8/28/2006 People huddle together on the platform of Line B, as a new train arrives. The doors open, people rush out and new people in, without so much as a word. Yes, they are in a hurry, for it's dinnertime! Or some just want to get home. Either way, the only person around /not/ actually moving from place to place, has sunken into the shadows on one side of the platform. It's Zachery, and he's looking frightfully frail; the usually abundant plasm giving the illusion of translucent flesh around his bones has decreased to a thin layer just barely covering his skeleton, and he sits huddled up against a wall, waiting for the train to leave. His eyes are mindlessly fixed on the train's wheels as they once again begin to move, and the train rattles into the distance. Not everyone is in such a mindless, lemminglike hurry for home; though incognito in his long tan coat and broad-brimmed fedora, Doctor Otto Octavius has a certain distinctive stride, insistently aloof from the madding crowd even when surrounded by it. He's one of the very few who notices the poor desperate mutant huddled there in the shadows, and of that few, he's the only one to actually stop and /look/. His mouth pulls into a frown, brows furrowing over the dark glasses. "Zachery?" Zachery remains staring blankly at the wall opposite of him, even though the wheel he was originally keeping an eye on has long gone by now. And indeed, Octavius is the only one to look, the rest of the people already heading for the stairs upward. It actually takes Zachery a moment to register his name is being said, and even then he merely angles his head to the side, to look blandly at the Doctor's legs. Nn? It's a sight to move a man to pity... if Octavius were such a soul. The amoral (at best) genius shakes his head slightly and steps closer to the wasting youth. His features are sketched into an expression of deep concern. "Zachery. It's Otto. Focus, boy." It's another moment before the next lines get through to the blue mutant. When they do, a bony hand is dragged to Zachery's forehead and scraped over his scalp. Slowly, the gaze is lifted to view Otto's face, and the mutant's jaws part in an emotionless hiss. Hocrap. How did he get here all of a sudden? The hand is placed back on the floor and Zachery pushes himself up against the wall, looking from side to side for a moment. Though the commuting crowd is notoriously unobservant, Octavius shifts his position, angling himself so that the pale metal tentacle that slips out to help support Zachery isn't obvious to casual view. "Steady now," he murmurs. "Would this help?" Another tentacle slips out, holding a bottle of water in its claws. Zachery pulls back slightly from the offered help, but manages to get to his feet either way. When the bottle is presented, his hands almost automatically reach to grab it, nodding faintly. "You wouldn't believe how hard it's been for me to get a simple drink of /water/." His voice finally slithers. The metal arms withdraw once the bottle is in Zachery's grasp. Octavius folds his arms across his chest. "I take it you haven't had any luck finding help." Zachery greedily pulls the bottle close, then fiddles to take the cap off. "Opposite." Is the only thing he feels like muttering, before he swigs some water. The contents of the bottle are hurridly pulled down into his chest and gut, emptying in one 'gulp'. "Blasted telepaths," Otto grumbles. His tone is somber as he adds, "I suppose we'll have to seek out the other method, won't we?" He pauses a beat. "If you're still willing to risk it." Zachery seems utterly confused for a minute, staring at the lowered and now empty bottle. Oh! That. "I... would be most greatful." says the mutant, notable uncertaintly in his voice. Alas, confusion is no reason not to be polite, so polite he will be. As much as he can muster at the moment, anyway. "It pains me to see you like this," says Otto Octavius, without the slightest hint of insincerity. "I only wish I had thought to seek you out sooner." Stepping away, he motions for the mutant to follow him as he takes a cellphone (at least, it /looks/ like a cellphone) out of an inside coat pocket. "Thankfully, I have not been idle. I hope you're not prone to motion sickness?" Zachery doesn't seem to register much of what Otto's saying, and only when he's asked a question does he look up, eyes darting to Otto's glasses. "I miss getting sick." He muses to himself, seemingly figuring that'll answer the question. Otto smiles slightly, the expression both wry and sympathetic. Then he speaks briefly into the cellphone, summoning someone for a pickup. He pauses in mid-conversation to peer at Zachery. "Do you think you can stand a