The meeting with Lucas took place in the best traditions of spy movies. A far table in a half-empty cafe, two identical bundles, a quick exchange without extra words or eye contact. I handed him the money, he handed me the priceless ingredients. Already on the way back to the university, Peter called me and, in an excited voice, asked me to buy a number of specific chemicals that weren't freely available in the lab. "Just in case," he added. It wasn't hard for me.
Returning to the lab at six in the evening, I handed him the box of purchases. Inside, I had prudently placed a small vial.
"Intellect Potion. Drink it. The effect lasts several hours."
Peter looked at the vial, then at me.
"What about you? Won't you take it? We're supposed to be working together."
"What's the point?" I shrugged. "It doesn't create knowledge out of thin air; it significantly improves the basis. Roughly, if your brain is a five-story house, with the potion it becomes an elite twenty-story penthouse. But the foundation remains the same. And in neurobiochemistry, my foundation is nothing. I literally know jack-shit."
"But... you somehow created the muscle stimulant? And this potion too..." Now Peter looked at the vial with clear suspicion.
"I just followed a ready-made recipe perfectly. Where they came from—I won't say. But in the future, there will be more of them, and they won't just be temporary stimulants." I hope.
"Can I... can I at least test it on a mouse? I trust you and all, but..."
"'Trust, but verify,'" I finished for him with a smirk. "Of course, you can. Give the mouse a drop. Let's see how fast it defends a dissertation on quantum physics."
The subsequent events took less than ten minutes, but they turned Peter Parker's world upside down. He placed an ordinary laboratory mouse into a complex multi-level maze. It moved forward tentatively. Then Peter gave it one drop of the Potion. The mouse froze for a second, then bolted. It didn't run chaotically. It moved with incredible speed and precision, never once turning into a dead end, instantly finding the only correct path that was stored in its memory, and now thanks to the potion, it was able to use that knowledge.
"That's... a new record!" Peter gasped shocked, looking incredulously at the stopwatch. "Possibly a new record among all labs in the US!"
The mouse in the finish chamber stared at us silently with its black bead-like eyes, munching on earned cheese.
"Now do you start to understand why all of this must remain a secret?" I asked seriously. "If someone up top finds out about the existence of something like this, the fate of this laboratory mouse will seem like a mercy to both of us."
"I... I understand," Peter assured me hastily. He picked up the vial and, without further thought, drained it in one gulp.
"The effect manifests almost immediately, but the peak of brain activity will occur in about half an hour. Right now, your brain is, so to speak, warming up."
"Y-yes... I feel it..." Peter froze, his eyes widening. "So many ideas... data streams... The recipe for your 'Beast Potion'... My god, it's crude and ineffective! It's not a recipe, it's a biochemical 'sledgehammer'!"
That was the first thing he said, scanning the sheet again with his eyes. His voice changed, becoming clearer, more confident, faster.
"Right, active substance, alkaloid aconitine... it forcibly opens sodium channels in neurons, causing chaotic depolarization. The creator of the recipe thought this 'unleashes instincts,' but essentially it just creates huge neural 'noise'! Signals from the prefrontal cortex—the center of logic and fear—simply drown in this chaos!"
"I roughly got it," I nodded, trying to keep up with his thought.
"Yes, roughly speaking, it's not a sharpening of instincts, but a suppression of analytics through neurotoxic shock! Hence the huge load on the entire nervous system and the cognitive 'comedowns' after."
"So it's not just about the stimulant..." I muttered.
"Exactly! But, to be fair, it's even worse! It's a classic non-selective adrenoreceptor agonist. It hits all receptors at once: alpha-1—vasoconstriction, wild pressure. Beta-1—increased and intensified heartbeat, a direct path to arrhythmia and heart attack. Beta-2—bronchodilation, which is useful, but this effect drowns in the overall negativity! This is an emergency overload of the entire cardiovascular system!"
"Fuck... What about the spider venom? Does it also add fuel to the fire?"
"Hm, that's the most interesting part," Peter thought for a second, and I saw hundreds of options flash in his eyes. "The venom of this species contains complex peptides. My hypothesis: one of them acts as a chaperone—a 'nanny molecule.' It binds with the aconite alkaloids, allowing them to cross the blood-brain barrier more easily and, more importantly, partially blocks their effect on sodium channels specifically in the heart muscle!" Seeing that I was drifting a bit, Peter quickly simplified. "Basically, without this venom, the potion would be instantly lethal. It's not a catalyst, but a primitive, crude safety buffer."
"And what's your final verdict?"
Peter looked at me, and in his eyes burned the fire of a genius faced with an impossible but fascinating task.
