[7:00 PM - GWEN STACY'S APARTMENT, QUEENS]
Peter stood outside Gwen's apartment building, trying to calm his racing heart. He'd changed into his nicest jeans and a button-down shirt that Aunt May had gotten him for his birthday. His hair was—hopefully—under control, though the symbiote had offered to "restructure it for optimal aesthetic appeal," which he'd politely declined.
YOU ARE EXPERIENCING ELEVATED STRESS HORMONES. THIS IS INEFFICIENT.
It's called being nervous. It's normal when you like someone.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY HUMANS COMPLICATE REPRODUCTION WITH EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT.
Because we're not just reproducing. We're building relationships. Connections. Love.
LOVE IS A CHEMICAL REACTION IN THE BRAIN.
Love is what makes us human.
Peter pressed the buzzer for apartment 4B. Gwen's voice crackled through the intercom, warm and welcoming. "Come on up!"
The building was modest but well-maintained—Captain George Stacy's salary as a police officer didn't provide luxury, but it was comfortable. Peter climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, his enhanced hearing picking up the sounds of the building: televisions, conversations, someone practicing violin badly.
Gwen opened the door before he could knock, and Peter's breath caught.
She'd changed into leggings and an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder, her hair down and slightly damp like she'd just showered. She looked soft and comfortable and absolutely beautiful.
"Hi," she said, smiling. "You look nice."
"So do you. Really nice. Very nice. I should stop saying nice." Peter handed her the flowers he'd picked up—simple daisies from the bodega, nothing fancy.
"They're perfect." Gwen's smile widened. "Come in. Dinner's almost ready."
The apartment was cozy—lived-in but neat. Family photos covered one wall, showing Gwen at various ages with her father and a woman Peter assumed was her late mother. The space smelled like garlic and herbs and something baking.
"I made pasta," Gwen said, leading him to the small kitchen. "Nothing fancy, just carbonara and garlic bread. Hope that's okay."
"It smells incredible." Peter watched her move around the kitchen with easy confidence, plating food and pulling bread from the oven. "Can I help?"
"Grab the wine glasses? Top shelf." Gwen caught his confused look. "Relax, it's just sparkling cider. I'm not trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you."
"What if I want to be taken advantage of?" The words were out before Peter could stop them, courtesy of Venom's influence lowering his inhibitions.
Gwen's eyes widened, then darkened with something that made Peter's pulse race. "Careful, Parker. I might take you up on that."
EXCELLENT. MATING SIGNALS EXCHANGED. PROCEED.
Not helping!
They settled at the small dining table, and for the first few minutes, they just ate. The food was delicious—Gwen clearly knew her way around a kitchen. Peter found himself relaxing, the domesticity of it all feeling right.
"This is really good," Peter said. "Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Mom taught me. Before she..." Gwen's expression clouded. "She died when I was twelve. Cancer. That's part of why I got so interested in genetics. I wanted to understand why diseases happen. How to stop them."
"I'm sorry. That must have been hard."
"It was. Still is sometimes." Gwen took a sip of her cider. "But it gave me purpose, you know? A reason to push myself. To learn everything I could about biology and genetics and medicine."
"That's one of the things I admire about you," Peter said. "Your drive. Your passion for understanding things."
"Same. You're the only person at school who can keep up with me intellectually. Who actually gets excited about gene expression and protein folding." Gwen's smile turned playful. "Though the superpowers are a nice bonus."
Peter laughed. "Yeah, those are convenient."
They talked for over an hour—about science, about their families, about their dreams for the future. Gwen wanted to go to MIT or Stanford for bioengineering, eventually work in genetic research. Peter admitted he wasn't sure what he wanted beyond helping people.
"You could do anything," Gwen said. "With your intelligence and your abilities, the world is literally open to you."
"That's kind of terrifying, actually. All that possibility."
"Or exciting." Gwen reached across the table, took his hand. "Peter, I need to ask you something serious. About us."
