@BrokenPromise I'm a bit on the fence for whether my character will use an oversized pair of claws or potentially an edged boomerang as their weapon. Sorry if I missed it during my reading of the google doc last night, but are there any rules for versatile weapons that act as both ranged and melee in the case of the boomerang?
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Great! I'll have a read over all of this and work on my character over the next few days. I might have a few questions if that's alright - being that this is the first RP I've applied for with stats as a factor in the application.
Post is a little bit shorter than I intended, but I thought I'd get it up to keep my weekly posting rate up. I originally intended for the fight to end in that post, but it might flow better and be less of a titan if it's broken up.
Otto's fingers were a blur on the keyboard as he monitored all 3 screens in front of him. He'd always been able to process information faster than others - it came with the genius level intellect. However, recently he'd been picking things up much faster than normal. About 8x faster than normal, to be precise. Unbeknownst to him, this was the added benefit of having a brain for his head and now for all his limbs too - including the four mechanical ones laying dormant in their hiding spot.
One one screen was a paper for his class, on another was a half-finished message thread - Peter, Harry, MJ something about meeting up later - and on the third was a single, unassuming window pulled from a port authority database.
At a glance, it looked like the least important of the three. Anyone who walked in would have immediately been confused by Otto's sudden interest in the sea. Otto's eyes rapidly flicked between all of the screens. He typed out a sentence on the paper and then tabbed over to the chat to reply.
Yeah, maybe. Depends how much I've got left to do.
Back to the paper.
'...demonstrates a decentralised processing model-'
Part of him wanted to put on the harness, hook up a few more keyboards, and see how efficiently he could really get all this done. But it was too risky. He didn't have a secret cave to work in - he had a messy dorm room with a half-broken lock.
All the while, the third screen updated. A live satellite feed capturing a large area around where Otto had encountered the KRAB before. Side by side with this was a variety of stats and information - tide charts, buoy readings, current vectors, weather overlays. He'd been caught by surprise before, and he'd made it a personal objective to never let that happen again. If he couldn't outmuscle the competition he'd have to outprepare them.
He went back to the paper.
'...semi-autonomous processing across multiple nodes-'
And then to the group chat once more.
If I finish early I'll swing by.
Then finally, back to the third screen again. He felt a jolt through his body staring at the information in front. It wasn't anything so obvious as seeing the KRAB breaching out of the water, but to Otto it was more than enough evidence.
A stretch of current data was showing information that was way off. A slight deviation, like something had displaced the water just long enough to be noticed, then vanished again. It was large - Otto surmised it was either a whale or his target.
But then, the movement repeated. And not in a random location either. It was moving in a straight line, along a path. Otto leaned back in his chair, one hand still idly finishing the final lines of his paper while the other pulled up a wider map. The data expanded outward, connecting points most would have missed.
"Gotcha." he murmured to the empty room. The KRAB was heading somewhere, but where? He twiddled a pen inbetween his fingers before clicking it twice and attacking the keyboard once more. He pulled up shipping routes and furiously scrolled through them.
There were a few in the danger zone, intersecting along the trajectory of the mechanical beast. He looked deeper into their route, calculating their current speed against the path of their hunter.
A larger vessel, slower moving. Would intersect the projected path within...Otto's eyes flicked to the clock.
"Forty minutes?!"
The paper was finished, unbeknownst to his conscious mind. He allowed his fingers to hover over the keyboard once more - having a small mental battle with himself as if the outcome wasn't obvious.
Otto stood from his chair and moved over to the harness. It was time to hit this guy where it hurt.
He was going to have to act fast if he was going to beat the KRAB to its dinner. Sure, he could swim faster than it. Much faster. But it wouldn't be fast enough. At this rate he'd reach the ship well after the KRAB had slaughtered the crew and made off with its equipment. He had to find a faster way of getting there, one that didn't involve swimming.
A crowd had formed around one of the long streets of New York. This wasn't an unusual sight in the city that never sleeps, but the crowd hadn't formed for a marching band or a protest for once - they had formed for an entirely different kind of spectacle.
Shouts and jeers of 'It ain't halloween yet pal!' and 'The street performers hang out at times square bozo!' surrounded Otto as he executed his impromtu plan. He was muttering calculations under his breath, a muddle of numbers and corrections.
