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In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I'm now caught up on my advance of Otto posts Wanted to get that up in time for the collab with Ruby!
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

"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." 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 hate 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.


BREAKING NEWS - MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT OFF QUEENS COAST

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.


"Woah, now that's something you don't see every day."

"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?"

Peter took a bite of his sandwich. "I dunno, at this rate I wouldn't be surprised to see Godzilla 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."

"What? Are you for real? It could be dangerous or something."

"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. "Fine, but if anything happens I'm high-tailing it out of there and you're acting as bait."

"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. "Oh, yeah, right. Peter Parker as a superhero that's totally believable - I don't think there's a single universe where that is true. Plus, Super-Parker? What's your superpower always being able to find a spot for your car at the Mets game?"



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 'Restricted Area'.

"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.

"Pete, does this all feel weird to you?"

"No, this is a daily occurence for me. Of course this feels weird! It's not every day you see fishing based murder."

"So you think they were trying to murder the crew then?"

"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. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

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.



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.
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I'm a little surprised not all that much has happened since I had to split for a bit. I might be ready to try to come back in some capacity soon, though the whole "adopted Jason Todd when Dick has barely been trained/active" is kind of crazy. But hey, sometimes RP versions are a little messier, huh?


I think it plays quite well into a psyche of Thomas desperately trying to string together a found family after the Trauma of losing, Bruce and Martha. I think it'll be interesting to see if he cracks further down the line or manages to hold everything together.
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

The noise of the projector finally whirring to a stop and echoing out a loud click as it shut off served as a makeshift alarm clock for the napping Otto Octavius. He groggily raised his head - a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek with his own saliva as glue - and scanned the room around him. This definitely was not his dorm room, not even close.

Every seat in the lecture hall as far as he could see was empty. Every seat but his own. He searched the room for a clock, his eyes resting on a time that sent shockwaves through his spine. Had he really slept for just over half an hour after his class had finished? And more importantly why hadn't anyone woken him?! He facepalmed and slid the paper from his cheek back onto the desk. If there's one thing he'd never accounted for it was how late crimefighting would keep him out - and how tired he'd feel the next day.

He clicked his pen a few times quickly as he gathered his thoughts, and then quickly slid his books and papers into his satchel and stood up. His embarassment was not unnoticed though as the door to the hall swung in, and in walked the ever debonair Harry Osborn - slightly less well dressed than the day previous as he was missing his tailored suit - but still wearing the latest designer fashion.

Otto allowed himself a second facepalm, mentally preparing himself for the ribbing he was about to endure.

"Oh-hoh! Look who we've got here! Sleeping not-so-beauty!" Called Harry up the seats towards him. "Nice of you to keep us waiting! I'm sure my dad will take real nicely to being kept waiting this long. Not like he's the head of one of the top FTSE 500 companies or anything!"

"Shit. Was that today? I'm really sorry, dude, honestly I didn't realise I was falling asleep." Otto collected himself and started down the stairs towards his friend, a sorry expression on his face. "Was he upset? Any chance I can salvage this? Where's Pete?"

"Woah, woah, woah. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. "Look man, that's not for me to say. He's a real old fashioned guy, nothing short of kissing his Armani shoes would get you a second audience with the king."

Otto began cursing and damning his own ineptitude. One of the biggest opportunites of his life and he wasted it playing superhero the night before. God knows he needed this chance. The money from even the lowest paid research job at Oscorp would be more than enough to get him a place of his own, and to slide a bit of extra cash his mothers way under the ever watchful nose of his asshole father.

"Look, Harry I'll do anything for this. You just let me know what I gotta-"

His sentence was stopped midway by the raucous laughter of his friend. "You should have seen your face!" His laughter only got louder. "Don't worry about it dummy, dad had to cancel anyway. Some meeting with government contractors or something. I was actually coming to deliver his apologies."

Otto gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Always with the jokes, huh? Well at least no one else saw me grovelling. You really know how to embarass a guy, Harry, it's a skill."

"I prefer to think of it as an art. Plus you're not entirely alone, Otto." He nodded further up the hall than where Otto had been sleeping, up towards the seats at the very top of the lecture theatre.

