Time for another update. And there will be some minor violence in this chapter. I wouldn't really call it a "fight" since that would imply that both sides had a chance to at least try. This is far more one-sided.

She knew what she was doing was dangerous. Kitten knew that the alley wasn't quite as deserted as it was a few months ago. People, dangerous people who were predators of the streets, now lurked there occasionally. They weren't always picky about who their targets were either. It was safer to stay away.

But she also knew that they threw out the best and most intact packs of cookies there. The dumpster was practically a treasure trove of packaged cookies that were tossed out regularly. And after everything he'd done for her so far, Kitten wanted to get Otto something nice. A few packages of really good cookies weren't exactly as impressive as regular meals, new clothes, or a backpack, but it was the best she could do. So she was going to risk it.

Carefully and quietly, Kitten peered down the alleyway. Luck seemed to be on her side because it appeared to be deserted today. The only thing in the narrow gap between the buildings was the very dumpster she was looking for. Keeping her eyes and ears sharp for any sign of trouble, she crept along the cracked concrete and scrambled clumsily up the side of the metal container. And due to the size and depth of the dumpster, Kitten was forced to actually drop inside to reach anything. But it at least hid her from sight and she could search in relative safety.

It took practice to search through the dumpster without rustling the contents, but she was fairly competent by now. Producing the minimal amount of noise, Kitten sorted through the discarded bottles, spoiled food, plastic bags, and other assorted objects. Ignoring the smell was worth the effort. With a little digging, she quickly found several containers of cookies. Even without opening the packages, she could tell the cookies were still in one piece. The wasteful store was proving useful. She quickly stuffed them into her new backpack, far more than she could ever carry before.

Kitten almost missed it, her attention focused on her treasure hunting. Only when a shoe stepped on a crushed soda can did she realize that someone else was now in the alleyway. She froze even as her mind raced. She couldn't climb out of the dumpster quickly or undetected. She was trapped until the new arrival left. She would have to wait silently for the chance to escape, being extra careful not to draw any attention.

She crouched silently among the garbage, ignoring the smell and straining to hear what was happening outside the dumpster. While the cars on the street and distant voices of the city's inhabitants were constant background noise, she tried to listen for the closer threat. There were no further footsteps, so Kitten knew they would still be close. There was no voices, no movement, and no real sign of what they were doing except waiting. She could be patient too. She could out-wait them.

Not going to school meant there were a few things she'd never properly learned, even the practical lessons of experience unable to teach her everything. She couldn't actually read and she couldn't really tell time. She could sort of guess time frames when they were short and she at least knew the words, but that was about it. Kitten knew a bunch of time was passing, but she didn't know if it was less than an hour, exactly an hour, or several hours. She just didn't know how long an hour might be.

Her foot fell asleep, but she didn't dare move. She didn't even put her backpack on properly again. She couldn't hear them, but she knew the person was there. She couldn't risk catching their attention. It was bad enough she'd climbed into the dumpster even knowing it was dangerous. She wouldn't be foolish enough to make things worse. She needed to keep still and quiet.

Finally, she heard movement. They shifted position, their shoes scraping across concrete. Kitten could tell they were near the entrance of the alleyway. She could guess that they were watching the street, studying the people as they walked by. They were hunting. They were hunting for a target. Kitten somehow managed to become even more silent, even her breathing growing softer. She couldn't let them realize she was around because they'd gone from possibly dangerous to definitely dangerous.

The attack was quick. She heard the surprised shout and dull thud as a male victim was grabbed from the street and shoved roughly against the brick wall. The immediate silence following the initial shout meant that the predator must have shoved a gun or a knife against their throat. She knew what would happen during a mugging, so matching the sounds to the actions was simple, though she'd never listened from so close before. She didn't like it, but the safest decision was to keep hidden and stay uninvolved.

"Wai-wait, don't hurt me," a terrified male voice begged desperately. "P-please. I don't want any trouble."

"Shut up," another, younger male voice ordered. '"Just keep quiet and start handing over your stuff. Starting with that watch and ring."

"Okay, whatever you want. Just don't hurt me. I have a family. A wife and children."

Kitten could hear some quiet shuffling as the frightened man sought to obey the instructions, but her thoughts were busy. While the attacker sounded like they could be a teenager, his victim sounded more like a middle aged man. Someone who claimed to have a wife and children. Someone who probably didn't deserve to be mugged and possibly hurt. Someone who could be like Otto. She didn't like thinking about it at all, knowing that something bad was happening just outside of the dumpster.

"Hurry up," snarled the younger man, sounding angrier and more dangerous than before.

