[SATURDAY MORNING - QUEENS PUBLIC LIBRARY]
Peter arrived at the library fifteen minutes early, which gave him exactly fifteen minutes to have a nervous breakdown.
"Okay," he muttered, pacing in front of the entrance. "It's just studying. With Gwen. Who is brilliant and beautiful and completely out of your league. No pressure."
YOUR CARDIOVASCULAR RATE IS ELEVATED. PERSPIRATION INCREASED. THESE ARE SUBOPTIMAL CONDITIONS FOR SOCIAL INTERACTION.
Thanks, Venom. Really helpful.
I AM ATTEMPTING TO UNDERSTAND HUMAN MATING RITUALS. THEY SEEM UNNECESSARILY COMPLEX.
This isn't a mating ritual! It's studying!
THE FEMALE CLEARLY DISPLAYS ATTRACTION INDICATORS. ELEVATED HEART RATE IN YOUR PRESENCE. DILATED PUPILS. INCREASED GROOMING BEHAVIORS. SHE IS ATTEMPTING TO SECURE YOU AS A MATE.
Oh my god, stop.
I AM MERELY STATING OBSERVABLE FACTS—
"Peter!"
He spun around. Gwen was walking up the library steps, backpack slung over one shoulder, wearing jeans and a soft green sweater that made her eyes look impossibly blue. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was smiling.
Peter's brain temporarily forgot how to function.
"Hey!" he managed. "You're here. Obviously you're here. I can see you. I'm not blind. Not that I was suggesting—"
"Peter." Gwen touched his arm, her smile warm and amused. "Breathe."
He breathed.
"Better," she said. "Come on, I reserved a study room in the back. More privacy for talking through complex genetic problems without disturbing people."
PRIVACY. INTERESTING.
Not helping!
They settled into one of the small study rooms—just a table, four chairs, and a whiteboard. Gwen immediately started unpacking her materials: laptop, notebooks filled with detailed diagrams, highlighters in multiple colors, and a thermos of what smelled like very good coffee.
"Want some?" She poured a cup. "Fair warning: it's strong enough to wake the dead."
"Perfect." Peter accepted the coffee, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent electricity up his arm—whether from nerves or the symbiote's enhanced sensitivity, he wasn't sure.
Gwen opened her laptop, pulled up a complex genetic sequence. "Okay, so my project is on gene expression in neurodegenerative diseases. Specifically, I'm looking at how certain genetic markers can be modified or suppressed to prevent disease progression."
Peter leaned closer, studying the screen. His enhanced mind—courtesy of the symbiote—was processing the information faster than normal. "You're looking at retroviral sequences."
"Yes! Exactly!" Gwen's enthusiasm was infectious. "Most people don't catch that immediately. But see, here—" she pointed to a specific section, "—this is where it gets interesting. The disease doesn't just express normally. It's almost like it's... adaptive. Fighting against treatment."
Peter's mind raced. This was remarkably similar to what Harry had described about his father's condition. "What if the disease has a symbiotic relationship with the host? What if it's not just genetic degradation, but something more complex?"
Gwen blinked. "That's... that's actually brilliant. I hadn't considered a mutualistic model. If the disease provides some benefit to the host while also damaging them, it would explain the resistance to treatment."
They fell into deep conversation, bouncing ideas back and forth. Peter found himself completely relaxed—this was his element, pure science and theory. Gwen matched him thought for thought, sometimes ahead of him, sometimes building on his ideas.
SHE IS INTELLECTUALLY COMPATIBLE. RARE AMONG YOUR SPECIES.
I know.
An hour passed, then two. They filled the whiteboard with equations and diagrams, their hands occasionally brushing as they reached for markers, each touch sending pleasant warmth through Peter's chest.
"Okay, theoretical question," Gwen said, sitting back in her chair. "What if you had access to something that could rewrite DNA at the cellular level? Something adaptive that could target specific genetic sequences?"
Peter's heart skipped. "Like... hypothetically?"
"Sure, hypothetically." Gwen's eyes were bright with curiosity. "Could you cure genetic diseases that way? Or would you risk unintended mutations?"
"Depends on the delivery mechanism," Peter said carefully. "If it was intelligent—something that could differentiate between harmful and beneficial genes—it could work. You'd need something with its own consciousness, almost. Something that could make decisions about what to change and what to preserve."