short walk? To just outside the station?" Zachery nods, pushing away from the wall, if somehat shakily. "Feeling better already." He gives a near unnoticeable grin, but it's shrugged off rather soon. "Me and my idiotic forgetting to ask you where you stay." Is added in a mutter. Otto gives a throaty chuckle, talks into the cellphone again -- confirming pickup location, adding instructions to bring plenty of bottled water -- and snaps the phone shut. "I haven't been home a great deal lately, to be honest. Otherwise, I'm sure you would have run into me before now." He starts walking toward the nearest exit, though slowly, mindful of his young companion's ill health. Zachery leans forward into a slow pace, not feeling too great an urge to reply to Otto's statement and thus staying quiet. Hm, home. He'll have to fix something up for himself again once he... well, he'd rather not think about what he'll do if the 'other method' succeeds. Musing on that, he follows. By the time the pair emerge onto the street level, there's a white van parked on the curb waiting for them. The logo on the side proclaims "Vitru Cleaners" over a phone number and a peppy slogan, but when Otto leads Zachery around to the back, the doors open to reveal an interior completely lacking in cleaning equipment -- just a pair of benches, equipment lockers, two fairly anonymous-looking men what appear to be dark purple SWAT uniforms (plus one driver in a more anonymous jumpsuit and cap), and a case of bottled water. "Up you go, Zachery," says Otto encouragingly. Zachery eyes the insides of the van for a moment, before shooting a glance towards Otto. Suspicious. Then again, if Otto says so- up he goes! With only a bit of trouble, the mutant manages to drag himself into the van, shiftily looking the men inside it over a couple of times before scuttling over to the water. Liquids good. The unformed men seem completely unfazed by Zachery's appearance, though they keep their distance, shifting to the other end of the van. Otto climbs up after the mutant, closing the doors behind him with a slam and taking a seat on the bench the way a man might settle into a limo. The driver -- a thin-faced, grizzled old man with hard eyes -- shares a look with the tentacled terror, then turns back around, starts the van, and pulls out. "I feel the need to warn you again, Zachery," says Otto as the van smoothly merges with city traffic, "that I cannot guarantee that this treatment will work. I also suspect that it won't be very pleasant for you." Zachery grunts lightly at the warning, and simply slides down one side of the van as soon as he's grabbed another bottle. Now sitting on the floor, he looks up at the Doctor while he rids the bottle of it's cap. "/This/ isn't very pleasant." He takes a quick swig of the water, before continuing, "What /they/ did to me wasn't very pleasant." Oh, yes, it seems the water is doing him good, indeed. "I've been shot, stabbed, maimed and - coincidentally - found out I can regrow entire limbs. Repeatedly." Another swig is taken, and a wary look is shot to the bystanders. "/That/ was everything /but/ pleasant, Doctor." Otto makes sympathetic noises, even as the uniformed thugs remain stoic. "I can imagine." He notices Zachery's glance and chuckles. "Don't mind them. They're in my employ." No introductions are given, and in fact Octavius seems to dismiss his hirelings from his mind entirely as he changes the subject. "How much do you know about your own physiology, Zachery?" And dismissed they are by Zachery aswell. Physiology, how fun a subject. And that's actual sincerity there, too! "Apart from that I posess all the bones I had as a human, albeit that they're a bit... elasticy," the water is raised and he drains another half of it, "... that my flesh has been replaced by some sort of plasm, function without organs or brains, not much." By now, he's starting to look a little less sickly, already reaching for another bottle again. Otto leans back against the padded wall of the van, arms folded across his chest. "Hmm. And you can only ingest solids when you've taken a host, is that correct?" Zachery neatly sets an empty bottle aside, flipping the cap around between his damp fingers. A second after that, he parts his jaws and tosses the cap in between. It floats idly in his neck, before a shrug is given. "Correct. Eating things now would end up like this." An index finger and thumb are reached inside his neck to tug the cap back out, the plasm that makes up his throat clinging to it momentarily as it's freed. The new bottle is raised to his jaws, and the contents swirl down with ease compared to the cap of before. The younger-looking of the two henchmen turns