Chapter 18: Mistakes are Made

Huh, I managed to get a chapter up in less than a month. I probably only rushed it because I'm dying to write the next two chapters ;).

Also, I realized that the other teams and team members from the series will be introduced in this story given some time. In the next arc for sure. More on that later though.

Pink Lemonade: . . . I tried so hard to distract you! Oh well, you win ten points XD I'll surprise you next time!


Peter jerked awake when his alarm went off, which was almost strange. He must have really been out if he hadn't woken up before his alarm. That wasn't a bad thing though. On the contrary, he felt quite well rested. He stretched out, making a mess of the covers that were still wrapped around him. He nearly had to fight his way out of the warmth, which almost tempted him to stay, but he made his alarm loud and annoying for exactly this reason.

Finally getting his head to poke out, he had to squint his eyes shut against the sunlight. His hand fumbled blindly for his phone, eventually finding the snooze button. He brought his hand back to scratch at his neck. As he did so, his fingers brushed up against something fuzzy. That was odd. He hadn't grown a beard overnight, had he? He pulled at the fuzz, and it fell into his palm. Braving the light, he cracked one eye open.

"Phoebe?"

She stretched out of the ball she had been curled up into, waving lazily at him. Hello. She sounded like she had just woken up too.

"Oh no, I never put you to bed last night! Are you all right? I didn't trap you or squish you or suffocate you, did I?"

No. Phoebe warm. Good sleep.

Exhaling in relief, Peter carefully set her onto his nightstand. "I'm so sorry. I mean, I'm glad you were comfortable, but I really should be more careful."

It okay. Phoebe like bed. Sleep bed again?

"You like a bit of luxury, hm?" He chuckled, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. "We'll see. It's a wonder you were safe last night. Maybe I can make you your own bed. Would you like that?"

Phoebe clapped her two front legs together. Yup! Thanks Speter!

"No problem. Start thinking about what you like about this bed, and we can start designing yours this weekend."

Yay!

Grinning, Peter stood, continuing his stretch. He glimpsed the bandages, just now remembering the state of his wrists. But they didn't seem to hurt. As much. They felt a little sore. He twisted one experimentally and was glad to find that the pain didn't increase. Maybe the slight pain was only due to inflammation from his healing factor kicking back into gear. It happened sometimes with injuries like this.

Speter feel better?

"Oh yeah, much better. With any luck, I'll get a clean bill of health from Connors later." Peter did a happy little jig. Something else about the bandages caught his eye. Thin, almost clear, white strands hung from them, catching the light occasionally. He smiled at Phoebe. "Did you add more 'white' to my bandages?"

Maybe?

"Well, thank you. I think it helped."

Phoebe's pedipalps curved happily. Speter welcome!

Peter proceeded to give her some breakfast. This time he made sure to put her back into her Jungle Box before going downstairs for his own breakfast. It was for her safety, he reminded her when she began to sulk. He didn't want her getting hurt or lost while he was away. She understood like she always did and quickly became preoccupied with her toys.

Downstairs, Aunt May was making oatmeal today. It made the whole kitchen smell like cinnamon and berries. Peter breathed the scent in hungrily as he entered. "Good morning, May."

"Good morning!" She glanced up from the pot. "You seem chipper today."

"I guess I am. I conked out early last night and extra sleep is decidedly good."

"I noticed that. You left your light on, mister," she said, half scolding but with a gentle smile.

"Oops."

"Don't worry about it. I noticed before I went to bed." May stirred the pot silently for a moment. "Were you cold last night?"

"Cold? No."

"Are you sure? You were wrapped up so tight in your blankets when I turned off the light."

"Ah," Peter nodded in understanding, relieved that she apparently hadn't seen Phoebe under the covers. May certainly wouldn't have kept quiet if she had. "Yeah, I did that, but not because I was cold. It was the light that was bothering me, which really should have tipped me off that it needed to be turned off, but I am not known to make wise decisions when I'm exhausted."

"I see. You know, I was thinking of changing your light for one that dims."

He flushed ever so slightly pink as he took his seat. He appreciated his aunt's willingness to help him like this. He just sort of wished he didn't need special accommodations. "You don't have to go through the trouble of changing it."

"It's no trouble. All I have to do is change the bulb and rewire the light switch. Easy peasy." May grinned slyly as she grabbed a bowl. "You didn't think you were the only one in this house who knows some electrical engineering."

Peter smiled back. "Of course not. We both learned from the best."