"Don't worry guys!" He finally shouted back. "Nothing to see here!
This only brought on more insults.
He slowly edged backwards step by step, pushing against the tensile strength of the tentacles holding him back. All four of them were shot deeply into the tall buildings around him and were being pulled taut like a rope as he stretched backwards with all his might.
Finally he was as far back as he could go. Otto wasn't sure if the tentacles could stretch any further, but he sure as hell knew he couldn't take another step without slipping and falling flat on his face. He wrapped his arms around the upper two tentacles for safety and took a deep breath.
"Uh, don't worry everyone! I'm a trained professional!" He shouted to the crowd, unconfidently. "Trained dumbass more like..." He then muttered to himself. A few people in the crowd stepped back. Most, however, took out their phones and started recording.
All at once he released his grip on the tentacles and jumped into the air. The tension snapped forward all at once.
Otto shot across the street in a blur, the world compressing into a single, violent line of motion. Wind tore past him, the ground vanishing beneath his feet as he soared through the air - propelled by the use of his crude slingshot.
Even as he flew through the air - looking down at the people becoming ants below him - he was still calculating his trajectory. He glanced up again towards the water and the docks - his eyes twitched left and right. His calculations were off. A very minor error in terms of the maths but in terms of his landing point a major variation.
He made a split second decision. Taking even less than that to adjust his aim. A tentacle shot out, piercing through a water tank and spilling liquid all over a roof. The metal appendage wrapped around the side of the tank and then just as quickly went loose and altered Otto's flight path.
Perfect, trajectory corrected. He soared through the air for a while longer, climbing higher above the concrete jungle and then eventually the black water of the ocean.
What Otto hadn't accounted for when formulating his plan was the landing.
If he landed on the ship then his calculations - with their amendment - were perfect. This would be a personal victory that much was sure, but it posed another set of problems. The first being the velocity at which he'd land. He was more durable than your average robotics student that was for sure, but still hitting metal from this height and speed would definitely hurt. And that's not even taking into account his mechanical limbs and the impact they would have on the ship. Sure, he could wrap himself in a coccoon of them and save himself a few scrapes and bruises - but he was almost certain turning himself into a cannonball would just plummet him through the ship itself.
Now the ocean, that may have been a bit more preferable. It minimized damage to the ship and any potential crew, but it posed the new issue of just how deep he'd plummet below the surface. This was valuable time that might be wasted.
There was no time to weigh up the pros and cons - and even if there was he was left with no options to alter his fate. There was no handholds, no buildings to cling to. At best he could use the ship itself as a last ditch attempt, but this ran the risk of damaging its hull or worse - capsizing it entirely.
He wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief when he hit the water and sank down like a torpedo into its icy depths. He was encased in darkness, his low-light vision adapting within the first few seconds. Just long enough for him to realise he was diving against his will straight towards a giant exosuit - the KRAB.
He repayed the favour from last time, catching the beast by surprise about as much as he'd been surprised by this twist of fate. Otto threw his tentacles forward, gripping onto any handhold on the KRAB he could find. He used his adversary to slow him slightly, and then flipped forward, carrying the giant through sheer momentum and throwing him as hard as he could to the ocean floor.
The loud thump at the ocean floor sounded out his victory - and for a moment Otto allowed himself to celebrate this small win. He followed through the motion, stabilising himself with a quick spread of his limbs - anchors biting into the seabed to bleed off the last of his momentum. Of course, it would never be that easy. A glowing pair of eyes rapidly arose from the depths, coated in sand and heading straight for Otto.
One massive claw tore free of the sand, snapping forward with enough force to split the water itself. Otto moved on instinct—his body twisting sideways as a line shot out, catching the ocean floor and dragging him just clear as the pincer slammed shut where he'd been a second earlier.
His momentum was shortlived though as the other claw rose up and collided with his spine, sending him tumbling through the water to the seabed below.
For a moment the KRAB floated, staring at Otto, before turning its attention back to the surface and swimming off in the direction of the ship.
"Not on my watch, asshole." He said to himself.