Otto turned over his shoulder and looked up to the back. Sitting there was Lia - almost silently tapping away on a laptop she was gazing at through a pair of large round glasses. For a moment he wondered how he'd managed to miss her. The next moment he wondered why she hadn't bothered to wake him up.

Her posture was slightly hunched over the laptop resting on the desk in front, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard with a soft clacking that echoed faintly through the empty lecture hall. A mess of dark curls framed her face in a loose afro that seemed determined to escape the hairband trying unsuccessfully to hold it back. The large glasses magnified her eyes just enough that whenever she glanced up at the screen light it made them look wider than they probably were.

Otto felt the strange, immediate urge to pretend he hadn't turned around. Lia froze mid-keystroke, like a deer caught in headlights, her fingers hovering above the keyboard for a second before slowly finishing whatever sentence she had been typing. Her gaze flicked from Otto, to Harry, and then back to Otto.

Harry grinned. "Guess you weren't the only one who stayed behind." He whispered, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow.

Otto awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous he must have looked waking up with paper stuck to his face. Lia, looking like she felt just as awkward raised her palm and gave him a small, uncertain wave.

"Uh...hey." Otto's voice echoed embarrassingly far in the near empty hall. In reply to her wave he held out a thumbs up.

Lia held her gaze. For a second it looked like she might say something - her mouth opening slightly - but whatever words had been forming seemed to evaporate before they reached the surface. Instead she gave a small smile and then resumed typing on her laptop.

Harry leaned closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he guided his friend out of the lecture hall and into the halls of ESU. "Smooth, Octavius, very smooth. I'm sure all the pickup artists in Vegas are going to be using the thumbs up approach after that masterclass." He mocked as he released his grip.

"I wasn't trying to be smooth, Harry."

"Pfft, yeah right. You might be awkward around girls but god knows you strive for the feminine touch as much as the rest of us do."

"Well, yeah, maybe. But with Lia? No way dude. I barely even know her."

"When did knowing her matter? Never mattered to me." The expression on Harry's face changed to that of the cocksure grin he always had when talking about the fairer sex. "Besides, it's not like she doesn't like you, she's always hanging around when you're about."

Otto blinked, thinking for a moment before replying. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Is that a bad joke?"

"I'm being serious."

"Y'know Otto you might be one of the smartest guys I know, but you definitely lack common sense. That or a pair of eyeballs."

Some Time Ago
Oscorp


Norman Osborn sat cross legged with his finger steepled together in front of his face. He gazed out of the huge window overlooking New York City - his City. The one he'd grown up in, lived in, found his fortune in, and raised his son in. He let out a sigh. Just what was he going to do with Harry? He'd given him the world on a plate and still he disappointed him. If Norman had the resources he'd afforded his son at that age he'd be President by now, let alone one of the richest men in the world.

"Mr. Osborn, a Dr. Ellison is here to see you." The voice cracked softly through the intercom mounted on the corner of Norman's desk, its polite tone breaking Norman's train of thought.

He didn't move at first, still gazing out onto the skyline as the sun fell behind it. It cast long shadows across manhattan. From this height the traffic below looked almost like toys.

"What does he want? Does he have a meeting?"

"No, he doesn't have anything arranged, sir. He says he's part of the maritime exoskeleton development team." She explained. "He's requesting a moment of your time regarding the prototype."

Now that - that piqued his interest.

He spun around in his chair, leaning forward on his desk to better speak clearer into the tannoy. "Send him in."

Norman rose from his chair, smoothing out his tie underneath his suit jacket and fixing his cufflinks. News about the prototype could only mean one thing, and one thing that Norman was very excited about. The prototype itself had been completed months ago. Frankly he only kept the team on the payroll for fine tuning and in the event that anything needed repaired or improved with the device. Not that he saw this as a possible eventuality. He'd been involved personally in the design of the suit - any error would have been on the part of the team putting it together.

No, if Ellison had news it meant one thing. They'd finally found someone to test the damn thing. The suit wasn't by all accounts 'legal' in the truest sense of the word. If they could do some under the table testing however, then Norman was sure they could regear the entire project and make a killing in deep sea research. Not only that, it would make a hell of a pitch to the military, and once that door was open there's no telling where he could go with those resources at his disposal.

But the Kinetic Reinforced Amphibious Bioshell - affectionatelly nicknamed 'K.R.A.B' by the research department - was just the first step in a grand plan he'd set in place years previous.