Almost as if that was a cue, they both turned to a picture on the wall, the one that held a happy family of three. The one where Peter still had glasses, May still had some color in her hair, and they both still had Ben.

For a moment, it felt like the entire world was paused and silent in somber reflection. But then the tea kettle shrilled and everything snapped back to attention. May went back to tending the oatmeal. Peter fiddled with his bandages, removing a few more silk strands he had missed. He was really touched that Phoebe had done that, and he would have left all the silk on for her sake. But her webs were thinner than his synthetic ones, noticeable, and he couldn't walk around wearing a clue to her existence.

"How are your wrists this morning?"

He looked up at his aunt. "Much better. Honestly!" he insisted when she raised an eyebrow. "They're still a little tender, but I can move them no problem now. Will you let me go to school if Doc Connors gives me the greenlight?"

"Are you sure you don't want another day off?"

"I would rather see MJ and Harry again. They're probably worried because I was absent yesterday. I heard my excuse this time is that I got mugged."

"That's true. MJ called and she wasn't happy when I told her. Even Harry called to ask about you, and he usually prefers to text. But we could always invite them over after school lets out and—"

"Harry!" Peter sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "Oh my god, I forgot all about him! I was supposed to go to his place Monday night! He probably thought I snubbed him!"

"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I had no idea. Harry didn't mention that at all. But I told him 'what happened to you', and he didn't seem upset."

Peter pressed his palms together. "Please please please can I go to school? I need to talk to him and I can't wait until the afternoon!"

May considered him silently for a minute. "All right, fine, but only if Connors says it's okay. Here, eat up so you can get to your check up." She set a large bowl full of piping hot oatmeal in front of him. Peter leaned forward, breathing in its wonderful scent.

"Yes, ma'am!"


Peter walked through the hallways of the Tricarrier as himself. It was all or nothing at Shield. He could either wear his full costume or look like an ordinary kid, because Fury was paranoid and didn't trust all of his agents with the knowledge of secret identities. In all practicality, Peter understood. He just really preferred to wear his costume at Shield though. Despite the fact that he walked these halls almost every day, they felt so much more intimidating when he was just Peter Parker. No agent paid him any attention, bustling past as if he didn't exist. It was a far cry from the nods of respect he received when he was Spider-Man.

But soon enough he arrived at Connor's office, and the doctor greeted him with a warm smile. "Good morning, Peter! How are you feeling?"

"Much better. No more pain."

Connors raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Okay, so there's still a tiny little bit of discomfort. That's all. I promise!"

"I'll be the judge of that. Come here." Hands moving with gentle precision, Connors carefully unwrapped the bandages on Peter's wrists. The skin there was still a little red, and there were still some scabs and scars, but it was a drastic improvement from the open wounds that had been there yesterday. "Wow, you may be right. There are still some cuts that I would prefer to see fully closed, but you should be fine by tonight."

"Yes! Does that mean I can go to school?"

"You don't want another day off?"

Why did everyone keep asking him that? "There are things I need to do at school. Please?"

Connors turned Peter's wrists over again. "I guess I don't see why not. But first," he added quickly before Peter could interrupt. "Fury would like to see you once you're done here."

Peter frowned. "He's not happy about what I did, is he?"

"I don't think that's his main concern right now. Kraven is recovering quite nicely just so you know."

The news allowed Peter a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he had forgotten about Kraven so much as he found it hard to bring up the topic himself. "That's good. So your antivenom was a success?"

"It was, after a bit of trial and error of course."

"I'm sorry."

Now Connors frowned. "What are you apologizing to me for? All I had to do was come up with a cure within a few hours. It was just another day at Shield as far as I'm concerned. Besides, it's been quite fascinating to work with your venom. It's amazing stuff. Sure, all venoms are a messy cocktail of poisons by definition, but the fact your body was able to make something like that is incredible! Do you know how many individual types of bioactive peptides there are in your venom? Over ten million! That's like a punch made of ten million fists! How are you able to produce that many? Maybe later I can take some samples to figure out how, and—" He stopped abruptly, finally noticing how pale his patient had gotten. "Or—or maybe not. I'm sorry, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Peter swallowed, feeling vaguely ill. "Just still getting used to—to all of that. Is it really ten million?"

"That's as many as I was able to identify over the weekend. Only a few hundred are the really important deadl—er—main ones, and those were all common to some spider or another so antivenoms already existed for a lot of them. I only had to put the pieces together with the right ratios."

Peter ran his tongue over his fangs. "So it is deadly? Kraven could have died?"

