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Chapter 4: Tangled Alliances
Peter Parker's warehouse in Queens was starting to look like a proper base. The ArachneTech sign—hand-painted to save cash—hung crookedly over a reinforced steel door. Inside, secondhand lab equipment hummed alongside a 3D printer churning out prototype web-shooter components. The $75,000 from the biotech deal had stretched further than Peter expected, but he was still on a shoestring budget. Every dollar went to tech, intel, or keeping Aunt May blissfully unaware of his double life. The canister of proto-symbiote sat in its lead-lined box, a dangerous ace up his sleeve.
Otto Octavius was out there, likely nursing a grudge and rebuilding his arms. The Life Foundation's New Jersey facility was Peter's next target, but he needed more than a fancy suit to tackle it. Earth-616 didn't play fair—villains like Norman Osborn or Carlton Drake had resources, henchmen, and no moral qualms. Peter needed an edge, and that meant allies. But in a world where heroes were as paranoid as villains, trust was a gamble.
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Peter's first move was reconnaissance. His comic knowledge pointed to Matt Murdock, aka Daredevil, as a potential partner. The Man Without Fear was already active in Hell's Kitchen, taking on the Kingpin's operations. Peter figured Murdock's street-level intel could help him map the Life Foundation's ties to Wilson Fisk. Plus, Daredevil's enhanced senses made him a walking lie detector—useful for sniffing out double-crosses.
Tracking Murdock was tricky. Peter spent two nights swinging through Hell's Kitchen, dodging gangbangers and petty thieves. His spider-sense led him to a rooftop near Fogwell's Gym, where a figure in a red leather suit crouched, listening to the city. Peter landed softly, keeping his distance. "Daredevil, right? I'm not here to fight."
Murdock's head tilted, his radar-like senses locking onto Peter. "You're the vigilante from the Bugle," he said, voice low. "Spider-Man. You move like you know what you're doing, but you're new. Why should I trust you?"
Peter raised his hands, mask hiding his grin. "Because I know Wilson Fisk is bankrolling tech that could make Rhino look like a puppy. I hit one of his suppliers last week—Otto Octavius. You want the Kingpin's empire to crumble? I've got data you'll want."
Murdock's jaw tightened. "Fisk is mine. What's your angle?"
"Information," Peter said. "You know his network—lieutenants, fronts, dirty cops. I need a lead on the Life Foundation. They're cooking something worse than guns or drugs. In exchange, I'll share what I've got on Otto's tech and Fisk's supply chain."
Murdock considered, his heightened senses likely picking up Peter's steady heartbeat. "You're holding back," he said finally. "But you're not lying. Meet me here tomorrow night. Bring the data."
Peter nodded, webbing away before Murdock could change his mind. It wasn't friendship, but it was a start.
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Back at the warehouse, Peter decrypted more of Otto's drive. The neural interface schematics were gold—advanced enough to rival Tony Stark's early AI work. Peter spent hours adapting the tech for his suit, integrating a basic predictive algorithm into his HUD. It wasn't JARVIS, but it could analyze attack patterns and suggest counters in real-time. He dubbed it "Web-Warden," a nod to his chessmaster mindset.
Liz Allan, his part-time ArachneTech admin, was proving her worth. She handled emails and patent filings without asking too many questions, though Peter caught her eyeing the warehouse's locked lab with curiosity. He'd have to vet her more thoroughly—Earth-616 had a way of turning allies into liabilities. For now, she was a necessary risk.
The biotech deal was paying off. Royalties from the adhesive patent trickled in—$10,000 so far—with bigger checks promised if Roxxon licensed it for construction. Peter funneled the cash into ArachneTech, buying a used electron microscope and a server to crunch Otto's data. He also upgraded his suit: thermal-resistant coating for symbiote fights, a sonic pulse emitter with variable frequencies, and a backup web-shooter with acid-laced fluid to corrode armor. Canon Spider-Man fought on instinct; Peter fought with prep.
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The New Jersey facility demanded action. Peter's micro-camera in Otto's Brooklyn lab had caught a new face: Carlton Drake, Life Foundation CEO, inspecting the damage from Peter's raid. Drake's presence confirmed the symbiote connection, and Peter's comic knowledge painted a grim picture. If Drake got a viable symbiote, Venom wasn't far off. Peter needed to shut down the operation before it spawned a monster.
He scouted the facility from a nearby water tower, his HUD mapping its defenses: motion sensors, armed guards, and a faint electromagnetic hum suggesting a shielded lab. His spider-sense tingled faintly—someone was watching him. Not Drake's goons; this felt bigger, colder. Norman Osborn? A Skrull? Peter shook it off. Paranoia was Earth-616's default setting.
Slipping inside was child's play—wall-crawling bypassed the sensors, and a quick EMP pulse disabled the cameras. The lab was a sterile maze of glass and steel, with vats of black, writhing goo lining the walls. Symbiotes, dozens of them, in early stages. Peter's HUD flagged their chemical signatures: unstable, aggressive, but not yet bonded. He planted trackers on the vats and swapped a data drive, just like in Brooklyn.
Then his spider-sense exploded. A figure lunged from the shadows—not Otto, not Drake, but a woman in a sleek black suit, her movements fluid and predatory. Shriek, one of Carnage's future allies, already here? Peter dodged her sonic scream, his audio filter barely holding. "Bad day for a concert," he quipped, firing a web-net to pin her. She tore through it like tissue, her eyes glinting with madness.
"You're the spider," she hissed. "Drake said you'd come."
Peter didn't waste breath. He activated his sonic emitter, cranking it to max. Shriek screamed, clutching her ears, and the symbiote vats shuddered, their contents thrashing. Peter grabbed a sample vial, webbed the main console to slag, and bolted. Shriek's screams echoed behind him, but the facility's alarms were already blaring.
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Back in Queens, Peter analyzed the vial. It was a symbiote fragment, weaker than the one in the canister but still dangerous. He cross-referenced Otto's data: the Life Foundation was accelerating bonding experiments, using prisoners as test subjects. Peter's stomach churned. He wasn't a saint, but he wasn't letting Drake play Frankenstein.
He met Daredevil that night, handing over a USB with Otto's supply chain data—minus the neural tech. Murdock's intel was gold: Fisk was funneling money to the Life Foundation through a shell company called "VitaCorp." Peter now had a target to cripple both Drake and Fisk financially.
But the bigger picture loomed. Shriek's early appearance meant the timeline was shifting—maybe because of Peter's interference. Norman Osborn was still out there, likely watching. And the symbiotes were closer to reality than he'd hoped. Peter needed more than Daredevil; he needed firepower. Reed Richards? Too busy. Hank Pym? Too unstable. Maybe Tony Stark, still a playboy genius in 2005's Earth-616.
Peter sat at his warehouse desk, sketching a new suit schematic: heavier armor, integrated AI, maybe even a drone. ArachneTech was growing, but so were the threats. "One move at a time," he muttered, booting up Web-Warden. The web was his, but the board was getting crowded.
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End of Chapter 4
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