He moved over to a tall, vintage drinks cabinet in the corner of the room as the door creaked open and in walked a thin man wearing a white lab coat, clutching a clipboard.

"Mr. Osborn." he said quickly. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Please, call me Norman. We're both men of science here I see no need to deal in formalities." He gave him a smile that resembled something closer to a shark than anything welcoming. His son had that effortless charm that just made you like him from the get go - Norman had a different kind. One that was practiced, sharpened through years of business deals - and one that made you feel more uneasy than relaxed. He pulled two whiskey tumblers from the cabinet followed by a single malt bottle. "Can I offer you a drink, Dr...?"

"Bill, Bill Ellison. And no thank you, Norman I'm not one to drink on the job."

Norman shot him another, practiced smile. "Good answer." He said, picking up the bottle and pointing to him casually with a finger. "But I can assure you that wasn't a test, Bill. I'll be partaking myself so I really must insist. I can only assume you come to me with good news which must be celebrated. Otherwise it must be bad news in which case we must drink to drown our sorrows!"

He filled up both tumblers and gestured for the doctor to take a seat on the other side of his desk. Norman took a seat in his chair, sliding the second drink over to his employee. "So, tell me the good news. I'm all ears."

Bill felt a chill run down his spine. Rumours had always circulated about Norman within the company, but coming face to face with the man in a situation like this made him feel uneasy. He took the drink and sipped it gently, if anything for fear about what would happen if he didn't. "Well, uh, I'm happy to say we have good news. We've found a test pilot for the prototype."

"Oh?" Norman replied, clapping his hands together once and leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. "That's fantastic news. Tell me more about our pioneer?"

Bill turned the clipboard around in his hands and pushed it over to his boss, who began looking it over intently. "His name is Gabriel Alvarado. He's a dock worker from the Brooklyn shipping yards. Strong build, excellent muscle response. Our preliminary scans show his nervous system should interface with the suit's control network better than any of the volunteers we’ve screened before."

Norman nodded. "And our other problem? The matter of - shall we say - discretion?"

"Our problem solved itself. Gabriel is an undocumented immigrant from down south. Venezuela, originally I believe."

A toothy grin grew on Norman's face. "Bill, I've got to say you've outdone yourself here. You've made me a very happy man." He took a drink and continued. "Let's start work immediately. Tell your team they can take the rest of the day off, but let's try and get Gabriel in before he changes his mind. If he does, up the amount we're paying him, money is no object."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hey, it's Norman, alright? Keep this up and I might even let you call me Norm."

Bill said his goodbyes and left the office. It felt more like escaping a lions den than a meeting with his boss. Norman pressed the tannoy to his PA once he was gone.

"Sally, please get in touch with finance and let them know I want them to wire a few bonuses for the research team - oh, and you can take the rest of the day off on me."

His gaze drifted briefly back toward the window, the city glittering beyond the glass.

"Let's see what your machine can do, Doctor."

Last Week
Atlantic Waters


"Pull the nets up!" Shouted Mayhew from the top deck of the fishing trawler. Rain was battering down on his waterproof cap and jacket, pelting him like liquid bullets. "The water's too rough! We've gotta get below deck!"

The young, brash Jackson Harris glanced up at his senior through squinting eyes, as if shutting them tighter would stop the splashing salt water from stinging them. He grinned at him with that familiar, friendly gap toothed smile resting handsomly under a thin, preened moustache. He was at the early end of his 20s, and determined to prove his worth on the boat. He'd felt the calling of the sea all his life, ever since his first trip out with his father on their old family dinghy with their passed down fishing rods.

"You got it chief! We've got something good in here, I can just feel it." He stomped in puddles over to the side of the boat, holding on to the side of the metal crane the net hung from. He steadied himself, and then took off his gloves to get a better grip of the winch. With all his might he began the arduous process of turning the winch rotation by rotation - a process made all the more difficult by the violent rocking and swaying of the trawler.

But Jackson was no rookie. Not in the true sense of the word anyway. He'd spent time on harsher waters than this, and he'd be damned if he was going to let a little rocking stop him.

Again and again he turned that winch. The pull of the ocean only got stronger the closer it got to the surface, like it was trying to keep its bounty below. Then, the winch stopped turning. A huge weight had gotten hold of the net, so heavy that the sudden rigidness of the handle stopping nearly tore the handle from Jackson's grip.

