... connections, so to speak... in the criminal underworld."

The Tinkerer looked around, as if to check to see if anyone was listening, and said, "Come with me. I think I might be able to help you out."

Octavius followed him into a back room. The Tinkerer shut and locked the door, walked over to the table that was set up, and poured himself a cup of tea. He asked, "Would you like a cup?"

"If it's not too much trouble." Octavius replied, looking around.

The Tinkerer came back to the table with two mugs of tea. He pushed one to Octavius and said, "Yes, I've got quite a few connections in the underworld. I myself am not involved in the activities that they carry out, but I supply the weapons, in a lot of cases. I get people sometimes asking me questions, as a result." He took a sip of his tea and said, "Who do you want to hear about?"

"He goes by the alias of the Scrier." Octavius said. "He's been hunting me down for about the last week and a half."

"Ah, yes, I do business with the Scrier on occasion. He's not the greatest person on the face of the planet, I agree, but then again, neither are a lot of the criminals I do work for." The Tinkerer said, rolling his eyes. "I take it you're Doctor Otto Octavius?"

At that, Octavius looked over at him and said, "Did he tell you of his plan against me?"

"As a matter of fact, he did." The Tinkerer said, nodding. "He was telling me about his plan, and he let slip that it was against you. Can't see what he'd have against you, though. I figured you were going to show up, looking for information. That's why I looked some up." He got up and walked over to a filing cabinet, grabbing a file off the top of it, walked back over to his chair, and handed Octavius the file. "I've been hoping somebody would smash this character. That's why I looked it up. His identity is not in there, I'm afraid. He's never told me what his name was. They usually don't."

Octavius looked through the file, trying to make sense of the information. He found a few of the Scrier's frequent contacts, the Vulture and Kraven among them, a list of his crimes, but nothing stood out as leading to his identity.

"He's been in several times, asking for bombs, all sorts of weaponry, and other things that I can't fathom what he'd use them for. He never comes in without something concealing his face, so I don't have a description, either." Tinkerer said apologetically. "Hope that information proves useful to you."

"Very much so." Octavius said, nodding. "This gives me some idea of where to look, at least. Thank you for this information."

"It's no problem whatsoever." Tinkerer said, just as the bell rang that said someone had entered the building. "I'm sorry, I've got business to take care of." He got up and walked upstairs.

Octavius sat there a moment, before he finished his mug of tea, stood up, tucking the file folder into his coat, and headed upstairs, leaving the building.

Well, this is definitely going to help me greatly. he said as he took to the rooftops, going through the file again, heading back towards his hideout.

xxx

Meanwhile, a few blocks from Octavius' lab, Capt. Stacy and his team were working a crime scene they had been called to last night. Someone found shot dead in an alley, two gunshot wounds in them.

Strangely enough, it was Tombstone they found shot dead.

"I don't understand it." Capt. Stacy said as he looked over the scene as his forensics team checked it out. "The only person I know of that got shot last night was Carolyn Trainer. So where'd thisguy come from? And why haven't we found her yet?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." Det. Briscoe replied as he lit up a cigarette. "Maybe we'll find out."

"I hope so. It's going to drive me insane until we figure it out." The Capt. replied, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall, keeping watch on his team.

It was at this point that a lady officer by the name of Jean DeWolff walked up to him and said, "Captain, we found out something."

"What did you find?" Capt. Stacy asked as he looked at Tombstone's body.

"Well, the bullet wounds on the vic's body came from a .45 pistol. He appears to have been shot from behind." Jean replied.

"I see. Anything else?"

"Not yet, sir. But we're looking."

"Thank you." Capt. Stacy replied. "Just keep me informed."

"Can do." Jean said as she walked away.

"This case keeps getting stranger by the minute, Briscoe." he said as he put his hand to his face, fighting off sleep.

"I know what you mean." Briscoe said as he took a drag of his cigarette, looking over the scene himself.

It was then that he noticed something odd; a trail of bloody footprints, leading off into another side street. He followed it, being careful not to disturb the rest of the scene, and said, "Captain? Something's very odd about this scene."

Capt. Stacy walked over to him and said, noticing what Briscoe already had, said, "That is odd. Think it's from our gunman?"

"Most likely." Briscoe replied, nodding. "We've already determined that Tombstone was killed instantly by the wounds inflicted, so they're not his. Besides, he had no reason to go back, and there's none leading back to this spot."

"Follow the trail." Capt. Stacy said. "See where it leads. Keep in touch with me."

Without replying, Briscoe did so, eventually turning onto another side street.

This is strange. Capt. Stacy thought, leaning against the wall again. Very strange, indeed.

xxx

Back at Octavius' lab...

Rosie was still sitting by the police scanner, as she had been all night, listening for any report on where her husband might be. She was afraid for his safety, and for good reason.

I've nearly lost him already, twice before. she thought sadly, looking out the window at the sky. The sun had come out for a while earlier, before disappearing back behind the clouds. I can't go through this again.

Oh, why do people keep going after him? How does he get wrapped up in all of these situations?

It was upsetting to her, how he seemed to be in the sights of every psycho out there. It just wasn't fair that he was always in some sort of situation with someone out to get him. It also seemed sad to her that innocent people kept getting caught in the crossfire.

