The Anachronous Ch. 9

NINE


“My voice escapes through the pod via a recording already developed and announces a broadcast that disrupts every channel on television and radio in which I proclaim that I—”

“Committed suicide!” cried Doctor Octopus.

“Please,” scoffed the older. “That I, Doctor Octopus, have revealed my power and I can show it again!”

“But you’ll be dead!”

“That will be the beauty of it, Otto!” grinned the older with manic glee, and this time he did laugh, an eerie sickening sort of laugh like a choking goblin. The younger watched with a goaded pout. “No one will know whether I’m dead or not. I will live as a legend forever! A nightmare in the hearts of men! Even if after years later they discover that I died in my own explosion they will fear me for I will have already won my place in history!”

“But if you’re that confident your plan will work then why waste it!” exclaimed the younger Octopus frantically. “You could exude your power over the masses! Have reason! Or have you lost that ability!?”

“This is the one way I succeed!” snapped the older. “I will not be contradicted! Not even by myself!”

A deadly future arm suddenly snapped over the younger Doctor Octopus’ head. Though startled but this, his own rage was not extinguished as the older continued and the younger bared his teeth and glowered the harder.

“The only way my power will reach its pinnacle! The fear of the unknown for years to come instead of falling at the mercy of that arachnid accidently killing me by kicking me in the right spot! I’m dying, you unfeasible fool! You think this life support system will be able to keep me going for more than a few short years if that!?” The he shrieked out and spat. “My spine is deteriorating! My blood poisoned! My bodily systems … All are out of control! And what miserable short amount of pain, agony and frailty I face. I might not even die in battle. Just shrivel into dust in Ravencroft or the hospital!” Here he wiped a gob of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “And is that what you want? A pitiful weakling’s whimper at the end of your life. No. It isn’t. Hmph. I know it isn’t. Even now you’re sickened by the idea more than you are at your future actions towards it. You cannot deny it. I know myself only too well …”

The younger Octopus could not deny it. He did not try.

The further signs of illness and frailty were upon his older self’s face again. His breathing had grown heavy and strained. He could not keep his angry passions up for long and had to stop yelling for a moment or so to recuperate from the outburst as he rubbed at his aching throat.

“Besides,” the future Octopus said then far more calmly as he released the head of his younger self from with grip of his claw. “No one will be graced with the pleasure of destroying Doctor Octopus but me.”

For a long while, the younger Octavius had nothing to say.

It could not end like this. He had to do something. But Doctor Octopus had to admit that he was completely at a loss. Watching his older self swoop on elegant tentacle arms across the lab to his computers, his brow deepened, and he thought very hard about what was going on within the mind of his older self. With the whole story now pieced together, he knew without a doubt, however much he resented it, that without the foreknowledge of how stupid this whole thing was from a bystander, he would probably feel desperate enough at the point of the slow agonized demise which his older self spoke of to do something of this sort. But Doctor Octopus had to possess the strength to fight to the very last breath. There had to be a way to get his attention. After all, even if this was the final bang of Doctor Octopus and he did agree with it, what if, as in the case with so many of his plans, this one did not go the way he planned either?

What if …?

Smiling with the oozing irony of what he was about to say, he turned to his older self muttering about the bombs seeming to be in position. Then the younger spoke in a low sinister tone, “What about Spiderman?”

The future Octopus turned rigid and spun around on his arms.

Again the younger Octopus frowned. “What if that absurd arachnid succeeds in preventing the bombs from going off and the only one who dies is you? Then you would be known only as the broken madman who failed in his last desperate attempt to be recognized. And the heroic Spiderman will not only have saved New York City, but the whole country. Perhaps the world. You will have provided him with only a greater triumph and a more miserable failure to your demise.”

SLAM!

Faster than Doctor Octopus could barely comprehend well enough to use his arms to brace himself against a smashed skull, he was suddenly rammed into the ceiling of the lab, and in such a manner that he nearly passed out. But as the future Octopus lifted himself closer to him from the ground and the claw continued to press him upwards, he shook himself out of it and growled.

