Nature and Science

“Pops?”

A radio buzzed. Elle's voice came again from another room.

“Pops?”

More white noise cracked and popped.

Otto lay with his eyes closed, thinking hard about whether or not it was worth it to open them and see what fresh Hell the new day offered. The radio continued to whoop and he heard Elle smack it at least twice more. For the next half hour, Elle would ask for someone on the other end of the signal, only for Otto to hear her angrily assault her radio.

“Daffy, you there?”

A feminine noise of pleasant surprise was followed by the muffled sound of a male voice.

Otto immediately sat up, wondering who Elle was speaking to, what she had possibly said, or would say, to them. Forcing himself to focus on the noise, he could barely hear through the thick wall of the cabin. Was she ratting him out? Doc Ock, back from the dead, and completely helpless to resist the authorities? Or was something even more nefarious going on; perhaps she knew someone who could benefit from scrapping or usurping his actuator technology. She had never noticed the arc reactor but that did not mean someone else's technology hadn't. Stranger things had happened.

The theories raced around his mind until the radio gave a loud whoop as it tried to find a signal.

“Can you hear me now?” Elle asked, her voice raised considerably. “Daffy, I’m gunna need groceries. You gunna be around? Yeah, I-…Yeah-….No, I have unexpected company. Dropped in when I wasn’t expecting them. Yeah, I-… Yeah, b-… No, nothing like that. ...Anthony's side of the fam, you know how it is. Can’t really say no to him… yeah, real city slicker type….”

Elle’s voice raised several times over the static, and several time more to prevent whoever she was speaking to from interrupting her. The conversation was rather boring, Otto had to admit, but he listened as intently as he could for fear of missing even a single hint that he was not in the care of someone who had his best interests at heart.

And why would she? He thought to himself. She gains nothing from me being here.

When Elle finished her conversation, which involved a lot of swearing and complaining about prices, Otto heard the distinct chiming of her retro beaded curtain. He looked up and immediately turned his head away.

Clearly, the dead hearth did nothing to deter her. She wore a tank top, faded from age and stretched with overuse, a pair of panties, and nothing else to cover the scarring that ran the length of her muscular limbs.

“Morning, sunshine,” she growled.

“Good morning,” Otto replied hoarsely, eyeing her sidelong. From her tone, her morning was not a ‘good’ one. He contemplated standing up and offering to make something to eat but, not knowing where things were in her kitchen nor what she had in her fridge, quickly quashed the notion.

“Tea?” she offered, reaching for a large tin kettle while simultaneously fishing for the fridge handle with her bare foot. Her toes hooked around the handgrip and she open the door. The bulb was burnt out and the appliance hissed in protest of being used. She grabbed out a carton of eggs.

“I half expected a deer to come falling out,” Otto mumbled, trying not to smirk.

Elle filled her kettle and put it on top of the stove top. Scowling, she turned and shrugged.

“No, it’s still hanging out back. Haven’t pulled it in yet for butchering.”

Otto’s stomach tied into an unpleasant knot as he fought back his repulsion. He was glad Elle began working on lighting the fire so he wouldn’t have to work so hard.

“Got a friend coming by sometime in the next couple of days,” she told him. “Bringing a few things to keep us tided over until you’re fit to actually leave.”

“And will you be getting dressed to greet your friend?” Otto asked, still barely looking at her. He could feel her roll her eyes.

“I’m tired, and I live here.”

There was no further invitation for discussion from her. Otto sighed and tried a different approach to civility.

“Your friend can’t just give me a lift to the nearest train station?”

Elle chuckled, a low and breathy sound.

“Folks around here aren’t great with out-of-towners, especially outside of cottage season. We get a few hunters here and there that pay big bucks to the local guide, but for the most part, they mind their own business. You and your dead weight arms are not something that would go unnoticed.”

The fire lit, she stood and turned back to him, watching the match fizzle out in her fingers.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck here. Well, not here here,” she gestured around at her home. “I mean, in town. Here.”

“Where is…here?” Otto asked slowly.

