11/13/2006 Clinton (Hell's Kitchen) ------------------------------------------------------------------ With a title like Hell's Kitchen, one might expect a vast wasteland of sorts.. a depressing.. dank pit where the shreds of human decay come to congregate.. or die. On contrary, however, this place is full of life. Being one of the most notorious places in the country for it's vast criminal activity and questionable inner workings, this place is more alive then one could ever imagine. The lively urban setting carries its heart right on its sleeve -graffiti art growing up over the tenements, old abandoned slaughter houses and factories of steel and brick. Dirt and mud coat the sidewalks and curbs as if to cushion the litter that has been carelessly sprinkled here and there. This place is a testament to nature's ability to adapt and survive in even the most horrid of conditions. Trees pop up here and there amongst the boarded up windows and abandoned or just planed doomed cars that line the streets, flourishing and growing tall much like the people who live here have despite the hazardous conditions. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Night falls thick and cold, clouds covering the thinning moon, promising rain. Departing from an unobtrusive door in a certain warehouse, Otto Octavius tugs his coat close around his rotund body and grimaces at the sky for a moment before heading down the block at a head-down, determined pace. Impatience infects his movement -- impatience at being stuck here at the filthy plebian street level and at this tedious limitations of the flesh. Marta is also grimacing as she walks, annoyed and discouraged by her last conversation with Ni, and it is that annoyance which has led her back to Hell's Kitchen, seeking out a soothing cup of mocha. As a familiar presence draws near, however, the Nexus tilts her head, then smiles, altering her path to bring her in Otto's direction, coffee put off for now. "It has been a while, Doctor," the gypsy calls once she's within a few feet of him. Otto looks up sharply, gloved hands buried in the pockets of his coat, eyes narrowing behind the dark lenses (which seem to be no obstacle to his vision despite it being past sunset). For obvious reasons, he's on edge. He stares at her for a few seconds before nodding curtly. "So it has. So it has. I've been... busy." Marta steps closer and nods, her smile fading. "I know, I saw. Many shadows, many curses... I am glad that you have found a way out. I missed our talks." Her smile turns into a grin. "There are not many who talk long with the Nexus. I think most believe me mad." The doctor hrumphs. "A convenient label used by the small-minded. A feeble attempt to box up what they cannot possibly understand." His lips curl into a sneer. Marta nods her head in faint agreement, then shifts her gaze to look down the path with a tired look. "It has been a long week for so many. Everyone is trying to find a cure for one person or several, and none of it is working. Some try to help, some want to hurt, but they all end up tripping over each other in the end. And no one's happy." "Typical," Octavius grunts, as the first drops of chilly rain spit down from the blanketed sky. He glances up in time to get a spat of it on his glasses, then grimaces and turns up the collar of his coat. "This 'cure'... you refer to the controversy surrounding Benetech, I presume?" Marta frowns as Otto reacts to the rain, almost as though she hadn't at first noticed it, and then she creates a transparent shield above them, saving them from further drops. "Partly. When vengeful hands grab hold of what could have been a useful project, children are hurt. Strange that they would have made both." She offers a small smile. "I was going to get a drink, would you like to come with?" Otto bares his teeth in what, for him, passes as a friendly smile. "I'd be delighted." He gestures, inviting her to lead the way. "I admit that I have not /intensely/ followed all of the details of this particular issue," he says, which isn't truly a lie -- while he's assigned certain of his agents to do some research, the majority of his attention has been on the restoration of four missing limbs. "Yes, I imagine you have other more pressing work," answers Marta as she turns to walk down the street, keeping at his side. "It really isn't something I suggest getting involved in just now. When you see it laid out as I do, it can give one quite the headache. Four forces colliding, each powerful in their own way. It'll either end up like Waterloo or a very bad game of Risk." Otto cocks his head, giving her quite a keen look. Others might think her mad or confusing, but the not-so-good doctor finds her... interesting. "/Four/ forces, you say?" Marta nods her head. "Like the horsemen, only half are good. Hmmm, to be technical, perhaps I would have to say /five/, but two are smaller, so really, they should each just count as half and then we have a nice, round, even number." Otto chuckles throatily. "I see. And what would you call these... forces?" Nevermind her advice not to get involved; her talk's piqued his curiosity. Marta tilts her head at his question, then gives an almost impish