Peter had intended to take a break while Ben worked on his vehicle modifications, but Dr. Connors spotted him immediately and enthusiastically dragged him into the laboratory wing of the facility.
Connors harbored genuine admiration for Peter's intellectual capabilities. Despite being only a high school student, Peter had demonstrated remarkable comprehension of the lizard serum formula—calculations that had been based on research notes left behind by his father, Richard Parker. Such analytical ability at his age indicated extraordinary scientific potential.
What frustrated Connors, however, was Peter's apparent lack of sustained focus on scientific pursuits. The teenager's desire to play superhero consistently overshadowed his commitment to laboratory research, a priority shift that Connors found deeply disappointing.
It felt like a betrayal of Peter's natural gifts, reminiscent of how Richard Parker had abandoned their collaborative research to disappear without explanation, leaving Connors to continue their work alone.
But Connors also understood the psychology involved. What teenager wouldn't prefer the excitement and recognition that came with superhuman abilities over the solitary, methodical work of scientific investigation? Spider-Man's powers represented another form of talent that Peter possessed, equally valid in its own way.
Still, Connors believed Peter didn't need to choose between these paths exclusively.
"Strength," Connors said, raising his left hand and clenching it into a fist, then mirroring the gesture with his right hand. "Wisdom. Both are gifts you possess." He brought his fists together, symbolizing the integration of different capabilities. "You should use them together rather than neglecting either one."
"I'm just stretched thin sometimes," Peter replied with a shrug. He didn't dislike scientific research—time management was simply becoming increasingly challenging as his Spider-Man responsibilities expanded.
They moved deeper into the laboratory complex, where Connors outlined his current projects.
"The healing serum formula has been perfected," he explained, "but our production capacity still isn't enough for demand. When we expand facilities, we'll need to construct a proper ecological research park."
"What are your immediate research priorities?" Peter asked as he stowed his backpack and began changing into standard laboratory attire. The routine of sterilization, mask, and gloves had become automatic after weeks of collaboration.
"Developing additional therapeutic serums, naturally." Connors retrieved a chameleon from one of the breeding chambers, handling the small reptile with practiced care. "This represents our next challenge."
Creating new formulations was significantly more complex than optimizing existing ones.
Connors' goal was to simulate controlled mutation states that enhanced specific animal capabilities rather than creating complete physiological transformations. This precise approach explained why the healing serum improved cellular regeneration without granting users superhuman abilities.
From the beginning, Ben had targeted only the self-healing factors in lizard genetics, isolating and amplifying that single biological function.
"Eunice, initialize experimental simulation protocols," Connors instructed as he prepared chameleon cell samples for microscopic analysis.
"If Ben could provide more direct assistance, research would progress much faster," he observed.
In truth, Ben had deliberately transferred responsibility for biotechnology research—particularly reptilian genetics—entirely to Connors. While Grey Matter's enhanced intelligence could accelerate any scientific project, Ben understood the importance of delegation. Otherwise, recruiting Connors would have been pointless.
Meanwhile, Ben continued his modifications to the vintage recreational vehicle that would serve as his Stark Expo demonstration platform.
Among various levitation technologies, he had selected sonic suspension as the most practical approach. The theoretical foundations had existed for decades, but applying ultrasonic manipulation to objects weighing several tons—while maintaining precise control and structural integrity—presented substantial engineering challenges.
Additionally, managing the destructive potential of high-intensity sound waves required sophisticated dampening systems to prevent collateral damage during operation.
These obstacles were significant but not insurmountable for someone with Ben's enhanced analytical capabilities and access to alien technology references.
What demanded most of his attention were the vehicle's secondary modifications. Ben planned to equip the RV with defensive weapons systems, additional propulsion mechanisms, and partial transformation capability to optimize aerodynamics during high-speed flight.
His specifications required the vehicle to achieve escape velocity—capable of atmospheric exit and basic space travel. Such performance demanded materials and engineering far beyond conventional automotive standards.
"Too bad vibranium is nearly impossible to acquire," Ben muttered as he worked.
