[center][img]https://comicvine.gamespot.com/a/uploads/original/1/15776/6219635-superior%20octopus%203.png[/img][/center][hr] [color=#00FF00]"Pete, I love you buddy, but you're crazy if you think Delmar's has the best sandwich in Queens. It's Satriale's no doubt."[/color] Otto said as they left the favoured Deli-Grocery of his best friend, already unwrapping the Reuben sandwich he'd ordered and tucking in excitedly. Peter looked back to him with a furrowed brow and a indignant look on his face. He was holding his sandwich like a sword as if he was using it to defend himself from Otto's poisonous words. "You're calling me crazy?! For someone who hates Delmar's so much you sure are scoffing your reuben down pretty quickly!" Finishing a mouthful of food, Otto continued. "I never said I [i]hate[/i] Delmar's - it's just not the best. Satriale's is to Delmar's what Empire is to Return of the Jedi. Sure if Satriale's didn't exist it'd be in the running for the best, but as it stands it'll always be number two." He shrugged, stating his opinion as if it was fact. The expression on Peter's face was even more exaggerated now - with wide eyes and open mouth. He scoffed in disbelief. "What?! You think Jedi is the second best Star Wars film? And I call you my best friend, I really must be crazy!" Otto laughed through another bite of sandwich, raising a can of Fanta Lemon to his lips to wash it all down as they walked through the familiar streets of New York City. The two bickered and teased like an old couple for a while longer as they strolled with no real direction in mind. They were eventually brought to a stop when Peter's eye caught the news broadcasting on a number of TV's in an electronic shop window. The televisions in the shop window flickered with the same live broadcast, each screen slightly out of sync with the others. A red banner crawled along the bottom of the image. [hr] [color=ed1c24]BREAKING NEWS - MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT OFF QUEENS COAST[/color] The footage cut to an aerial shot from what looked like a news helicopter circling slowly above the shoreline. The grey Atlantic rolled gently against the sand, but the calm water only made the scene below more disturbing. A large fishing trawler had run aground near the beach, or rather - what was left of it had. The vessel had been sheared completely in half, the two pieces sitting several yards apart in the shallows like broken toys. Emergency vehicles crowded the beach below. Police cruisers and ambulances formed a chaotic line along the sand while investigators in bright jackets moved carefully around the wreckage. The broadcast cut from the aerial footage to a field reporter standing behind a police barrier. The wind whipped at her coat and microphone as the ocean churned behind her. "Good afternoon. We're coming to you live from the Queens shoreline where authorities are responding to a disturbing maritime incident that unfolded earlier today." Behind her, officers could be seen cordoning off the wreck. "Just a few hours ago, this fishing trawler washed ashore after apparently being cut completely in two while still at sea. Officials say the vessel drifted here in two separate sections before running aground." The screen briefly cut back to the helicopter footage, slowly panning across the ruined ship. "There are currently no known survivors from the vessel." The reporter continued grimly. "Investigators on scene have confirmed the recovery of two bodies believed to belong to members of the crew." She paused for a moment, then lowered her tone in reverance. "Authorities say both men appear to have suffered the same catastrophic injuries as the vessel itself. Their identities have not yet been released as officials work to notify next of kin. At this time investigators have not determined what caused the damage to the ship. The Coast Guard and local authorities are working together to examine the wreckage, but officials say the circumstances surrounding the incident remain...highly unusual." The camera slowly zoomed back toward the wreck, lingering on the jagged line where the steel hull had been severed. [hr] "Woah, now that's something you don't see every day." [color=#00FF00]"Starting to feel like it is. I know NYC hasn't always been the safest place in the world, but first Fire Trolls now this? What's next?"[/color] Peter took a bite of his sandwich. "I dunno, at this rate I wouldn't be surprised to see [i]Godzilla[/i] stomping down Northern and 114th" The two stood in silence for a moment watching the images on the screen and finishing the last of their lunch. Finally, Peter broke the silence. "So we're definitely heading down there right? It's not like we've got anything better to do." [color=#00FF00]"What? Are you for real? It could be dangerous or something."[/color] "What you think sea monsters are like serial killers? Always returning to the scene of the boat attack? Come on, dude, don't be a pussy. It's not like there isn't a hundred police officers down there anyway, what's the worst that could happen." Suffice to say, Otto didn't take much convincing. His eyes were strained from staring too long at his computer screen revising anyway, and chances were their aimless wandering would've brought them to the wreck anyway after long enough. [color=#00FF00]"Fine, but if anything happens I'm high-tailing it out of there and you're acting as bait."[/color] "Pfft, yeah right." Peter said. "How do you know I'm not secretly a superhero? Super-Parker would beat the thing into submission before you had time to run home to mommy." Otto laughed. [color=#00FF00]"Oh, yeah, right. Peter Parker as a superhero that's [i]totally[/i] believable - I don't think there's a single universe where that is true. Plus, [i]Super-Parker?[/i] What's your superpower always being able to find a spot for your car at the Mets game?"