away sharply at this, only to receive a scornful look from his companion. Dr. Octavius only nods, mouth pursed thoughtfully. "The lack of differentiated neural tissue is, as I suspected, the largest difficulty. Still, there's /something/ in there making the proper synaptic connections." Zachery hmphs, setting another half empty bottle down. "One would suspect so." He hisses absently, having caught the looks of the bystanders. He can't help but feel slightly guilty, though, and this only drives his gaze back down to the floor. Otto smiles very briefly once Zach's gaze is off him, then schools his features back into a somber, sympathetic expression. A tentacle snakes out to pat the plasmic mutant on the shoulder. "Be of good cheer, my young friend. Where there's life, there's hope. And even when there isn't." He grins faintly. "I was dead once, did you know that?" Zachery can't help but flinch lightly at the tentacle, but only thinks it intiguing once he angles his head to get a good look at it. When Otto finishes with another question, the mutant tilts his head. "Dead?" Enlighten me, his lack of expression hints. Otto props one foot up on his opposite knee. All four extra arms have made an appearance by now, though all seem as relaxed as the good doctor himself, nods, his grin widening. "Dead and buried, yes." Zachery's fingers again curl around the opened bottle. "Have to say, then, that you look rather alive." A grin's given, but it's wiped off as he juts the bottleneck between his teeth again. "And so I am," says Dr. Octavius. "Hale and hearty and none the worse for wear." Apart from that significant memory gap, of course, but that's certainly not something Otto's about to mention. "The place we're headed to contains some equipment developed by the mind that was instrumental in my resurrection." A wave of guilt again almost overwhelms Zachery; So much trouble for useless ole' him. He knows he /should/ be elated, but his mind simply can't surpass the self-induced guilt-trip. He actually wishes to go back to the subject of Otto having been dead, as it were, but catches himself being nosier than he likes to be, so goes with the change. "... And..." another empty bottle is set aside, as he studies his own hand for a second. Looking a little better, yes. "How exactly will this work with the differenc of me not having a physical brain and whatnot?" The very fact that a man like Otto Octavius is putting forth so much effort on his behalf indicates that Zachery is, perhaps, not as useless as he thinks he is. "Well," says the scientist, "as I said earlier, /something/ is making the proper synaptic connections. The plasmic tissue that makes up much of your form is the obvious culprit... and, at a guess, it's taken over the functions of your other organs as well. Quite amazing, actually." Zachery nods solemnly, this information not entirely new to him. However, it does shed some light on things. "Quite odd." Is added, almost corrected, as Zachery pokes the - now slightly more substancial - side of his head. "Mutancy is... complicated." He mutters more to himself than anyone else, eyes drifting off to observe the younger said henchman. The guy's staring stoically at the wall while his companion blandly watches the mutant and his boss, completely disinterested. And the driver is navigating the van through a lower-class suburb of the city, along streets lined with worn one-story houses with summer-dead lawns. Dr. Octavius, taking note of this, smiles. "/Life/ is complicated, Zachery," he says, turning back to the young man. "'Mutant' or not." One can just about hear the quote marks. Zachery, in turn, looks back to the Doctor. Not quite agreeing, he gives an unconvinced nod, slowly getting to his feet to look over the driver's shoulder. By this time, most people have returned home and are settling down to dinners and cable television. All quite normal and homey. The house that the van pulls up to looks exceedingly normal, and the way the garage door responds to the very ordinary garage door opener clipped to the driver's side visor is terribly mundane. But this, apparently, the place, for into the uncluttered garage the van goes, and down goes the door behind it. "Here we are," says Dr. Octavius in a cheerful tone of voice. He's grinning again, and somehow the expression is less comforting. As the two uniformed henchmen open the back doors to let the doctor and his guest out, the tentacled terror shares another look with the flat-eyed driver -- cutting a side-glance to the younger of the two henchmen. The driver nods and climbs out of the cab, heading for the door leading into the adjoining house. "Come on, Zachery," says Octavius, following