11/25/2006 Hudson River Warehouse - Main Floor The sweet sound of a young voice humming a few secular carols can be heard from the designated kitchen area of the warehouse's main floor, and within it can be found Angelica. The woman is in the midst of making herself a turkey sandwich and seems blissfully unaware of any others who might be around to be subjected to her impromptu music. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. From overhead comes a heavy, regular tread, metal impacting with metal, approaching the stairway down to the main floor with sinister deliberation. Thunk. Thunk. A three-clawed metal 'foot' at the end of a segmented metal tentacle plants itself at the topmost stair and is soon followed by another just like it that extends all the way down to the floor. Two others follow, similar in appearance, and hanging in the center of them like the body of a daddy longlegs is the portly figure of Dr. Octavius, unshaven and rather rumpled, his eyes hidden behind enigmatic goggles. The tentacles emerge from an opening in the back of a voluminous black coat. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The infamous Doctor Otto Octavius (more popularly known as Doctor Octopus) is a heavyset man in his mid-to-late forties. His broad face is hard, set into lines of determination and obsession; his smiles often have a gritted, tooth-clenching quality, and his grins have a nefarious edge. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, and his straight brown hair is cropped into a unfashionable bowl cut. Physically, the paunchy five-foot-nine scientist is not especially imposing, and without his trademark tentacles in view, he doesn't even appear to be all that dangerous. A dark green three-piece suit clothes the doctor's broad frame, with a black necktie knotted under the collar of his white shirt and sensible-looking black shoes on his feet. When necessary to hide his trademark tentacles, he wears a voluminous black coat that matches his gloves and fedora; there's an opening at his lower back, underneath a flap tailored to cover it, from which the extra limbs can emerge. The tentacles themselves, four in number and made of some dark alloy, sport thickly segmented lengths that are able to extend, at maximum, twenty-four feet, and at each end is a complex manipulator made of three segmented metal claws and numerous more delicate, complicated-looking devices within. The lower two are slightly different in appearance than the upper, though all are equipped with a glowing red light. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The humming cuts off at the sound of that first thunk, and Angelica moves toward the doorway of the kitchen, eyes wide as she peers out to try and discover the source of the noise. Her eyes widen even more once she finds it. Well, it appears that Otto is no longer anything near an ordinary man. She stares for a moment, then seems to regain her senses and pulls back into the kitchen, as though hoping she wasn't seen. No such luck. One of the upper limbs seems to have spotted her, its red light glowing past the curling, jointed claws. For a moment, it looks like a kind of deadly flower, but then the way it focuses and seems to peer in her direction is purely serpentine. "Ah, Damsel. Do not look so distressed." Otto is buoyant, even exuberant, though his voice rasps and he sports an ugly set of fresh bruising on his thick neck, like someone tried to strangle him. Grinning widely, he tentacle-walks himself toward the kitchen. Angelica silently curses as she's spotted, and does what she can to appear less frightened as he enters the kitchen, rushing back over to where she'd been working. She look up with a shaky smile and dips her head in a slight nod as he enters. "...Turkey sandwich? I was just making some." Fully armed (so to speak), Octavius fills the room. "How very thoughtful," the tentacled terror says in a kind of amiable growl. One and then another of the limbs extend and seem to surround the young mutant, making the enclosed space even moreso. "...But no. I was just heading out for some field tests." If anything, his grin widens, becoming sharklike. Angelica eyes the limbs warily as they come closer, her brows lifting in concern, looking very much like a damsel in distress. "Oh, well, I'll make sure there's some leftover, if you want some later? After the... field tests?" She swallows, then looks at the nearest tentacle again, her aura starting to strengthen around her as she feels more and more uneasy. One of the upper arms snakes its way closer to her, the 'death flower petals' curling open as it examines her from a gulf of inches, emitting barely audible clicks and squeals. A trio of smaller, more delicate, manipulators unfold from recesses on the inner side of the outer claws and reach out to pluck at her hair. "No need to be frightened, my dear," says Octavius in the tones of one who, honestly, doesn't mind her being frightened at all. "I would hardly be so discourteous to such a well-mannered young lady." Angelica cowers back as the tentacles comes closer, running into the counter and trying to lean back even further in an effort to get away from it. Further backing, however, is impossible, and so she is forced to remain still, watching its approach with wide eyes. Her eyes shut tightly as the smaller claws touch her hair, and she shudders. She nods to his words, as though agreeing that she won't be frightened, but can't find the courage to speak. Click-click skreeeeee. The arm withdraws, but remains within a couple of feet, its 'eye' watching her. Another adroitly opens the silverware draw, takes out a fork, and uses it to spear a few pieces of turkey before bringing this back over toward the man whose shoes still dangle high off the floor. Octavius, watching and savoring Angelica's fear and its affirmation of his own position of power, takes the fork in his 'real' hand. "I was thinking of inviting you to come along," he rasps, just before taking a bite. Mmm, turkey. Frightened dark eyes follow the movement of the tentacle as it spears the turkey, and then lifts to glance back up at Otto. "M...Me? Invite? I don't see how I'd be any help. Probably just get