Peter's heart rate spiked. "Okay."
"I really like you. Have for a long time. And I want to see where this goes—where we go. But I need to know you're in this too. That you're not just going along because I initiated."
"Gwen, I've liked you since freshman year. I just never thought you'd be interested in someone like me."
"Someone like you? You mean someone brilliant, kind, funny, and now superpowered?" Gwen's eyes were intense. "Peter, you're incredible. You just don't see it."
SHE SPEAKS TRUTH. YOU UNDERVALUE YOURSELF.
Peter squeezed her hand. "I'm in this. Completely. I want to see where we go too."
"Good." Gwen stood, pulled him up with her. "Now come here."
She kissed him, and it was different from the library—deeper, more confident. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands found her waist, and they were pressed together in the small space between the table and the counter.
Gwen tasted like cider and something sweeter. Peter's enhanced senses were overwhelmed in the best way—her vanilla scent, the softness of her sweater under his fingers, the small sound she made when he deepened the kiss.
HEIGHTENED AROUSAL DETECTED. PHEROMONE LEVELS INCREASING IN BOTH PARTIES.
Privacy. Please.
I AM PART OF YOU. THERE IS NO PRIVACY. BUT I CAN... MINIMIZE MY COMMENTARY.
They broke apart, both breathing hard. Gwen's cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated.
"Wow," she said. "That was... enhanced senses make everything more intense, don't they?"
"You have no idea." Peter's voice came out rougher than intended. "I can hear your heartbeat. Smell your shampoo. Feel every place we're touching. It's almost overwhelming."
"Is that bad?"
"It's perfect."
Gwen took his hand, led him to the couch. They settled together, her tucked against his side, his arm around her shoulders. It was comfortable and intimate and everything Peter had ever wanted.
"Tell me more about the symbiote," Gwen said quietly. "About what it's like sharing your body with another consciousness."
Peter considered how to explain it. "It's like... having a roommate in your head. At first it was weird, sometimes scary. But now? It's natural. We're partners. Venom keeps me grounded, gives me perspective. Warns me about threats."
"Does it have opinions about me?"
TELL HER I APPROVE. SHE IS WORTHY.
"Venom says you're worthy. That you'd make an excellent host."
Gwen stiffened slightly. "Host? You mean... bonding with a symbiote?"
"Only if you wanted to. I would never force it. But Venom can create offspring—specialized symbiotes designed for specific hosts. If you wanted enhanced abilities, to be a real part of The Web instead of just support..." Peter trailed off. "I'm getting ahead of myself. This is too much, too fast—"
"No." Gwen turned to face him. "No, it's not. Peter, I've been thinking about this since Saturday. Since I watched you cure Norman. I saw what the symbiote can do. The potential for helping people."
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. "If I bonded with a symbiote—if I became enhanced like you—what would that mean? What would change?"
"You'd be stronger, faster. Enhanced healing. Abilities specific to how Venom designed your symbiote. For you, probably something related to your scientific mind. Energy manipulation, maybe. Or bio-electric control."
"Would I still be me?"
"Completely. The symbiote doesn't overwrite your personality. It enhances, guides, protects. But you're always in control."
MOSTLY TRUE. STRONG-WILLED HOSTS MAINTAIN DOMINANCE. GWEN STACY HAS SUFFICIENT WILL.
Gwen bit her lip, clearly weighing the decision. "Can I think about it? It's a huge step. Permanent, you said."
"Of course. No pressure. This is your choice, Gwen. Always." Peter kissed her forehead. "And whatever you decide, we're still us."
"Thank you." Gwen relaxed back against him. "So, changing subjects before I overthink this—you have a mission tonight, right? With Norman?"
"Yeah. Midnight. We're destroying the symbiote research at Oscorp."
"That's dangerous. Corporate sabotage could get you arrested."
"I know. But it's necessary. The board wants to weaponize the Klyntar. We can't let that happen."