his hirelings out the back of the van. Zachery's eyes dart to the side for a moment. He then snatches up another bottle from the case and saunters to the back of the van to, still somewhat meekly, clamber out. The older man is followed, but not too closely, this time. A gut feeling, perhaps. So to speak. The entrance to the laboratory is cunningly hidden behind a set of metal shelves. Dr. Octavius leads the way down, gesturing for the mutant to follow. The three henchmen, uniformed and not, remain above. "Are you familiar with _A Clockwork Orange_?" asks the multi-armed man of science, as lights flicker to life. They illuminate rows of computer equipment as well as what appears to be a cross between a dentist's chair and a life support pod. Zachery stops in his tracks as soon as he enters the laboratory, peering at his new surroundings. Impressive, yes. Scary? Slightly. "A British novel, isn't it?" He rakes his memory for any other details, but can't quite remember any other than that it was somewhat intriguing. The fact that he hasn't been able read many book ever since he mutated isn't helping alot. Otto sheds his coat and hat, using a tentacle to hang both up on a nearby hook. Underneath is a less ostentatious variation of the green jumpsuit he typically wears when at large as 'Doctor Octopus'. He nods as he pulls on a white lab coat. "Adapted into a film by Stanley Kubrick, though that's neither here nor there. Basically, what we're up to here is a reverse Ludovico treatment. They took away your freedom of choice, and we're going to give it back." Pausing in the middle of replacing the normal dark glasses with a pair of green-lensed goggles, he peers in Zachery's direction, brown eyes quite serious under the heavy eyebrows. "Last chance to back out, Zachery. From here, there's no looking back." Of course, what are the odds Zach'll be able to simply walk out now that he's right /here/, in one of Doc Ock's secret labs? Odds Zachery very much doubts to be in his favour were he try and flee, as well. So the blue form nods, doing his best to look casual as he takes a swig of the bottle he took with him. "All yours." His voice slithers afterward, as he inches closer, observing the change in clothes halfheartedly. Truth be told, he's anxious, but not about to let that show. After all, if things work as planned - at least in Zachery's plans - then he'd be out probably killing people again. This, of course, is making him feel less than cofmortable. But that's what he's here to fix, so he pushes through. Otto nods briskly and lowers the goggles over his eyes. "Have a seat, then," he says, gesturing to the high-tech chair that sits surrounded by monitors, screens, and other less-identifiable equipment. Zachery ponders as he follows the gesture. Ever so casual, Doctor, considering the matter at hand. Then again, Zachery knows near nothing of Otto's life, and thinks it best not to question him. After a quick inspection of the chair and the equipment around it, he kneels down to set the bottle on the floor, and drags himself up onto the chair. "So. This is it, then." He mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Otto Octavius answers with a brief, tight smile. "Indeed. Now, let's see if we can't pick up some brainwaves." In a way, getting Zach's head connected to the machinery is far easier than it would be for someone /not/ made of oozy blue tissue. The question is whether the sensors puncturing the young mutant's 'skin' actually do manage to connect with neural activity. As Otto focuses on this problem, his smile vanishes, and his manner becomes more distant, more coldly professional. Zachery gives a flex of both his hands, staring up at the ceiling semi-anxiously. After a moment of silence, his eyes slowly drift off to look at Otto, mentally frowning. Okay, so troubles would arise, he figures. And the with the heaving of his chest in a fake sigh he turns back to face the ceiling, silently. "Hrmn." It seems that the obstacle's a bit more difficult than Octavius had expected. But he's not one to give up easily. Zachery has plenty of time to memorize the ceiling or even watch the doctor at work, as soon Otto seems to forget that Zach is there at all as anything other than a subject. Finally, though, the monitors start showing signs of life. Only one shows a normal EEG; the rest have displays far more esoteric. Otto barks out a triumphant, "Ha!" and moves over to the workstation, dropping himself into the wheeled chair and typing rapidly. Zachery has indeed memorized the ceiling, including all the things in the room that he could possibly make out as faces for whatever bored reason. In fact, he had just started to half phase