[/color] [hr] The pair pushed their way through the surrounding crowd as far forward as they could before being stopped by police tape and fed up looking cops standing bored with their arms crossed. If there was two things New Yorkers were, it was curious, and a people who didn't understand the term [i]'Restricted Area'[/i]. "Woah, the boat looks like it was cut right in half." Observed Peter, standing almost on his tip toes and shifting left and right to get a view over the guards shoulders. The whole thing felt strange. Even with everything going on in the world, this felt like a random act of violence with no benefit to whoever decided to do it. Otto could see the trawler was carrying nothing of worth, just a paltry amount of fish that any thief wouldn't be able to sell quick enough anyway - not in the least because of the blood smeared deck and splattering of dead fish on the beach. Plus, if what the news reporter said about the fishermen was true, this was the work of something much more dangerous than some wannabe pirates looking for an easy score. [color=#00FF00]"Pete, does this all feel weird to you?"[/color] "No, this is a daily occurence for me. Of course this feels weird! It's not every day you see fishing based murder." [color=#00FF00]"So you think they were trying to murder the crew then?"[/color] "Uh, I dunno. Seems a bit of a roundabout way of doing things - cutting the ship in half. How am I supposed to know?" Otto thought to himself for a second. [color=#00FF00]"Yeah, I guess you're right."[/color] After taking their fill of lollygagging the two left the scene and headed back to their respective homes. Otto declined Peter's invitation to play some Tekken at his house in favour of studying. Truth be told, studying wasn't on the agenda tonight. [hr] The Octopus launched the metallic tentacles one after another, the segmented limbs snapping outward with sharp mechanical precision. Mid-flight the thick appendages contracted and narrowed, armored sections sliding apart until slender cable-like tendrils extended from their cores. The pointed tips struck nearby buildings with dull metallic thuds, biting into brick and concrete. He was still getting used to traversing the city. During his early test runs the limbs had been far too bulky. Otto had crushed sections of masonry, shattered windows, and left ugly fractures across half the rooftops in Queens. Effective, perhaps, but terrible for cultivating the kind of public image he had in mind. So he had redesigned the system. Now the tentacles could shift between power and precision, extending into thinner grappling lines when needed. Instead of smashing through the skyline, he could anchor himself to multiple buildings at once, pulling and releasing in quick succession. Putting as little pressure onto the infrastructure as was possible while moving slickly through the city in the same way an actual Octopus would vault, slither, and climb from rock to rock, each limb pulling it along in a calculated dance of motion. It wasn't really swinging, it was closer to vaulting. One cable snapped free as another fired forward. The tentacles pulled him sharply through the air before releasing again, the next anchor already embedding itself into the side of a water tower. Otto shot upward, redirected mid-flight by another line that caught the edge of a rooftop. For a short moment his body hung suspended between four taut cables, and then they released in sequence. The Octopus slingshotted forward, darting across the night skyline in a series of sudden bursts. Less like a man swinging through the city, and more like some strange mechanical creature crawling through the air itself. He was heading back to the docks. The Octopus could get into far more areas than Otto ever could - with the help of his newly gained cloaking abilities. Landing on a nearby roof, he surveyed the scene. The lenses on his suit clicked through one after another, his adapted low-light vision illuminating the area around the trawler. There was still a police presence here - beat cops who drew the short straw and had to stand around all night making sure no one untoward was snooping around. There was nothing he could see from up here he couldn't see earlier - or pick up from news broadcasts. Otto slipped down from the roof and slithered around the patrols like a commando. It wasn't long before he'd entirely breached the perimeter and was standing in the middle of the two halves. Dried blood painted rusted metal and Otto couldn't make out which had spilled from the fish, and which from the two innocent men. He vaulted over a jagged spar of torn steel and continued through the broken interior of the trawler, the tentacles moving with careful coordination as they anchored him along the slanted bulkheads. What had once been a level working deck now hung at a steep angle, forcing him to climb across the structure like a spider navigating the inside of a ruined web. The investigators had already combed through much of the vessel earlier in the day. Locker doors hung open where they had been searched and tagged, and several portable floodlights cast pale cones across the interior. Yet the more Otto looked, the clearer it became that the scene had been misunderstood. Most of the ship's equipment and cargo remained exactly where it should have been. Navigation instruments were intact. Radios remained bolted to the console. Even the engine controls sat untouched, the cracked screen still wired into the wall. Nothing of any value had been taken. He moved further along the tilted deck until a mounted storage rack near the rear caught his attention. The frame remained bolted firmly to the wall, but the heavy brackets along its spine were empty. Four circular clamps lined the rack, each secured by thick nylon straps that had been cut cleanly through. The spacing left little room for doubt. Portable diving cylinders had been mounted there earlier that day. Commercial crews carried them for underwater repairs, emergency inspections, or cutting tangled nets loose beneath the hull. The absence was almost surgical in its precision. Nothing else had been removed from the rack. The nearby lockers still held flares, tools, and spare gear. Whoever had taken the cylinders had ignored everything else. Otto turned his attention back toward the