He pushed off immediately, propulsion kicking in as he shot upward after it. The KRAB wasn't retreating - it had barely even acknowledged Otto as a threat. The ship above loomed larger now, its shadow swallowing the faint light filtering down.
Otto angled upward, closing the distance. The water grew brighter, pressure easing slightly as they ascended, but the KRAB had the advantage now. Its bulk cut through the water with long, efficient, strokes of its claws that carved and pulled through the water faster than Otto could keep up.
He had to adjust. One limb shot past the KRAB, latching onto the underside of its chassis. Another followed, securing him in place as he was dragged along in its wake.
"We're not finished yet, buddy."
The KRAB barely even noticed. It continued to accelerate faster and faster as it neared the ship. The surface broke above them in a violent surge of displaced water. The ship's hull towered overhead as the KRAB breached just beneath it, one claw slamming into the metal with a deafening clang that reverberated through both machine and water alike. It began to climb, digging its huge sharp claws into the sides of the ship and pulling its huge mass up towards the deck. Water cascaded off of the exosuit as it hauled itself upward, the horrible noise of metal grinding against metal piercing through the noise of the waves.
One final heave and the KRAB pulled itself over the edge, crashing onto the deck in a thunderous impact that sent containers rattling and men stumbling back in shock. Otto released just before the landing, flipping free and hitting the deck, sliding across the slick metal. He came up quickly, eyes already locked onto the towering machine as it rose to full height.
Floodlights snapped toward them as the crew began to panic and retreat, sprinting away to the the extremities of the ship. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Otto was their last hope. The KRAB didn't even acknowledge them, it just began to slowly turn on its axis until it faced him head on.
For a moment, the chaos and the noise fell away. Otto couldn't hear any of it - the crew, the ship, the alarms, the ocean - none of it. The only thing he could hear was the pumping of blood in his ears, his own heartbeat deafening him from the world around.
"Alright." Otto took up a fighting pose, raising two fists and four more clawed tentacles pointed towards his opponent. "Round two. Ring the bell, Apollo."
I think I've got an idea in mind for this! Sounds interesting!
<Snipped quote by Half Pint>
Biscuits require gravy.
<Snipped quote by Azure Bubbles>
True. Maybe I should just let him enjoy Oreos then...
It feels weird to me Oreos as a brand wouldn't want to jump on being a superheroes favourite biscuit it's like free advertising!
<Snipped quote by Half Pint>
I think he meant chocos. They're DC's version of Oreos and Martian Manhunter's favorite snack.
Ahhh, I always just thought it was Oreos he loved!
When it rains it pours.
Otto had been having an eventful past few days that was for sure. The most eventful of his life so far, that was an easy bet to make. In the space of just a week he'd stopped a mugging, got battered by a giant mechanical crab monster, and helped the X-Men stop a riot. He was feeling pretty good about himself, all things considered - and if it wasn't for the bruises and lack of sleep he'd have felt like he could conquer anything.
Instead, he felt like he could just about stay awake.
The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall buzzed faintly overhead, casting everything in that slightly sickly tone that made even the most enthusiastic lecturer sound like they were delivering a eulogy. Otto sat slouched in his chair, one hand propping his head up while the other loosely held a pen that had only touched paper to draw crude octopus doodles in the corners of the pages. His laptop screen glowed back at him with a half-finished document that hadn't changed since he opened it.
It took everything in his power to hold his eyes open. He was in that listless half state of consciousness - neither here nor there. Was this what meditating was like? The words on the projected screen at the end of the hall might well have been German for how well he could understand them. Every time he tried to focus on them they blurred again. He was well and truly exhausted.
"-and if you refer to the reading I set last week...Mr. Octavius?"
Otto's head snapped up, entirely alert now. "Yeah-yeah, sorry."
A few people turned to look at him. He sat up a little straighter, trying to look like someone who had definitely been paying attention the entire time.
"Would you care to explain the principle behind-"
There was a pause, the lecturer rolling his wrist expectantly. An answer was warranted - Otto didn't even know the question. His brain, usually quick, usually sharp, felt like it was wading through quicksand.
"Uh...Yeah." He coughed, trying to give himself some time. "It's, uh-"
What followed was an awkward silence as he glanced around the room, searching for any semblance of help. Any unknown ally ready to jump to his aid. He was completely alone in a sea of eyes staring back at him.