"What the hell?" he muttered, bracing his boots against the slick deck and pulling again. The winch refused to budge. Whatever had taken hold of the net wasn't just heavy - it was holding it.

"Leave it!" Mayhew shouted through the rain. "Cut the damn thing loose!"

Jackson ignored him for a second, squinting out over the black, churning water below the crane arm. The net line had gone taut as piano wire, disappearing into the waves that rose and fell like the breathing of some enormous creature beneath the surface.

"Chief, I think we snagged the bottom!"

"Out here? There's no bloody bottom shallow enough!"

A violent jerk on the net answered the argument. The crane arm groaned, metal shrieking under sudden strain. Jackson stumbled forward as the winch spun half a turn back against his grip before locking again with a brutal clank.

Then a silhouette beneath the water began to rise. At first, Jackson thought it might have been a shark, taking advantage of the choppy water and abundance of caught fish. But it looked to rigid, too big.

Jackson leaned over the rail, rain streaming off the brim of his cap. "Uh...Chief?"

Mayhew was already moving toward him, one hand gripping a support rail to keep from being thrown across the deck. "What is it now?!"

Jackson didn't have time to answer before the sea erupted.

The net burst upward in a spray of water and writhing fish as something tore through it from below. Steel mesh snapped apart like thread as a massive shape hauled itself halfway out of the water.

It was metal. Thick armored plating glistened under the rain. Two massive metal claws gripped the netting with crushing force, each joint moving with the slow, deliberate precision of industrial machinery. Hydraulic pistons hissed as they flexed, cables tightening like tendons. It stood, huge and imposing on four smaller articulated legs that unfolded from the chassis and dug and carved into the metal of the trawler as it pulled itself out from the sea.

Mounted in the center of the chassis sat a heavy domed cockpit surrounded by reinforced plating - a bulbous armored shell like the carapace of a colossal crab. Painted across the side in faded white stenciling were the letters:

K.R.A.B

The machine's claws tightened. The net shredded apart completely - fish guts spilling across the deck.

Jackson staggered back. "Jesus Christ, what is that thing?!"

The cockpit visor flickered faintly with dim instrument light. Inside, the silhouette of a man shifted. His face was obscured like a shadow. But from what Jackson could make out in his last moments alive was the expression on the man's face.

He was in pain.
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fully caught up now on the IC! The world is so developed now it's fantastic. Got another Otto post up just now and working on a third leading into his confrontation with the first of his sinister six.

In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Catching up on the IC and I gotta say these are all fantastic posts, I'm really enjoying reading everyone's stories! I'm gonna pace myself and leave the last 2 pages until tomorrow. If anyone wants to do any crossovers or anything with Otto please let me know I'd love to get involved!
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
6 months ago
Empire State University
The Night Everything Changed

Otto burst through his dorm room door like a bull in a china shop. Sweat was pouring off him so heavily anyone who'd seen him stumbling through the halls would have assumed he'd come straight from the shower. His brain was a flurry of conflicting thoughts; half of them panicking about what he'd done, about the experiment gone wrong, the other half trying to keep his ego intact, trying to reassure himself that this was all coincidence. That the fever and the horrible sick feeling in his stomach was all unrelated to the gene splicing experiment he had inflicted upon himself not two hours previous - that the mechanical arms hadn't penetrated his mind and infected him with the thoughts of a deep sea cephalopod.

He banged into walls left and right through his cramped room and practically fell over opening the door to his bathroom. Inside he gripped the sink with two hands, steadying himself against the seasick feeling of queasiness that overcame him like a trawler. A shaky, clammy hand raised and wiped his forehead and was left soaking wet. Finally his eyes raised to meet the gaze of his reflection - he was pale, deathly so, almost green in complexion. Otto could feel his ragged breaths getting deeper and more haggard as the seconds ticked on like hours. Catching a glimpse of his horrible sick visage only made him feel worse, the longer he stared the more sick he felt.

Finally he felt a swelling in his gut. A rising, horrible mass that travelled through his intenstines and upwards towards his throat. He fell to his knees - crawling on his hands towards the toilet and with the last of his might throwing up the lid and dunking his head into the bowl. The cold of the pristine white toilet momentarily felt like safe sanctuary, like everything would be ok.

