XXI. Investigation

"I'm telling you guys, I saw Eddie! He was standing there, across the street, just looking at me. And then, just like that, he was gone—like something straight out of a horror movie!"

Peter was pacing back and forth in his basement, which had been his bedroom as well as his lab ever since Gwen had taken up permanent residence in the Parker home. Gwen and Mary Jane were present as well, but both were otherwise occupied and only half listening to Peter fret. Gwen was wearing plastic goggles and using Peter's chemistry set, cooking something over the Bunsen burner; and Mary Jane was up on the ceiling, in the corner of the room, clinging there upside down and studying her lines for the school play. MJ's long, red hair hung straight down beneath her head, giving her a comical appearance that Peter found absolutely adorable.

"Are either you even listening to me?" asked Peter.

MJ looked up (or maybe it was down, technically speaking) from her script and said, "Of course we are. I just think you're overreacting, is all."

"Overreacting?!"

"Well, you said that Eddie doesn't have powers anymore now that the Venom suit's gone," said MJ. "So what's the big deal?"

"He knows that I'm Spider-Man and hates my guts, for one," said Peter.

MJ jumped down from the ceiling and set her script down on Peter's bed. "Do you think he'll try to out your secret identity again?"

Still pacing, Peter rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Ugh, I don't know. It didn't work the last time he tried, so maybe not. But what if he comes after you or Gwen or Aunt May?"

"Are you kidding?" said MJ, cracking her knuckles. "Between the two of us, he wouldn't stand a chance!"

"Then you'll help?" asked Peter hopefully.

"If Eddie shows up here and tries to pull something?" asked MJ. "Of course I will!"

"No, I meant that—" Peter was interrupted by a sudden exclamation from Gwen.

"Aha!" she said, picking up a beaker full of thick, grayish-white fluid. "I knew it would work. Now all I have to do is test it."

Pete and MJ both looked over at Gwen and said at the same time, "Test what?"

"This!" said Gwen, emptying the beaker of fluid onto the floor. The instant the thick blob of goop struck the ground, it exploded into a waist-high mass of webbing that filled most of the room. While Peter and MJ said "eew" and tried to free themselves from the extra-sticky webs, Gwen clapped her hands and laughed with delight. "I told you I could improve your web formula!"

"How exactly is this an improvement?" said Peter. He was having trouble struggling free of the webs, but MJ was already tearing them off with ease. While Gwen explained her reasoning, MJ leapt up to the ceiling again and reached down to anchor Peter, so that he could tear himself free too.

"It's not for swingin' around on, ya knucklehead," said Gwen. "I call it 'impact webbing'. It's for, you know, in case you have a whole bunch of guys you need to web up all at once. Or something really big—like a giant monster, or a robot or something."

"Well, when you put it that way," said Peter, hanging off the ceiling next to MJ and stroking his chin, "this stuff might've come in handy when the aliens attacked Manhattan."

MJ narrowed her eyes and said darkly, "But will it knock a goblin out of the air?"

"Oh, you bet it will!" said Gwen. "Load one of your little cartridge thingies with this stuff, press the button, and bam—no more flying freak-show." It was then that Gwen seemed to realize for the first time that she too was webbed to the floor. "Uh, guys? A little help here?"

MJ and Peter shared an amused look before crawling over to Gwen. They pulled her up out of the webs so that she was able to sit on top of Peter's workbench. She took off her goggles and said, "Thanks. This stuff, uh, it should dissolve after a while, just like your regular webs. I think."

"Oh, you think?" said Peter. "That's good, I'm glad you've thought this through." He turned back to MJ and tried to resume their conversation while they were still sticking to the ceiling together. "I want to go looking for Eddie. I'd really appreciate it if you would help."

MJ's face reddened. "I… don't think that's a good idea." Before Peter could reply, she continued, "It's not that I don't care about Eddie, I do! It's just… I don't think I'd be much help."

Peter was torn. He felt that he really needed her help, but with recent tragedies still so raw, he was wary of pushing MJ into something she didn't want to do. "All right," he said at last. "If that's the way you feel."

"It is," said MJ. She dropped from the ceiling down to the workbench, sprang over to the far wall (turning a gymnastic flip in mid-air as she did so), and landed lightly on Peter's bed. Then she picked up her copy of the school play again and flipped through the pages until she reached the one she'd been studying earlier.