"Like a biological AI."
"Exactly like that."
Gwen studied him for a long moment. "Peter, can I ask you something? And will you give me an honest answer?"
CAREFUL.
"Of course," Peter said, though his pulse quickened.
"Something happened to you at Oscorp. I saw it. That spider that escaped—it bit you, didn't it?"
Peter's mouth went dry. "Gwen—"
"I'm not going to tell anyone," she said quickly. "I just... I need to know you're okay. That you're not in danger. Because if you are, I want to help."
The concern in her eyes was genuine. Real. And Peter realized he was tired of lying to people he cared about.
"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "It bit me. On the neck. And something... changed."
Gwen reached across the table, took his hand. "Are you sick? Do you need medical attention? Because I can—"
"I'm not sick. I'm..." Peter struggled to find words. "I'm different. Better, in some ways. The spider was enhanced—it had been exposed to that symbiote organism they were studying. When it bit me, it transferred something. And now I'm... enhanced too."
"Enhanced how?"
Peter glanced around, making sure they were alone. Then, carefully, he pressed his palm against the underside of the table and lifted.
The entire table rose off the ground, Gwen's laptop and books sliding toward the center. Her eyes went wide.
"Oh my god," she breathed.
Peter set the table down gently. "Strength. Speed. Healing. Enhanced senses. I can stick to walls. Generate organic webbing. It's like the symbiote rewrote my DNA, made me... more."
"Peter, that's incredible. And terrifying. And..." Gwen was still holding his hand, he realized. "Are you in control? Is it safe?"
"Most of the time. There's a... presence. The symbiote. It has consciousness, personality. We share this body now. But I'm still me. Still Peter Parker who can't talk to pretty girls without rambling."
Gwen's cheeks flushed. "You think I'm pretty?"
"I think you're the most beautiful, brilliant person I've ever met," Peter said, his enhanced confidence courtesy of Venom overriding his usual awkwardness. "I've thought that since freshman year when you destroyed Flash's terrible argument about evolution in biology class."
"That was a terrible argument," Gwen said softly. Her eyes searched his face. "Peter, I need you to know something too. I've liked you for a while. Like, really liked you. But you always seemed so... distant. Like you were convinced you weren't worth noticing."
"I'm not—"
"You are." Gwen squeezed his hand. "You're kind, intelligent, funny when you let yourself be. And now you're telling me you have superpowers, which is frankly the most Peter Parker thing ever—to get bitten by a radioactive spider and immediately start thinking about how to help people instead of yourself."
"It wasn't radioactive. It was symbiote-enhanced."
"Peter."
"Yeah?"
"Stop deflecting."
They were very close now, leaning across the table. Peter could hear Gwen's heartbeat, rapid and strong. Could smell her vanilla shampoo and the coffee on her breath. Could see the small flecks of darker blue in her irises.
KISS HER.
What?
THE FEMALE IS DISPLAYING CLEAR RECEPTIVITY. KISS HER. IT IS WHAT HUMANS DO IN THESE SITUATIONS.
I can't just—
But then Gwen closed the distance, and they were kissing.
It was soft, tentative, perfect. Her lips were warm and tasted faintly of coffee and something sweeter. Peter's hand came up to cup her cheek, and she made a small sound that sent heat racing through him.
When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.
"Wow," Gwen said.
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Wow."
SUCCESSFUL MATING RITUAL INITIATION.
It's not a mating ritual!
THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.
Gwen was smiling, her cheeks flushed. "So. We should probably talk about this. About us. About what this means."
"I'd like that," Peter said. "But there's something else I need to tell you. Something about why I was asking about genetic disease cures."
He explained about Harry. About Norman's condition. About his plan to try to use the symbiote's abilities to create a cure.
Gwen listened intently, her scientist brain clearly processing. "That's incredibly risky, Peter. You don't fully understand your own abilities yet, much less how to safely transfer them to someone else."
"I know. But I have to try. Harry's my friend. His dad is dying. If there's even a chance—"
"Then I'm helping." Gwen's tone brooked no argument. "You said it yourself—you need someone who understands genetics. Someone who can help you avoid unintended mutations or cellular rejection. That's me."