“East Guilford,” she answered. She waited for a reaction. When Otto merely looked at her, she frowned.

“Really? You're lucky I took you in. Figured, what with you being a scientist and all, you’d be related to the old facility.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Otto flatly said. “What facility?”

“If you don’t know it,”- Elle started sharply -“then never mind. It isn’t around anymore anyway.”

Her tone had gone harsh and Otto, somewhat taken aback, was curious.

“What kind of facility was it? What is the building used for now?” he asked.

“No,” Elle said, her lip curling up. She turned back to the kettle. “Nothing’s there anymore. No building, nothing. Just an overgrown parking lot and a big hole in the ground that nature is kind enough to fill in.”

Otto deflated, disappointment sinking his shoulders. The prospect of some sort of research facility had given him a spark of optimism. He mentally prodded at his arms again but there was no response.

“All that keeps the town alive is the lumber mill, the little air strip that small planes use, that microbrewery those hipsters set up a few years back, and the occasional ghost hunter, urban explorer, or indie film crew that want to shoot in the abandoned ammunition plant. Damn thing; the town doesn’t want to demolish it because that would be assuming responsibility to the environmental clean up, and, well…”

A bark of laughter. Otto knew where she was headed.

“Town doesn’t have the money for anything on that scope. It’s been for sale for decades. Practically since the war ended.”

“Which one?” Otto sighed, leaning back.

“You’d figure it’d be ol’ double-u-double-u two, but, as a matter of fact, it was closed after ‘nam.”

“Good riddance,” Otto whispered to himself. From across the room, Elle nodded in agreement.

“I don’t, well, I don’t mean to be…a bother but…” Otto swallowed, uncomfortable with asking for anything. “What's there to eat?”

~*~*~*~*

Breakfast had consisted of eggs and bacon. It had been greasy and delicious and Otto had felt sick after eating, opting instead to nap for hours. Still exhausted from surviving the river he had awoken to an empty cabin, a fresh log on the kitchen fire the only indication that Elle was nearby. She appeared some time later from outside to make them a lunch of hot tea, crackers, and tomato soup from a mason jar. It was light but sat heavy in Otto’s stomach, and he again fell asleep for far too long.

When next he woke, a new day had slung its light through the window, and Otto found he had the strength to stand. At some point, Elle had laundered his clothes; he didn't question how, only appreciated the way she had folded them on the adjacent couch. He dressed quietly and made his way over to the kitchen, stopping to warm his feet by the fire for a few minutes before he filled the kettle and put it on top of the stove to boil. He fished a mug from the cupboard he had seen her pull them from before and plopped a teabag into it, closing the tin that had been left out on the countertop with a sharp snap.

When his tea was steeped, he clutched the warm mug to him and slowly opened the door.

Elle was sitting on her porch, lounging easily in one of two chairs that sat by the door. She was wearing her hat, sunlight bouncing off it as she looked across her property into the tree line. Her coat lay open, a sweater beneath, and she donned a fresh pair of boots that Otto was not at all surprised to see looked well-worn. A tea that wreaked of pine sat on the railing in front of her, next to a rifle Otto gave pause to examine.

“How many of those do you have?” Otto asked, nudging his chin at the firearm.

“Why? Want some advice now that you’ve seen what the forest has to offer?”

Otto ignored her smug tone as he slowly made his way to the chair next to her, turning it around so that he could lean forward on the backrest and let his tentacles hang behind him. It creaked beneath his weight but held, and Otto let his breath go.

“Most people in the city that carry a piece have a handgun, and they aren’t aiming at deer and squirrels,” he answered.

Elle chuckled, reaching for her mug. She picked it up and, with her other hand, held up two fingers.

“I’m not a redneck, you know. I have as many as I need. One for big game, one for small. They both make a good show for anyone who comes trespassing on my territory.”

“I think your teeth would do just as well,” Otto answered, whistling at the memory of the werewolf’s open maw as she went to sink her fangs into the other beast.

She hummed, nodding slightly.

“Usually,” she quietly said.