Gwen was quiet for a moment. Then: "I want to help."
"Gwen—"
"I'm serious. I know the Oscorp systems. I've been studying their security protocols for my own research. I could be useful."
"It's too risky. If something goes wrong—"
"Then you'll protect me. With your super strength and spider-sense." Gwen's expression was determined. "Peter, you said we're partners. That means I get to help. Not just with the science, but with the dangerous stuff too."
SHE IS BRAVE. ADMIRABLE.
Peter knew he couldn't stop her. And honestly, having another set of eyes—especially ones as intelligent as Gwen's—could be invaluable.
"Okay. But you follow my lead. If I say run, you run. Deal?"
"Deal."
They spent the next hour going over the plan—the facility layout, the security checkpoints, the timing. Gwen absorbed the information rapidly, already suggesting improvements to Norman's strategy.
At 9:30, Peter's phone buzzed. Text from MJ: Found something. Need to talk. Tomorrow, before school? It's important.
He showed Gwen. She frowned. "That's ominous."
"Yeah. MJ doesn't get freaked easily." Peter typed back: 6:30am, the diner on 47th? I'll bring coffee.
MJ's response was immediate: Perfect. Watch your back tonight, Parker. Something's moving in the shadows.
"She's right," Gwen said quietly. "That warning text you got at lunch—someone's watching us. Tracking our movements."
"Which means they might know about tonight." Peter's mind raced. "We need to be more careful. Vary our approach. Maybe not go in the main entrance."
"There's a service entrance on the south side. Delivery trucks use it. Less security, but you'd need codes."
"Harry can get those. He has access to everything." Peter pulled up the encrypted group chat, messaged Harry: Need service entrance codes for tonight. South side. Can you get them?
Harry's response came within seconds: Already on it. Dad mentioned you might need alternatives. Codes will be ready by 11.
"Your friend is efficient," Gwen observed.
"Harry's used to making things happen. Perks of being an Osborn." Peter checked the time—10:15. "We should head out soon. I want to do a perimeter check before we commit."
"Should I change? I'm not exactly dressed for covert ops."
Peter looked at her oversized sweater and leggings. "Actually, you look perfect. Non-threatening. Like a college student who got lost. We can use that if we're spotted."
STRATEGIC THINKING. GOOD.
They were gathering their things when Peter's enhanced hearing caught something—footsteps in the hallway. Stopping outside Gwen's door. A pause, then the sound of someone trying to insert something into the lock.
"Someone's breaking in," Peter whispered.
THREAT. THREE INDIVIDUALS. ARMED.
"My bedroom. Now." Gwen was already moving, pulling Peter toward the back of the apartment.
Peter heard the lock disengage—professional work, done in seconds. The door opened slowly, carefully.
"Stacy apartment," a gruff voice said. "Target should be here. Find the girl."
THEY SEEK GWEN. UNACCEPTABLE.
Peter's protective instincts roared to life, the symbiote surging with aggressive energy. "Gwen, closet. Hide. Call 911 and your dad."
"What are you going to do?"
"Handle this." Peter felt the symbiote flowing across his skin, forming a mask that covered his face—smooth black material that hid his identity. "Stay hidden."
He moved back into the living room, silent as shadow. Three men in tactical gear were searching the apartment—professionals, moving with military precision. They had guns, body armor, comm units.
SHALL I DISPATCH THEM?
Non-lethally. I want answers.
Peter struck from behind, webbing the first man's hands together and yanking him backward. The man's shout was cut off as Peter webbed his mouth shut.
The second man spun, raising his weapon. Peter moved faster—ripped the gun away, webbed the man to the wall with one hand while simultaneously disarming him with the other.
The third man was smarter. He didn't try to fight. He triggered his comm unit. "Target's protected. Enhanced individual on scene. Requesting—"
Peter webbed his mouth shut, but the message was already sent.
MORE WILL COME.
I know.