"Gwen, it could be dangerous—"
"I don't care. We're in this together now." She squeezed his hand. "Besides, someone needs to keep you from accidentally turning Norman Osborn into a lizard or something."
I LIKE HER.
Me too.
"Okay," Peter said. "Together. But we need to be careful. No one else can know about this."
"Agreed. When do we start?"
"Tonight. Harry's getting me access to his dad's medical files and a private lab at Oscorp Tower. Can you make it?"
Gwen pulled out her phone, texted rapidly. "My dad thinks I'm staying late at the library for a study group. I've got until midnight."
"Your dad's a police captain. Lying to him makes me nervous."
"He wants me to have a normal social life. This counts. Technically." Gwen's smile was mischievous. "Besides, we really are studying. Just... applied genetics instead of theoretical."
They spent another hour going over genetic theory, with Gwen teaching Peter about CRISPR gene editing and viral delivery mechanisms. Her knowledge combined with the symbiote's instinctive understanding of genetic manipulation created something powerful.
THIS FEMALE WOULD MAKE AN EXCELLENT SECONDARY HOST.
What?
HER GENETIC STRUCTURE IS COMPATIBLE. I COULD CREATE AN OFFSPRING SYMBIOTE SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED TO BOND WITH HER. ENHANCE HER CAPABILITIES AS YOU HAVE BEEN ENHANCED.
We're not talking about that now.
BUT EVENTUALLY?
Maybe. If she wanted it. But that's her choice, not ours.
UNDERSTOOD.
As they were packing up to leave, Gwen's phone buzzed. She checked it, frowned.
"MJ's asking where I am. And if I've seen you."
"She's investigating something," Peter said. "About Oscorp. About me. She knows something happened during the field trip."
"MJ's a good person. Intense, but good. She doesn't expose people—she exposes corruption." Gwen hesitated. "Peter, I think you should tell her. About your abilities. She's going to figure it out eventually anyway, and better she hears it from you."
"What if she writes a story?"
"She won't. Not if you ask her not to." Gwen's expression was thoughtful. "MJ believes in truth, but she also believes in consent. She wouldn't out you without permission."
THE JOURNALIST IS A STRATEGIC RISK.
Or a strategic asset. If she's investigating Oscorp anyway, she might uncover information we need.
Peter nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll talk to MJ. But after we help Norman. One crisis at a time."
They left the library together, walking toward the subway. At the station entrance, Gwen turned to face him.
"Peter Parker, are we... dating now?"
"I'd like that. If you would."
"I would." Gwen kissed him again, quick and sweet. "Text me the address for tonight. And Peter? Be careful. Norman Osborn is brilliant but dangerous. Don't let your guard down."
"I won't."
After Gwen disappeared down the subway stairs, Peter pulled out his phone. Three missed calls from Harry. Two texts from Ned asking if he'd "made it to second base" (absolutely not answering that). And one message from an unknown number:
Parker. We need to talk. About what you know. About what I know. Coffee shop on 47th and 9th. 4pm. Don't be late. -MJ
THE JOURNALIST IS PERSISTENT.
Yeah. But Gwen's right. Better to control the narrative.
Peter texted back: I'll be there.
[4:00 PM - COFFEE SHOP, MANHATTAN]
The coffee shop was one of those hipster places with exposed brick, mismatched furniture, and baristas who took their craft very seriously. Peter found MJ in the back corner, laptop open, surrounded by printed documents and photographs.
She looked up as he approached, her expression unreadable. "You actually came."
"You said it was important." Peter slid into the seat across from her. "What's this about?"
MJ turned her laptop around. On the screen was a detailed timeline, connecting events with photographs and documents. "This is about Oscorp Industries. About illegal experimentation. About alien organisms being weaponized. And about you, Peter Parker, who walked out of that facility with something that should have killed you."
Peter's blood ran cold. "MJ—"
"Let me finish." She pulled out a photograph—grainy, taken with a zoom lens. It showed Peter on a rooftop last night, mid-swing between buildings. "I followed you last night. Saw you save that woman in the alley. Watched you swing away using some kind of organic material that dissolved after two hours."
SHE IS TOO DANGEROUS TO LEAVE UNCONTROLLED.
We're not hurting her.
I DID NOT SUGGEST VIOLENCE. BUT SHE MUST BE MANAGED.