If most vibranium supplies weren't controlled by Wakanda's isolationist policies, he would have preferred constructing the vehicle's hull from vibranium alloy. Even with unlimited funding, purchasing meaningful quantities remained virtually impossible.
"Although there might be vibranium deposits in Antarctica," he recalled from various comic sources.
Antarctic vibranium represented a different variant—Vibranium-B, also known as "anti-metal." Unlike Wakandan vibranium's energy-absorption properties, the Antarctic variety emitted specialized vibrations that disrupted molecular bonds in other metals.
Even adamantium couldn't withstand anti-metal vibrations; its atomic structure would be destabilized and converted to liquid form under sustained exposure.
Obviously, Antarctic vibranium was unsuitable for defensive applications, but properly weaponized, it could serve as an incredibly effective offensive tool.
The problem was logistics. Large-scale mining operations in Antarctica would inevitably attract attention from S.H.I.E.L.D., various government agencies, and potentially hostile nations. The political complications would outweigh any technological advantages.
"Better to focus on force field technology first," Ben decided, setting aside the vibranium question for future consideration.
At minimum, this vehicle would possess superior defensive capabilities compared to conventional aircraft. And he wouldn't actually pilot the RV into combat situations—it was primarily intended as a mobile laboratory and emergency equipment platform.
"Speaking of which, I should integrate a compact manufacturing bay for field modifications," he added to his mental design notes.
Peter and Connors emerged from their research session wearing expressions of obvious frustration, their experimental work having produced no meaningful progress.
"Experiment didn't go well?" Ben asked, recognizing their disappointment.
Peter slumped into a nearby chair with visible exhaustion. "Complete failure. All our data came back weird. I think we're fundamentally wrong about something—the formula modifications that work for lizard serum don't translate to chameleon physiology at all."
Connors had developed philosophical acceptance of such setbacks over his career. "Failure is extremely common in research, Peter. Sometimes you'll work for years to achieve minor advances, but breakthrough moments can revolutionize entire fields of study."
This encouragement failed to improve Peter's mood significantly. The satisfaction derived from laboratory work paled in comparison to the immediate gratification of superhero activities.
"By the way," Peter said, suddenly remembering his original purpose, "Norman's case against the Green Goblin goes to trial next week. I think you'll be cleared of all charges soon, Dr. Connors."
Connors shook his head pessimistically. "Legal proceedings like this can drag on for months or even years. Restoring my professional reputation will take considerably longer."
"It won't take nearly that long," Ben corrected confidently. "We have comprehensive evidence. Once Norman presents everything in court, you'll be completely cleared."
As for the Green Goblin's ultimate fate, Ben harbored no illusions about conventional justice prevailing. Too many powerful organizations wanted access to the lizard serum to allow Stromm to remain permanently imprisoned.
Ben retrieved the remote control device from his pocket, regarding it with cold satisfaction. His contingency plan would ensure that anyone attempting to rescue the Green Goblin would receive only a corpse for their efforts.
Connors' mood improved considerably at the prospect of regaining his freedom and professional standing.
Peter then broached his original request.
"Take photographs? Absolutely not," Ben replied immediately, rolling his eyes at the suggestion.
"Come on, Peter. Even though Primus isn't generating massive profits yet, the healing serum formula alone is worth hundreds of billions of dollars. You want a billionaire to dress up in costume and pose for pictures just so you can earn a few hundred dollars from Jameson?"
He shook his head dismissively. "Not to mention that Jameson spends most of his time attacking Spider-Man in print. I have no interest in providing him ammunition for more criticism."
Peter took the rejection in stride, shifting to a different topic. "Fine, but are you seriously planning to display that RV at the expo? It doesn't look futuristic at all."
"Of course not," Ben clarified with a grin. "This is for personal use. Next summer, our family can take road trips in a flying motorhome."
The idea of Ben Sr. and May's faces when they realized they were traveling in an anti-gravity RV made him chuckle.
The actual expo demonstration would require something far more impressive—a sleek, science-fiction aesthetic designed to capture public imagination and media attention.
"Wait, you're going to let Uncle Ben and Aunt May ride in that thing?" Peter asked, looking alarmed.