grin. "I shall call them.... The Underground, the Counts, the Target, the Superiors, and the Peace-keepers." Otto's brow furrows at this a bit, his smile slipping briefly before he pulls it back on. "Ah. And all, as you say, at loggerheads." "Each preparing, each growing stronger, some joining with others in tentative alliances," answers Marta. "The Counts may have believed that they hurt the Peace-keepers in the attack, but mostly the children cried, and even now most of their tears have ceased. Like flicking pebbles at a sleeping dragon. It only wanted a nap, but now it's decided it's hungry." Octavius smirks. "More fools them." Then he looks thoughtful, gloved fingers rubbing at his chin. "Their tears have ceased..." he muses. "So it isn't permanent." Marta turns her head to look at Otto as he says that, a brow raising. "Not all, not all, but some is. I am certain they will know who to thank for that soon enough. And there exists a way to end the exile from self. And others are working on their own ways." Otto answers her quirked brow with a slanted, not quite pleasant grin. "I shouldn't be surprised. Such things, in my experience, are rarely lasting." His gaze slips forward again, the grin fading into something thoughful again, even pensive. "Something always works to restore the status quo. And the endless dance continues." "An endless dance," repeats Marta as she pauses at the restaurant of her choice. "A poetic way to say it. There has been no end to it, and yet... There have been themes within the music that have ended, steps that have been altered, new themes that have arisen. Endless, yet changing, in small steps. You have begun to restart your own dance, no doubt, yet with a new bent, if I guess right. And so it is with these other battles, similar themes, new ways, an uncertain future." Otto smiles again at mention of his 'restart' and once more the expression has a way of promising no one any good. Playing the gentleman, he reaches forward to hold the door open for her. "Indeed. New key, same symphony." He chuckles. Marta smiles as he opens the door and steps inside, heading for a corner table that's out of the way. As she sits, her look becomes more haunted than usual, with an uncertainty to it that isn't usually present. "Doctor..." she starts in hushed tones, hesitates, then continues, "although I have millions upon millions of memories of deaths, I have never killed a man, yet I sense that it is becoming inevitable, building up to an incident that may force my hand. And I am... afraid." Otto settles himself at the chair opposite hers, removing his hat as he does so. He gives her a keen look as he sets the fedora down on the table, to one side. "Afraid?" He utters a grating chuckle. "My dear, death is nothing to be afraid of... at least for those not on the receiving end. Really, once one realizes how few people actually /deserve/ the lives they have, how often they fritter and waste what they've been given..." He sneers briefly. "Most people, young lady, are animals. Beasts. And beasts exist only for the purposes of their betters." Marta's expression wavers between agreement and disagreement as Otto speaks, both seeing the point and sense of it and... not. She finally just settles on confusion and furrows her brows. "Perhaps it isn't something to fear, and I especially know that death is not the end, not completely, for I see where various people go upon their deaths, although it is /an/ end. When I look at his life, when I see how little purpose it serves other than to hurt and kill others, I cannot help but think that it would be a mercy to simply end his pain and spare others. And yet... I hesitate." Otto shifts his ponderous weight in the chair, his smile -- such as it is -- slipping again. He leans back, watching her carefully. "Hm. And why is that, I wonder?" he asks. Marta lowers her gaze to the table, almost ashamed of her answer. "Perhaps I've come to... understand him. I try to distance myself from others, from events, but something keeps drawing me back to him. He tried to strangle me when we first met... One of his personalities did. But now, he listens to me to a point, even lets out his true self now and then around me. Yet I fear that even that step is not enough, that eventually what headway I've made will fail, he'll lash out at me... and I'll be forced to act against him." "Hm," says Dr. Octavius. He's relaxed out of that momentary tension once it's clear that she's not referring to him and thus making some kind of oblique threat. "If you have to act, then act. But if you're truly, hm, /concerned/ about him... well." He glances sidelong for a waitress. "Teach him why he mustn't bite /before/ he bites." Marta tilts her head as she considers that answer, then nods. "I could do that. Maybe." She folds her hands on the table then smiles, shifting topics as if the first had been no more than talk of the weather. "What did you make of the Prince's announcement that - Ah, wrong realm... There's been so much news all over the place lately, what with cures and weddings and undead rising, it's easy to get confused." She looks up as the waitress finally arrives and smiles, ordering a coffee. Otto does