Then the swelling rose into his mouth and spewed out the opening. Viscous bile stained the ivory white bowl and filled the water with liquid heavier than it could handle. Otto weakly pulled the flush and sank the disgusting water down, feeling the cool refreshing feeling of rushing water splashing his cheeks as he continued to puke.

Eventually it all subsided, he managed to gather the strength to push himself up from the water with both hands. He expected to see the vile yellow green of vomit staining the toilet bowl. Instead he saw murky blackness painting all he could see. Confusion overcame him - what could this be? He tried to trace back everything he'd ate that day. Not that it'd matter, nothing short of Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia might've caused this.

Then it struck him. The experiment from earlier. Maybe his fears had been true.

This wasn't vomit.

It was ink.



Present day




Otto slung the conspicuous backpack over the back of the chair as he sat at the table - late as always. The trifecta waiting for him were his closest friends, those who expected him to not be on time no matter the occasion, and the same who would never judge him for that fault.

They were - in anti-clockwise order - Mary Jane Watson, Harry Obsorn, and his first and best friend, Peter Parker.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Got caught up in the lab."

"Big surprise there, then!" Despite everything, Peter could still joke. This was something Otto not only admired about him, but envied. The ability to make light even in the worst situations, to try and make others happy when that should be the last thing on your mind.

It had been a few months since Uncle Ben had died, and the event had sent shockwaves through the group as heavy as any earthquake or intergalactic threat. To them, this was their Fire Troll attack on New York. And it was all at the hands of some rogue gunman with a hair trigger.

It was hard not to feel selfish. Ben had been their surrogate father as much as he had been Peter's. Otto had never met a man with so much capacity for love in his heart as he. None of them had proper father figures in their life at all, not in the last Otto or Harry. Both had bonded since becoming close friends about the expectations placed on them by their dad's. They couldn't have been more different parents and more the same. Ben had provided much needed compassion in the lives of these young people who had never been afforded that.

And yet, the three friends had made a pact to not make this about themselves. Despite their pain, despite their sorrow - Peter must have been feeling it tenfold. If the roles were reversed, Peter would no doubt have been leading the therapeautical charge - it was only right for them to do the same for him.

"So, uh, anyway - you guys got drinks yet? I think it's my turn to buy the coffee?" Otto said, pulling out a tatty old wallet and inspecting the inside for any loose change. No doubt this would be another round to stick on the credit card.

Harry let out a laugh. "Keep the moths in your wallet, Otto. I've got this." He smoothed out his suit pants as he stood up and made his way over to the counter of the university cafeteria. He had their orders committed to memory. Such meetings were bi-weekly if not even more common. Otto smiled weakly at the gesture, he knew better than to argue with Harry's limitless credit card.

"What's with the suit?" Otto said to the remaining members of the group.

"Another charity gala, Norm is putting on. Harry says he's gotta jet right after his last class, no time to change." Mary Jane answered, brushing a strand of red hair from her pale, freckled face. Otto smiled to her, his best friends girl. She had all the attributes of a great actress, and yet she chose a degree in script writing instead. Despite their absolute faith in her ability, she'd never let them read any of her writing. Not even Peter. She was committed to only showing her work once it was on screen.

"Typical, the golden boys drinking champagne while we drown our sorrows at O'Neals" Peter interjected, a weak smile playing on his face.

"Like you'd prefer to be with all those rich bastards anyway. I'll take a night of cheap booze, a few games of catan, and some karaoke over that any day."

The three sat in silence for a moment. As if the overbearing weight of the situation had seeped back in. None of them wanted to bring up Ben. Whether it be because of immaturity or fear neither Otto nor Mary Jane wanted to spoil the faux pleasantry by acknowledging their grief.

Finally Harry arrived back, carrying a tray of hot drinks and placing it down in the middle of the table. Everyone took their drinks as Harry regained his chair and lifted a latte to his lips for a sip - only taking in the briefest drink of caffeine before he lowered the bone white mug to the table and raised a finger. "Oh, apologies. Not to interrupt the awkwardness, but-" He slid his phone out of his jacket pocket and unlocked it with a quick swipe of his thumb. "-I almost forgot to mention, dad - in all his wisdom - was asking after the two of you. I mentioned the prosthetic biological arm thingeys or whatever to him and he was really interested. Don't quote me on this, but I'm sure if you buttered him up the right way he'd slide a research grant your way. Oscorp has been really big into that kind of stuff recently."