“You dare to mock me!” snapped the future Octopus. “You dare to suggest that Spiderman could beat me! You’re not Doctor Octopus at all, are you?”

He released his hold and Doctor Octopus dropped neatly upon his own arms not far down. But another arm from his future self swung towards him without warning. Quickly in a reflexive movement Doctor Octopus threw up an arm against him, but it only buffered the collision. He stumbled backwards a little and caught himself with another arm to keep from falling. He had already established that his future arms were superior. How could it be otherwise? Yet the mind controlling them was not.

“Stop! You’ll destroy yourself out of time!” snarled Doctor Octopus trying hard to protect himself against another deadly swing.

Leaping back a third time away from his future self one of his own arms smashed into some of the future Octopus’ equipment. This only furthered the future Octopus’ rage and he began to smash his own equipment in his fury.

“You’re fighting like Electro!” screamed Doctor Octopus, but the future Octopus did not listen.

At last the future Octopus tore a great hole in the ceiling after just barely missing his younger self’s head. After a few more ducks and blocks, the younger climbed out like a scampering scorpion into the great empty dome above the lab. It was like diving into a colossal abandoned snow globe as the world spun and the steam of the warmth below swirled round like a hallucinatory dream.

The future Octopus followed, and it was not long after this that the future Octopus succeeded in snatching the younger around the middle. He pushed into the ground. The arms of the past were still able to absorb the fall well enough, but Doctor Octopus still jolted and felt the pulse of the impact through his body. He just barely got away with only a whiplash.

“Rhaaah …” he groaned, but the future Octopus did not give him time to recuperate.
Again in his face snarling with the rage of a rabid animal he looked just about ready to devour him, but he did nothing for a time. He calmed tersely as he held him down and glared from behind a pair of contact-lens-like eye pieces which made his eyes look like the blank white orbs of a cat reflecting light in the darkness. He breathed heavily in the younger Octopus’ face, and the younger tried not to breathe in too deeply that rotting noxious fume emitted. He was too preoccupied however with the chugging and whirling of the life support pack and the bubbling tubes plugged into his chest, which, speaking of Electro, reminded him very much to the electric tubes filtered through the freak’s suit.

Then suddenly the future Octavius clamped his lips around his grinding teeth. A thought near sanity seemed at last to penetrate his mind.

“You’re right …” he hissed slowly, and he lifted his claw from his younger self’s stomach.

Shoving upward roughly with help of his arms, younger Octavius rolled his neck still pained from the whiplash and clutched at his stomach, but he said nothing as he watched his older self suspiciously.

“This won’t solve anything,” continued the future Octopus studying the frosty wall.

“No,” growled the other. “It won’t.”

The future Octopus wiped another gob of drool from the corner of his mouth and shivered visibly in the chilled air.

“You should go back,” he said after a time.

Doctor Octopus did not move.

“What does it matter what I do now anyway? If you’re going back,” snapped the future Octopus in a wheeze, and he heaved a shaky breath. “If you think you can avoid capture, be my guest … but it is inevitable … what year are you from?”

“You’re not going to erase my memory?” asked the younger dryly.

“Do you want me to?” came the equally as dry reply.

“Well, you don’t seem to recall any of this.”

Future Octopus shook his head. “They’ve already planned it,” he said ignoring the last statement. “The ruin of Doctor Octopus. When you return, you will not be able to escape this.”

Still Doctor Octopus remained where he was. He crossed his arms and set a firm and stubborn jaw.

A low growl escaped future Octopus as he turned his head towards the younger. “Return. Now. Or I’ll kill you.” He snapped one of his claws dangerously close to his younger self’s face.

For a moment longer Doctor Octopus stood upon his arms ready for any further sign of attack. When he did at last move towards the door his eyes did not leave his future self. With the help of a claw he opened the front doors and made his way out into the snow. It was not as cold as it had been earlier, or maybe all the activity of fighting his future self had heated him up enough to not feel it. He turned on the van to check on the GPS how far he was from his future self’s closet, and he wondered if his future self remembered where it was anymore. How much was intact within the mind of future Octavius at all?