broken hull where the ship had been severed. Up close the damage was even stranger than it had appeared from shore. The steel plates had not been bent or torn apart in the chaotic fashion of an explosion. Instead they had separated in a long, sloping incision that ran through the vessel like a blade drawn slowly through flesh. He followed the marks outward until they reached the open side of the hull. Moonlight shimmered across the water beyond the wreck. Gentle waves rolled against the metal, carrying the smell of salt and diesel across the air. He spotted something glinting just below the surface of the dark water, only illuminated by moonlight. Otto shifted position along the edge of the hull and leaned closer. A dull steel cylinder rotated slowly as it bobbed beneath the surface. One of the missing tanks. Its valve had been torn loose and the metal body was crushed along one side, as though it had been caught in the grip of something immensely strong and discarded afterward. Otto studied the tank's position relative to the wreck and then lifted his gaze toward the open water beyond the trawler. The Atlantic stretched into darkness, the surface broken only by the faint outlines of distant waves. If the tank had drifted back here, it had not originated near the shoreline - the current had flowed inward. Which meant whatever had taken the others had moved further out to sea. The tentacles along Otto's back silently gripped metal as he climbed onto the outer hull of the broken ship. From there he could see the dark stretch of water extending far beyond the shallows where the trawler had grounded. The city lights faded quickly out there, swallowed by the open Atlantic. He allowed himself a sigh. He supposed there was no time like the present to test his theory about breathing underwater. The harness unfolded and the tentacles launched outward, their tips embedding into the rusted framework of a nearby pier before pulling him across the water in a long arc. The next anchor struck the skeletal remains of an offshore buoy. Another caught the steel ribs of a distant dock crane. Each motion carried him further from shore, vaulting across the dark water in long bursts that skimmed only feet above the waves. Within minutes the lights of Queens had begun to shrink behind him and eventually the last anchor point vanished, leaving him bobbing above the sea as the waves pushed him to and fro. He instincitvely inhaled and held his breath as he angled his body and dived under. Before making his full dive he let the air escape from his lungs while he still had enough time to resurface. Thankfully he could breathe, but for how long he couldn't tell. Resolute in his newfound aquatic ability he dived deeper, using the tentacles to propel him through the water in the same manner an actual Octopus would. The light from the moon quickly got darker and darker until it was almost pitch black, he was lucky for his adapted vision in a situation like this. The seabed emerged slowly from the gloom as he descended deeper. Sand and broken debris stretched across the ocean floor in uneven ridges where currents had carved shallow trenches through the sediment. He pulled himself along the ocean floor, navigating around the confused oceanlife and scanning his surroundings for any further clues. Then something moved. At first it appeared to be nothing more than a dark silhouette resting among the rocks, half buried beneath drifting clouds of sand. As Otto drew closer its shape resolved into something mechanical - an enormous armored frame crouched along the seabed like a monstrous crustacean waiting in ambush. Floodlights flickered weakly across its body, illuminating jagged plating and immense articulated limbs that rested half-folded against the ocean floor. The machine reacted almost immediately to his approach. Hydraulics roared to life beneath the water as the enormous construct stirred, massive limbs unfolding with slow mechanical violence. Sediment erupted upward around it as the structure rose from the seabed, towering over Otto with a presence that dwarfed his own frame. For a moment the two beings faced one another in the silent depths. Otto read the name painted across its hull. Muggers were one thing, but this felt like another beast entirely. Suddenly the KRAB lunged at him. One colossal claw surged forward with terrifying speed, the water around it being carved in a trail of bubbles as it struck. Otto's tentacles fired instinctively, launching outward to pull him clear of the blow, but the machine's sheer size made even a near miss dangerous. The shockwave alone sent him tumbling through the water. He recovered quickly, driving two tentacles deep into the seabed to halt his momentum while the others lashed forward, coiling around one of the construct's limbs in an attempt to restrain it. For a moment, he felt his maneuver succeeding. He felt the KRAB straining against the tight grip of his tentacles. Then the machine tore itself free with brute force that Otto simply couldn't match. The sudden wrench snapped two tentacles loose from their anchors and dragged him violently across the seabed before slamming him into a ridge of submerged wreckage. Otto felt the wind shoot out of him, and panic begin to overtake him. Before he could recover, the KRAB's other claw swung upward, dragging itself through the sand and carving a ridge through the wreckage as it slammed into Otto. The force hurled him upward through the dark water, ripping the remaining tentacles free and sending him spiraling back toward the surface as the enormous construct settled once more into the depths below. By the time he managed to stabilize himself, the ocean floor had already begun to disappear into darkness again. The machine was retreating, scuttling away sideways as Otto caught his breath, gripping at his stomach and wincing in pain. And Otto had just learned, very clearly, that he wasn't ready to fight it yet. But, unfortunately for him, he couldn't let any more destruction go on. He had to go back to the lab, analyse what he had encountered and come back stronger.