"Well if you do find your friend," said Gwen, "maybe you can get him to tell you what he knows about the guy who killed my dad."

"That's kind of a longshot, don't you think?" said Peter. "We don't even know if they ever met each other." Gwen glared at Pete, and so he quickly amended, "But I'll ask, if I find him."

"Thanks so much," said Gwen sardonically.

"Peter?" came Aunt May's voice from upstairs. The door to the kitchen opened, and she appeared at the top of the stairs. "Peter, I… what in heaven's name is going on down here?" Aunt May came down the stairs to find Gwen sitting on the lab-table, Mary Jane reclining on Peter's bed, and Peter still clinging to the ceiling. She cast a critical eye around the basement, looked up at Peter, and asked, "These webs of yours… do they come out of any strange, uh, orifices that I need to know about?"

"What?!" Peter cried. "No, this is—uh, well, you see—" He turned red in the face and tried desperately to explain things, while MJ and Gwen both cracked up. "You see, I make my webbing with chemicals, and—and—"

Gwen finally got a hold of herself and said, "Sorry, Aunt May. This," she indicated the mess on the floor, "was all me. I was just messin' around with some of Pete's stuff. No big."

"Well, as long as I don't have to clean it up…" said Aunt May. She looked up at Peter again and said, "Can you come down from there and come upstairs for a minute? We need to talk. Girls, you too, since you're involved in all of this."

Peter swallowed and followed Aunt May up to the kitchen. MJ and Gwen, more curious than anything else, came up a moment later.

Aunt May sat down at the kitchen table and indicated for Peter and MJ to do the same. Gwen leaned back on the wall and listened.

"I've given this a great deal of thought," began Aunt May. "Other parents don't really have to worry about the same things that I have to worry about now. Other kids might be off drinking, or doing drugs, but you, Peter… you're helping people. You have no idea now proud that makes me."

Peter flushed a little with embarrassment, while MJ tried her best to keep her expression blank.

"That said, you've been lying to me for more than a year," said May. "I think I understand why you felt you had to keep Spider-Man a secret, but that stops right now. From now on, you keep me in the loop. Do we understand one another?"

Peter nodded. "Yes ma'am."

May turned to MJ and asked, "Are you going to tell Anna?"

After a brief, awkward pause, MJ said, "I don't know yet."

May nodded. "Well, it's your decision to make. I hope, for Anna's sake, you make the right one. Now, Peter. I said there'd be rules."

Peter nodded again, waiting for the verdict.

"First, your curfew hasn't changed. Be home by ten, or else call, but you'd better have a good excuse. Second… well, first, let me ask: what do you normally do when you get hurt?"

"I, uh… I hide it as best I can and let it heal," said Peter. "I heal fast."

"Hm. Well, if it's anything serious, from now on, you tell me, and we go see a doctor. That's all for now, but it's just a start. I'm probably the only person in the world who has to come up with rules for teenage superheroes, so if anything else occurs to me, I'll let you know." Then she stood up from the table, walked over to Peter and hugged him. "I just want you to stay safe."

"I know," said Peter.

"Hm, that's funny," said Aunt May, out of the blue.

"What is?" asked Peter. Outside their house, out on the street, a car horn had suddenly started honking, loudly and repeatedly.

"I don't remember the kitchen table being this close to the wall…" May wondered aloud.

Peter chuckled nervously and said, "Hey, why don't I go see what that racket outside is all about, huh?" He and Gwen shared a wide-eyed, knowing look when May's back was turned. Then Peter, Gwen, and MJ all slipped away and went outside.

It was a beautiful afternoon for early October—a little nippy out, but the skies were clear and the sun was shining brightly. Parked by the curb out in front of the house was a bright red convertible, and sitting in the driver's seat, jovially honking the horn, was Harry Osborn. "Hey, guys!" he shouted, standing up in the seat. He was wearing a stylish pair of sunglasses, which he whipped off. "Check out the early birthday present from my dad!"

"Whoa, Harry!" said Peter. "Nice wheels, man!"

"Isn't she pretty?" said Harry. "Come on, get it! Let's all take her for a ride!"