"Well, theoretically . . . yes. Liquifying organs is generally fatal. But on the bright side, humans are large and complex enough that it would take several hours to liquify the vital organs. So you'll have plenty of time to administer the antivenom if this ever happens again. Although I suppose that also means that you would have to wait quite some time for your meal if you ever resorted to cannibalism." Connors grinned at his own joke for a second before he realized what he said. His face fell. "I should probably stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

"M—maybe, yeah. I'm going to go see Fury now if I'm done here."

"Sure, of course, let me just give you some new bandages."

Peter left Connor's office in more of a hurry than usual. He appreciated Connor's support and dedication. He even enjoyed talking science with him most of the time. But sometimes the doctor's enthusiasm was a bit too much.

Ten million biomolecules. Each crafted by evolution to maim and kill. Peter vaguely remembered reading something like that a while ago. It was a fascinating fact all things considered. Just not when it described you.

Coming to a stop at Fury's office, Peter rang the doorbell. It wasn't technically a doorbell. It was more like a buzzer. The door to the Director's office was not so thin as to allow anything unwanted to enter his space, not even sounds. So there was a buzzer with a microphone and speaker instead. And a camera. Kind of like the Ring doorbell. So, still a doorbell to some extent.

The door slid open.

Fury was sitting at his desk. It was a sturdy and practical desk, strong enough to handle all the paperwork thrust upon it. It occurred to Peter how that also described the Director exactly. He bet Fury had chosen this specific desk on purpose.

"Hello, Director Fury, sir! I bet you're wondering if my healing factor has kicked back into gear, which it has."

Fury looked up from his work. "I already heard."

Peter narrowed his eyes. Two minutes. It had probably taken Peter less than two minutes to walk here from Connor's office, and the Director had probably been doing paperwork the entire time. How did he manage to listen to these updates as soon as they came in? "Oh, well, okay."

"You're feeling better?"

"Yes, sirree."

Fury's eye seemed to scan him. "Do you think Connors was right when he said the issue was caused by stress?"

Peter shrugged. "Maybe? It makes sense, and I feel a lot more relaxed today." He wasn't quite sure what Fury was getting at here.

"And do you think that stress was caused by you biting Kraven?"

"A—a little, I guess." That was true, although he would personally contribute most of the stress to nearly being turned into a spider monster again. And he might have also been a little stressed about his talk to the team, if only because he hadn't known what to expect at the time. But Fury didn't really need to know the details of his teenage drama.

"I'm afraid I need to know exactly how you feel about this, Parker. I need to know if I should update the list of abilities on your profile."

"Oh," was all Peter said at first. He hadn't expected Fury to be so interested. He was suddenly glad that he had talked this over with Phoebe at least a little bit. "You mean you're wondering if I'll bite people on command for you?" The words came out a little harsher than he had meant. Peter bit the inside of his cheek.

"In a word, yes. Connors told me that your bite doesn't necessarily have to be a fatal wound. Would you do it to incapacitate?"

Peter exhaled slowly. "Right, um . . . I don't think I ever want to do that again. And yeah," he added when Fury looked ready to interrupt. "I know I'm probably going to find myself in a situation like that again, and probably soon knowing me. But you can't expect me to bite people. I won't do it on purpose."

Fury nodded once. "Fair enough. That's all I need from you today." He tossed a folder over and Peter caught it. "Midtown has already received the excuse for your absence. Mugging gone wrong."

"Yeah, that works." Peter was relieved Fury wasn't pressing the biting thing. "I—uh—guess I have classes to get to."

"Indeed. Enjoy school, Parker."

Peter hesitated. "Do you think I can tell Harry the truth ye—?"

"No." The answer was out of Fury's mouth so quickly that anyone would have been able to tell he had given it a thousand times before. Peter sighed.

"Fine. See you around."

Giving the Director his standard goofy salute, Peter left the office and reentered the havoc of the hallways. The agents continued to ignore him. It would be the same at school, but at least he could finally talk to Harry. Peter's stomach twisted guiltily. As close to the truth the mugging cover story went, he really wished he could tell Harry the real reason why hadn't been able to visit. Harry's animosity towards Spider-Man was getting to be unbearable. Peter feared they were growing farther apart with each passing lie and misconception. If he could just level with him, get it all out on the table . . .

But he couldn't. Not yet, because Fury kept insisting on giving Harry some space so he could cool down and minimize the chance that he would let the information slip into the wrong hands (and to minimize the chance that he'd reject Peter. Peter wasn't naïve. Just hopeful. Surely their friendship meant more than Harry's grudge against Spider-Man). After last week, though, it seemed like it would take forever for Harry to calm down. All Peter could do in the meantime was be as good a friend as possible.

