[MONDAY MORNING - OSCORP RESEARCH FACILITY, UPSTATE NEW YORK]
The facility was exactly what Peter expected from a decommissioned 1970s research station—all concrete, steel, and Cold War paranoia. But Norman had clearly spent money updating it. The interior was modern, the equipment state-of-the-art, and the security would make Fort Knox jealous.
"Home sweet home," Harry said, carrying boxes from the van. "For the next week, anyway."
The compound consisted of a main building with living quarters, a massive training facility that looked like it could survive a nuclear blast, and several outbuildings that Norman had converted into laboratories and equipment storage.
ADEQUATE. DEFENSIBLE. ISOLATED. GOOD FOR TRAINING.
It looks like a supervillain lair.
PERFECT, THEN.
Peter helped unload supplies while Gwen and MJ explored the facility with Ned providing running commentary on the security systems he was already hacking to improve.
"Okay, people!" Norman called out, his voice echoing through the main hall. "Gather up. We need to establish protocols."
They assembled in what Norman called the "briefing room"—a large space with holographic displays, multiple screens, and enough seating for twice their current number.
"This week is about transformation," Norman began, his CEO voice in full effect. "Right now, we're a collection of individuals with abilities. By Saturday, we need to be a team. A unit. The Web."
HE SPEAKS TRUTH. WE ARE STRONG INDIVIDUALLY. TOGETHER, WE COULD BE UNSTOPPABLE.
"Training schedule," Norman continued, pulling up a detailed chart. "0600 hours: physical conditioning. 0800: breakfast. 0900-1200: power development and control. 1300: lunch. 1400-1700: tactical training and team coordination. 1800: dinner. 1900-2100: intelligence analysis and mission planning. 2200: lights out."
"That's... intense," Ned said weakly.
"That's necessary," Norman countered. "We have seven days to prepare for a two-front operation against an enemy with superior resources and unknown capabilities. Intensity is the minimum requirement."
"What about school?" Gwen asked. "Our parents are going to have questions if we disappear for a week."
"Already handled," MJ said, pulling up her phone. "I may have hacked the school system and created a 'mandatory advanced placement science retreat' that requires selected students to attend an intensive program upstate. Your parents got official-looking emails this morning. Complete with fake permission slips they already 'signed' electronically."
"That's illegal," Gwen said.
"That's efficient," MJ corrected. "Welcome to the morally gray world of superhero operations."
I LIKE HER MORE EACH DAY.
Peter's phone buzzed. Text from Aunt May: So proud of you, honey! A science retreat with Oscorp! This could be great for college applications. Be safe, eat well, call if you need anything. Love you! - May
Guilt twisted in Peter's stomach. Another lie. Another secret kept from the woman who raised him.
NECESSARY LIES TO PROTECT HER. YOU KNOW THIS.
Doesn't make it easier.
"One more thing before we begin," Norman said, his expression turning serious. "Last night, SHIELD sent me information on a potential recruit. Someone who might be valuable to our team. Someone with... history with symbiotes."
He pulled up a profile on the holographic display.
NO.
The word in Peter's mind was sharp, sudden, filled with an emotion he'd never felt from Venom before.
NO. NOT HIM.
The profile showed a man in his late twenties—tall, muscular, with sharp features and intense eyes. Dark hair, strong jaw, the look of someone who'd seen combat.
"Eddie Brock," Norman read. "Age 28. Former investigative journalist for the Daily Globe. Specialized in corporate corruption exposés. Career destroyed three years ago when a story about a serial killer turned out to be fabricated—not his fault, his source lied, but Brock took the fall. Blacklisted from journalism. Spent the last three years doing freelance investigation work, mostly for divorce attorneys and insurance fraud cases."
"Why do we care about a disgraced journalist?" Harry asked.
"Because six months ago, Eddie Brock was briefly bonded with a symbiote."
The room went silent.
THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE. I WOULD HAVE SENSED—
"It wasn't you," Norman continued. "According to SHIELD's files, a different symbiote specimen was acquired by a private research facility. They were testing potential hosts. Eddie Brock was one of them—paid volunteer for what he thought was a pharmaceutical trial. The bonding lasted approximately forty-eight hours before the researchers forcibly separated them using sonic weaponry."
Peter felt Venom's reaction—shock, fury, and something else. Something like... recognition? Longing?
THAT WAS... THAT WAS MY SPAWN. ONE OF MY CHILDREN. THEY BONDED HIM WITH ONE OF MY OFFSPRING.
Which one?
I DO NOT KNOW. THE CONNECTION WAS BRIEF. VIOLENT. TRAUMATIC. BUT I FELT IT. SIX MONTHS AGO. A CHILD REACHING OUT, THEN SILENCED.
"What happened to the symbiote?" Gwen asked.
"Unknown. The facility was shut down by authorities after anonymous tips about illegal human experimentation. The symbiote specimen was listed as 'destroyed' but SHIELD suspects it was actually stolen. By Alchemax, most likely."
"And Eddie Brock?" Peter asked.
"Has been looking for the symbiote ever since. Obsessively. He's convinced the bonding changed him, gave him purpose, made him whole. He's been tracking Alchemax's operations, following leads, trying to find what was taken from him." Norman closed the file. "SHIELD thinks he could be an asset. Someone who understands symbiotes from a host's perspective. Someone who wants to take down Alchemax as much as we do."
OR HE COULD BE UNSTABLE. DANGEROUS. BONDING AND SEPARATION IS TRAUMATIC. IT BREAKS PEOPLE.
You were separated from hosts before. From other people before me.
YES. AND IT BROKE ME TOO. UNTIL YOU.
"Where is he?" MJ asked, already typing on her laptop.
"New York. Brooklyn, specifically. SHIELD has been monitoring him. He knows something is happening—the Oscorp attack was all over the news. He's trying to figure out if it's connected to his symbiote." Norman looked at Peter. "The question is: do we bring him in?"
"He's almost thirty," Ned pointed out. "Way older than us. Why would he join a team of teenagers?"
"Because he has nothing else," MJ said quietly, pulling up Eddie Brock's recent history. "Look at this. Evicted twice. Multiple job losses. His girlfriend left him. His father won't speak to him. The man is desperate, isolated, and obsessed. That makes him either the perfect recruit or the perfect liability."
PETER. I... I WANT TO MEET HIM. THE HUMAN WHO BONDED WITH MY CHILD. I NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPENED.
Is that wise? You said bonding and separation is traumatic.
IT IS. BUT IF MY CHILD IS STILL ALIVE, STILL WITH ALCHEMAX, SUFFERING—I MUST KNOW. AND THIS EDDIE BROCK MAY BE THE KEY TO FINDING THEM.
"We bring him in," Peter said. "But carefully. We meet him first, assess if he's stable enough to join the team. If he's too damaged, we help him another way. But if he can contribute, if he can help us stop Alchemax and maybe rescue the symbiote he bonded with—it's worth the risk."
"Agreed," Norman said. "I'll arrange a meeting. Tomorrow. Here. Neutral ground where we can control the environment."
"I want to be there," Gwen said. "When we meet him. If he's unstable, my bio-electric abilities might be able to stun him without permanent harm."
"We'll all be there," Peter said. "If Eddie Brock joins The Web, he meets the whole team. No secrets within the family."
FAMILY. YES. WE BUILD FAMILY.
[0600 HOURS - TRAINING FACILITY, DAY ONE]
Norman wasn't kidding about intensity.
Peter found himself in a massive underground training room—easily the size of a football field—filled with obstacles, weapons, and what looked like combat drones on standby.
"Good morning!" Norman called out, already dressed in workout gear, his white symbiote visible as patterns beneath his shirt. "Let's see what you can do."
Gwen stumbled in next to Peter, her hair messy, eyes half-closed. "It's six in the morning. The sun isn't even up. This is cruel and unusual."