Peter approached the webbed men, pulled off their masks. Professional mercenaries—the kind who worked for private military contractors. Expensive.
"Who sent you?" Peter asked, pulling the web from the first man's mouth.
"Go to hell."
Peter let a tendril of symbiote manifest—black and writhing and menacing. The man's eyes widened with fear.
"Who. Sent. You."
"I don't know! We got the contract through intermediaries. Target was Gwen Stacy, secondary target Michelle Jones. Grab and deliver to a location in Manhattan. That's all we know!"
TRUTH. HIS CARDIOVASCULAR RATE INDICATES HONESTY.
"Someone's targeting people connected to me," Peter said. The implications were terrifying. "Gwen, you can come out."
Gwen emerged from the bedroom, phone in hand. "Cops are on the way. Dad's coming personally." She looked at the webbed mercenaries, then at Peter's masked face. "Those are professionals."
"Yeah. Someone hired them to kidnap you and MJ."
Gwen's face went pale. "Because we're close to you. Because whoever's watching knows we're investigating Oscorp."
"Or because they know what I am. What I can do." Peter pulled out his phone, texted MJ: Someone just tried to grab Gwen. You might be next. Get somewhere safe. NOW.
MJ's response was immediate: Already there. Staying with a friend whose dad is NYPD. What the hell is going on?
Peter typed: Someone's targeting people close to me. Stay hidden. I'll explain tomorrow.
Sirens wailed in the distance, approaching fast. Peter needed to leave before the police arrived—he wasn't ready to explain his abilities to law enforcement.
"I have to go," Peter said to Gwen. "Your dad can't see me like this."
"Wait." Gwen grabbed his hand. "Be careful tonight. Whoever sent these guys might be waiting at Oscorp too."
"I will." Peter kissed her quickly through the mask—an odd sensation, the symbiote material thin enough to feel her warmth. "Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but your dad."
"Peter—" Gwen's voice was shaky. "Thank you. For protecting me."
"Always."
Peter slipped out the window onto the fire escape, waiting in the shadows until he saw Captain Stacy's police cruiser screech to a halt outside. Only then did he swing away, the city blurring around him as he headed toward Manhattan.
THE THREAT ESCALATES.
Yeah. Someone knows about us. Knows we're investigating. And they're willing to hurt innocent people to get to me.
THEN WE REMOVE THE THREAT. PERMANENTLY.
First we figure out who they are. Then we decide what to do.
Peter landed on a rooftop three blocks from Oscorp Tower, pulling out his phone. Text from Norman: Heard about the attack. Is Gwen alright?
How did Norman know already? Unless...
Peter called him. Norman answered immediately.
"How did you know about Gwen?" Peter demanded.
"I have monitoring systems on people connected to the symbiote research. When the 911 call came through mentioning enhanced individuals, it flagged. I put it together." Norman's voice was tense. "Peter, we need to move up our timeline. If someone's making moves against you—against us—they might hit Oscorp tonight."
"You think they're after the research?"
"I think whoever's behind this wants the symbiote samples. Either to study you, or to create their own enhanced individuals." Norman paused. "There's something else. I checked the security logs. Someone accessed the research files remotely two hours ago. They copied everything."
"Who?"
"I don't know. The intrusion was sophisticated, routed through multiple proxies. But Peter—they have the data now. All of it. Even if we destroy the physical samples, the information is out there."
Peter's blood ran cold. "Then we're not just destroying samples. We're hunting whoever stole the data."
"Agreed. But first, we secure Oscorp. Make sure no one gets the physical specimens." Norman's tone shifted. "I'm calling in additional security. This is now a corporate crisis situation."
"I'm bringing Gwen. She's a target anyway, and she'll be safer with us than alone."
"Good. Meet at the service entrance in twenty minutes. And Peter? Come prepared for a fight. I don't think we're the only ones hitting Oscorp tonight."