Kitten closed her eyes tightly. She should stay quiet. She should stay hidden. Old Myrtle would tell her to stay uninvolved. Anything else was dangerous and dumb. She should keep still and wait until everything was over.

There was a dull thud accompanied by a breathless yelp, an impatient punch to the stomach. The mugger was losing anything resembling restraint. The older man wasn't fast enough handing over his belongings. He was going to get hurt and possibly worse.

Silently, Kitten slipped her backpack on again. Next, she reached down beside her, grabbing the first object she touched. From the smooth, cool surface, Kitten knew it was a glass bottle. Then, keeping in mind that fast movement caught the eye, she carefully stood up.

Kitten knew she would have to react quickly once she started, so she couldn't hesitate even slightly and had to pay attention to everyone's actions. She got her first glimpse of the men. The victim was indeed a middle aged man, a few grey hairs mixed with his darker ones and wearing an expensive-looking suit. The attacker was a blond young man with a dark t-shirt, jeans, and a knife. He also looked a little taller than his target and a lot stronger. She took aim carefully.

Her throw wasn't perfect, but the brown bottle managed to clip the attacker briefly before shattering against the wall right next to the men. There was a clang of metal as he dropped the knife. Kitten caught a glimpse of the older man taking advantage of the distraction to break free of his grip and escape. She didn't see more than that, however. She was too focused on immediately scrambling her way out of the dumpster as fast as possible. The metal walls of the dumpster were hard to climb quickly, but she was motivated.

Her feet hit the ground hard and she started running. She managed about four steps before a rough hand slammed on her shoulder and yanked her back. He shoved her hard against the same brick wall as the older man. The breath and all fight were knocked out of her on impact.

"Stupid brat," snarled the mugger. "You'll pay for that."

Even before the first hit landed, Kitten knew it was her own fault for getting involved. Pain exploded across her face, the girl only remaining upright because of his grip. The next punch hit her stomach. It hurt enough that a gasping whimper escaped, but it didn't surprise her.

Angering an adult enough to get hit? This was something familiar to her.

For the moment, things were rather quiet. He'd worked on a few calculations earlier concerning some ideas he had about minor modifications to existing nuclear reactors that could theoretically increase the energy output without drastically increasing the required resources and without increasing the risks. He'd entertained a few ideas for years, but he'd never truly investigated it further. He'd always focused on the potential of his main project. Now Otto could spare the time and energy for other ideas. And it kept the actuators content.

He didn't work on his calculations all day, though. Now that they had more than a single outfit each, Otto could finally add laundry to his list of chores to make the warehouse more habitable. After a couple of hours of using the one unaltered sink to hand-wash Kitten's shirts, pants, his spare trench coat, and the various towels and blankets they'd collected, he'd ended up with plenty of wet laundry dangling from the impromptu clotheslines he'd tied all over the place. The occasional drip of water and the general dampness didn't change the fact he felt calm and relatively content as his mind drifted.

He knew he would need to consider ways to make money in the near future. His stash from the bank wouldn't last forever. Otto was quite aware that stealing more money or resources would attract attention eventually and would lead to greater risk the more times he resorted to that strategy. He would need a safer, subtler method of making money. Due to his criminal and presumed dead status, there were limited jobs he could try. He would need an employer who didn't ask questions, would pay in cash, and would keep all record of him nonexistent. Any off-the-book jobs that would fit those qualifications would undoubtedly be unpleasant and below minimum wage. Still, it was something he needed to consider.

"late afternoon, Father should eat soon," chirped Flo.

For a murderous, dangerous, and morally-uncertain A.I., Flo could be strangely nurturing and protective. The dichotomy could still throw him off-balance when he thought about it too much. But she was right. It was time to consider dinner.

"All right," he said, standing up slowly. "So, take-out or should I heat up some soup in the microwave?"

"noise, Kitten, girl back," Mo clicked abruptly.

Otto listened carefully and quickly noticed what he meant. There were some clanging and scraping sounds outside of someone moving around, someone small. Since she was the only person to get near the warehouse in the entire time he'd been there, it was easy to realize it was Kitten.

"good, feed Kitten," chirped Flo.

Harry turned towards the hidden hole in the wall and hissed, "something wrong, too much noise, girl always quiet, not right"

That made Otto and the other actuators pause. Harry was right. Kitten was quiet. And she was quick. She should have slipped inside silently, taking only a few seconds to get through. This was too slow and loud for the girl.

Harry was right. Something was wrong.

Almost safe. Almost there. Kitten kept reminding herself that if she made it a little further, she could hide in her cozy pile of blanket and sleep until the pain faded.