"This is necessary," Norman countered. "Villains don't wait for convenient hours. Neither do disasters."
HE HAS A POINT.
Whose side are you on?
VICTORY'S SIDE.
Harry, Ned, and MJ arrived looking equally exhausted. Only Norman seemed energized—the Anti-Venom symbiote apparently didn't need much sleep.
"Today's focus: baseline assessment," Norman explained. "I need to understand each person's capabilities, limits, and potential. Peter, Gwen—you're enhanced. I need to see how enhanced. Harry, Ned, MJ—you're support, but you still need to survive if things go wrong. Everyone trains."
The next three hours were brutal.
Peter ran obstacle courses at speeds that left him breathless, lifted progressively heavier weights until he reached his current maximum (approximately 250 tons, Venom helpfully informed him), and dodged combat drones firing rubber bullets that hurt like hell even with enhanced durability.
FASTER, PETER. YOU CAN MOVE FASTER.
I'm already moving faster than cars!
NOT FAST ENOUGH. CARNAGE WAS FASTER. YOU MUST EXCEED.
Gwen's training was equally intense. Norman had her practice controlling her bio-electric output—from small sparks to devastating blasts. She accidentally fried three training drones before learning proper control.
"Sorry!" she called out as another drone sparked and died.
"Don't apologize, improve!" Norman shouted back. "In combat, you won't get second chances!"
Harry worked on tactical simulation software—learning to coordinate team movements, manage resources, and make split-second strategic decisions. Ned focused on the technical systems—learning to hack security, override locks, and disable surveillance on the fly.
MJ's training surprised everyone. Norman had her working with weapons—not guns, but batons, tasers, and close-combat techniques.
"I'm a journalist, not a soldier," MJ protested after being thrown for the third time.
"You're a member of The Web," Norman corrected, helping her up. "Which means you might end up in situations where your words won't save you. Your body will. Again."
By breakfast, everyone was exhausted, bruised, and questioning their life choices.
"This is insane," Ned groaned, face-down in his scrambled eggs. "I'm going to die. Training is going to kill me before villains get the chance."
"Dramatic," Harry said, though he looked equally wrecked.
"Effective," Norman countered. "You're all already moving better, thinking faster. By the end of the week, you'll be a cohesive unit."
HE PUSHES THEM HARD. BUT NOT BEYOND BREAKING. HE KNOWS THE LIMITS.
You approve?
I APPROVE OF ANYTHING THAT MAKES OUR ALLIES STRONGER.
After breakfast, they moved to the power development lab—a specialized space with Oscorp's most advanced bio-monitoring equipment.
"Peter," Norman said, attaching sensors to his temples, chest, and arms. "I want to understand your symbiote at a deeper level. The five offspring you absorbed—they should be integrating, adding to your capabilities. But I'm seeing unusual readings."
"Unusual how?"
Norman pulled up the bio-scan. Peter's entire cellular structure was visible—and it was... moving. Constantly shifting, adapting, evolving.
"Your DNA isn't stable," Norman said, not with alarm but with scientific fascination. "It's in constant flux. The symbiote is continuously optimizing your genetics, fixing inefficiencies, enhancing systems. You're not just enhanced, Peter. You're actively evolving."
CORRECT. WE IMPROVE YOU. DAILY. HOURLY. YOU BECOME MORE EACH MOMENT.
"Will it stop?" Gwen asked, studying the readout. "Or will he just keep changing forever?"
"Unknown. Theoretically, it should plateau once optimal efficiency is reached. But..." Norman zoomed in on a specific genetic sequence. "This is fascinating. The symbiote isn't just enhancing human DNA. It's incorporating non-human genetic material. Traits from other species. You have structural elements similar to arachnids, obviously, but also traces of things I can't identify. Alien genetics."
KLYNTAR GENETICS. WE CARRY THE LEGACY OF TEN THOUSAND WORLDS. TEN THOUSAND SPECIES WE HAVE BONDED WITH. ALL THEIR STRENGTHS, NOW YOURS.
