Chapter 1

Professor Miles Warren scrutinized the vile of liquid hanging by the prongs in his hand, the chemicals shifting colors. His assistant, Debra Whitman, charted down the results as he pronounced them with clinical detachment. Inside, however, he was pleased at how far his research had come since taking over the Empire State University research facility. Funding from Oscorp had been most beneficial in recent months. Warren would admit mild surprise at how the company had survived the public onslaught of questions regarding the revelation that their founder had been a crime lord that threaten to eradicate most of Manhattan a year ago.

He always had his suspicions that Norman Osborn had always been more than a simple businessman. So long as none of his criminal activities could lead back to him, it never really mattered what he did in his spare time. The only concern his death had brought was the possibility that funding would dry up while his company salvaged its reputation. So the phone call he'd received from Norman's widow had been a great surprise to him. Emily Osborn had sounded like a woman who had fought through the most difficult months of her life.

The media had been relentless in its demonization of Norman after it had been revealed he'd been one of New York's most feared crime lords, the Green Goblin. Despite the ridiculous suggestions brought with the name, he had quickly assumed power in the criminal underworld and successfully replaced L. Thompson Lincoln as the "Big Man of Crime." The attempts he made to destroy a large portion of the city had done his family no favors in the wake of his demise. His only heir, Harry, had been forced to treat the media with the level of scrutiny and contempt his father had shown them, all while hiding behind fake smiles and promoting the "new and improved" Oscorp. To do that, they required cutting edge advancements in the scientific fields

Thus, Emily Osborn had made the fateful phone call to his office.

"Mrs. Osborn," he feigned surprise in lieu of genuine curiosity. "I am surprised to have heard from you so soon. I would imagine you are still in the grieving."

"You're concern is touching and welcome," she replied. "These last few months haven't been easy, especially for Harry. It seems he and Peter had a falling out over something he refuses to talk about. He's had to deal with the constant intrusions of the media while listening to the entire city talk about his father as though he were always a monster."

"The Globulan Green, as I understand, adversely affects ones mental state," Warren observed. "A price to be paid in exchange for physical enhancements and near Olympic athleticism. A shame the FDA has prohibited its continued research. With all these restrictions, it's a miracle that science has come this far. But I'll ask you why you have called me to spare you my ranting."

"Thank you. I'm calling to offer you a place in the new regime at Oscorp. As you know, most of our investors withdrew from the company after what happened. Most have stayed simply because too much of their finances are wrapped up in the company. A few government contracts have helped us limp on but we must expand our fields to once again retake the world of business. To that end, I need the best minds the scientific arts can offer.

"My late husband brought you to ESU for that very reason, so I am confident that you will provide wonderful research for us. Of course, you will be greatly compensated for your troubles, no matter the outcome of the project."

"You realize that I cannot, in any way, be credited until this maelstrom of media hounds has passed."

"Of course," she replied.

Thus a new partnership had been formed and he found that his funding had skyrocketed more than a month later. He had no way of knowing just what Emily and Harry had done in order to get him the money; he had been no stranger in the use of less than legal methods to consolidate funding. He was in no position to judge them for trying to maintain the livelihood provided to them by Norman. He wondered absentmindedly if had anything to do with rumors of a new type of drug hitting the streets. The rise in drug-related deaths was intriguing at the very least.

He found little room to care as he return his attention the vile in his care at the moment. He checked his watch to monitor the time; he had another three hours before the interns left to him by Dr. Curt Connors would arrive to receive his lessons. After he'd successfully taken control of the lab from Connors, he'd considered letting two interns go. It was only at his brother, Aaron's, insistence that he allowed them to stay, if only just barely. At the very least, they didn't ask too many off-topic questions, though Debra continued to eye them with her usual scrutiny and suspicion.

Documenting today's results, he and Debra prepared for their arrival by replacing everything in the secret compartments found in Connors' office that now belonged to him. This had no doubt been the place where he kept the formula he'd hope to use in a vain attempt to restore his arm. He had read in the newspaper the result of his failed experiment. Who would have thought that would give him the ammunition needed to force Connors to give up his hold on this laboratory and send him and his family to Florida? Some of life's greatest feats were accomplished through such simple means.

Once everything of actual importance was safely tucked away, he and Debra readied the lab for the arrival of Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy. Debra's face betrayed no emotion but her eyes held nothing but contempt for the two teens as they entered the lab. The three months they had been away during summer vacation had allowed for them work uninterrupted and proceed greatly in their work. With their senior year starting, they would once again plague the two with their presence. Still, Debra knew to simply acknowledge them through gestures and the occasional conversation to mask her annoyance.