in the way... Where are you going?" "Up," rasps Octavius, after taking another bite of turkey. "Far above these filthy streets and scuttling human insects." Empty fork in hand, he smiles patronizingly down at her. "It will be quite safe, I assure you." Angelica looks up at the ceiling as he says that, shuddering slightly before she turns away, starting to wrap back up the turkey. "Let me just put this in the fridge and then I'll be ready." There's a note of curiosity to her otherwise shaky tone, and she wastes no time in repacking the food. Otto utters a low, hoarse chuckle, using an extra arm to drop the fork into the sink as he rubs gingerly at his abused neck. "You'll want a coat," he remarks, as he withdraws back to the main room and moves toward the exit. Angelica glances toward the sink as the fork is dropped, almost jumping at the sound, then nods. "I'll run and get one." And she does just that, fleeing up the stairs only to reappear a minute later with a coat in hand, already throwing it over her shoulders. Otto is already in coat and hat, and is, as she returns, tugging on his gloves. The look he gives her is both predatory and approving. Then, without word or warning, one arm all but dives toward her, a thinner tentacle extending out from it like a long tongue to wrap itself around her middle. Mixed signals from the look gets a mixed response in return as Angelica both cowers and offers a small smile. Of course, the smile quickly disappears as the tentacle wraps around her, replaced with a much more worried look. "Quite safe?" The tendril tightens around her, growing snug, while the arm's claws press against her back and belly. "/Quite/," says Octavius, lifting her off the floor without any sign of effort. Another tentacle tugs open the door, and then they're out into the brisk, chill autumn night. Vibration travels up the grasping limb, letting her feel each step, each impact of 'foot' against concrete, and the swiftness of their passage creates a wind that takes her breath away. And they're still, for the moment, still at street level. Angelica gasps as she's lifted off of the floor, placing her hands on the tentacle holding her, as though feeling that she needs a better grasp. But the doctor did say that it was safe... Yet she can't throw him anywhere, so there isn't much trust for his words. Even so, she is surprised by how swiftly they travel, not having expected to have her breath stolen in such a fashion, and soon she is silent, simply watching the surroundings as they move. The circumstances would make it difficult to converse, and Dr. Octavius doesn't attempt it. Nor does he glance her way as he carries her along. Mere blocks away from the Brotherhood's headquarters, he angles toward a crumbling four-story building and begins to scale it, each of his three free tentacles extending to full length. They're at the roof in almost no time at all, and then it's off to the next roof, and the next, always heading for the higher buildings, always climbing, always heading /upwards/, claws gouging handholds in the concrete and brick. As the sounds of traffic grow more distant, the wind gets colder, biting, clawing at hair and pulling at clothes. It's while scaling toward the top of a crumbling twenty-story apartment building in a disreputable section of town that Otto Octavius starts to laugh, loudly, ecstatically, his broad face transformed into an expression of intense -- and not quite sane, truth to tell -- joy. Angelica definitely finds reason to be glad she was told to grab a coat as she is carried along, higher and at surprising speeds. She also makes no effort to converse, but merely stares downward, eyes wide as she silently prays that tight grip won't lesson. Her gaze is drawn back to the doctor, however, at the laugh, and then, only then, does she herself get a small smile, expression softening for a brief moment before her tension returns At the roof of this weary edifice, Otto pauses to stare out over the night-time city with a broad grin, stubbled face flushed and his bowl cut hair horrifically tousled. True, there are a few minor adjustments that are needed, minute irregularities that occurred during the 'run' that only he would notice, but... Gloved hands close into triumphant fists as he draws the arm holding Angelica closer to him. "My dear Damsel," he rasps; all that laughing has further strained his recently-abused windpipe. "Have you the merest inkling of the privilege that I have granted to you this evening?" Angelica loses any smile that she'd had as she is moved closer to him, that concerned look returning. After all, she /is/ at his mercy right now. And... way too high to fall. "I never imagined it would be like this," she answers after a moment to catch her own breath. "Thank you, Doctor." So /many/ ways he could harm her, kill her. Fortunate that he means her no harm, not tonight at any rate. "You're /quite/ welcome, my dear," he says, glancing at her with that unpleasant, tooth-clenched grin of his. The flat round lenses of his goggles stare enigmatically at her, giving away nothing. He turns away then and surveys the glimmer of city lights, the distant faint glitter of stars, and the thin cold sliver of moon, nostrils flaring as he takes in a deeply satisfied breath. "Shall we head back? ...A short run, true, but I rather doubt you would have the stomach for the other tests I have planned out for my restored limbs." Angelica offers a small, uncertain smile in response to that unpleasant grin, then nods to his words, also turning to look at the scene from their high perch. "That would probably be best, yes. Thank you," she adds meekly. Their return to the warehouse is, if anything, even faster. Octavius sets her down in a narrow alley only a block from the Brotherhood's headquarters, the gripping tendril withdrawing back into its hidden recess. "There you go," he says with the amiability of a dragon who's decided not to roast and eat the maiden fair quite yet. "Off to your sandwiches. Do not wait up." Without waiting for reply, he clambers up the brick wall near them, soon disappearing into the night-time darkness. Another of those mad, joyous, evil, triumphant laughs drifts back her way.