“May I ask,” Otto began, watching her for any sign of nuisance. She seemed content, for once, and so he continued. “When you change, ah, forms, is it completely voluntarily? Or are there some sort of…lunar rules?”

“If you’re asking if I can control myself on a full moon,” Elle said, partially sighing, “then yes, I have complete control of my mind at all times. Unless I’m really pissed off. Or hungry. Then I’m a right bitch.”

Otto couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind his mug.

“Fascinating. Can you control how long you stay in your…beast form?”

“Always.” She smirked. “Feels more natural.”

“Oh.” Otto blinked. “You… aren’t human, perhaps?”

Very slowly, Elle shook her head. “Who knows. Haven't met many others of my kind to ask their thoughts on it.”

“I see.” A beat. “Are you allergic to silver?”

“You are very nosy.” She finished off her mug, setting it back onto the railing.

“I prefer to call myself curious,” Otto rebuffed her. She merely scoffed and looked out into the trees. Otto noticed the tiny smile sneaking up the corners of her lips, his own mouth curving into a jovial grin.

They spent the morning watching the sunlight filter through the trees and listening to winter birds.

~*~*~*~*

After another quiet day of rest and warm food, Otto fell asleep examining the arc reactor. He dreamt of Rosie, of more pleasant memories than his last of her. He found himself back in New York and, when he awoke, he felt a shy pang of homesickness for the familiar. The scars along where the harness met his flesh stung, wire mesh and metal warm with growing melancholy.

Impatience had begun to set in as Otto’s eyes flickered open to another morning in the cabin. Rest was fine, he knew he needed it, yet he also wanted answers as to how he had ended up so far from New York City. He didn't suspect Elle as having anything to do with his strange new surroundings other than she was there first and wanted as little to do with him as he did with her woods. As such, her answers would likely be scant. Elle's kindness, too, had clear limits, and Otto sensed her hospitality would wane thin sooner rather than later.

His surroundings must have had to have something to do with the magic Strange had used. Perhaps the young Parker had convinced him to send Otto, and perhaps the others, to a time that was not at the moment of their imminent deaths. He winced, recollecting the moment he had his own Peter’s neck clenched within his mechanical claws, ready to crush the life out of him… Perhaps, in another timeline, an alternative reality, he had spared him. Perhaps he had managed to reach Otto and help him regain control of his mind from his more serpentine creations. The hope was all he had at the moment.

“Daffy will be here soon,” Elle said, startling Otto. He lamented that, again, she chose to wear as little clothing as possible. Clearly, she was not as shy as she was unfriendly. “Don’t let him see your extra limbs. Here. Don’t punch holes in it! I’ve seen what you did to your jacket!”

She threw a brown knitted sweater to him. Otto caught it and unfolded it, examining what she had given him. It was old; there were moth holes eaten through and the yarn had come undone in several other places than the areas that had been darned before. It surprised him to find the sweater was big enough that it would easily slide over his frame, tentacles and all. At least it smelt clean, he mused, unlike his turtleneck that still smelt faintly of the river.

He wanted to ask her where she got it from. His mind worked, chewing through the second chair, the two vehicles left to rot. Perhaps she had a man, or used to; it was none of his business, Otto decided, not wanting to tempt fate by annoying his saviour when she had already labelled him a nosy pest.

Elle rushed herself to finish lunch and set about starting a new fire in the main hearth. She disappeared beyond the tacky curtain, returning with a fresh flannel shirt tucked into blue jeans. Her boots were clean and she had let her hair down, fanning over her shoulders and down her back. Otto had the sense that whoever Daffy was, they were important enough to motivate Elle into being presentable.

Otto assumed it was around noon when he heard tires crunch over frozen ground. He looked up to the faded Garfield clock above the kitchen window, wondering how many years had passed since it had stopped ticking. He began to rise only for Elle to motion him to stay seated.

“Is Daffy your father?” Otto asked. “I heard you on the radio the other morning, is all, trying to get ahold of someone you called 'Pops'.”