But he could not dwell on that now.

He was fortunately not too far from the closet. He turned off the vehicle and on quiet claws he started on his way, and remained quite heated for some time except for his fingers, which began to feel chilled by the time he reached the thorn hedges. He climbed down into the closet in an easy swing upon his arms.

Here he paused in the gloom pondering over what he should do now. He would not have time to think about what had just befallen him here if he returned to his own time. He had a plan going. A plan which the future foretold would come to nothing in the end except a trip to surgery for the removal of his harness and chip.

He resented the idea of fate. A part of him longed for the desire to prove time wrong and that he could make his plan work. He would be more careful. He would take no chances. But he could he be more careful and more prepared than he already was? He had already thought he had perfected his plan. It was simple enough. Sinister Six would cause a distraction. Stunner would appear unstoppable. Slowly the full power of the rearranging particles would crush Spiderman and give him control of the city.

Though, he did recall now the words of the Vulture which he had previously not taken seriously that an emotional woman is nothing to trust. She may retain blind loyalty more than Tinkerer. Perhaps she would be more obedient than Kraven. But would be she be any better than Sandman when it come to shifting shape and invincibility? He was ever improving his skill despite his low IQ, though; no one ever said that Angelina Brancale was a genius either even if more well-read. And she could possess the potential to flip out like Electro if certain buttons were pushed. Not to mention the fact that he still felt irritated by the fact that in the future Dr. Trainer will have decided to take over Doctor Octopus’ persona in his absence.

There were too many people involved. Naturally there were only six from which he picked and chose, and with the ladies that made eight people in all excluding himself, but it still was too many. Numbers had already proven in the end to be ineffective. Spiderman used the members against each other without fail.

His future self did not have to be wrong about everything. It was possible he was making things more complicated than they needed to be. Since before he was Doctor Octopus he knew that the only way to defeat Spiderman was to outwit him, but thus far most of his plans were to defeat him by cleverly developing brawn. There had to be a more subtle way. If he knew who or, most likely, what he was beneath that mask that would shed some light on how to answer that. He was young. Barely an adult. “Spiderboy” might be a more fitting name, but that was not much to go on. But then it did not matter so much who or what the Spiderman was but where he lived and who housed him. Such a boy certainly did not live by himself. Someone had to be hiding him. Perhaps Spiderman was the not the brains at all, and some master stood behind him in the shadows.

So. What if instead of attacking Spiderman he merely followed him? Not in person, of course, but with a drone of some sort, and see where that arachnid spun his bedtime web and who tucked him in at night.

A slow smile appeared on his face as he turned to his time machine.

Yes.

That was it. He would disappear without anyone knowing and follow Spiderman in secret. Then he would destroy him one way or another without any else’s help, and then no one would be able to—

His brow knit suddenly, and he lifted his head, turning into the darkness behind him. All he heard were drips and the rumble of some semi truck overhead somewhere, and he saw nothing. He had been so sure that he had heard something else first. It might have just been the sound of one of his own mechanical arms twitching at the depth of Otto’s thought, but he doubted it. He took a step forward. Then he heard a distinct sound of the time machine hatch behind him. He spun around.

He barely had time to see his older self before he threw out one of his superior tentacles and threw him into a pile of his own rusty junk metal. Doctor Octopus let out a cry despite himself, but he was not about to stay down. Sore and bruised but still protected well enough by the support of his arms, he pushed himself up out of the wreckage and snarled, “What are you doing?”

“I’m grateful, Otto, for showing me where my time machine is,” said the older. “Now to finish what I’ve begun. No one can destroy Doctor Octopus but me.”

“NO!” came the strangled scream of Doctor Octopus choking himself between fear and rage.

But by the time he reached the machine it was too late. The latch had already been slammed shut and the machine was disintegrating into the air like particles of space dust.

“RRRAH!” roared Doctor Octopus throwing an arm through the now empty space, and he dropped to his knees.

In the violence of his motion, a claw banged on the other time machine.

