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Peter groaned as he pushed himself off the floor of the sewer, spitting fruitlessly into his mask. The stench brought bile to the back of his throat. Swallowing it back down, he forced himself to his feet. The world spinning and stumbling. He put an arm out and caught himself before falling over, a sliver of pain as his shoulder cracked into the concrete wall. His vision flickered, and as he forced himself to stand tall, it slowly returned. Where was-
Snapping back to look behind him, the world twisted threateningly, his equilibrium disturbed. Had his eyes been functioning properly, he was sure they would have widened when he saw that where the Connors had been previously, there was just a dried-up tail and sections of skin. Cut and damaged skin hanging from the remaining webbing. Cursing himself under his breath, as sensation returned to his body. The sensation largely being pain. Peter turned back to face deeper into the sewers as he limped painfully towards the light. Certain that the light wasn't at the end of the metaphorical tunnel but the literal. Limping down the line, resting his hand against the wall, using it to help as his balance started to return to normal. His nausea fading and the pain was becoming more a dull ache.
The lab, for it was very clearly a lab, shone into life as he crossed the freshhold. Peter winced and rushed to cover his eyes, the sudden snap of brightness causing his stomach to flip. This time he couldn't hold it, turning away he pulled his mask up. Doubled over, and brought up what little contents of his stomach he had. Spitting, he pulled the mask back over his face. Trying his best not to breathe through his nose. Surveying his surroundings through squinted eyes, though they slowly adjusted to the sterile lighting from up above.
Claw marks of varying sizes tore through concrete, paper and desks. Broken vials and tumblers clinked and crunched underneath his (thankfully reinforced) feet. Had this been Connors lab, and if it had been, was it before or after his transformation? Maybe a little bit of both. He flicked through various papers, equations, and notes scribbled in varying degrees of legibility. Peter pocketed some: Referencing Vita-rays, Decay rate algorithms, Gamma Energy, Doctor Erskine, Animal-Human Cross-Species Genetics. He could have searched through this lab for the next ten years, and likely only understand about half of everything he saw.
Something told him, however, that this was going to be his one chance to take a look around. Noticing the computer, he walked over to it, jabbing the power button it came to life. The screen flickered, cracked and broken. Colours coalesced in random splodges, navigating the mouse as best he could through the damage he clicked open a video file. To his amazement, it opened. You really need to tighten your cyber-security Doc.
His stomach dropped, his hair went on end and a sense of dread overtook him. The sense twisted and turned, and became something else. Something different. There was a warmth there.
Familiarity.
Familiarity? That didn't make sense. He had known of Connors, out there in the world. Renowned scientist, but he hadn't known him. Not personally, and while they had likely crossed paths at OsCorp they had never interacted. Static broke Peter from his reverie as the speakers crackled to life.
"I finally did it- .. / - --- --- -.- / - .... . / ... . .-. ..- -- / .- -. -.broke free of the menagerie, couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't--... . / .--. .- .-. - / --- ..-. / - .... . / - --- .-. - ..- .-. . / .- -. -.. / - .... . / . -..- .--. . .-. .. -- . -. - ... .-.-.- / .- .-.. .-.. / .. -. / - .... . / -. .- -- . / --- ..-. / ... -.-. .. . -. -.-. . .-.-.- I'm not the only one- .... .-. . .others escaped. Including Peter Parker- -... ..- - / - .... . / ... . .-. ..- -- / .-- .. - .... .. -. / -- . / .. ... / ..- -. ... - .- -... .-.. . --..-- / .- -. -.. / .-- .. - .... --- ..- - / -- . / - .... . / -.-. --- .--. .. . ... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / ... - .- .-. - / - --- / -.. . - . .-. .. --- .-. .- - . / .- -. -.. / -.. .. . .-.-.- / .. - .----. ...unstable, need to find cure-.. / -.-. .- -. .----. - / --. --- / - --- / .- -. -.-- --- -. . / ..-. --- .-. / .... . .-.. .--. --..-- / .. ..-. / .. / -.-. .- -. / --- -. .-.. -.-- / ..-. .. -. -.. / - .... . / --- .-. .. --. .. -. .- .-.. ,find Parker, I've seen-... .--. .. -.. . .-. -....- -- .- -. / .- .-.. .-.. / --- ...- . .-. / - .... . / -. . .-- ...might be the only one to help me-.. ..-. / .. - / .. ... / - .... . / .-. . .- .-.. / .--. . - . .-. --..-- / -... ..- - / .. / .... .- ...- . / -. --- / -.-. .... --- .. -.-. . they're looking for me. I won't go back."