Elle scoffed and waved him away, shaking her head. She went out the door and, for several minutes, Otto was peacefully alone under warm blankets in his second-hand sweater.

When the door opened again, Elle was followed inside by a short man with dark brown skin, a mop of curly black hair, and very accusing brown eyes surrounded by purple eyeshadow. He wore a white fur-lined jacket and a thick scarf, which Otto found puzzling as it hadn’t felt that cold earlier. Pearls dotted the fellow's earlobes, as did several rings of gold. Both the stranger and Elle carried canvas bags of food into the kitchen, which Elle began to unload over the counter.

“Thanks again, Daffy. I swear, Pops is coming by to take a look at the truck next week. Just got kind of stuck, is all, what with…” Elle nudged her chin over at Otto, who bristled despite knowing she had chosen to bring him there instead of anywhere else.

Otto offered the stranger a small but friendly wave. Daffy was not the kind of character he had expected to see in a small town. In New York City, anything went, and the streets were filled with all kinds of people from all walks of life. Elle's forest was far more curious than he had known.

“How did he even get here?” Daffy, as Elle had identified him, asked accusingly. He ignored Otto’s modest greeting and began heating up a fresh kettle, completely familiar with his surroundings.

“Oh. An Uber dropped him off down the road. He walked the rest of the way. Travels light, at least; big as he is, he doesn’t take up much space.”

“Hello,” Otto firmly said, more formally than friendly. He did not appreciate being ignored.

“Oh, yeah,” Elle said, somewhat embarrassed as she tucked a bit of loose hair behind her ear. “Daffy, Doc. Doc, Daffy.”

“You need to get a phone,” Daffy scolded Otto from the fireside. “Surprising distant relatives is not polite!”

Otto merely smiled, pondering what sort of fib Elle had told the other man. Grateful that she kept his curious arrival a secret, he didn’t doubt she was also disguising her own ignorance of the strange man camping on her couch.

“No signal out here, anyway, Daff, not past Plughat road. You know that.”

Daffy scoffed as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“He had all the time in the world to call you before getting here. What are you intending to hunt that you couldn’t hire a guide and had to mooch off family? Not even your side of the family!” At this, Daffy flung his hand in the air, gesticulating to the heavens to guide him towards understanding Otto’s perceived offence.

“Eh, Otto’s alright. He’s nice, he makes breakfast. And we’re not hunting game. He’s a scientist. He’s hunting specimens. Got to appreciate the quirky science-nerds that love nature.”

Oh, that’s a good one, Otto thought.

“Quirky? Pfft,” Daffy snorted. He began to pack canned food into a pantry cupboard. “My mother loves me, but if I showed up at her door with less than a day of notice, she’d beat me black and blue with her slipper.”

“Well,” Elle slowly began. “Not everyone has slippers…”

Daffy gave her a venomous scowl. Otto was impressed how Elle’s unpleasant qualities paled in comparison to the strength of Daffy’s far superior scorn.

“You have eight pairs of slippers. I know this for a fact because your father tells me this every time you ask for a new pair of slippers for any occasion. Any occasion! Birthdays, slippers! Christmas, slippers! Cinderella wasn’t as prepared as you and she did just fine!”

“You know as well as I that a girl can never have too many shoes, Daff.”

Elle laughed, a genuine sound that was almost musical. As Daffy turned away from her, Otto caught her mouth to him that she, in fact, only had two pairs of slippers. She spread her arms before bringing them in and curling her fingers to mimic claws.

“Anyway,” Daffy sighed, throwing his coat onto the wrack. He produced a black ziplock bag that had barely any slack to it. “Here’s your weed. You got my shrooms?”

Daffy’s head suddenly snapped to Otto, who kept his mouth tight and pretended to be very interested in the months-old editions of 'Out of Doors' magazine on the coffee table as the bag found its way into Elle’s back pocket.

“Is he cool?”

“Better be. It’s 2022,” Elle chuckled.

Otto’s blood ran cold. He felt his breath leave his lungs and didn’t dare try to refill them.