With a quick determined look in his eyes he leapt to his feet again and dove inside of it. It was a little beat up and musty, but it looked ready enough to work. He grabbed the clothes he left behind in exchange for his disguise with one arm and closed the hatch. Then he aimed the time machine for itself from his time period. He was not sure if it would work, but he had no other option at the moment.

The buzzing ran through him. Then the stinging sensation. Then all went blank for what seemed a fraction of a second; although at the same time as if he had been asleep for as long as Rip Van Winkle. As before it took him a few seconds to get readjusted to what he had been doing, but he woke up soon enough.

The first thing he was aware of was the sound of a siren penetrating through the walls of his time pod. Lifting the hatch he was not surprised to see himself at Oscorp. It was the place where Doctor Octopus had been born. He wrinkled his nose with pompous scorn to see Mr. Osborn wounded on the floor and trying to scramble to his feet from where he had been thrown. As strong physically as he was mentally, Otto supposed, but he did not have long to think about him.

He turned at that moment to his younger self of 2008—only a little more than a year ago from his time, yes, but another epoch ago as far as Doctor Octopus was concerned. His older self angered him more at the moment, for it was he who had already thrown defenseless Otto onto the floor, and without the mechanical arms to brace himself against the onslaught he heard the crack of his spine against the floor.

Pained and in terrorized shock, Otto could do nothing but look helplessly up at the monster above him snickering between his teeth.

It was happening within seconds, but Doctor Octopus nearly felt as though time had slowed to a crawl. He could hear the gasping breaths of his younger self like a screeching chalkboard, and he seemed to feel it burning within his present lungs. It was not emotion or mental strain, but a true physical fact, because time itself knew that this Otto only had seconds to live and all subsequent future versions of himself would follow. Doctor Octopus’ heart seemed to skip a beat and he stumbled forward. His older self might have been strained too, but Doctor Octopus did not see him. It was all he could do to use what little strength he had left to reenter his time machine and turn the hour dial back. He set the machine to himself, and shut the hatch just in time to see the spinning razor blade on the end of a future claw aimed for his past head.

Everything faded out as he started the machine backwards, save for the lingering sound waves of Dr. Octavius’ ghostly shriek caught in time. It seemed still to be echoing when Doctor Octopus awoke again from the space between time, and although all bodily panic had vanished, the images of what he had seen sifted eel-like through his memory like a half forgotten nightmare from which he suddenly awoke.

He growled and shook his head.

At least he had succeeded. He was not dead, and his future self did not know what had happened yet if he ever would. After a moment’s pause, he looked down at the dials. 4:30 AM in the last week of September.

Curious, that his older self had chosen September over November to destroy Doctor Octopus.

Late September … he mused to himself as he put on his Doctor Octopus attire and tossed his disguise onto the floor. That would mark the beginning to the body shop laboratory. He smiled now at the sick joke of his superiors at the time.

That was interesting, but he supposed that his older self could have also simply miscalculated when he had turned into Doctor Octopus.

He tried to recall now if the experiments would be commencing now or if it was a day or so before. It had to be a day before, if he remembered rightly: the day before the first experiment on the subject Flint Marko. For a while Otto Octavius had been told to experiment with silicon to potentially strengthen the human body against assault, but he never would have imagined what they would be using it for in the end. He had not gone beyond figures and hypothesizing. The project had barely gone beyond a molecular level. It was more of a theory if anything that would not be able to be put to use by anybody for years to come and even then not on people if one wanted to remain ethical and moral about it. But as Osborn had insisted, human subjects were the test in the end, an insight which Doctor Octopus admittedly took to heart in his scientific work as a crime lord …

As it was one day before all this came together, that would mean that Otto would be sleeping completely unaware of the future; though not necessarily blissfully, for he had already been more than disillusioned in his knowledge that he was working for an unethical company long before this day. He was also sleeping wholly unaware that a maniac from the future who happened to be himself was about in few hours time to disrupt one bad day for another or that his future self from one year hence was standing in his bedroom inside a time pod.

Life is delightfully unexpected, thought Doctor Octopus with a sniff. Especially once time is brought into it.

He opened the hatch.