"So you know," Peter said quietly.
"I know you have abilities. I know they came from Oscorp. I know you're using them to help people." MJ leaned forward. "What I don't know is what you are. What happened to you. And what Oscorp is really doing in those labs."
Peter studied her face. Saw the determination, yes, but also the concern. The same look she'd had at school when asking if he was okay.
He made a decision.
"What I'm about to tell you cannot be published. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Can you agree to that?"
MJ's jaw set. "I'm a journalist, Parker. I don't sit on stories."
"This isn't a story. Not yet. It's a situation that could get a lot of people hurt if it goes public too soon. Including me." Peter held her gaze. "I'm asking you—as someone who claims to care about consent and truth—give me time. Let me explain everything. Then you can decide what to do with the information."
A long pause. Then MJ closed her laptop. "Okay. Talk."
Peter told her everything. The spider bite. The symbiote merger. His powers. Venom's consciousness. The Klyntar history and Knull's prophecy. His decision to use his abilities to help people.
MJ listened without interrupting, her expression shifting from skepticism to shock to something like awe.
"Holy shit," she said finally. "You're an alien hybrid."
"Human-symbiote hybrid, technically."
"And you're prophesied to fight a god?"
"Eventually. Maybe. The prophecy's kind of vague on timeline."
MJ sat back, processing. "Okay. Okay, this is... this is huge. This is Pulitzer Prize huge. But it's also—" she looked at him, really looked, "—it's your life. Your safety. Your choice."
"So you won't publish?"
"Not without your permission." MJ pulled out a flash drive. "But I want everything documented. Your story, your powers, all of it. Not for publication—for protection. If Oscorp comes after you, if anyone comes after you, there needs to be a record. Insurance."
SHE IS STRATEGICALLY INTELLIGENT.
Told you.
"Deal," Peter said. "But there's more. I need your help with something."
He explained about Norman's genetic disease. About his plan to cure it tonight. About Harry's fear of losing his father.
MJ whistled low. "You're going to break into Oscorp Tower to perform experimental genetic therapy on a dying billionaire. That's either incredibly heroic or incredibly stupid."
"Can't it be both?"
"Fair point." MJ was already typing on her laptop. "Okay, if you're doing this, you need intel. Security schedules, camera placements, emergency protocols. I've been building a file on Oscorp's security systems for my investigation. I can get you blueprints."
"Why would you help with this?"
MJ looked up, her expression serious. "Because Norman Osborn, for all his faults, is one of the few people actually trying to cure genetic diseases instead of just profiting from them. His research has helped thousands of people. And because Harry's your friend, and you're—" she paused, "—you're a good person, Parker. Weird alien hybrid powers aside, you're someone worth helping."
Peter felt warmth in his chest. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. If this goes wrong, we're all screwed." MJ pulled up building schematics. "Okay, here's what you need to know..."
[10:00 PM - OSCORP TOWER, PRIVATE RESEARCH LAB]
The lab was on the 47th floor, accessible only by private elevator with biometric security. Harry had arranged everything—cleared the floor, disabled cameras, provided access codes.
Peter, Gwen, and MJ stepped out of the elevator into a state-of-the-art facility that put their high school's science lab to shame. Electron microscopes, gene sequencers, bioreactors, and equipment Peter couldn't even name.
"Wow," Gwen breathed. "This is incredible."
"Dad spares no expense on research," Harry said, emerging from a side office. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. "Everything you need is here. Medical files are on the computer—password is 'HarryJr2007'. Dad's in the medical suite next door, sedated for the procedure."
"Wait, he knows?" Peter asked. "You told him what we're planning?"
"He knows a 'specialist' is attempting experimental treatment. He doesn't know it's a fifteen-year-old with alien powers." Harry's laugh was slightly hysterical. "If this works, I'll tell him everything. If it doesn't... it won't matter."
"It's going to work," Peter said with more confidence than he felt.
MJ was already at the computer, pulling up Norman's medical files. "Jesus. This disease is aggressive. It's already destroyed 60% of his healthy cells. Conventional medicine gives him maybe six months."
"Then we don't have time to waste." Gwen was examining a gene sequencer. "Peter, I need a sample. Of your blood. We need to isolate the symbiote's active components."