"Only after extensive safety testing," Ben assured him. "Plus, think about it—no more traffic jams, no more worrying about road conditions. They could visit anywhere in the world."
Peter had to admit that sounded pretty appealing. "Just... maybe warn them before takeoff?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Ben replied with a mischievous smile.
Ben had no interest in attending the legal proceedings, considering them largely irrelevant theater. He knew that Norman and Matt's true objective was asset recovery rather than criminal justice, making the trial's outcome predetermined regardless of testimony or evidence.
Peter, however, took the proceedings very seriously. The Green Goblin had directly threatened his best friend Harry, and Peter wanted to witness how the legal system would handle such clear-cut criminal behavior.
When the trial date arrived, Peter accompanied Norman to the courthouse, his elevated heart rate immediately attracting Matt Murdock's enhanced hearing. The blind lawyer recognized Spider-Man's distinctive signature almost instantly.
However, Matt maintained perfect professional composure, greeting Peter as if they were complete strangers meeting for the first time.
Peter remained unaware of Matt's dual identity, responding politely before taking his seat beside Harry in the courtroom gallery.
Both men assumed the trial's outcome was inevitable. The evidence against Stromm was overwhelming, the charges were serious, and his identity as the Green Goblin had been publicly established. They expected the proceedings to focus on sentencing rather than guilt determination.
Reality proved far more complex and frustrating than their expectations.
When Matt presented the prosecution's comprehensive case—detailing industrial espionage, theft of proprietary technology, assault with intent to kill, and domestic terrorism—the defense attorney immediately launched an aggressive counterattack designed to obfuscate the fundamental facts.
Peter watched in growing disbelief as Stromm's lawyer argued that his client's green skin coloration resulted from a rare medical condition rather than genetic modification. The defense characterized the entire prosecution as discriminatory persecution of a disabled individual, with Stromm himself adopting an arrogant, self-righteous demeanor as he accused Norman and Matt of prejudice and harassment.
"Your Honor," the defense attorney declared with theatrical indignation, "this is nothing more than a witch hunt against a man whose only crime is suffering from a genetic disorder that affects his appearance!"
Peter couldn't comprehend how such obvious criminal behavior could be reframed as victimization, especially when physical evidence and witness testimony clearly established Stromm's guilt.
The defense continued their strategy, claiming that the "so-called Green Goblin armor" was actually a medical device designed to help Stromm cope with his condition, and that the attacks on Norman Osborn were acts of self-defense against corporate harassment.
"This is insane," Harry whispered to Peter. "How can they say this stuff with a straight face?"
Peter was wondering the same thing. He'd seen the Green Goblin in action—there was no mistaking the malicious intent behind those attacks.
Matt remained professionally calm throughout the defense's theatrical performance, responding to each argument with measured legal precision. He methodically dismantled their claims with witness testimony, video evidence, and expert analysis of the stolen technology.
But Peter could see that the defense wasn't trying to win on facts—they were trying to create doubt, to muddy the waters enough that some technicality might let Stromm escape justice.
Through his enhanced senses, Matt could feel Peter's confusion and anger intensifying as the proceedings continued. Matt wanted to turn around and explain the simple truth behind these legal maneuvers.
The reality was that Stromm's high-powered defense team wasn't being paid to seek justice—they were being paid to create reasonable doubt, to find loopholes, to exploit every possible weakness in the prosecution's case.
This wasn't about right and wrong. This was about money, influence, and the uncomfortable truth that the legal system often protected those with resources regardless of their crimes.
As the day's proceedings concluded with the defense requesting additional time to review evidence, Peter left the courthouse feeling more disillusioned than ever.
"How can they just... lie like that?" he asked Harry as they walked down the courthouse steps.
"Because they can afford to," Harry replied grimly. "Dad always says justice isn't blind—it just costs more than most people can pay."
Peter thought about Ben's casual dismissal of the trial, how he'd seemed so certain it didn't matter. Maybe his cousin understood something about the system that Peter was just beginning to learn.
In the real world, having the truth on your side wasn't always enough.
"This is reality, Peter," Matt said.
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