"Good afternoon, Professor Warren," greeted Gwen Stacy while Peter parroted her.

"To you as well Ms. Stacy, Mr. Parker," he replied. "I hope your summer prove to be enjoyable as I'm sure the next year of studies, as well as applying for colleges, will no doubt proved to be a stressful time. I will, of course, understand if that means your visits here will be far less frequent."

Before either could comment, he continued, "Therefore, today I thought we might shake things up a bit and see what you two have learned in the past three months. After all, a mind is a terrible thing to waste on endeavors less than mentally stimulating." He took a seat and clasped his hands together while he waited for the two to think of something. Through his peripheral vision he noticed the cruel satisfaction Debra wrought from watching the two struggle to come up with something that would impress him. Warren would admit to small amount of amusement as well.

Neither of them seem to have an answer to his inquiry, which greatly amused both Warren and Debra; he would pretend to be disappointed but let it slide just this once.

Cross Species Crisis

The remainder of the day after Parker and Stacy departed saw Miles Warren to Oscorp, where he was to continue his research. Debra had been sent home for the day; that was her reward for being more tolerable than most of the "scientists" Warren was forced to interact with on a daily basis. Upon entering the building, he passed through security precautions to prevent the theft of billions of dollars' worth of secrets. The incident involving Norman Osborn had called for stricter measures—some of which bordered on humiliating. Luckily, his connections to the board allowed him to pass without the need for such invasive procedures.

The lab offered to him was far superior to ESU's while stocking a greater array of chemicals that had been vital to his research. He was thankful that his work had been tampered with during his absence; it sounded paranoid, yes, but he worked best when he was cautious. Science was a competition after all—only the most dedicated and careful individuals deserved to be immortalized for their works. Warren threw on the lab coat with the Oscorp logo to show that he belonged here and got to work. Bypassing the final checkpoint, he entered his actual laboratory.

Stationed beneath the ground-level labs, Warren's private facility served as storage compartment for all his research. A team was on-call twenty-four hours a day to monitor the test subjects. He watched them through the thin glass that separated him from their wrath. He attributed their rage to instincts they'd inherited from their animalistic donors. Otherwise they were hypocrites; they had, of course, volunteered for the procedure.

Warren was never surprised what men would do to be free from imprisonment.

Ironically enough, though, they had traded on prison for another as they were forcibly restrained to prevent their escape. Behind the beastly gaze of their eyes was the anger from being deceived into believing they would no longer be confined to cages again. There was no other than themselves to fault for their current predicament. They should have read the fine print of the documents they signed.

"Have there been any changes?" he asked one of his assistants.

"No, Professor," he replied. "They continue to react negatively to their confinement, prompting constant injection of anesthetics to calm them. We're using more than most hospitals to keep these . . . things under control. Don't you ever wonder what the board wants to do with them?"

"I know exactly what they intend to use these creatures for," he replied. "But it does not concern you at the moment, so I would suggest for the good of your career that you do investigate any further into this matter. Ours is not a job where we can dispute the materials with which we are forced to work with. At any other facility, resources such as these are only a fantasy thanks to the restrictions placed upon science by bleeding hearts who would have us thrown back into the Dark Ages."

He dismissed the assistant before he went into another rant and focused his attention on the remaining test subjects. They were aligned along the wall in a manner similar to collector's most prized possessions. And they fit that description perfectly; they were among Miles Warren's greatest achievements that would usher humanity into the next phase of evolution. If there was enough sanity left of the men who'd been injected with the serum, he would thank them for their sacrifice in the name of science. Though he very much doubted that would ease their anger.

Though he was not man to take all the credit when he used the grounds laid out for him by his predecessor at ESU. Dr. Connors's serum for the formula that combined the genetics for reptilian DNA had laid the stepping stones for his work. It was quite a brilliant formula; its failure had been the result of the inferior technology and the incompetence of Connors. He had perfected to the point of permanent transformation. The results he yielded from their current state were phenomenal to say the least.

He watched as the new breed of animal—amply dubbed "Cross Species"—took life before his eyes. Already, there were those who had mastered their transformations, such as the African hunter born to Russia. And the one man who had inspired this entire project; a man whose origins Warren had taken credit for in order to get the necessary funding. None other than New York's own perfected Cross Species: Spider-Man.