"This isn't science! This recipe is an attempt to poison the body just enough so it falls into a state of battle madness but doesn't die. Crude, primitive... I..." he took a deep breath. "I can do better. Yes. Now I understand that I truly can."
After this phrase, Peter turned into a walking whirlwind. He began pacing the lab, his brain accelerated to unthinkable speeds, working at its limit. He muttered something to himself, gestured, and then ran to the laboratory board and covered it with rows of complex formulas and diagrams that looked like cuneiform to me.
"No, not that!" he exclaimed, erasing an entire section of calculations. "Replacing aconite with a selective CNS stimulant, for example, a modified amphetamine... Yes, the reaction will be lightning fast, but at what cost? Tunnel vision, loss of peripheral analysis. The fighter will become fast but stupid. He'll see only the target, but not the knife at his ribs. Failure."
He paced in a circle again.
"Option two: add an 'antidote'? Introduce a selective beta-blocker into the composition to protect the heart and a nootropic to stabilize the CNS... Nonsense! It will be pharmacological chaos! The components will enter an antagonistic reaction. The nootropic will try to 'fix' the brain while the aconite 'breaks' it. It's like pressing the gas and the brake at the same time. The effect—nausea, dizziness, complete loss of coordination. Another failure!"
Dozens of simulations flashed in his head in seconds. Hundreds of theories were born and died instantly. For a good hour, Peter rushed around the lab, occasionally exclaiming: "This idea is worth a Nobel!", but immediately returning to the task at hand. And finally...
"Bingo!" he shouted so loudly that I flinched. He quickly sketched something on a sheet and showed it to me. I saw a complex diagram of a protein molecule and understood nothing. Fortunately, Peter immediately began to explain, his eyes burning with the thrill of discovery. "I was an idiot! I was focused on replacing the 'bad' components, losing sight of the spider venom! I thought: 'it works, don't touch it'. Но it was specifically the key! I shouldn't have replaced the aconite and adrenaline, but created an ideal delivery system for them!"
"And? What did you come up with?" I asked, feeling my head swelling from the stream of brilliant thoughts.
"I'll synthesize an artificial carrier protein, structurally similar to spider silk!" He pointed to the sketch. "It will have two active centers. One binds with a new neuro-inhibitory peptide synthesized by me, which will act cleanly and without toxic noise. The other—with a myo-reflex potentiation. And here's the brilliant part: this protein is programmed so that the first module is released only after crossing the blood-brain barrier, that is, in the brain, and the second—in the general bloodstream, without reaching the brain! Ideal targeted delivery without side effects!"
I confess, I didn't understand a damn thing. But I understood the main thing: he solved the problem. My bet on this modest genius paid off.
"So..." I drawled thoughtfully, "the new serum will do the same thing as the Beast Potion, but without side effects. It won't turn me into a berserker, but make an ideal predator—calm, intuitive, with lightning-fast reaction."
"Overall, yes. And instead of 'comedowns' after the effect ends, there will only be light mental and physical fatigue."
"Amazing!" I wasn't acting; I was truly impressed. "All that's left is to create the new version and write out the formulation so that even I can repeat it in my garage." OP won't earn themselves.
Peter nodded, but his gaze was already wandering around the lab, catching on equipment for another project.
"Yes, but that can be done later. While the Potion's effect lasts, I must... I can solve several key problems in the regenerative serum project!"
"Peter!" I barked sharply, cooling his fervor.
"Yes, John?"
"You are a second-year student, a part-time junior assistant. Brilliant, no doubt. But if you solve problems now that the entire research group has been struggling with for months, questions will arise. Very uncomfortable questions. From Connors, from the university, from potential sponsors like Oscorp. And we don't need them right now."
"Yes, but... Uncle Ben... the serum could help him..."
"And when will it help him?" I stepped closer. "After years of clinical trials, certifications, and fights with the pharma lobby? Peter, your uncle isn't in mortal danger right now. And I, believe me, have access to 'recipes' compared to which the Connors serum is a child's drawing next to the Mona Lisa."
He looked at me, and I saw the desire to help his uncle fighting with common sense boosted by the Potion in his eyes.
"You're right..." he finally admitted. "It's better not to attract extra attention now. But the remaining power of the Potion... it must be used. Give me a task!"
"Combining the Muscle Stimulant and your new combat stimulant into one drug?"
Peter frowned, and for the first time, I saw an expression of complete bewilderment on the face of the super-genius.
"No. Even now, in the best state of mind, I don't understand the principle by which the Muscle Stimulant works at all. It violates the laws of biochemistry and thermodynamics. I can't combine it with anything because I don't know its operational principles! It's like asking to cross an internal combustion engine with a ghost! Give me something... a bit simpler. Something that obeys the laws of physics."
