Some people claim they have no interest in becoming superheroes, yet somehow manage to design complete costumes and even settle on heroic codenames in their spare time.
Peter stared at Ben with barely contained amusement, his expression somewhere between impressed and incredulous.
"Didn't you just tell me you had no intention of being Spider-Man?" he asked, unable to keep the teasing note out of his voice.
"I don't," Ben replied with practiced nonchalance. "I'm just concerned that whatever costume you cobble together will be so embarrassing that I'll have to disown you when you inevitably get photographed."
The truth was more complex than Ben's deflection suggested. This universe seemed to blend elements from multiple Spider-Man iterations, and he had no idea which version of the costume Peter might naturally gravitate toward. If they ended up with something resembling Tom Holland's glorified pajamas, Ben might have to stage an intervention purely on aesthetic grounds.
"That's... actually kind of thoughtful," Peter admitted, leaning over the desk to examine Ben's sketches more closely.
"So, do you want the designs or not?"
"Yes! Absolutely!"
After careful consideration, Peter selected a design based on the classic red and blue color scheme that had defined Spider-Man across multiple universes. While he expressed interest in more advanced options like the Iron Spider armor or various mystical variants, both boys had to acknowledge that their current skill sets weren't quite ready for that level of complexity.
"The web-shooters are definitely the right approach," Peter said, studying Ben's technical diagrams with growing excitement. "But creating the actual webbing material is going to be a serious challenge."
Ben nodded, having anticipated this obstacle. In Tobey Maguire's universe, Spider-Man had possessed biological web-spinnerets as part of his mutation. Andrew Garfield's version had relied on synthetic webbing developed by Oscorp, requiring only the mechanical launchers. But this timeline appeared to lack both advantages—no organic webbing capability, and no readily available synthetic alternative.
"I think I might have an idea," Peter said suddenly, his eyes lighting up with inspiration. "Something involving protein polymer chains and controlled cross-linking..."
"Sounds promising," Ben said, placing a supportive hand on Peter's shoulder. "Just remember to include a degradation agent in the formula. Otherwise, New York's going to look like the inside of a giant spider web within a month."
With that gentle push, Ben ushered the still-contemplating Peter out of his room, closing the door behind him to reclaim some privacy.
Settling back at his computer, Ben turned his attention to more pressing concerns. As he'd told Peter, possessing extraordinary abilities came with responsibilities—but that didn't necessarily mean donning a costume and punching criminals. Ben's responsibilities lay with his family, and right now, that meant finding ways to improve their financial situation.
"More money," he murmured to himself, "and a better life for Mom and Dad."
The idea that had been surfacing in his mind for days refused to fade: establishing his own technology company. Primus Technologies, perhaps, growing into an industry leader that could rival even Oscorp.
"But startup capital is always the problem," Ben acknowledged grimly.
His only significant technological assets were Tony Stark's armor and the Omnitrix itself. The armor presented obvious complications—most of its innovations were covered by existing Stark Industries patents, and any attempt to commercialize them would invite immediate legal challenges. Some companies like Hammer Industries managed to dance around patent restrictions through government contracts and creative interpretations, but Ben had no interest in becoming an arms dealer.
The Omnitrix represented far more promising possibilities. As a Level 20 technology, its capabilities extended well beyond simple transformation. The device incorporated advanced communication systems capable of instantaneous contact across galactic distances, matter-transmission capabilities, and sophisticated nanotechnology that reconstructed clothing during each transformation sequence.
"Nanotechnology would be an excellent market entry point," Ben mused, "but the technological gap is enormous. Even with Grey Matter's knowledge, bridging that gap would require resources I simply don't have."
The fundamental problem remained unchanged: serious technological development required serious capital investment. Robbing street-level criminals might cover household expenses, but it wouldn't fund the kind of research and development necessary to compete with established corporations.
Targeting more significant criminal enterprises—the Kingpin's operation, the Hand's various schemes—would provide substantially better returns, but also dramatically increase his exposure risk. He needed to maintain careful balance between his spider abilities (which could reasonably be explained as a byproduct of the Oscorp incident) and his alien transformations (which absolutely could not).
S.H.I.E.L.D. would inevitably learn about Peter's Spider-Man activities, and by extension, Ben's enhanced abilities. The key was ensuring they saw exactly what he wanted them to see: a young man with spider-powers who'd chosen family responsibility over superheroism. Let them focus on that narrative while the Omnitrix remained completely hidden.
"Then there's really only one viable option," Ben concluded, reaching for his phone.
If he couldn't generate startup capital through criminal enterprises without unacceptable risk, he'd have to find legitimate investors. And conveniently, he happened to know someone with considerable financial resources and a desperate need to prove himself.
Despite the late hour, the call connected quickly.
"Hello, Harry Potter."
"Don't call me that!" Harry Osborn's voice cracked with immediate irritation, just as Ben had expected. After a moment to compose himself, Harry's tone grew more curious. "You never call unless something's wrong. How's Peter doing lately?"
Always asking about Peter first, Ben noted with amusement. And you both insist you're just friends.
"He's doing great," Ben replied honestly. "I'd say he's never been better, actually."
Peter was indeed experiencing the euphoria of someone who'd just discovered their life's calling. Like a recent graduate receiving their dream job offer, he had no idea what challenges lay ahead—he was simply thrilled to have a purpose.
"What about you?" Harry asked, clearly suspicious. "I don't believe you're calling just to chat, especially at this hour."
Ben could practically hear Harry settling in for what he assumed would be a heartbreak confession or relationship drama. Poor Harry was probably preparing to simultaneously mock and comfort his old friend through some romantic disaster.
Instead, Ben delivered words that cut straight to Harry's deepest insecurities.
"Harry, I remember you mentioning how much you wanted to impress your old man, right?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
"I have a proposition for you."