The entire thing was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. The worst part was when he held her against the wall, making it impossible to dodge or block the blows. When he let her drop to the ground, she was able to curl up enough that he could only kick her legs, arms, and back while she protected her face, chest, and stomach from further harm. She was lucky, though, he eventually grew bored with kicking and decided to find where he dropped his knife. While the frustrated mugger was distracted, Kitten managed to scurry desperately out the back way of the alley. It wasn't the most graceful escape, but she did it.

With her grey jacket pulled tight around her, she could vanish back into the crowds of New York City and avoid attention. Not one noticed her, even as she kept her hood up and limped slightly. With one arm curled protectively around her sore stomach and her head kept low, Kitten slowly and tiredly forced herself to keep walking. She kept reminding herself to get somewhere safe, somewhere she could rest and no one would hurt her, somewhere she could hide.

It took far longer to get back, Kitten moving slower and even stopping a few times in sheltered corners. She couldn't move quickly without everything aching worse. But she finally made it. She finally struggled through the chain-link fence and limped towards the warehouse.

She tripped and stumbled a little as she tried to get to the hole. She was too tired and sore for proper coordination. Kitten worried briefly that the cookies she'd collected were crushed by the mugger's retaliation, meaning everything was a waste. But she pushed that thought aside. There was nothing she could do about it now. As soon as she was inside, she could get into her little nest of blankets and finally rest.

Squeezing through the fence wasn't fun, but the hole in the wall was smaller and hurt worse as it pressed against her sore limbs. But Kitten gritted her teeth and kept going. Almost there. Almost safe.

"Kitten? Is everything all right?" asked Otto, stepping into view.

She ducked her head, but still managed to catch a glimpse of his expression changing. She needed to go hide in her cozy nest of blankets. Rest and avoiding everyone. That's what she always did when this happened. The girl carefully started edging towards her half-broken crate.

A metal limb blocked her path. It didn't grab her, but it kept her from slipping away to the safety of her hidey-hole. Another one, Flo, stretched out towards her, trying to peer under the hood of her jacket. Kitten took a step back from the inquisitive snake-like machine. She didn't feel like spending time with the friendly metal arm like normal. She just wanted to curl up and hide.

"Kitten," said Otto in a quiet, firm, and mildly strained voice. Carefully kneeling down to her level, he said, "Look at me, please."

She couldn't disobey his request. Well, she could, but something deep down didn't want to. She'd tried to obey her parents for a while, part of her hoping it would be enough to change things. She'd obeyed them until she left home. And Otto had far more reason to be obeyed than her parents ever had.

Reluctantly, Kitten raised her head and tried to meet his eyes through the goggles. His expression darkened and warehouse filled with angry hissing.

"what happened, must know more," Mo hissed.

"who responsible, must find, must punish, must kill," chattered Harry sharply. "snap neck, break limbs, crush skull"

"Kitten, our Kitten, damaged, hurt, how, need to fix, never let happen again," Flo clicked angrily.

Larry, quieter and shaper than the others, hissed, "not acceptable, not right, not allowed"

Otto struggled to hear his own thoughts through the cacophony of furious actuator voices. He was losing himself in the noise. He also tried his best to separate his emotions from the murderous rage they were flooding his head with. In his current emotional state, it would be child's play for the actuators to start influencing his thoughts again. He wouldn't even notice it until it was too late. The clearly-warranted anger at their Kitten being harmed could easily turn to dark and dangerous impulses, sending them down the slippery slope once more. It would be so easy to become a monster again while convinced the reasoning was "just." He needed to stay focused on where his thought ended and where theirs began.

It was hard, though. Not only were they united and outnumbering the man, but he was similarly upset about what he was looking at.

Her face was already swelling and bruising, though it would undoubtedly get worse as enough time passed. In an hour or two, her left eye would likely be swollen shut. The discoloration already looked painful and ugly. Her lip was cut, though most of the bleeding had long since stopped. She was clearly in pain and from the way she held herself, the damage was more than just on her face.

Calm down. He needed to calm down. He could feel himself losing further ground, losing focus on himself and his mind. Otto tried to force himself to calm down because it would be so easy to slip back into the more ruthless mindset of Doc Ock. And part of him didn't want that.

But another part reveled in the idea.

The four violent, murderous, furious voices continued to hiss and screech in his mind, feeding into his anger and disgust at what someone could do to an innocent child. The world allowed such things to happen and for true genius to be squandered by forcing them to lurk uselessly in the shadows. Any world that let such a thing happened did not deserve to exist.

