Peter POV:
Money was the problem. It wasn't about greed — it was logistics. Rare alloys, custom capacitors, servo arrays, surgical gear. None of it came cheap. The Sandevistan was out of blueprint land and now it needs to latch onto my damaged spine and then I need to figure out how to fix my mangled up legs. Because the Regen fixes injuries and regenerates the telomeres but doesn't set broken bones back in place. I needed cash and materials.
So, I did what any responsible, slightly mad genius would do: I built a predictive trading algorithm. Underwhelming I know.
It wasn't glamorous. Just a coded together stack of convolutional layers and time-series models, trained on decades of stock, crypto, and commodity data. Clanker helped clean the noise but the core code was mine, coded with black coffee and muttered swears.
"Clanker, simulate a run. Conservative settings. I don't want to raise flags."
> Running. Probability of profit: 82%. Estimated hourly return: 3–5%.
Not perfect, but good enough. By the end of the day, my terminal blinked green: $12,400.
I let out a shaky laugh. "Guess I'm a day trader now."
Then came the notification:
> REWARD PACKAGE GRANTED.
Blueprint: MJOLNIR Mark VII blueprint ( Powered assault armor).
Materials delivered: Titanium alloy, Hydrostatic gel, reactive metal liquid crystal.
The air left my lungs. MJOLNIR. The dream of a generation, schematics just sitting in my basement's digital inbox. Sure, I was lacking materials but deuterium and tritium can be harvested not to mention I also have Baddasium.
"Jesus." I whispered. "First I'm John Wick. Now I'm Master Chief. What next, Doomguy?"
> Suggestion: focus on one surgical enhancement at a time. Also, you only get the John Wick template.
That brought me back to reality. The Sandevistan. The implant that would merge with my spine, branching along neural pathways. No room for error. Botch it, and I'd be paralyzed. Or dead. I need to find a way to do it.
I chewed my lip. " I'll need surgical tools. Anesthetic. Also robotic assists for precision. No way I can do this with just kitchen knives and determination."
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. The way to walk again was great on paper. In practice, it required cutting my own spine open.
Fun times.
Gwen POV:
When I showed up at Peter's place, he looked like he hadn't slept. Same t-shirt, same ruffled brown hair that looked like it lost a fight with static electricity.
"You've been brooding again." I said, plopping a bag of shawarma on his lap. "Eat. Don't argue."
He blinked, then smiled like I'd just handed him the cure to cancer. "You're an angel."
"No, I'm your best friend who's tired of seeing you look like an extra in The Walking Dead."
We ended up in our usual spot at Peter's floor. Aunt May, bless her soul brought us soda.
"Okay, serious question." I said, pointing a fry at him. "What do you do in that basement of yours all the time? Because I swear, you disappear like you're Batman."
He choked a little on his soda, then smirked. "Read. Build stuff. Think too much."
"Classic nerd."
"You say that like it's an insult."
"Not an insult. Just an observation. You're my nerd." I say with a teasing smile.
He grinned at that, and for a second the dark circles under his eyes didn't matter.
After shawarma, I dragged him. Wheelchair and all to the Central park.
"You're insane." He muttered as I wheeled him down from the bus with my enhanced spider strength.
"Correction, I'm cooler than you." I kicked off, did a quick spin, landed messy but upright. "See?"
He clapped sarcastically. "Wow, Stacy, truly the Spider-Woman of the half-pipe."
"Shut up." I shoved him lightly. "Your turn."
"Uh, in case you forgot, I've got two mangled legs and a wheelchair."
"Exactly. Wheelchair tricks."
He thought about it… then spun himself in a half-circle, pretending it was a stunt. "Ta-da."
I burst out laughing so hard I nearly fell off my board. "You're such an idiot."
"And yet, still cooler than Ned Leeds."
"Fair point."
Later at band practice, I let him sit in while the guys argued about setlists. Peter kept tapping formulas into a tab, but every now and then he'd look up and smile when I played a riff.
Afterward, I caught him staring. "What?" I asked.
He shrugged. "You ever get scared? Out there. As Spider-Woman." He asked when we were away from earshot.
My stomach knotted. "Of course I do. Every fight. Every villain. You think spandex makes me invincible? Half the time I'm scared out of my mind."
He nodded like he'd known the answer already. "Yeah. Just… you make it look easy."
"Trust me, it's not. But I keep going. Because if I don't, who will?"
He smiled softly, almost sadly. "You deserve more than spandex. More than carrying all that alone."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I punched his arm lightly. "Don't go soft on me, Parker."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Peter POV:
That night, after Gwen dropped me off, I wheeled back into the basement.
The MJOLNIR blueprint glowed on the console. The Sandevistan waited beside it on a table.
I stared at both, heart pounding.
One was a dream. The other was a scalpel to my spine.
I sighed. "One step at a time."
> Agreed. Recommend anesthesia before surgery.
"Yeah, no kidding."
I traced the outline of the Sandevistan with my fingers. It looked clinical, almost innocent. But I knew what it meant.
Sooner or later, I'd have to cut.
But for now? Shawarma, skate parks, and Gwen's laughter were enough to keep me human.
For now.
Read ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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