BANG
Peter jumped as the noise echoed down the sewer and into the lab, swearing at himself for not having more time, he stuck his fist into the computer. Pulling out its hard drive. Hoping that whatever information was on it wouldn't be corrupted beyond recognition. Looking up he saw a vent, with a quick thwip and pull he shot up, leaving the lab abandoned. Looking back one last time.
The Menagerie. Was that where he came from? Was that where answers lay? Others? If there were more like him, where were they?
"You okay there Pete?" Harry rushed over, ready to grab Pete from underneath his armpits to help him back to his feet, though as he got close he stopped as Pete waved his hand dismissively.
"Fine." He didn't sound fine. He sounded pissed off, which wasn't an emotion Harry had believed Pete to possess until the last two months. It made sense, the foundation was still relatively new, and as of yet they had come under threat by super-powered entities on at least two occasions. Their insurance preiums were through the roof, and if his father hadn't been bankrolling the foundation, it would have sunk long ago. A fact he never bothered to bother Pete about, Pete didn't really care for such trivial matters as money. Family, family was what meant the most to Pete. "I'd feel a lot better if we could figure out the refresh rate on the new shielding design. At least we wouldn't have to worry about the foundation for what, fifteen minutes?"
Harry chuckled. "I reckon we could do atleast twenty minutes without a crisis if we put our minds too it."
"-and you used to say I was annoyingly optimistic."
"You sure you didn't hit your head on the way down, you don't seem like yourself-"
If only you knew the half of it Harry, for you see out there a man is running around with an identical face. He has superpowers however, and decides to run around wearing Spandex. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit rattled is all, these giants came out of nowhere. They've finally managed to put out the fire in the east wing, which thankfully isn't the highly flammable and explosive wing. We tend to keep that stuff in the west wing." He through a smile at his best friend. Carefully picking up the box he had been carrying, lifting it to inspect the bottom, when he felt a dampness creep into his hands. Cursing under his breath. There went the most recent blood, hair and stool samples between him and his doppleganger. He supposed trying to identify the original, which was him, was going to have to wait for another day.
He tossed the box in a nearby trash-bin, Harry pulling himself away from his own tidying up to look over and see Pete working his way very carefully through the debris. Harry had no doubt that there would be a proper way to tidy up after a fire-troll attack, and that Pete's plan was no doubt already in motion. After all, he was the smartest man that Harry knew, his best friend and his mentor.
Norman Osborne sat looking out at the city as it lay before him. Few buildings in the city were as tall as his, and even fewer were as impressive. Stark had his fancy facilities, and the Luthors had their gleaming tower in Metropolis. New York however. New York belonged to OsCorp. Lex and Tony were both brilliant inventors, and on occasion, they were even good business moguls. Yet Norman had one thing he always liked to bring up with them on the rare occasion that he was forced to spend any amount of time with either of them.
Norman's own father had been a failure. An abuser, a drunkard, a murderer. The piece of filth had died without a nickel to his name, with no inheritance to speak of. The Police had always suspected foul play, but he had been smarter than that. He always planned two steps ahead. Meanwhile, Lex and Tony had everything handed to them, while Norman had been handed beatings and told how useless he was. How he'd never amount to anything, would never be a real man. The two golden boys were being handed everything they could ever want. Howard Stark had died, and Tony even had a replacement in Obadiah Stane. Obadiah had been a good man, albeit a bit too power-hungry for his own good. His death was seen as a loss to the military, with Tony Stark's new friendlier approach.
Norman saw it as a gift. Without Starks incessant interference OsCorp quickly rose to one of the main contenders for military contracts. Those who couldn't be swayed often found themselves removed from the board. Turning to face his desk, videos of the so-called Spider-Man played across his screen. Such a waste of gifts given. Millions of sequestered dollars, roaming the streets of New York fighting petty crime, and yet those in the Menagerie told him it was a Good thing. A real world stress test, to see if he would bend or break.
He would tolerate it.
For now.
Instead, for today, as he twirled the invitation to the Frost Industries gala between his fingers, he had a new target. Kord was dead, his empire in disarray and Norman knew that Kord had had an item of some importance in his possession. While he had been unable to convince Kord to part with it, he knew that Victoria Kord was in town and she would have the information he needed. Norman no longer had control of the Spider, but he still had other assets at his disposal. Pressing a button underneath his desk there was a loud buzz in the room, as it locked down and shut down all external connections beyond this one line.
"Yes? Mister Green." Came the chilled reply, as a smile curled upon Normans lips.
"Ready the Vulture. I have need of him."