Peter shot Otto a look. A mixture of confusion, concern, and interest. Otto raised an eyebrow in return and sent a shrug his way. "That's great, Harry. Although I'm not sure what your dad would be able to do with two shlubby, nerdy, college drunks."

The three laughed. "Hey, make that one shlubby, nerdy, college drunk. Peter is just a nerdy college drunk. No offence, Petey but you'd still be dressing like a granddad if you'd never met me. We've really gotta find someone to change your wardrobe, Otto!" Mary Jane spoke up.

The rest of the meet went by like nothing was hanging over them. The three laughed, joked about teachers, and showed each other dumb videos on their phones like everything was normal. To tell the truth, Peter was happy they hadn't mentioned Ben. It was nice to pretend things were normal for a while. They wouldn't drink tonight, Peter wasn't ready for feeling the kind of emotion alcohol brings on. Instead, Harry would swan at his gala, the lovebirds would retreat to Aunt May's house for dinner, and Otto would make a decision that would forever change the course of his life forever.



Otto stood on the top of the grimy, Bronx roof like the superhero he was pretending to be. He felt the fabric of the advanced polymer mask in his hands. He stared down at it like narcissus staring back at his reflection. He'd spent a long time on that roof, watching day turn to night and staring at the cruel shadow-self that the mask represented. He wondered what this all meant - why he was doing this. The death of Uncle Ben had spurred him to action, that was for sure. But how much more of it was for himself. He'd spent his whole life feeling powerless. Now he had power and he'd kept it a secret - a secret broken when he was forced into action.

Finally he slipped the mask on over his face. The inconspicuous backpack morphed and shifted until finally four long, metal tentacles sprouted from his back. Their claws clicked and their length twisted and turned as they observed the surrounding area. They were as much alive as he was.

He'd tested his own abilities somewhat since that horrid night with the fever, but never like this. This was his first true test, not only of his powers, but of his willpower. It was time to bid farewell to Otto Octavius, mild mannered, fearful, shy, college student - and it was time to say hello. Hello to the Octopus.

He eyed up the gap in front of him. A space that no normal human could leap in a single bound. A fall that any human would die from crashing down into. A challenge fit for someone who wanted to stand alongside the Mighty Thor, the brave Warbird, the reliable...err Green Guy?

He stepped backwards a few paces, readied his knees, and ran. He ran forward as fast and hard as he could, and at the last moment he pushed off of the concrete and upwards into the air. He slipped.

His foot caught the edge of the building, and instead of soaring across the gap instead he undershot it entirely. Time moved almost in slow motion as he stretched out his palms towards the fire escape of the building opposite. Reaching out as far he could and then trying to reach out further in desperation. He saw the metal rise above him, rising out of reach from beyond his fingertips as he plummted towards the earth.

Who gave him permission? Who gave Otto Octavius permission to rise above his station? To be anything more than his father expected him to be?

The tentacles shot out into the walls. Four struts of saving grace embedding themselves into the brick and mortar and suspending the young scientist high above the ground. They acted independendent of him. He rationalised they were saving themselves. In fact, they wre saving him.

High above the alley he gazed down at the floor below, panting and breathing. He could feel sweat and tears run down his cheeks as shock overcame him. Instinctively, in an act of self preservation, his skin and in tandem his suit camoflagued into the surroundings around him. Everything changing to match the night sky, the metal of the fire escape, and the red brick of the walls around him.

The camoflague had activated just in time. The loud thud of the tentacles had alerted the mugger below to his presence, but his invisibility had dissuaded any suspicion. The masked man turned back to the meek businessman in front, holding up his briefcase like a knights shield in front of his girlfriend as if it could do anything to stop the sharp blade of his attacker.

"Your wallet. Now. I'm sick of waiting. You best cough up the dough before I carve you up real nice."

"P-please, sir. I need that money!"

"Yeah right, you probably got more in the account than I've seen in my life. Oh, speaking of, I'll be taking your card too. And don't even think about cancelling it before I squeeze the thing dry."