Why him? Why is it always him? she thought again, resting her head on her closed fist, fighting off sleep. It was going to be a long day, she knew.

xxx

Meanwhile, many blocks uptown, Octavius was in his hideout, leaning back in his chair, going over the files that the Tinkerer had provided him this morning. He was going over them carefully, looking for anything that may give him a clue as to the Scrier's identity or location. So far, he'd found nothing.

Taking a sip of his tea, he went back to the beginning of the file again, thinking maybe he may find something he missed.

Surely there must be something here that can give me a lead? he thought, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Why would he give me the file unless he thought it would be useful?

The thought that perhaps the Tinkerer was actually working for the Scrier crossed his mind, until he came across a page that he must have missed; it appeared to be a list of phone calls, all from one particular address.

His hideout, maybe? Octavius thought, going through the list. He's probably relocated by now. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. And if that doesn't work, I've still got something, here.

He looked through the list, noticing some of the names on the list; some of them were aliases such as Tombstone and the Rhino, but some of them were real names.

And one name in particular stood out from the list, if only because it was one of the few to have an address beside the name.

Quentin Beck? Sounds like the name an actor would take for himself.

He folded the paper up and slipped it into the pocket of his trenchcoat, before walking out the door, into the snow.

Perhaps it's time to pay Mr. Beck a visit. See what he has to say on all of this.

xxx

5:34 pm...

As it turns out, Octavius was right about the name sounding like that of an actor; Quentin Beck was an aspiring actor and stuntman, still trying to make a name for himself. He had actually gotten off work at four am last night. He was fast asleep on the couch in his apartment.

This made it easy for Octavius to slip into the apartment without drawing his attention.

It was a lot harder for Quentin to ignore his presence, however, when Octavius snatched him up off of the couch, holding him upside down by his leg.

"LET GO OF ME!" Quentin shouted, throwing punches at his attacker, not succeeding in landing any, as Octavius held him at a considerable distance.

"Oh, don't worry, I will." Octavius replied, taking a seat on the couch, still holding Quentin up in the air. "I just want a bit of information on a man called the Scrier."

"I'll never talk!" Quentin snarled, struggling fiercely to break out of the actuator's grip on his leg. "I have no desire to die!"

"I don't think you understand the situation." Octavius said, standing back up, arms crossed over his chest. "When I said I want information, I meant that I am going to get it. Whatever your boss would do to you will be nothing compared to what I will do."

"Man, who are you, anyways!" Quentin shouted, a twinge of fear in his voice.

"You don't know of me? I'm disappointed." Octavius said, shaking his head, lowering his sunglasses to look Quentin in the eyes. "I was certain your boss would have told you about a man by the name of Doctor Octopus. Or maybe you weren't permitted to that information."

"So who does that make you!"

"Are you really as dense as you appear!" Octavius shouted, throwing Quentin into the wall. "I'm Doctor Octopus!"

"No! No way!" Quentin said, backing up into a corner. "I thought he, er, you, were just a rumor! I thought it was too farfetched to be real!"

"Well, nevertheless, I exist, and I want some information." Octavius said, sitting back down. "Now start talking."

Quentin made a run for the door, but soon found himself smacked right back into the wall.

"Don't do that. You'll only make it worse for yourself."

"Alright, alright, I'll talk." Quentin said, getting up and taking a seat at a nearby table. "The Scrier's got his hands in all sorts of illegal activity. He's been accused of assassination plots, illegal weapons shipments, numerous counts of kidnapping, and theft of intellectual property, such as schematics for various inventions and experiments."

Now why does that sound so familiar? Octavius thought, his mind racing back to his last encounter with someone much like that... But it can't be him; he's still in prison. So who else...?

"He's been behind a lot of high-profile assassinations, usually against his rivals. Anybody he thinks poses a threat to his business is eliminated, no matter how prominent they are, and I heard-"

"Let me guess. You've heard he's got a hit out for a prominent atomic scientist by the name of Otto Octavius? Thanks, I obviously know that." Octavius cut him off, knowing where that particular remark was going.

"Yeah, I figured you would. I do know who you really are, contrary to what I said earlier." Quentin replied. "I'm not completely stupid. I was just afraid."

"Nice to know. Anything else you can tell me? Location of his headquarters, maybe? Or his real name?"

"I don't know the answer to either of those questions. I don't actually work for him anymore."

"Fair enough." Octavius said as he stood up, walking over to the window.

"Wait." Quentin said. "I know for a fact that there's a file on him down at Precinct Ninety-Two. His identity is certain to be in that file."

"And you're certain of this?"

"Positive."

"Thank you for the information." Octavius said, slipping his sunglasses back on, opening the window. "Just the same, you had better keep quiet about this meeting. If I find out you've contacted anybody about this, I will come back to kill you." With that said, he climbed back out the window and was soon out of sight.

"Like I would." Quentin said to himself, before walking back over the couch and falling back asleep.

xxx

Well, that was rather productive. Octavius thought as he stood atop a rooftop several blocks away. It's getting dark out. I'd better return home for the night. I'm not going to attempt a break-in of the precinct until I've had time to plan it out properly. This isn't like shaking down some two-bit thug for information; I'd be breaking into a government building. I don't need to get caught.

He headed back towards his hideout, this thought in his head. How was he going to plan a successful infiltration of a government building without getting caught?