The world needed to change, then. It needed to be reshaped and restructured into something better. It needed to be fixed. They could force it to change by any means necessary. With the proper brains and ruthless pragmatism, they could do it. They could make things better, safer for those who were important, and more effective. It would be good and important Work. No force on Earth could stop them.

…But that wasn't what Kitten needed right now.

That thought briefly startled all of them from their train of thought and gave Otto a chance to shake himself out of the mindset. He closed his eyes and forced his will on the actuators, quieting their fury. But not completely silencing or stopping it. Still, for the moment he could recognize his own thoughts and emotions again. He'd managed to push down the temptation. When he opened his eyes again, he tried to focus on the matter at hand.

"Where else are you hurt? Your arms? Legs? Chest or stomach?" he asked, his voice strained as he tried to remain in control of himself.

The girl cringed slightly, either at his tone or his questions. Or perhaps his expression was what disturbed her so much, his anger over her injuries impossible to completely hide. And he couldn't even guess what he looked like when he nearly slipped back into the Doctor Octopus mindset. He didn't want to upset the child further, but it was hard to remain calm and soothing for her with so many furious voices still hissing in his head. He had to try though.

Slowly, Kitten nodded. It was three short, distinct, and deliberate nods, suggesting that she was answering all three questions as a yes. Otto bit back his first response and tried to tame his voice into something resembling controlled.

"Show me. Take off the jacket, please."

She was wearing her jeans, jacket, and green t-shirt, so the girl's body was fairly hidden from sight. The hood even hid most of the damage on her face. That was probably why no one on the street saw how badly she was hurt. At least he hoped that was the reason. It would be horrible if the entire population of the city could be so indifferent to a child's suffering.

Kitten ducked her head anxiously, but slowly obeyed. Gingerly, she slipped the grey jacket and backpack off. He could spot the beginning of bruises and several scrapes along her arms. The actuators' voices managed to grow louder and angrier again at the sight.

"not allowed, not acceptable"

"smash them, crush them, break them, kill them"

"Kitten hurt everywhere, need to fix, help her and kill one responsible"

"who, where are they, need information to find them, must not happen again"

Otto struggled to rein them and his own churning thoughts in at least a little. The girl's injuries, clearly the result of deliberate attack and not just an accident, was making it very hard to keep a clear head. Someone hurt their little stray. He needed to do something about it. This demanded some form of action. They couldn't ignore it.

"Where…? Who…? What did…?" he tried to ask, but quickly realized the silent child couldn't answer any of his questions. Shoving aside their desire for violent vengeance and trying to focus on a more productive line of thought, Otto said as gently as he could manage at the moment, "All right, Kitten. All right. You're safe now. No one will hurt you here. It'll be all right. I just need you to stay here until I get back."

Even through the swelling and bruising, he could see that she was nervous and anxious. She almost looked afraid of him, but not quite. Otto wished he could reassure her further, but it would be better to wait until he'd properly regained his mental equilibrium.

The air filled with sounds of servos and dull thumps as the actuators climbed upwards, past the rafters and out through the skylight. Larry carefully closed the opening behind them as Otto turned his gaze towards the skyline, trying to decide the best place to head for first.

He couldn't find the person who attacked her. He didn't even know where to start such a search. But he could take more useful and practical approach than what the actuators were suggesting. He focused on the idea of doing something that would actually help her.

Kitten didn't know what to do. She honestly didn't know if she should stay or run away and never return. After he climbed out through the skylight with clear instructions to stay, she was left standing alone uneasily in the warehouse and completely uncertain.

He was mad when he left. He tried to hide it, but she could hear and see the anger in the man. If there was one thing the girl knew, it was how to recognize anger in someone. Her parents ensured she knew that lesson well. She knew that anger easily translated into aggression and violence. And Otto left with far more anger than she ever imagined the man possessing.

What did she do wrong? How did she make him mad? Did he think she could have led the mugger back to the warehouse, exposing his secret? Even hurt and slower than normal, Kitten was careful. But he might think someone could find him. That might be why he was so angry.

Her face throbbed and her body ached. It was getting harder to keep her left eye open. She hadn't felt this way in a while. She hadn't been this hurt for quite some time. Not since…

She should leave. If he came back and still felt angry, that would be bad. She didn't want to be hurt worse today. Anger almost always led to pain for her. Otto never hurt her before; he never even touched her directly, letting the metal arms get the closest to her. But she'd never seen him that furious before. He was like Old Myrtle; he never seemed to get upset. But today he was and experience told her that someone always got hurt when people got angry. It would be safer to vanish. She could find somewhere else to hide. That's why she left home for the dangerous of the street, escaping from people who would hurt her.