“Well, if he isn’t, he’s going to get lost in the woods. Possibly eaten by bears. Who knows? You never saw him!” Elle laughed again. At Daffy’s softened, worried look, she petered off.

“What’s wrong?”

2022?! Peter had grown but…that’s almost twenty years…how…how could this be?

“There’s been another attack.”

“No shit,” Elle said, staring wide-eyed at Daffy while she poured herself a cup of tea. “More sheep?”

I’m not in New York City, but I never fathomed that I'd be sent into the future... I was supposed to be at the moment before my death! Did the wizard mess up his spell?! Of course he did! How DARE that amateur son of a bitch do this to me! I could have fixed things!

“No, cattle this time. Three of Ted’s. He’s furious as hell; you know how much he loves his cows.”

“Oh…” Elle pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “That…that’s awful. Poor Ted. Poor cows.”

“It gets worse,” Daffy said. He reluctantly set his cup down. “Brownie was among them.”

“No!” Elle all but shrieked. “Not Brownie! She’s so sweet! You can’t go into the field without her following you around, and heaven forbid you sit for a second! Aw, no more cow naps…”

Where the HELL is East Guilford anyway? How far from New York AM I?

“And with Ted’s boy having hit that thing on the road last week, he’s absolutely furious. Insurance will cover his loses but he’s still out a truck and now his cows…”

“Wait.” Elle cocked her head to the side. “What thing on the road?”

“That big bear thing. He swears it wasn’t a bear but what else could be that big and do that much damage to his car? It’s not like he could have mistaken it for a moose.”

Elle looked from Daffy to Otto.

“Did you hear that? Otto? Otto!”

Otto snapped out of his train of thought. He gasped, at last remembering to breath.

“Did you hear about the not-bear?” Elle looked at him insistently. “Relevant to your research, perhaps?”

Not having anticipated being expected to improvise on a lie he hadn’t heard, Otto opened and closed his mouth several times before he shrugged.

“If it’s a carnivore, I am.”

Interested in getting far away from it, damn it all.

“Good,” Elle said, her brows knitted in a frown. “I’ll show you the areas most likely to attract a large predator. You can set up some trail cameras.”

“Well act fast, because you won’t be the first ones to investigate,” Daffy said. As both Elle and Otto gave him an incredulous look, Daffy smirked with the power of his gossip. “This group calling themselves H.M.S.F already spoke to Ted’s boy.”

“Who are they?” Elle asked, her voice low.

“Their truck had nothing but the acronym on it. 'Hinterland Mammal Science Federation', they said. Stupid acronym, not even an acronym! An initialism. And they refused to answer many of my questions. RUDE! I hate city-slickers.” Daffy looked to Otto with a curled lip. “They said they were a private firm hired by the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife, but Krueger said he had no notice of anyone coming down, let alone some private firm. He didn’t call anyone, himself, anyway. Still in contact with Fisheries trying to figure out what's going on, but they're gone now anyway.”

“Krueger is a game warden, he’d be the one to call, though?” Elle asked. “How can that be that he'd just let some unknown hobby group get involved?”

Otto frowned, noticing the sudden nervousness in Elle’s demeanour. She began to fiddle with her cup, tucking her hands into her sleeves and picking at the buttons on her cuffs.

“Exactly. The whole thing is very suspect. I think it’s a hoax, set up by some YouTubers for likes and Krueger either knows it and is letting it go or is embarrassed to have been bamboozled by it. Either that or something escaped from the facility years ago and has been roaming the woods ever since!”

Daffy began to chuckle at his joke but deflated when he saw Elle’s thinly disguised scowl.

“Eh, sorry, sorry. It is rather suspicious, though.”

Elle turned her glare onto Otto, who involuntarily shrunk back on the couch.

“Indeed,” she said.

~*~*~*~*

Daffy and Elle had spent hours gossiping together. They migrated about the cabin, taking up the other couch before retreating back to the kitchen. Then they disappeared to the porch where the distinct smell of marijuana wafted in through the door when they retreated back inside. Otto spent his time gazing listlessly at the arc reactor, not even bothering to squirrel it away whenever the other two meandered obliviously by.