"Definitely!" said MJ, who deftly jumped over the rear door and slid into the back seat.

"Yeah, sure, why not," said Gwen. She was more lackadaisical about walking around to the other side of the car, where she took shotgun.

Aw, man, thought Peter. I really want to find out what's up with Eddie. "I… I can't," he said. "I'd really like to, but…"

"But, what?" said Harry. "Live a little, Pete! There'll always be more homework tomorrow."

"It's not just homework," said Pete lamely. "There's also work, and—and this other thing I gotta do—"

"Mr. Responsible," laughed Harry, putting his sunglasses back on. "You've really gotta learn to relax, bro. Or else you're gonna turn into a workaholic, like my dad. Hey, maybe that's why he likes you so much."

Peter shrugged. "I would if I could, but… I can't."

"Your loss is my gain," said Harry with a wolfish grin. "Ladies; shall we?"

MJ looked up at Peter and said, "Sorry, Pete. But if you really need my help later, just… just ask, okay?"

"Okay," said Pete.

Harry floored the pedal, gunning his engine loudly. The convertible peeled away from the curb and out into the street, while Gwen threw up both arms let out a loud "WOOOOO-HOOOOO!"

• • •

The Ravencroft Institute was located in Lower Manhattan, not far from the East Village. It didn't take Peter very long at all to swing over there from Queens, which he did that very afternoon. But, given the sensitive nature of his search, with his secret identity possibly compromised, he decided that Spider-Man wasn't the best person to ask the staff there the questions he wanted answered; Peter Parker was. So, after changing back into his normal clothes, he went back around to the front of the building (where work-crews had already long since repaired most of the damage from Electro's attack) and went inside.

After a brief conversation with a receptionist, Peter was directed to the office of one of the Institute's top psychiatrists, Dr. Ashley Kafka. The doctor was positively swamped with work when Peter arrived; her desk was covered with messy stacks of folders and papers, and she was just finishing up a phone call. She hung up the phone, sat down behind the desk, and said, "Please, have a seat, Mr.…?"

"Parker, Peter Parker," he replied, sitting down. "I'm told you're the doctor who was treating Eddie Brock?"

Still a bit frazzled from everything going on around her, Dr. Kafka searched through a stack of files and said, "Yes, that's correct. I'm sorry to say that Eddie still hasn't been found yet; we were making tremendous progress." She found Eddie's file, opened it, and glanced through the notes. "Parker… now I remember. You're Eddie's childhood friend, right?"

"That's right. I… I've been really worried about him lately, and I'd just hoped—"

"Has he tried to contact you at all?" asked Dr. Kafka. "You or anyone else in your family?"

"Uh, no, not that I'm aware of," said Peter. "Why?"

"Well, normally doctor-patient confidentiality would prevent me from discussing the particulars of a case, but in this instance, there may be a clear and present danger to your safety. Mr. Parker… Eddie seems to have fixated on you, for a number of reasons that I can't really discuss; but I can say that he's still delusional, and possibly quite dangerous."

"Delusional, how?"

"Well for one thing," said Dr. Kafka, narrowing her eyes at Peter, "…he seems to think that you're Spider-Man. And he's said on a number of occasions that he wants to kill Spider-Man."

"Okay, that's… wow," said Peter, not really knowing what else to say. "What do you think I should do?"

"For the moment, nothing," said Dr. Kafka. "Just be on your guard. But if you see Eddie, or he tries to contact you in any way, call the police. Have friends along with you when you go out. Let your family know that Eddie might be dangerous. There's a distinct possibility that he may try to stalk you, with the intent to do you some form of harm."

Peter nodded. "Okay. Thanks. Oh, and, uh, there's one more thing… have they found Cletus Kasady yet?"

Dr. Kafka's eyes widened. "Why do you want to know about him?"

"Oh, um, it's my friend, Gwen. Her dad was one of the cops that Kasady shot at that conference—"

"Ah, I see," said Dr. Kafka. "Well, unfortunately, Mr. Kasady is the one other patient that we haven't been able to track down yet. I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

"Oh. Well, thanks anyway," said Peter. As he was getting up to leave, the doctor stopped him.