From somewhere to his right, a voice muttered under their breath. "Jeeee-sus" He could practically hear the eye-roll that went along with the comment.
Otto exhaled through his nose, accepting defeat. "Sorry, I didn't catch that part."
A few quiet snickers from the crowd. The lecturer frowned, but moved on. Otto leaned back in his chair again, dragging a hand down his face. That hadn't happened before. He was always quick to the draw when it came to this stuff. Even if he didn't know the answer he could've talked around it in a way that made him sound like he did.
"Dude, you look like shit."
Otto glanced up as he stepped out into the hallway, blinking against the change in lighting. "Good to see you too."
Peter fell into step beside him, hands shoved into his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm serious. I saw you in there, man. You, like, short-circuited.”
"I'm just tired. Plus, who are you? The new hall-monitor?"
"Uh-huh. Tired from what? You don't do anything."
"I do plenty."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Name one thing you've done this week that isn't sitting in front of a screen or arguing about sandwiches."
Otto hesitated for a moment. He wasn't a great liar, it was better to tell small truths and omit details than it was to make something up he'd just get tangled in later. "I've been busy."
"Right. Sure."
They walked in silence for a few seconds before Peter spoke again, sounding more enthusiastic than before. "So. Harry's been asking about you. He says you've not been replying to his texts."
Otto groaned, slapping himself on the forehead. "Ugh, don't start. I've sort of been avoiding life this week I need to text him back."
"I'm not starting anything." Peter said, grinning. "He just wanted to know if you were still interested in that internship thing."
Otto stopped, to the irritation of the people walking behind him who shoved their way past. "Oh shit, really?"
"Yeah. Said his dad's looking at bringing in a few students this summer. Engineering, research, all that Oscorp stuff."
"It's probably nothing. I doubt I'll even get through the first round of interviews."
Peter snorted. "Dude, it's Oscorp. Even 'nothing' is something. Plus, it's not like you don't have the nepotism advantage."
"Yeah, well..." Otto shrugged. "Guys like me don’t just walk into places like that. Plus, isn't Harry's dad kind of a dick?"
"Guys like you?" Peter stopped walking, turning to look at him properly now. "Other than myself you're probably the smartest guy I know, Otto."
"Doesn't mean anything. You barely know anyone.""
Peter shrugged. "And Harry's dad might be a dick, but every time I've met him he's been fine. You know what Harry's like."
Harry had always been vocal - especially after a few drinks - about the friction between him and his father. Too many expectations and not enough tender loving care through his youth. Harry suspected it had something to do with his mother's death. Otto had never properly met the guy, only seen his picture in magazines or caught a glimpse of him picking Harry up from school when they were younger.
Later that evening, Otto sat at his desk, the glow of his monitor illuminating the clutter around him - notes, half-finished designs, scattered tools.
On the screen was an email draft. One that he had been staring at for the better part of an hour now. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, never daring to touch the keys. He'd typed it out three times already, and deleted it twice entirely. The third version - the most excessively preened and pruned of the triplets sat there now, awaiting the decision on whether or not it would serve its purpose and be sent - or be destroyed like its brethren.
Dear Mr. Osborn,
Harry mentioned there may be internship opportunities available this summer. I'd be interested in discussing-
Otto stared at it a while longer. Something about it felt off. Was it too eager? Too formal? Was it enough? Too much? He sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah, that's not getting sent. Not tonight anyway."
The laptop clicked shut. He sat in silence for a moment, pushing himself away from the desk on his office chair and interlocking his fingers behind his head. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then spun slightly on his chair, glancing at the dim part of his room out of the corner of his eye.
He watched for a time, he could almost see it breathing from beneath the loose covering. Finally he rose from his chair and moved over to the edge of the room. He removed the covering and pulled out the harness from its hiding place.
He hesitated for a moment, turning over the cold metal in his hands before shaking his head and letting out a sigh.
"Not tonight."
He set it back down carefully, pulling the covering over it again. He needed a break. The other heroes could pick up his slack in the meantime.
Instead, he grabbed his phone, scrolling for a moment before stopping on a contact. Then he hit call.