Otto estimated from the emptiness of his stomach and the amount of wood he had fed the fire that at least four hours had passed by the time Daffy finally readied himself to leave.

“Thanks for the shrooms. Make sure your father fixes your truck,” Daffy cautioned Elle, his jacket back on and the red gone from his eyes. “It’s nicer to see you in town than come all this way when you can’t get a hold of the old man.”

“Thanks, Daffy. Really, I appreciate you doing this favour for me, and I appreciate the company.”

Daffy scowled but it melted into a cheeky smile. He waved behind him as he left, and Otto heard the sound of a truck starting up again. A radio began to loudly cycle through all the available stations before blaring Indian pop music and the sound of tires squealing from the cold announced Daffy’s departure.

Elle shut the door behind her. She kept her hand pressed against the wood, silently contemplating before turning to face Otto.

“What the Hell?” she growled at him.

Otto looked at her, raising his eyebrow. He set the arc reactor down.

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean,” she snarled, marching over to him. “You show up and I get attacked by a trespasser. Ted’s boy last week right around the same time; the 'big bear thing'? Fucking eh, man, it's the same wolf, no doubt!”

“I have nothing to do with such events.” Otto paused, recalling the spell that had ripped him from time not once, but twice. “That I am aware of. Coincidence, might I add, does not equate to causation.”

“Stuff it, you big fat fucking nerd. How did you wind up in the river, hm? Any ideas about that? Or are you blissfully ignorant to that mystery as well?”

Otto scowled, unimpressed by her insult and insinuations.

“Actually, I had an inclination as to how that happened. Remember that wizard I mentioned?”

“No!” Elle barked. “He have something to do with the ‘private contractors’ investigating the road accident? Or maybe you lied and are related to the old facility. Bet you’re here to track your little experiment gone wrong…or me?”

Elle’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. She began to unbutton the front of her shirt with lengthening nails.

“No, but his spell went wrong. Clearly. I’m…” Otto thought quickly, watching the hair begin to grow on her arms.

Fuck it.

“He banished me to the wrong year. That much I know.”

Elle paused, her frame a foot taller than it had been mere seconds ago.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I…you said it was 2022,” Otto said. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to…end up…here.”

Elle looked at him for a long moment. Closing her lips around her large, bared teeth, she still managed to glower at him.

“In Maine?”

“No, in 2022.”

Otto’s heart dropped, colliding with his stomach so hard he almost doubled over.

“I’m in MAINE?!”

“Well, yeah…” Elle said, shrinking back down to her regular size. The grateful stitching on her clothes barely held, and her shirt hung off her as though it were a size too large.

Otto began to breath harder and harder. He bolted from the couch, blankets falling unceremoniously about his feet. He stood stock still, unable to think, to say anything. He sat down again, clutching at his chest and Elle hurriedly fetched him a glass of water.

“Easy, Doc,” she told him, shoving the water in his hand. “Do you need an aspirin? What’s happening? Speak! I’m not mad anymore, okay? Don’t have a heart attack, I can’t dig in the ground this late into the year and I ain't that hungry…”

“Maine…” Otto said, over and over. “Maine!”

Had it been the magic? Had his tentacles taken him that far? Elle had said that one of them had actually called for help before going inactive; perhaps they had tried to take him as far as they could before their computer died?

“Maine,” he repeated, wondering why on Earth his arms would take him that far? And why Maine, of all places, when New York City was a large enough place that they could have easily hidden him until he regained consciousness and directed them on what to do next?

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Otto mumbled.

“Okay, so…where, uh, when are you supposed to be?”

Otto swallowed down the water and began laughing at the preposterous decision his tentacles had made. Truly, they were lost without his guidance.

“I’m supposed to be in New York City,” Otto said between gasps. “In 2004.”

“Oh.”

She combed her hair back with a hand, looking anywhere but at him.

“I was like, shit, I was like…I voted for the first time in 2004.”