likewise, not quite looking the woman in the eye as he does so. It's uncanny how quick, how practiced, this brief switch in demeanor is, and how the waitress's eye skims right over him despite the fact that his face has been on the front page of the Bugle more than once. Nothing supernatural, just the skill of someone used to evading notice when necessary and the inability on another's part to suspect that /the/ Doctor Octopus would be meekly ordering a cup of coffee in /this/ modest establishment. He tugs off his gloves once the waitress is gone. "I can... sympathize, to a degree, having been held completely incommunicado for so long. Catching up on current events is... bothersome." Marta probably attracts more attention then Otto with her odd way of looking both at and through people. But as the waitress leaves, she smiles and nods to Otto. "I imagine so. A lot has happened. Yet not all of it will have lasting effects, and you seem to have found knowledgeable associates. I believe I like the Shifter. She has a strong mind." Octavius lifts eyebrows a bit. "I haven't been introduced to all of them," he admits. Even though he's been observing them quite closely... when he's not sequestered in his quarters, anyway. Marta tilts her head, eyes going distant for a moment, then she smirks. "A varied and dangerous bunch, each in their own way. Not that I think you have anything to fear. Most dedicated to their cause, almost fanatically, although not as much with some of the newer ones. Give them time, hmmm...? Strong leaders, which is why they have survived for so long." Otto sneers. Him, fear? Perish the thought. "Mm, yes. Especially... him." No names, not out here in public. "He's quite formidable." From the Octopus, high and rare praise indeed, though there's a dark edge to his tone that suggests this sort of praise is not exactly good for its recipient's safety and well-being. "And so far they've been... acceptably respectful." Marta chuckles lightly. "Indeed. I have not met him myself, but I know enough to understand. His thread is bright, near the front of the waterfall, one of those lives who demand attention, despite my never meeting him. Careful of that one. He'll not easily fall when he does." As the coffee finally arrives, Marta smiles and pauses to savor a couple sips. "Most leaders are formidable in some way, but those who attach themselves to such high causes, well, he's at least assured his name will never die." Otto scowls at this, lowering his head slightly as he wraps a hand around the coffee mug and inhales its aroma. No, he's not one to easily accept anyone near the pinnacle of greatness on which he himself stands (at least in his own mind). Still. "He serves a purpose," the doctor concedes, frowning. "And at the moment, it would be counter-productive for me to work against him." As much as he'd like to, just on general principle. Marta grins at her coffee, then shakes her head. "Most everyone serves a purpose. Just some find theirs better than others. Some never find it and end up running in circles until theirs are found." She blinks, then tilts her head. "Speaking of circles... Huh. Just goes to show, even Death ought to put tags on his dogs." Otto blinks at this odd remark, pausing in the act of tearing open a couple of sugar packets (real sugar, none of that no-calorie sweetener stuff). "Come again?" Marta blinks again, as though just noticing Otto, then chuckles. "Forgive me, I merely noticed a... disturbance among the dimensions. A lost bundle of fire and shadow. This will make for a cute mess. May keep things lively." She chuckles, then takes a long drink of her coffee. Otto purses his lips. "This wouldn't happen to be a literal hellhound of any kind, would it?" He dumps the sugar into his coffee, stirs briskly, and then sips. Thick eyebrows rise again at finding it quite good. Marta laughs lightly, seeming more amused about the circumstance than in any way worried. "You're very perceptive, Doctor. I should investigate at some point. I am curious, at least, concerning what it will do." Otto's smile is thin and humorless. "So am I, if it's the beast I'm thinking of. It was quite attached to its master." Marta frowns at that response, narrowing her eyes in thought, and then she shakes her head. "No, no, another, one much less aligned. I never have had much care for the demonic sort. Tend to avoid them." "Wise," says Octavius, taking another sip of this indeed most excellent coffee. "I've had no satisfactory interactions with that kind of... being." Marta frowns slightly, then nods. "I hope, then, that the future holds less of such interactions for you. There are none among your current associates, at least." She glances down at her almost empty cup, then sighs. "I ought to return before the shadows grow too thick. It would not do to return home too late and worry the rest." Otto considers this for a moment and then nods, draining his own cup. "And it's time I returned to my work." He's itching to get back. Every moment that he's incomplete wears at him. He sets down a carefully-calculated amount of cash -- enough for his drink and an acceptable and forgettable amount of tip, neither too little nor too much.