"Hoh, if it isn't the invisible man!" Harry's voice crackled through the speaker.
Otto leaned back in his chair, staring through the window. "Yeah, yeah - sorry I've been a bit M.I.A. I've been busy with...stuff." He was going to need to come up with a better excuse - or any excuse at all for that matter. It could only go on so long before his friends start getting suspicious.
"No problemo there 'Big O'. So, what's up?"
"I'm bored, plus I need your advice on an email."
"Say no more, amigo. Wanna come to mine? I can set up Tekken if you can afford to switch your brain off for a bit."
Otto smiled. "Sounds great."
Harry's apartment was a far cry from Otto's family home.
Otto had been here enough times that the novelty had worn off. It was still expensive, obviously, but it felt lived in. Jackets lazily slung over chairs, empty bottles tucked half-heartedly into corners, a general sense that someone actually existed here rather than just passed through it. Even if the occupant didn't take the best care of his belongings.
"Make yourself at home" Harry said, already moving toward the kitchen. "Drink?"
"Yeah, sure."
Peter didn't even look up from where he was flicking through the TV channels. "He means help yourself, by the way. If you wait for him you'll die of thirst."
"Hey!" Harry called back, grabbing a couple of beers and tossing one toward Otto. "Ungrateful. Free beer is free beer, Parker."
Otto caught it easily, cracking it open as he leaned against the back of the couch.
"So" Harry said, dropping onto the sofa and grabbing a controller "This mystery email. Let's hear it."
Otto exhaled through his nose, already feeling that slight knot in his stomach again. "It's nothing, really. I just don't want to make the wrong first impression with your dad."
Peter glanced over. "You're overthinking it. As per usual. It's just your friends dad."
"I am not overthinking it! It's not just my friend's dad, it's-" He gestured vaguely. "It's him."
Harry let out a short laugh at that, though there wasn't much humour in it. "Yeah. Him. You said it buddy."
Otto hesitated for a second before asking, "So, what's he actually like? When he's not on the cover of Time Magazine - that is."
There was a pause. Harry leaned back into the couch, rolling the controller idly between his hands as he stared at the screen without really taking in what was on it. "Depends who you ask, I guess." he said eventually. "Public version? Genius. Visionary. Built Oscorp into what it is. Real man of the people stuff." He took a swig of beer. "Private version? Let's just say you don't get to where he is by being a particularly nice guy."
Otto frowned a little. "Right..."
"I mean, don't get me wrong" Harry added, a little more quickly now. "He'll like you. Yo'’re exactly the kind of person he loves. Smart, driven, not an idiot." A small smirk tugged at his mouth. "Unlike some people."
"Wow." Peter muttered. "Just catching strays for no reason now."
"He'll size you up in about ten seconds." He continued. "He'll be deciding if you're worth his time. If you are? Great. Doors open. Opportunities. The whole shebang." He tapped the controller against his knee. "If you're not then...you may as well not exist."
"Sounds encouraging."
Harry let out a laugh. "Hey, you asked!"
“Yeah, I guess I did." Otto admitted. "Just trying to figure out how not to completely embarrass myself and potentially fuck up my future forever."
Harry snorted. "Oh, come off it. You'll be fine." He shifted in his seat, speaking more pointedly now. "Look, you want my advice - keep it direct. Don't grovel, he hates that. And don't try to be clever for the sake of it. He was a scientist before he was a businessman he'll see right through it."
"Right. Duly noted."
Peter suddenly perked up, as if he was roused from deep slumber. He tossed a controller toward Otto. "Alright, enough career counselling. Let's play a game."
Otto caught the controller then held up both hands in mock surrender. "I didn't come here to get humiliated."
"You came to the wrong place then!" Peter shot back.
Harry smirked, already selecting his character on the screen. "Relax, we'll go easy on you."
"Speak for yourself!" Peter said. "I'm not holding back."
Otto sighed, but took the controller anyway, dropping into the seat beside them. "Fine. Just don't start crying when I beat you."
It was nice to go back to normal for a while, even if it was just for a night.
Happy Late Martian Monday/Early Telepath Tuesday!
Just out of interest, what are chicos? I've never heard of this before!
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