Otto’s laughter only grew harder as he mentally did the math. She was more than a decade younger than he had been back in 2004. He supposed he was, technically, the same age as he had been then.

“Strange,” Otto said.

“Well, no, it was an election year…”

“No, Strange!” Otto growled, his mirth gone. “The damn wizard, his name. Stupid name for a foolish idiot!”

“The…wizard’s name was ‘Strange’?”

“Yes,” Otto hissed with no small amount of exasperation. “Doctor Strange. Young Peter, he...he was trying to do right, and Strange tried to help him. Not well, mind you; he seemed incapable of helping outside of intimidating the boy to do his version of the 'right thing'.”

The condo, engulfed in flames.

May's corpse left lying in the rubble.

The wrecked van, torn apart by Conners -not his Conners- claws.

Otto blinked against the memories of what he had seen that night, what had made him seek out the young Spider-Man and follow his video to the Statue of Liberty. He had tried to help, just as the boy had done for him.

“We...” Elle began. She paused, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. She began to pace the cabin, eyes trained to the floor. When she finally looked at him, her face was a mask of reluctant sympathy.

“I don't know how to help you there, Doc. I can get you to New York City, sure, but as for time travel, well...I barely passed high school physics. I couldn't balance a chemical equation if you put a gun to my head. I'm no engineer, either.”

She sat down next to him, her chin on her fist.

“If you met up with that Peter kid you kept mentioning, would that be of any help?”

“Perhaps,” Otto answered quietly. “I don't...I don't know if the Peter that exists here is my Peter.”

“Well, he might be a bit off from time, but-”

“No,” Otto interrupted her gently. “Strange brought me from 2004 to...a whole new world. A different reality. He was supposed to send me back to my time yet, based upon my wretchedly incorrect proximity to New York and the vast difference of years, frankly, I don't know if this plain of existence is even either of the ones I've inhabited before. Strange's magic was going terribly wrong when last I saw him and Peter. The fabric between realities was tearing. I have no idea if the Peter that exists in this New York City is either of the Peters I've encountered.”

Elle stared at him blankly.

“W-what? I'm lost.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Start from the beginning. Fill me in, werewolf to cyborg.”

Otto sighed. He glanced at the arc reactor still on the coffee table. Picking it up, he showed it to her.

“It's a long, terrible story. Forgive me.”

“I'm a patient woman, Doc. Seen some things.”

He smirked, a snort of laughter coming up his throat. “I told you my fusion experiment failed. That my tentacles, as you call them, were grafted onto my body. That's not the worst of what happened.”

The weight of the new inhibitor chip pressed into the back of his neck. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. He opened his mouth, shut it, and braced himself against his own words.

He couldn't do it.

Otto swallowed the tale, unprepared and too weak to tell Elle of the terrible things he'd done. He couldn't bring up the consequence of his failed experiment, of the crimes, of the damage and death, of losing Rosie.

“I was battling a vigilante, Peter, who tried to stop my second attempt at the experiment. It would have been a disaster, I hadn't fixed what had gone wrong. I...I was convinced I could make it work if I just scaled it up, made it bigger-”

“Ahuh. Menfolk and size, yep.”

Otto's mouth became a thin line on his face. Elle murmured a bashful apology, rotating her hands on her wrists to encourage him to keep talking.

“I couldn't fathom I'd fail again. I was mad with purpose and determination,” Otto whispered. “The arms, they...when they work, the A.I and I communicate. They listen to my commands, unconscious and intentional. The inhibitor chip-” he gingerly touched the back of his neck. “It had been destroyed by an terrible electric shock, the same one that fused my creation to my body. The A.I did what they were programmed to do; fulfill their purpose, regardless of the consequences. Manage my fusion machine; that's why they were built. I lost control of them, of my mind, and they took over.”

Elle's eyes widened but she waited for him. Grateful, Otto took a moment to compose himself.