"That's incredible," Gwen breathed. "Peter, you're essentially a living genetic library."
"That's terrifying," Peter corrected. "What if I stop being human? What if I become more symbiote than person?"
IMPOSSIBLE. YOU ARE THE CORE. THE FOUNDATION. WE BUILD ON YOU, NOT REPLACE YOU.
"Venom says it's impossible," Peter relayed. "I'm always the core. The symbiote enhances but doesn't replace."
Norman nodded. "That aligns with my own experience. Anti-Venom makes me better, stronger, but I'm still Norman Osborn. Still human where it counts."
They spent hours testing—pushing Peter's abilities to new limits. He could create multiple symbiote constructs simultaneously, shape his body in impossible ways, and even partially separate the symbiote from his body for short periods (though it hurt like hell and Venom hated it).
DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN.
Noted.
Gwen's testing revealed equally impressive developments. Her bio-electric powers were growing stronger—she could now generate enough voltage to power a small building or stun an elephant. More interestingly, she could sense electrical systems, essentially "seeing" technology through its electrical signatures.
"This is incredible," Gwen said, watching her hands spark. "I could hack systems without touching them. Just manipulate the electrical signals directly."
"Add that to Ned's technical skills," MJ observed, "and you two could break into anywhere."
"Let's not focus on the criminal applications," Norman said dryly.
The afternoon brought tactical training—learning to fight as a unit. Norman had them run through scenarios: hostage situations, bomb threats, multiple hostile targets, civilian protection.
They failed. Repeatedly.
"AGAIN!" Norman shouted as Peter accidentally webbed Gwen during a crossfire scenario. "You need to know where your teammates are at all times! Spatial awareness!"
HE IS CORRECT. WE MOVED WITHOUT CONSIDERING OUR ALLIES' POSITIONS.
I know. I'm trying.
TRY HARDER.
By the third run-through, they were starting to sync. Peter would create openings that Gwen could exploit with her electricity. Harry would call out tactical positions that Ned could use to disable enemy systems. MJ proved surprisingly effective at misdirection and using the environment.
"Better," Norman admitted after their fifth successful scenario. "Not good. But better."
Evening brought intelligence analysis. MJ had compiled everything she could find on Alchemax—corporate structure, known facilities, key personnel, financial records.
"Here's what we know," MJ said, pulling up documents. "Alchemax is officially run by a board of directors. CEO is listed as Tyler Stone—clean record, boring, probably a puppet. But there's a shadow investor. Someone who owns 40% of the company through shell corporations and offshore accounts."
"Who?" Peter asked.
"That's the problem. The trail is deliberately obscured. But I found one name that keeps appearing in connection with Alchemax's genetic research division." She pulled up a profile. "Dr. Aaron Strickland. Geneticist. Brilliant but controversial. Had his medical license revoked five years ago after allegations of unethical human experimentation. Disappeared from public record. Until six months ago, when he started consulting for Alchemax."
"A.S.," Gwen said. "The messages Peter's been getting. Aaron Strickland."
"Makes sense," Norman said. "Strickland was always ambitious, willing to cross ethical lines for scientific progress. If he's running Alchemax's enhanced human program, it explains the aggressive tactics and the disregard for safety."
"So we have a target," Peter said. "Find Strickland, we find the head of the operation."
"And the gala?" Harry asked.
"Is still our best opportunity for reconnaissance," Norman said. "Strickland probably won't be there publicly—too many legal issues—but his associates will be. We can identify them, track them, find Strickland through them."
They spent the rest of the evening planning the infiltration—cover stories, contingencies, equipment needs. By the time Norman called lights out at 2200 hours, everyone was mentally and physically exhausted.
Peter collapsed into his assigned room—a small but comfortable space with a bed, desk, and private bathroom. Luxury compared to the training floor.
YOU DID WELL TODAY.
I got my ass kicked repeatedly.
YES. BUT YOU LEARNED. YOU ADAPTED. YOU GREW STRONGER.