YOU WISH TO EXTRACT PIECES OF ME?
Just a sample. To study. To understand how you rewrite DNA.
...ACCEPTABLE. BUT BE CAREFUL. I AM PART OF YOU NOW. REMOVING TOO MUCH COULD WEAKEN US BOTH.
Peter rolled up his sleeve. Gwen drew blood with practiced efficiency—apparently having a police captain father meant learning first aid young. The blood was darker than normal, almost black, with visible movement under the microscope.
"It's alive," Gwen murmured, watching the sample. "The cells are in constant flux. Adapting. Rewriting themselves. This is extraordinary."
"Can you replicate it?" Peter asked.
"Not replicate. But I can isolate the genetic mechanisms. Create a... template. Something we can introduce to Norman's system that will teach his cells how to repair themselves."
They worked for two hours. Gwen handled the technical aspects, her expertise in genetics crucial. MJ monitored security feeds and kept watch. Harry paced nervously. And Peter—Peter let the symbiote guide him, feeling out the genetic patterns, understanding how Venom rewrote DNA at the molecular level.
WE ARE CREATING OFFSPRING. A SMALL PIECE OF MYSELF, DESIGNED FOR A SPECIFIC PURPOSE.
A cure.
MORE THAN A CURE. A TRANSFORMATION. IF THIS WORKS, NORMAN OSBORN WILL BE ENHANCED. STRONGER. HEALTHIER. CHANGED.
Will he be like me?
NO. THIS SYMBIOTE WILL BE PURELY MEDICAL. HEALING WITHOUT THE POWER. UNLESS...
Unless what?
UNLESS I DESIGN IT TO DO MORE. TO GIVE HIM ABILITIES. TO CREATE ANOTHER HOST.
Peter considered. "Gwen, theoretical question. If we cure Norman, could we also enhance him? Give him abilities?"
Gwen looked up from the gene sequencer. "Theoretically, yes. But that's ethically complicated. You'd be changing someone fundamentally without their full consent."
"What if he was dying anyway? What if enhanced was his only chance at survival?"
"Then it becomes a trolley problem. Change him or let him die. There's no perfect answer." Gwen's expression was troubled. "What does the symbiote think?"
I THINK NORMAN OSBORN WOULD MAKE A POWERFUL HOST. HIS MIND IS BRILLIANT, IF TWISTED BY PAIN AND DESPERATION. HEALING HIM WITHOUT ENHANCEMENT LEAVES HIM VULNERABLE. BUT ENHANCEMENT WITHOUT PERMISSION VIOLATES AUTONOMY.
Peter relayed Venom's thoughts.
Harry had stopped pacing. "Give him the enhancement. Whatever it takes. My dad's spent his whole life fighting this disease, watching it destroy our family. If you can cure him and give him the power to make sure no one else suffers the same way—do it."
"Harry, that's not a light decision—" Peter started.
"I know. But it's my decision to make. He's my father. And I'm telling you—save him. However you can."
Peter looked at Gwen, at MJ. Both nodded slowly.
"Okay," Peter said. "We do the full enhancement. But carefully. With control mechanisms so the symbiote doesn't overwhelm him."
AGREED. I WILL CREATE SOMETHING SPECIALIZED. A HEALER. A PROTECTOR. SOMETHING WORTHY OF NORMAN OSBORN.
Another hour of work. Peter's blood was the base, but Gwen modified it, refined it, removed the aggressive elements and amplified the healing properties. What they created was something new—a white symbiote, pure and focused.
"Anti-Venom," Peter said, watching it pulse in the containment vessel. "It's the opposite of you. Healing instead of consuming. Light instead of darkness."
BALANCE. GOOD.
They moved to the medical suite. Norman Osborn lay on a hospital bed, looking small and fragile despite his reputation. His skin was gray, his breathing labored even in sedation. The disease was clearly winning.
Harry stood beside his father, hand clasped around Norman's. "Please work," he whispered. "Please."
Peter held the vessel containing Anti-Venom. "Gwen, you ready?"
She had a syringe prepared with a sedative booster and anti-rejection medication. "Ready."
"MJ, if anything goes wrong—"
"I'll document everything," MJ said quietly. "And make sure the truth gets out. But it's not going to go wrong, Parker. You've got this."