“My machine was...disastrous. It would have destroyed the city, maybe more. I was about to...well, die. I had lost the fight. Thank goodness. But, that's when Strange's spell plucked me from my reality and drew me into a new one. Peter, a different one, he fabricated a new inhibitor chip, gave me back my mind. He was battling his own demons, literal and figurative. He wasn't alone, there were other Peters. My Peter. A third, from yet another universe. I helped as much as I could. Win some, lose some.”

Otto glanced behind him in the direction of the severed claw. Elle nodded, putting two and two together.

“We won, saved the city, and Strange was supposed to send me back to the moment before my death. With the new inhibitor chip, I wouldn't have had to die, I could have stopped everything. Instead, I woke up cold, wet, and with terrible company.”

Elle smiled at his attempted humour, rolling her eyes and patting his hand that tightly clutched at the blanket's edge.

“It wasn't all bad,” Otto pressed himself to go on. “The A.I was able to override my natural body functions; they blocked out the pain of...”

Of grief. My poor Rosie...

“...recovering from the harness being grafted onto me,” Otto said behind a strained cough. “They kept my body going well beyond the limits of hunger and fatigue.”

“That isn't good, Doc,” Elle mumbled. She was frowning, Otto saw, but her eyes were soft and there wasn't any of her characteristic bite to her tone. “They enslaved you, man.”

“Yes,” he agreed, nodding. “But with the new chip, I regained control.”

“Just in time for them to run out of batteries,” Elle remarked.

Again, Otto nodded, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

“They're like children,” he said softly. “They listen, they learn, but they have no real concept of 'good' or 'bad'. They can be taught, but they have to be taught. And this-” He held up the arc reactor. “This is what my experiment would have done. Not as elegantly, I'm ashamed to say, but the same idea. Far more effective, far less dangerous. And the young Peter was in possession of it like it was nothing more than a kitchen appliance. Knew how to use it, how it worked. I haven't begun to figure it out, myself.”

“Yet,” Elle hummed, closing her eyes with the weight of all Otto had told her. She leaned back, raising her arms to rest behind her head.

“Well, your Peter or not, maybe this reality's Peter, or Strange, can still help you. Your not-your Peter sounds pretty clever, anyway.”

“Very smart lad,” Otto said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. “Mine is, too. Seems to be a shared quality among the universes.”

They sat quietly for a while, Otto debating letting her know the extent of his prior madness. He imagined scenarios of her casting him out, turning him in to the authorities, even eating him alive if she found out the truth of 'Doctor Octopus'. Anxiety swelled within him until his stomach ached with self-induced tension.

Elle eventually snapped him out of it when she stood, the simple distraction bringing Otto back from his stupor.

“Look, I've got the munchies. You want some chips? I'm going to make chips.”

“Yes,” Otto answered miserably. “I'd like some chips.”

“Good,” Elle said. She reached out to him and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe I got a screwdriver lying around to help you with that thing later.” She gestured to the arc rector. The two of them shared a pitiful chuckle.

~*~*~*~*

The hour was getting very late. An empty bowl full of greasy crumbs sat on the coffee table, Elle's feet beside it as she regaled Otto with a story of hunting.

The windows and wall behind Otto lit up from bright headlights. Elle jumped from her seat to press her face against the window before hastily peeling back. She lurched towards the door, grabbing up her shotgun from its post.

Otto tensed in alarm and Elle flung the door open and stood outside on the porch.

The van that had pulled into her driveway simply reversed and headed back the way it came. The driver had been in no rush, and the lack of panic led Otto to assume they hadn't seen Elle's gun. As she came back inside, locking the deadbolt and sliding the chain latch into place, she kept looking out the window as though expecting the van to come back.

“Probably just lost,” Otto offered. “No lights or street signs, and all.”

His mind raced to the suspicious organization that Daffy had mentioned and Elle's ensuing frustration.

“Aye,” Elle mumbled.

She set about closing the dust-covered curtains at every window. With a simple good night, she tossed another block of wood onto the fire and, shotgun still in hand, vanished into the back room.

Otto mentally nudged his tentacles, unnerved by Elle's display of suspicion. The dead A.I remained silent.