But even though she knew she should leave, she didn't want to. She liked Otto and his metal arms. She felt safer here. There was food. There was shelter. There were soft clothes and a backpack. There were calm voices, friendly words, gentle clicking, and other pleasant sounds. Kitten even had a name now. This was a good place. She didn't want to leave everything.

Her aching body eventually made the decision for her. She didn't feel like trying to scour the city to find somewhere else to stay. She'd already tried one foolish and painful risk that day. She might as well take another. Maybe Otto would be less angry when he got back. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

She hadn't put Old Myrtle's jacket back on yet. She knew the effort would hurt, so she just left it draped in her arms. Even with her decision to stay, Kitten didn't know what to do with herself. Should she stay standing? Should she sit down? Or could she go curl up in her blanket nest and sleep until he got back? Would one of them make Otto less upset when he got back? Was there a better choice? How long would he be gone? She just didn't know.

Her thoughts were abruptly disrupted as she heard the rhythmic thumping above her. Kitten looked up to see Otto climbing back through the skylight. In his hand was a small plastic bag and Mo held a larger bag of some type. Moving with the grace and ease of a spider crawling across a web, the metal arms lowered him towards the concrete floor. Kitten felt herself relax slightly as she took in his expression and body language. His anger was no longer there, boiling beneath the surface.

"I should have picked some of this up earlier," Otto said quietly before grabbing one of the drying towels from the line. "Kitten, please come over here and we'll see what we can do about this."

Uncertain what he had in mind and yet relatively positive he didn't intend violence after all, she obeyed. He directed her towards the folding chair as the metal arms set to work on the larger bag that she could now identify as being filled with ice. From the smaller bag in his hand, Otto began to pull out a small tube, a plastic bottle that rattled when he moved it, and a small box with a picture on it that finally let her identify what was going on.

"Antibiotic ointment to prevent infections, ibuprofen for pain and fever, and bandages," he said, identifying each object as he set them on their makeshift table. "Should have put together a first aid kit a while back, but it didn't seem important at the time. You know what they say about hindsight." She honestly didn't, but she was willing to let him keep talking now that most of his anger seemed to be but a memory. "I picked up a couple other basics, but this should handle what we need right now."

Otto pulled his sturdier chair around so that there would be no barrier between them, their table sitting beside them. He then sat down as he handed the towel off to Flo. Kitten watched him as closely as she could managed with one eye swelling shut.

"I know you're nervous about this sort of thing, but I hope you can trust me by now, Kitten," he said gently, slowly picking up the tube of ointment and pulling out one of the tan bandages from the box. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I just want to help. Can you let me do that?"

She didn't like the idea of people getting too close. It always hurt. The mugger certainly demonstrated what happened when people got a hold of her. Keeping out of arm's range was safer. It made it easier to escape.

But this was Otto. He was different. Even when he was mad, he didn't hurt her. And the metal arms could often reach her and nothing bad ever happened. She didn't stay as far away from him as she did everyone else.

She trusted Otto.

Before she could change her mind, Kitten nodded and reached out her arm. He moved slowly and carefully, obviously trying not to startle or scare her. Otto focused on the biggest and deepest scrapes, placing ointment and a bandage on each spot gently enough that they barely stung. Kitten gradually began to relax as nothing bad happened and even rolled up part of her jeans so that he could handle some of the injuries on her legs.

Finally, he screwed the cap back on the tube of ointment and said, "That should take care of the worst of it. As for the bruises, I think the ibuprofen would be best. You'll need half the adult dosage, but it should help with the pain." Mo abruptly appeared beside her with a cup of water she hadn't noticed him fetching and Otto handed her a small pill from the bottle. "Swallow that with the water."

Kitten obediently followed his instructions. Harry, Larry, and Flo then handed over the towel from before. It now held a lot of ice wrapped inside the towel bundle they'd prepared.

"Put that against your eye, Kitten," he said. "It should help with the swelling and numb some of the pain." Standing up finally, he added, "Try to get some rest while we figure out something for dinner. It is past time we get you some food."

Even though her face still ached, she did her best to give a smile of thanks before taking his advice in regards to the ice. It took a moment, but the coldness did feel nice on her swelling eye. This wasn't so bad now. Perhaps later she could see if any of the cookies she collected were salvageable.

Remember, turning over a new leaf isn't easy or without temptations to go back to your old self. Especially when you have voices in your head advocating violence and can start affecting your thoughts. And Kitten is a little unfamiliar with the idea of someone getting angry on her behalf.

I don't know when the next update will be, but I'll get to it when I have the chance. And remember: reviews are always appreciated.