This was his chance. Time to be a real hero. Time to show fate what he was made of.

Otto took a deep breath, analysing the situation at a speed unmatched by any living man. Finally the tentacles dropped him gently to the floor and his camoflague faded away.

"Time to drop the knife buddy. I got four friends here and none of them like bullies." The arms raised around him as if on command and snapped and shuddered in the direction of the robber.

The masked man looked back in shock at the creature before him. Turning the knife from the man with the briefcase and to the Octopus, and then back to the briefcase once more. In a quick burst of energy he made a decision, slapping the man to the ground with a backhand and grabbing his girlfriend by the ponytail soon after, pointing the knife to her throat with practiced urgency.

"Yeah right, superdweeb! You think I ain't seen the news? I ain't never seen you though, what do they call you? The four armed freak? You take another step forward and I slice her throat. I ain't going back to jail!"

Things hadn't gone as planned that was for sure. Even with his arms it was too close. Too volatile. One twitch of the man's wrist and the blade would open the girl's throat before Otto could cross the distance.

His mind began racing. A million things coursing through all at once. Angles. Distance. Reaction time. Muscle tension in the robber's forearm. The tremor in his voice. The way the knife was held too tight, desperate. A man on the edge.

His brain split the situation apart into pieces the way a mathematician dismantles an equation. The four tentacles hovering behind him seemed to respond to that thought process instinctively, curling and adjusting as if reading the silent commands forming in his mind.

Four limbs. Four vectors. Two seconds to act. Maybe less. Otto raised his hands slowly, playing possum for a moment. "Alright." he said calmly. "Alright, easy. No sudden moves."

The mugger sneered. "That's right, rookie. You listen real good. Time for you to go home and hang up the spandex."

Otto tilted his head slightly, watching the man the way a predator studies prey. "Can I ask you something?"

The man frowned. "What?! I should be the one asking questions!"

"Do you know anything about octopuses?"

The mugger blinked. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Well..." Otto continued conversationally, "They're fascinating animals, see. Extremely intelligent. Problem solvers. Escape artists."

The mugger's grip tightened on the girl's hair and she let out a yelp. "Shut up!"

"But the really interesting thing." Otto went on, ignoring him. "Is their nervous system."

The robber hesitated. Otto saw it, the moment of uncertainty. That second of confusion he could use to his advantage.

"One third of their neurons are in their brain." Otto explained. Otto explained. "The rest?" A tentacle twitched slightly behind him. "Distributed through their limbs." The mugger frowned. Otto smiled beneath the mask. "Meaning each arm can think for itself."

The first tentacle struck. It shot forward faster than the robber could react, slamming into the man's wrist. The knife flew from his hand, clattering across the pavement. Before he could even scream, the second arm wrapped around his torso and lifted him off the ground. The third seized the back of his jacket. The fourth plucked the blade neatly out of the air before it hit the concrete.

The whole thing took less than half a second.

The girl collapsed to her knees in shock as the mugger dangled helplessly six feet off the ground, screaming and kicking while the mechanical limbs held him like an insect caught in a spider's web.

Otto stared at him. "See?" he said calmly, spreading his arms out before folding them across his chest. The tentacle holding the knife crushed it like aluminum foil and dropped the twisted metal to the pavement. "I told you. Four friends."

The businessman rushed to his girlfriend, pulling her close while she sobbed against his chest.

Otto lowered the robber slowly until his feet touched the ground, though the tentacles still held him tightly. The man glared at him with wide, terrified eyes. "What the hell are you?" he whispered.

Otto paused. He'd considered many questions in his lifetime, but this was never one of them. Just what exactly was he? A scientist? A mistake like his father would have him believe? A hero? A villain?

The question echoed strangely in his mind.

"Someone who really hates bullies."

The mugger swallowed. Sirens began wailing somewhere down the street. Someone must have called the police during the commotion. Otto glanced toward the sound and the tentacles released the man abruptly, shoving him face-first onto the pavement.

Otto turned toward the couple. They stared at him like he was something out of a comic book - although he wasn't sure if they thought he was the hero or the monster.

The man opened his mouth and then shut it again, looking at his girlfriend. Quickly he ran over to Otto and began thrashing him with the briefcase. Otto raised his hands in defence, backing up step by step as the man swung his leather baggage at Otto's head.