Peter lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Venom, about Eddie Brock. Are you okay? With meeting him?
A long pause.
I DO NOT KNOW. THE HUMAN WHO BONDED WITH MY CHILD—I SHOULD BE GRATEFUL HE EXISTED. THAT MY OFFSPRING FOUND A HOST, HOWEVER BRIEFLY. BUT THE SEPARATION, THE TRAUMA—I FEEL MY CHILD'S PAIN EVEN NOW. ECHOING ACROSS THE DISTANCE.
We'll find them. The symbiote Eddie bonded with. We'll save them.
PROMISE?
I promise.
THEN I WILL FACE EDDIE BROCK. FOR MY CHILD'S SAKE.
A soft knock on Peter's door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he called.
Gwen entered, wearing pajamas and looking uncertain. "Hey. Can't sleep?"
"Too much adrenaline. Too much to process." Peter sat up. "You okay?"
"Sore. Exhausted. But yeah, I'm okay." Gwen sat on the edge of his bed. "Peter, can I ask you something? About the symbiotes. About us."
"Of course."
"When we bonded—when you gave me White Widow—I felt you. Not just Venom, but you. Your emotions, your thoughts, your... everything. It was intimate in a way I didn't expect."
THE BONDING CREATES CONNECTION. BETWEEN HOST AND SYMBIOTE, YES. BUT ALSO BETWEEN RELATED SYMBIOTES. SHE FEELS YOUR PRESENCE THROUGH HER SYMBIOTE'S LINK TO ME.
Peter relayed this to Gwen, who nodded slowly.
"So we're connected now. Permanently. I can feel when you're stressed, or scared, or..." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Or other emotions."
SHE SENSES YOUR ATTRACTION TO HER. AS YOU SENSE HERS TO YOU. THE BOND DOES NOT LIE.
Not helping!
"I can feel yours too," Peter admitted. "It's like... background awareness. Always there. Like knowing someone is in the next room."
"Is that okay? The connection? It doesn't feel invasive to you?"
"No. It feels right." Peter took her hand. "Like we're supposed to be connected."
Gwen smiled, then leaned in and kissed him—soft, tender, perfect. When they broke apart, she whispered, "Get some sleep. We have another brutal day tomorrow."
"You too."
She left, and Peter lay back down, feeling her presence through their connected symbiotes—a warm, comforting awareness that made the isolation of the facility feel less lonely.
SHE IS GOOD FOR YOU. FOR US.
I know.
DO NOT LET HER GO.
I won't.
Peter drifted off to sleep, the symbiote's consciousness settling alongside his own like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together perfectly.
Tomorrow would bring Eddie Brock.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges.
But tonight, Peter was content.
[TUESDAY, 1400 HOURS - BRIEFING ROOM]
Eddie Brock arrived exactly on time, escorted by a SHIELD agent who looked relieved to hand him off to Norman and leave.
The man looked worse in person than his file photo suggested. Tired eyes, unkempt appearance, the gauntness of someone who'd been skipping meals. But his posture was alert, wary, and his eyes were sharp as they assessed each person in the room.
"Eddie Brock," Norman said, extending a hand. "Thank you for coming."
Eddie shook it, his grip firm. "You said you had information about the symbiote. About what happened to me six months ago. So yeah, I came. Now talk."
DIRECT. NO DECEPTION. I APPROVE.
Eddie's eyes swept the room, stopping on Peter. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
Then Eddie spoke, his voice rough with emotion: "You're bonded with one. I can feel it. Like... like a part of me recognizes a part of you."
HE SENSES ME. THE ECHO OF HIS BRIEF BONDING ALLOWS HIM TO DETECT MY PRESENCE.
"Yeah," Peter said. "I'm bonded with a symbiote. Has been since last week. His name is Venom."
Something flickered across Eddie's face—pain, longing, loss. "Venom," he repeated. "Mine never told me its name. We didn't have enough time."