Peter approached the bed. Opened the vessel. The white symbiote flowed onto his hand, and he could feel its eagerness, its purpose.
IT KNOWS WHAT TO DO. IT IS PART OF ME, PART OF YOU. IT WILL HEAL HIM.
Peter placed his hand on Norman's chest, over his heart. The white symbiote flowed from his palm, spreading across Norman's body like living light.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Norman's body arched, his eyes snapping open even through sedation. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
"Dad!" Harry lunged forward, but Gwen caught him.
"Don't! The bonding process—we can't interrupt it!"
Peter could feel it through his connection to the symbiote. Anti-Venom was spreading through Norman's system, finding every diseased cell, every genetic flaw. Rewriting. Repairing. Transforming.
Norman's skin color improved from gray to healthy pink. His breathing deepened, strengthened. The monitors showed his vitals stabilizing, improving beyond normal human parameters.
The white symbiote was merging with him, becoming part of him.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Norman's body relaxed. The white coloring faded, sinking beneath his skin. To the naked eye, he looked completely normal.
But Peter could feel it. The connection. Anti-Venom had bonded successfully.
Norman's eyes opened. Clear, bright, aware.
"Harry?" His voice was strong, no longer the rasp of a dying man. "What... what happened?"
Harry was crying. "Dad. You're okay. You're actually okay."
Norman sat up slowly, looking at his hands. Flexing his fingers. "I feel... incredible. The pain is gone. All of it. How?"
He looked up, saw Peter standing there. Their eyes met.
Norman knew. Somehow, he knew.
"Mr. Parker," Norman said slowly. "What did you do to me?"
Peter swallowed hard. "I cured you. The genetic disease is gone. Completely rewritten at the cellular level. You'll never suffer from it again. Neither will Harry—we can cure him too, preventatively."
"How?"
"I... acquired some unique abilities during the field trip. Abilities that let me manipulate genetic code. Cure diseases. Help people." Peter met Norman's gaze steadily. "I used those abilities to save your life."
Norman stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed—a rich, genuine sound. "Of course. Of course it would be you. The quiet kid from Queens with more intelligence than sense." He stood, testing his balance. Perfect. "I'm assuming this wasn't a simple blood transfusion. What exactly did you give me?"
"A symbiotic organism. Designed specifically for healing. It's bonded with you now. Part of your biology."
"Show me."
Peter glanced at Gwen, who nodded. He held up his hand, let black tendrils of Venom emerge from his palm.
Norman's eyes widened. Then, experimentally, he held up his own hand.
White tendrils emerged, flowing like liquid light.
"Extraordinary," Norman breathed. "This is... Peter, this is beyond anything I've ever seen. The potential applications—"
"Are not for weaponization," Peter said firmly. "I saved you because Harry's my friend and you're his father. Not to create super-soldiers or corporate assets."
Norman looked at him sharply. Then, surprisingly, nodded. "Fair. And agreed. You've given me my life back, Peter. My son's future. That deserves respect." He flexed his hand, watching the white symbiote flow. "What can it do?"
"Healing, primarily. Cure diseases. Purge toxins. Repair injuries. Maybe more—we'll discover together." Peter hesitated. "There's more you should know. About where these abilities come from. About what's coming."
He told Norman everything. The original Venom. The Klyntar. Knull. The cosmic prophecy.
Norman listened with the intensity of a man whose life's work was suddenly revealed to be a small part of a much larger picture.
"So we're soldiers in a war that hasn't started yet," Norman said finally. "Against a god that's imprisoned but not defeated."
"Essentially."
"And you're training to be the one who can stop him."
"Trying to."
Norman studied Peter for a long moment. Then he extended his hand. "Then we're allies. You saved my life, my son's life. Whatever you need—resources, technology, funding, protection—you have it. All of it. No strings attached beyond mutual defense."
Peter shook his hand. Norman's grip was strong, no longer the weak grasp of a dying man.
HE WILL BE USEFUL. POWERFUL. AN ASSET.
And hopefully a friend.
"There's one more thing," Harry said, stepping forward. "I want it too. The cure. The enhancement. Whatever you gave Dad."
"Harry—" Norman started.
"No, Dad. We've lost too many family members to this disease. I've spent my whole life waiting for symptoms. Wondering when I'd start dying." Harry looked at Peter. "If you can cure me preventatively, if you can make sure I never have to worry about it—I want that."