out again, like he'd done before, when Otto exclaimed his victory! Or at least, so it seems. The 'subject' in question almost jumps back up from the chair, but after a wary look at Otto he sinks back down. Mmf. "Relax, my young friend," says Dr. Octavius, without turning around. "The difficult part's over." And, strangely enough, Zachery does feel rather light-headed after a moment; the hum of equipment and the sound of Otto's typing becomes distant and fuzzy. Then it shuts out entirely as Octavius uses a tentacle to lower a metal visor over Zach's eyes. Zachery squirms lightly at the visor, but the only objection given is a gritting of his teeth. Hands clings to the side of the chair, as his thoughts suddenly rather foggy. The only things he does manage to identify, are sudden doubts floating up. Should he speak up, even after Otto gave him the choice of leaving? He /did/ ask him numerous times. Squirm. Unfortunately, it's far too late for second thoughts. Indeed, soon after Zachery starts having his doubts, mental coherency fades into a blur of sight, sound, and sensation. It seems only seconds later that Zachery is brought back to himself with the lifting of the visor. He remembers nothing specific about the 'treatment' -- any attempt to think about what he witnessed while under the 'influence' vanishes like water on a hot stove. He only knows that he feels better. A /lot/ better. Those nasty feelings of guilt and shame are gone. He feels /empowered/, and it's all thanks to Dr. Otto Octavius, who is the absolutely last person Zachery would ever think of harming or allowing to come to harm. Who is, in fact, looking at him keenly from his spot at the workstation; a clock on the wall, and the appearance of stubble on the doctor's cheeks show that hours have passed and the sun's long since risen. [OOC] You say, "Basically, yes, Otto fixed what Syran did to him. Yay! He also made sure Zach'll be very disinclined to act against him... oh, and added a strong antipathy toward spiders. Free of charge! B)" Actually, the /very/ first thing Zachery knows is ARGH. BRIGHT. When the visor is lifted, his eyes are once again subject to the sterile sort of light that he's unable to blink away, and so a hand is risen to shield his face. "Bloody--" He mutters, vaguely wondering why his eyes hurt so much for only having been covered for what, a minute? Less? Pulling up into a more upright sit, Zachery glances about the room, and returns the keen stare at Octavius. Wait a minute. "You..." The hand is lowered and a belated chuckle escapes the mutant. "That was it?!" Glee! Otto's mouth stretches into that crooked, rather nefarious grin of his. "Feeling better, I hope?" Zachery instantly hops off of the chair, regardless of the fact that Otto might want him to stay seated. "I feel /splendid/!" He quite plainly proclaims, although an almost manic grin has settled in his voice. His skull is angled to peer at Octavius' appearance, and he lets out another relieved chuckle. "I... I don't know what to say!" The mutant edges closer slightly. "I do owe you my life." He then states with a firm nod, thoroughly enjoying the 'emptiness' in his previously so cluttered mind. The slanted grin fades into a very self-pleased smile. "I'm only glad that I could help." Standing up, he begins the process of shutting down the equipment that set Zachery to rights. With two hands and four tentacles, this doesn't take long. "I imagine that we can get you home before lunch and then... well." He gives the mutant a knowing smirk and a chuckle. "I imagine that you have some living to catch up on, don't you?" Zachery saunters past the Doctor, as if testing out his new, or old, self. "Yes!" He beams, shuddering at the remembrance of being unable to return to the Tunnels. Or not wanting to, for whatever reason. Reasons he can't remember! Yay! "Let us depart," And wreck havoc! Or, well, "... and now that it's over-- you have my thanks. And a /lot/ of favours." The latter isn't quite clearly a joke nor does it sound a 100% serious, as he peers about the room again. "And I'll let you go back to more important matters, Doctor." Grin! Otto chuckles again as he gathers up his coat and hat, exchanging the lab coat and goggles for more civilian attire. The trip back seems to take a lot less time. Interestingly, the younger of the two uniformed henchmen has disappeared. Hmm. Nobody offers an explanation as to where he's gone, either. In any case, it's a bright, sunny, beautiful day in the Big Apple when Otto lets Zachery off near the subway station with a tip of the hat and a amiable farewell. Sinister touches aside, the mad genius seems honestly pleased that Zachery's feeling so much better.