The call ended. Peter stood on the rooftop, feeling the weight of escalation. Someone was moving against them. Someone who knew enough to target his friends, to steal research, to prepare for war.
WE ARE READY. LET THEM COME.
We're fifteen. We've been enhanced for less than a week. Are we really ready for this?
YOU SAVED GWEN. CURED NORMAN. HELPED HARRY. YOU ARE MORE READY THAN YOU BELIEVE.
Peter closed his eyes, centering himself. Venom was right. He'd already accomplished incredible things. And he had allies now—Norman with his healing abilities, Gwen with her brilliant mind, Harry with his resources.
They were building something. The Web. A team.
And tonight, they'd prove they couldn't be intimidated.
Peter swung back toward Gwen's apartment, arriving just as the police were finishing their investigation. He waited on a nearby rooftop until Captain Stacy left—a tall man with gray hair and a cop's suspicious eyes, clearly worried about his daughter.
When the coast was clear, Peter texted Gwen: Coast clear? Can you slip out?
Her response: Give me five minutes. Dad's setting up security downstairs. I'll use the fire escape.
True to her word, Gwen appeared on the fire escape five minutes later, dressed in dark jeans, running shoes, and a jacket. She'd pulled her hair back in a practical ponytail.
"Dad thinks I'm locked in my room, scared," she said as Peter helped her onto the roof. "I feel bad lying to him, but—"
"But this is important." Peter took her hand. "You ready for this?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway." Gwen looked at him—at his masked face. "That's new. The mask."
"Venom can shape-shift. Figured I should protect my identity."
"It's hot. In a terrifying vigilante kind of way."
SHE APPROVES OF OUR AESTHETIC.
"Can you hold on tight? We need to move fast."
Gwen wrapped her arms around Peter's neck. "I trust you."
Peter shot a web to the next building and swung, Gwen holding on. She gasped as they launched into open air, then laughed—pure exhilaration.
"This is AMAZING!" she shouted over the wind.
SHE ADAPTS WELL TO EXTREME SITUATIONS. EXCELLENT MATE MATERIAL.
Still not calling her a mate!
They swung through Queens into Manhattan, the city alive beneath them. Peter felt Gwen's heartbeat against his chest, her warmth, her trust. She wasn't scared. She was excited.
Yeah. She'd make an incredible partner.
They landed in an alley two blocks from Oscorp Tower. Peter's enhanced hearing picked up unusual activity—more security than normal, vehicles moving in patterns that suggested surveillance.
"Something's wrong," Peter said. "Too much movement."
AGREED. MULTIPLE HOSTILE PRESENCES. ARMED. ORGANIZED.
"Norman was right. Someone else is hitting Oscorp tonight."
Gwen pulled out her phone, texted Norman: In position. But there's extra security. What's happening?
Norman's response: Board enacted emergency protocols after a threat was called in. They're protecting the research. Meet me at service entrance. Harry's there with equipment.
They moved through shadows toward the service entrance, Peter's senses on high alert. He could hear radios, boots on pavement, the click of weapons being checked.
Harry was waiting in a delivery truck, laptop open. He looked up as they approached, his expression grim.
"We've got problems," Harry said. "Big ones. Someone called in a bomb threat thirty minutes ago. Building's on lockdown. No one in or out except essential security."
"That's a diversion," Gwen said immediately. "Someone wanted the building locked down so they could make their move."
"Exactly what I thought." Norman appeared from the shadows, and Peter was struck again by how different he looked—vital, powerful, dangerous. The white symbiote was clearly visible beneath his skin, forming patterns like living tattoos. "The threat is real. I can sense explosives in the building. Multiple locations. Basement levels."
"Someone's planning to blow the research," Peter said. "Destroy the evidence."
"Or steal it first, then destroy the building to cover their tracks." Norman's expression was cold. "Either way, we need to move. Now. Before this place becomes a crater."
Peter looked at Gwen, at Harry, at Norman. His team. His Web.
"Okay," he said. "Here's what we do..."