I looked at Peter, whose brain was currently working at supercomputer speeds, and discarded my original idea. Introducing him to the Ghost Orchid and the shadow side of the world was still too early. He needed to get used to "magic" that can be touched and measured first. And for that, a practical, almost impossible task was required.
"Fabric," I said, interrupting his inner monologue. "I need fabric. But not just any fabric. It must be resistant to cutting damage and extreme temperatures. Be waterproof. And, most importantly, I must be able to repeat the technology of its creation in my garage."
Given that in some versions of this universe Peter created his own incredible webbing, I was sure such a task wouldn't be a problem for him. I wasn't wrong. He froze for a second, his gaze unfocusing. I saw hundreds of options flash in his head, his bio-computer processing the request. After ten minutes, he blinked, and his gaze became clear again. The verdict was ready.
"So, there are three options," he approached the laboratory board, picking up a marker. "Let's go from simple to complex. Option one I've tentatively called 'Bastion'. It's a laminated aramid composite. The most pragmatic and fast in realization. We take the best of existing materials and combine them into a... 'sandwich'."
He quickly drew a diagram of three layers.
"The outer layer—protection from the elements. Fabric of aramid fiber with a Teflon coating. Fire protection up to 400°C and total waterproofness. The middle layer—the main one, protection from cuts. A sheet of UHMWPE (Ultra-High Molecular Weight Polyethylene). It's lighter and stronger than Kevlar in tear and cut resistance. And the inner layer—a thin microfiber for comfort."
"Sounds not bad," I nodded. "But you said this is the simplest option. What's the catch?"
"The catch is that it's essentially not clothing, but light armor," Peter explained. "The key is in the lamination process. A heat press and special hot-melt glue are needed. We glue the layers under pressure. The output is a relatively inexpensive fabric from proven materials. Но it will be stiff, bulky, and will hardly 'breathe'."
"I see. Are the next options better in that regard?"
"Significantly," Peter assured me, erasing the first diagram from the board. "The second option, 'Chimera'. The base is any elastic fabric, our 'frame'. And the reinforcement is carbon nanotubes. They can be bought as a suspension."
"What's the difficulty?"
"In the process," Peter sighed. "An electrophoretic deposition bath is needed. It sounds scary, but it can be assembled. The essence is that we pass an electric current through the suspension with the fabric, and the nanotubes literally 'imprint' themselves into the structure of the fibers. The process is complex, allows no mistakes, and the suspension itself is an expensive and rare component. But the output is a thin, light, and flexible fabric with colossal strength."
"Alright, I understand you. This option looks preferable anyway. What have you saved for last?" Judging by the smile lighting up Peter's face, he couldn't wait to tell.
"To be honest, this is the most elegant and... brilliant option. I don't understand how I thought of it myself," he began to quickly draw a new, even more complex diagram. "Fabric that is soft and elastic in a normal state, like sportswear, but upon sudden impact—a strike or cut—it instantly becomes hard as stone. Fabric with non-Newtonian impregnation!"
"Sounds too good to be true..."
"The problem is in realization," his gaze darkened slightly. "The base is a 3D-mesh of aramid fibers. It must absorb and hold the impregnation. And the impregnation isn't just starch and water. I calculated the optimal formula: a suspension of silica nanoparticles in polyethylene glycol. Upon impact, the particles instantly lock, forming a hard structure and dissipating energy. Но for the impregnation, a vacuum chamber, a high-speed mixer, heat treatment are needed... This is the most complex and finicky technological process. Any mistake will ruin the whole batch."
He fell silent, summarizing.
"Anyway, 'Proteus', as I called it—is the peak. Light, flexible, comfortable, and with incredible protection."
I looked at the expectant Peter. The choice was obvious.
"I think there's nothing to think about. Naturally, the third option!"
"Great!" The kid was bursting with enthusiasm. "So, when do we start? I'm ready even now!"
I had to cool him down. I had my own plans for the evening—earning OP. And it was obvious that we wouldn't finish in one evening; this is a whole-day project, especially considering that the fabric itself is just the base for the suit.
"Presumably Monday. Today and tomorrow I have many things to do. Но you compile a full list of everything that needs to be bought beforehand. We'll figure it out in my garage later."
"Yeah, no problem!" He looked a bit disappointed, but agreed.
"And one more thing..." I paused, catching his full attention. "I'll have a new, important task for you. Directly related to the Intellect Potion."
Peter immediately leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with new force. Having felt such an effect once, it was impossible to resist.
"I'm all ears!"