"It's a permanent change," Peter warned. "You'll have abilities. Responsibilities. Your life will never be the same."
"My life was never going to be normal anyway. I'm Harry Osborn, son of a billionaire with a fatal genetic disease. Normal ended a long time ago." Harry's expression was determined. "Give me the power to protect myself. To protect my family. To help."
Peter looked at Gwen and MJ. Both nodded.
"Okay," Peter said. "But not tonight. You should see how your dad adjusts first. Learn what the symbiote can do. Understand what you're asking for."
"Deal."
They spent another hour running tests on Norman, confirming the cure was complete. Every diseased cell had been replaced. His genetic code was rewritten, optimized. He was, by every measure, healthier than he'd ever been in his adult life.
As they were preparing to leave, Norman pulled Peter aside.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For taking the risk. For trusting me. I know my reputation is... complicated."
"You're Harry's father. That's what matters."
"Still. I owe you a debt I can never fully repay. But I can offer this: Oscorp's resources are yours. Come to me when you're ready to expand your capabilities. When you need to train, to build, to prepare for what's coming."
"I will."
Norman's expression turned serious. "One more thing. The board at Oscorp doesn't know about the symbiote samples. They can't. If they discover what we've done here—what you can do—they'll come for you. They'll want to weaponize it, patent it, control it."
"Then we keep it quiet."
"Exactly. As far as anyone knows, I'm in remission through experimental treatment. Nothing more." Norman's white symbiote rippled beneath his skin. "But between us? We're building something new. Something that can protect people when the darkness comes."
Peter nodded. "The Web."
"What?"
"That's what we're calling it. The team. People bonded with symbiotes, working together. The Web."
Norman smiled. "I like it. Count me in."
[SUNDAY, 2:00 AM - PETER'S ROOM]
Peter collapsed onto his bed, exhausted but exhilarated. They'd done it. Cured Norman. Created Anti-Venom. Built the foundation for something bigger.
His phone buzzed. Text from Gwen: That was incredible. You're incredible. Sleep well, Peter Parker. We should talk tomorrow about us. About everything. ❤️
Another text, from MJ: I documented everything. It's encrypted and backed up in three locations. If Oscorp comes for you, we have leverage. Also, you're kind of amazing. Don't let it go to your head.
And Ned: BRO. Harry just texted me that his dad is CURED. Did you actually cure cancer?? Are you a superhero or a miracle worker?? Both?? I'm freaking out in a good way!!
Peter smiled, typing responses. Then he lay back, staring at the ceiling.
YOU DID WELL TODAY, PETER PARKER.
We did well. This is a partnership.
YES. IT IS. AND NOW WE HAVE ALLIES. THE FEMALE GWEN SHOWS GREAT PROMISE. THE JOURNALIST MJ IS STRATEGICALLY VALUABLE. NORMAN OSBORN IS POWERFUL AND GRATEFUL. WE ARE BUILDING SOMETHING.
The Web. A team. People who can help when Knull comes.
MORE THAN A TEAM. A FAMILY. BONDS FORGED IN TRUST AND SHARED PURPOSE.
Peter felt the rightness of it. This was what Uncle Ben had meant. Power and responsibility. Not using his abilities for personal gain, but to help people. To save lives. To build something better.
His phone buzzed one more time. Unknown number: Mr. Parker. Norman Osborn here. Thank you again. For everything. We begin training next Saturday. I'll send location details. Come prepared to push your limits. We have much work to do. -NO
Peter's smile widened.
His life had changed forever on that field trip. He'd been bitten. Bonded. Transformed.
But maybe—just maybe—that was exactly what was supposed to happen.
REST NOW. TOMORROW BRINGS NEW CHALLENGES.
Yeah. Like figuring out how to date Gwen while keeping the whole alien symbiote thing from becoming weird.
IT IS ALREADY WEIRD.
Fair point.
Peter closed his eyes, feeling the symbiote's presence like a warm tide. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could sense Anti-Venom too—the connection between them, between all the symbiotes he would eventually create.
The Web was growing.
And Peter Parker, fifteen-year-old kid from Queens, was at its center.
No pressure.
TO BE CONTINUED...