"Mr. Parker? Let me ask: can you think of anywhere that Eddie might have gone? Someplace he might go to hide out?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "His grandfather's house upstate, maybe?"

"The police have already looked there. I meant somewhere closer—here in the city."

Shaking his head, Peter said, "Sorry, I…" Wait a minute. "I have to go. Thanks for your help, Doc."

He ran out of the room, leaving Dr. Kafka to her files and her thoughts.

• • •

Eddie was living in a dorm at ESU, before the suit found him and bonded with him. But back when he was still working with Doc Connors, he spent most of his spare time in the labs! Labs which are presently shut down while the bigwigs at the university try and sweep Miles Warren under the rug. I wonder if there's even anybody there taking care of the place? Well, it's another longshot, but it's worth a look. I don't have any better leads yet.

A short while later, Spider-Man was swinging over to ESU and landing on the roof of the genetics lab. He crept in through the skylight. The place seemed deserted; there were no lights on inside, and everything was quiet and perfectly still. Peter dropped down to the floor and looked around.

Something wasn't right. The place was ransacked: certain pieces of smaller equipment were missing; some of the supply cabinets had been torn open and had their contents strewn about the floor; and many of the apparatus on the lab-tables had been knocked over, destroyed, or taken. What in the…? The lab's been robbed!

Peter's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a muffled scream. He ran into the next room, where the live specimens had been kept, back when the lab had still been up and running. Here, he found that most of the cages had long since been emptied and cleaned out, but Miss Whitman's vampire bats were still hanging in their enclosure, sleeping peacefully. And on the floor of this room, struggling and shouting from within a cocoon of matte-black webbing, was Debra Whitman herself. When she saw Spider-Man run into the room, her eyes widened, and she doubled her efforts to make noise and break free, futile though they were.

"Hang on!" said Spidey. "I'm gonna get you out of there, okay? Just promise not to scream when I take the webs off." He tore Miss Whitman free of the sticky strands, and then he pried the web-gag off her mouth.

Naturally, she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Gah—I thought I told you not to do that!" snapped Spider-Man.

Debra collected herself and quieted down. "Sorry."

"Nobody listens!" said Spidey. "Now, this may be a stupid question, but can you describe whoever did this to you?"

"Some kind of monster," said Debra with a shiver. "All in black, with this big, toothy mouth and long—"

"Tongue, yeah, got it. That'd be Venom," said Spider-Man, heaving a sigh of annoyance. Just freaking great. Eddie got the suit back, somehow.

"A friend of yours?" asked Debra.

"More like my evil doppelganger," said Spidey. He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "It sure seems like he did a number on your, uh, on your lab, Miss…?"

"Whitman. Debra Whitman. I was the head intern here while the lab was still in operation. Now that it's shut down, I pretty much just care for the lab-animals."

Spider-Man looked around the lab and then said to her, "It would help me out a lot if you could give me a general idea of what Venom took. Then maybe I can figure out what he's up to, and how to find him."

And so Debra and Spider-Man carefully looked over the mess of broken equipment and scattered supplies. Occasionally, Debra would point out some missing piece of lab-equipment or chemical ingredient, which, of course unbeknownst to her, Peter usually noticed as well. Between the two of them, they were able to compile a short list of the expensive cell-culturing supplies and gene-splicing apparatus which Venom had stolen.

They came to a refrigerated vault with a heavy, steel door recessed into the wall. "Oh, no!" said Debra upon seeing that the door had been wrenched open.

"Uh, what did you keep in there?" asked Spider-Man. In truth, he already knew, but he had to keep up appearances.

"Some of our most sensitive tissue samples!" said Debra. She peeked inside; the place had been emptied. "Cross-species hybrids, artificially synthesized DNA, even some spores of extraterrestrial origin! And he's taken everything… years of work…"

Spider-Man punched a fist into his hand. "Whatever Venom's up to, I have to find him and stop it. I should get going. Do you need any help with anything? Want me to call the police, or give you a lift to the hospital first?"

"N-no, I think I'm fine," said Debra. "Just a little shaken up."

"All righty then," said Spidey. "If I find any of the stolen equipment or samples, I'll see that it gets back to you." Then he shot a web up to the skylight and took off into the air. What in the world are you up to, Eddie?