Orphic | Spider-Man

FOURTEEN

THAT'S NOT ME." Octavia told Ernie Becker, Oscorp's lawyer. Her eyes bounced between him and their TV in the living room as she sat on the couch. 
      The Daily Bugle was doing a segment on the failed robbery last night at Monroe's, but this segment was special because Spider-Man had been saved by an accomplice--and they had four robotic tentacles, sources say. 
      "That's not you?" Ernie asked her. It was mocking her tone, and Otto, who perked up hearing the mockery, stared at Ernie. Now Ernie, their tall, demanding, intimidating lawyer had known about Octavia's robotic arms for a while, and he obligated to help in case there was any trouble leading from them. As she had been holed up in the penthouse for six months, there was nothing to worry about. Until now. 
      "Octavia, are you telling me you lent another girl your robotic tentacles?" Ernie sarcastically asked. "You would need to perform brain surgery on yourself to hand her the chip!" 
      "Octavia, what were you doing out last night?" Otto asked, approaching the couch. "I-I should be happy that you finally left the penthouse, but the fact that you left it to help Spider-Man--what the hell is that all about?" 

      Octavia narrowed her eyes at her father. "You're starting to sound an awful lot like J. Jonah Jameson," she said. "And first off, I didn't actually want to help Spider-Man, okay? The arms made that decision." 
      "The arms?" Ernie asked, looking over at Otto. "I thought she controlled them." 
      "It's the whole point of the chip." Otto said, worry filled his voice as he cupped Octavia's face. "Darling, are you hearing voices? Thoughts that aren't yours?" 
      Octavia shook her father's hands off her face. "I'm fine. I think the arms know that Spider-Man saved me from what happened at the banquet. Maybe my subconscious--" 
      "Spider-Man did not, save you," Otto snapped. He wasn't mad at Octavia for saying it, just the thought behind it. 
      "Oh!" Octavia scoffed, hitting herself in the forehead. "Right! You did. So sorry, I forgot about the whole tentacle situation." She shrugged then rolled her eyes towards her father. "Honestly, Dad, you're really starting to sound like Jameson--'Grr, Spider-Man! I hate that menace! Take off the mask! Grr, Coward!'" Her voice dropped an octave and became rough in order to mock Jameson. Otto stared at Octavia as the tentacles curled out from her back and stood her up from the couch. "Dad, you should be happy for me--I'm feeling a lot better about myself and. . .I want to get back out in the world. But I still don't know how people would react to a fifteen-year-old wearing a waistband that sprouts four mechanical tentacles. I want to take it all slow." 
      Ernie crossed his arms as he held his chin up. "Didn't take it slow to show it all to Spider-Man." 
      Octavia and Otto shot Ernie the same look that it was nearly scary. 
      "I think the arms are tied more to my subconscious thoughts and actions than I knew of." Octavia spoke towards Otto, but her glare was still on Ernie. "And for the record: Spider-Man thought I did amazing." 
      "It doesn't matter if Spider-Man thought you were the whole package," Ernie said, shaking his head. "His opinion of you won't matter to the public when you've destroyed something--" 
      "Destroy?" Octavia asked. "Name one thing I've destroyed so far." She crossed her arms, and then froze with wide eyes before she added, "Besides the ceiling of Monroe's." 
      "The display cases holding the jewelry," Ernie held up a finger to count on. "The walls, the windows--" 
      "Those were the drones." Octavia retorted with an all-knowing smirk. 
      It faded fast when she heard Otto shout, "Drones?" 
      Ernie's brows knit, "What? Drones? Wh-what drones?" 

      Octavia sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth. "It seems as though the news has decided to hide that information from the public." 
      "Did the drones affect you?" Ernie asked. 
      Octavia shook her head. "No." 
      "Did you have any previous sources of them?" 
      "No." 
      "Okay." Ernie sighed, pulling at his suit. "And all the Mambas in the store were arrested, and since one of them wasn't Castiel, no one recognized you, so we're good." 
      No one recognized you. Except for Laney, Octavia thought. But she didn't need to tell Ernie that. She had to be behind bars by now anyways. 
      "Now just stay away from Spider-Man, and we're good." Ernie added, sighing with his hands on his hips. "I'm not so sure what the press are calling you right now, but thankfully, no one else knows that it's you, so let's keep it that way." 
      "Well what's going to happen when I decide to go out with the tentacles?" Octavia asked. 
      "You can't." Ernie answered. "Maybe they can just be an 'at home' ordeal. Otto, how does that sound?" 
      Otto looked to Octavia, and sighed, "You're right Ernie, and so are you, Octavia." 
      Octavia perked up at this, and Otto stared at her like he was going to say something, then turned to Ernie. "Thanks for stopping by. We'll stay in touch. I know you have some work to do today." 
      "Of course, Otto." Ernie said, walking over to shake his hand. 
      Octavia had moved over to the kitchen, the lower arms whirring and clicking. 
      "Octavia," Ernie turned to look at her but was talking to her back. "Stay out of trouble, please." 
      "Bye." Octavia replied loudly. She was gathering the materials to make tea. 
      After a few moments of another soft replies, footsteps, and the front door closing, Ernie was gone. And Octavia felt her father right behind her. 

      "What was that you said about me being right?" she asked as she kept her eyes forward to the cabinets, the arms lifting her just a little bit higher to search the cabinet for the big mugs. She heard Otto say, to which she instantly felt guilty and remorse for saying it the way she did, and saying it at all. But she did want to hear it again. 
      "Maybe you'll never understand my reasoning," Otto spoke low as the arms lowered Octavia back down. She began to fill the tea kettle with water. "But maybe when you're older, have a kid of your own, you'll be desperate to do anything to make sure they're safe." 
      Octavia froze, hand still on the faucet as she turned it off with the handle. Otto watched her back as her arm slowly came back from the sink, resting on the ledge of the counter. Her shoulder blades tensed underneath her black turtleneck. 
      "I was safe," Octavia said. "At the hospital, before you took me to Oscorp and stitched the microchip in my head." She turned around to face Otto, whose eyes looked glossy, which made Octavia's do the same. "I heard you at the hospital. Bits and pieces about me being miserable in a wheelchair. I might be your daughter, but you don't know me well enough to know that, yeah, it would've ducked but at least there are a million other people out there in wheelchairs, for the same possible reason. Maybe I would've gotten back out there sooner. Maybe if you had just listened to another smart person you would've come to your senses. 
      Octavia stared at her father as he looked away for a moment, wiping his eyes. 
      "You're the smartest person I know, yet you chose to listen only to yourself. You say you'd do anything to keep me safe, happy, healthy--whatever--but you didn't choose it for me, you chose it for you, because it would've killed you to see your daughter unable to walk, as if it was the equivalent of being unable to live. You weren't thinking about how I'd feel, you were thinking about how you'd feel." Octavia had to loosen her jaw when she spoke, and she didn't want to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks or the ones clouding her eyes, but blinking just created more tears. "I like the arms now. Really, and maybe some day, I could use them to help others like how Spider-Man helps New York, but right now I'd like a fresh new start." 

      Otto nodded, sniffing and covering his mouth with his hand, listening to her every word, thinking them over. 
      "Yes, of course," he whispered. Then he looked at her with pursed lips. "I'm so sorry." 
      Octavia pursed her lips now, slowly shaking her head and closing her eyes. "It's going to take a lot more than that to make up for an apology." 
      Otto slightly shock but understanding, nodded. "Yes, of course, darling." 
      Octavia nodded. "Good. You can start by getting me a wheelchair. Please."