Ah, so they thought he was the monster, then. Despite his objections they never listened, insteadd shouting obscenities about him being a creature of the night. Quickly, his tentacles threw him into the air and carried him along the night sky, clambering from building to building until they were a few blocks away. Why, oh, why couldn't he have chosen a more friendly animal to splice with? Maybe a dog or a cat?

His camouflage flickered again instinctively as adrenaline surged through him, his suit darkening to blend with the night sky. Wind rushed against his mask as he reached the top and Otto collapsed onto the gravel rooftop, breathing heavily as his heart hammered against his chest.

He stared up at the night sky, the stars twinkling down at him in approval like watchful guardians. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He'd done it. For the first time since Uncle Ben died, this city had taken something from someone weaker and tonight, someone had stopped it.

Maybe Peter was right. Maybe the world didn't change with giant battles or gods falling from the sky. Maybe it changed one alley at a time.

Otto slowly sat up, pressing his back against the cold half wall of the roof. One of the tentacles tapped the ground beside him, almost impatiently. He looked at it. "Alright, alright." he muttered.

The arm flexed slightly, metal joints clicking in approval as he stood up. Far below, the lights of New York stretched endlessly into the distance. Otto pulled the mask down tighter across his face. "Well then." He said. "Let's try that again." The tentacles lifted him off his feet effortlessly. They took a few steps back, and then began a run forward.

And for the first time in his life Otto Octavius leapt.

And he made it to the other side.
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Half Pint>

Welcome back! It's great to have you back and I'm looking forward to seeing what you and Octopus bring back to the story. And dang, even without Peter gaining powers Uncle Ben still gets Uncle Ben'd.

I also hope that one day you're able to come back as Steel because I really love what you were doing with him and I wouldn’t be able to do him justice like you.


Unfortunately for all the Spider family, Uncle Ben's death is a canon event!

Thanks, maybe one day! I think I've come to realise with my adhd riddled brain it's much better if I stick with one character/idea than try to write many. I think I burned myself out pretty quickly with everything last time, but hopefully at some point I can go back to Steel!

Also, am I right in taking this as an acceptance? No worries if not or if the 24 hour rule is still in effect! I'm going to aim to catch up with the IC when I'm skiving at work but is there a timeline or a catch up anywhere/anyone can provide? I'd be really grateful!

<Snipped quote by Half Pint>

Be awesome to have you back in whatever capacity you're able to, but that's just speaking as me!


Thank you! I'm excited to be back, hopefully we can get a crossover in this time!
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Half Pint>

Does that mean I can take Zatanna?


Unless the GM team have anything planned I would say so!
In Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Hey all!

I'm glad to see how everything has been progressing here, I've not had as much time as I'd have liked to keep up with reading the RP, but from what I've read I love the story that's been happening! I would like to reapply to the roleplay with my idea for a character below. If any of this doesn't work or clashes with anything anyone's doing I'd be more than happy to retool this in some way, it's a bit of a high concept but one I imagined up the other day and couldn't get out of my head.

If it's alright with the GM team I'd also like to step down from being the GM and just be a regular player. I'd be happy to help in any way I can if you'd like me to, but I feel like you both have taken this and ran with it far better than I ever could have, it wouldn't feel right to come back after all this time and try and steer things. I contacted the site admin to see if they could remove the GM status/banner from me and hand it over to one of you, but unfortunately they said this can't be done.

Lastly, if it's alright I'd like to effectively cancel my previous active characters in favour of focusing on the Octopus while I have my current schedule. I believe I have the time to get a post up every week or 2 weeks with my current life schedule, and would love to collab at some point, but I worry about slowing anyone down so I think starting a fresh origin story would give me time to stretch and get involved in the world in a capacity that wouldn't keep anyone else from posting. I'm happy for anyone to use my characters as characterized or completely wipe the slate clean if anyone would like to use them.

I'm glad to (hopefully, pending approval!) be back and writing with all of you. My life was a bit crazy for a time there, and still is to some degree, but everytime I checked the site and saw this still up and running made me smile.

Without further ado, here's my app below! I've already written up a post and am in the process of writing up a second. I wanted to make sure I wasn't just in love with the concept and could write this character and keep the story going before I let anyone down again.

@Cyrania@King Kindred

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