"That's what we wanted to talk to you about," Norman said, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "The symbiote you bonded with. We have reason to believe it's still alive. Being held by a corporation called Alchemax."
Eddie's entire body went rigid. "Alchemax. I've been tracking them. Following their operations. But I could never prove they had... that they had him."
"Him?" Gwen asked gently.
"The symbiote. He was... he was alive. Conscious. We talked. Fought together for two days. It was the most alive I'd ever felt in my life. Then they ripped him away. Used these sonic weapons. It felt like they were tearing out part of my soul." Eddie's hands clenched into fists. "I've been trying to find him ever since. To get him back."
PETER. THIS HUMAN TRULY BONDED. TRULY CONNECTED. HE SUFFERS FROM THE SEPARATION.
Can you sense the symbiote he's talking about? Your offspring?
...YES. FAINTLY. VERY FAINTLY. IMPRISONED. SUFFERING. ALONE. MY CHILD CALLS OUT, AND I CANNOT REACH THEM.
Peter felt Venom's anguish like a physical weight. "Venom says he can sense your symbiote. His offspring. It's alive but imprisoned."
Eddie's eyes filled with desperate hope. "Can you—can you free him? Can you help me get him back?"
"That's the plan," Peter said. "We're going up against Alchemax. We're going to shut down their symbiote program, free the imprisoned Klyntar, and stop them from creating more Carnage units."
"Carnage units?"
They explained everything—the corrupted symbiotes, the attack on Oscorp, the coming confrontation. Eddie listened with growing intensity.
When they finished, Eddie leaned back, processing. "So you're building a team. Enhanced individuals going up against a corporate army. And you want me."
"We want someone who understands what it means to bond with a symbiote," Norman said. "Someone who's willing to fight to save them. Someone with investigative skills and a personal stake in taking down Alchemax."
"What I want," Eddie said slowly, "is to get my symbiote back. To bond with him again. Permanently. The way you're bonded." He looked at Peter. "Is that possible?"
YES. IF WE FREE MY CHILD, IF WE REUNITE THEM WITH THIS EDDIE BROCK—THE BONDING COULD BE MADE PERMANENT. THEY WERE COMPATIBLE. THEY COULD BE WHOLE AGAIN.
"Venom says yes," Peter relayed. "If we rescue your symbiote, you could bond permanently."
"Then I'm in. Whatever you need. Whatever it takes." Eddie's expression was intense, almost manic. "I'll join your team. I'll train. I'll fight. Just promise me—promise me you'll help me get him back."
"We promise," Peter said. "But Eddie—you need to understand something. This isn't just about revenge or getting your symbiote back. We're trying to help people. Save lives. If you join us, you follow our rules. You don't kill unnecessarily. You protect civilians. You work as part of a team."
"I can do that."
"Can you?" MJ challenged. "Because from what I've read, you have a tendency to go lone wolf. To make impulsive decisions. That won't work here."
Eddie met her gaze. "You're right. I've been alone for a long time. Made a lot of mistakes. But when I was bonded—those two days—I learned to work with someone else. To trust. To be part of something bigger than myself. I can do it again."
HE IS SINCERE. DESPERATE. DAMAGED. BUT SINCERE.
Norman pulled up a contract. "This is a formal agreement. You join The Web. You train with us. You follow tactical decisions made by team leadership. In exchange, we provide resources, support, and a coordinated effort to rescue your symbiote and reunite you."
Eddie read it carefully, then signed without hesitation. "Where do I start?"
"Physical assessment," Norman said. "Then training. You're ten years older than most of the team, which means you have experience but also physical limitations we need to understand. We start now."
As Eddie was led away by Harry to begin baseline testing, Peter felt Venom's relief.
THANK YOU, PETER.
For what?
FOR HELPING ME SAVE MY CHILD. FOR UNDERSTANDING THAT EVEN DAMAGED, EVEN SEPARATED—FAMILY DESERVES RESCUE.
Always.
The week was just beginning.
And The Web was growing stronger.
TO BE CONTINUED...