And that was sort of hard to do when he had to stop crimes every few hours.

He would keep trying though. He owed that much to Harry.


Harry was not the first person Peter saw at school. Peter had hoped to see him before classes started like last time, but he couldn't find the familiar head of wavy ginger hair in the crowd. Instead, a certain fiery redhead almost managed to sneak up on Peter. His spider sense tingled gently, urging him to turn around even before she spoke.

"You're back!" MJ nearly exclaimed in his ear.

Why did his spider sense always warn him about approaching teenage girls? Was he that afraid of them? Or maybe it was just MJ that made him anxious.

"How are you?" she continued, looking him over. "Aunt May told me what happened. That must have been so scary!"

"Yeah, it was," Peter admitted. "But I'm fine. They caught me on the wrists." He briefly lifted back one sleeve to show off the bandage. "Nothing major."

MJ winced in sympathy. "Ouch, that probably bled a lot. Did you pass out?"

Peter hesitated. "Maybe."

"Handled it like a true man, hm?" She grinned softly. "May said the police caught the guy."

"Yup, and I got my wallet back, so I didn't lose my five bucks or my library card."

MJ rolled her eyes. "Heaven forbid that Peter Parker lose his library card."

"If I can't fit a library in my house, then I need a library somewhere!" he joked, enjoying the sound of her laugh. They turned, slowly moving towards their classrooms. "So how did the rest of your auditions go?"

"Very well. Pretty much all of the roles are cast at this point. I wish I could have gotten your opinion for more of them, but . . ." She shrugged regretfully. "Now I know why you didn't pick up the phone that night."

"I would have been glad to help, but I'm sure you made the best choices."

"I hope so." MJ glanced up at him. "I cast Flash as Spider-Man."

Peter managed to smile. "I bet he's stoked."

"He's stoked all right. He's been wearing his mask around the clock, 'trying to get into character'. I'm not complaining though. He's a dedicated actor."

"That's true. I think it's going to be an amazing play."

"Thank you, Pete." She glanced at him again. "You're taking this pretty well."

His mouth went dry. "Why wouldn't I be taking this well?"

"Flash has been bullying you for a while, and now I chose him as the star of my play. I know you're a chill guy, but I sort of thought you'd be a little more . . . I don't know, bitter? Jealous?"

"Oh." Peter nearly laughed. "Nah, I'm not bitter or anything. Flash has become more annoying now than anything. I think acting like a hero could do him some good."

She smirked. "You didn't deny being jealous."

"I'm not jealous! What, do you think that I wanted the role? I would have asked you if I did, but I have no desire to embarrass myself on stage." He couldn't quite bring himself to say that he didn't want to be Spider-Man.

"You would not embarrass yourself! You're funny enough to be Spider-Man. I think you're even close to his height."

Peter scoffed, though he nearly choked in the process. "I thought he was way taller."

"No, I was standing next to him after he saved Harry and me from Electro, and he was roughly—"

"Namaste, MJ, Peter!" Danny greeted them loudly as he approached.

"Danny, hey!" Peter exhaled in relief. "How are you doing?"

"I am doing well. How are the two of you?"

As they exchanged pleasantries, Peter mouthed the words 'thank you' behind MJ's back. Danny smiled kindly in return.


It seemed like luck might be on Peter's side today. His Calculus teacher dismissed the class a little early, giving Peter a bit of an extended lunch. It even matched up with one of Harry's free periods.

Peter would have been suspicious that another curve ball might be headed his way, but he hoped that Kraven had given him his weekly dose of misfortune.

So he used the opportunity for everything it was worth, texting Harry and setting up a quick meeting. They met near the middle of the school where there were some spare chairs to lounge on.

"Hey Pete." Harry clapped his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Tough luck with the mugging."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't tell you that night."

"It's fine. Something like that is bound to scare you out of your wits. I feel bad that I thought you were standing me up. I should have known it would take something serious like that to keep you away from free pizza."

"You know me too well." Peter grinned as he sat on one of the upholstered chairs that had seen better days. Midtown High had always spent its budget wisely, even before Coulson, focusing on academics and culture. Sadly, that left a few things neglected. "So what did you want to talk about? I mean, I know you were upset about the Electro thing."

Harry settled on a neighboring chair, throwing his backpack at his feet. "Nah, don't worry about that. I overreacted a bit. I should have known better than to try to get you to speak in front of a crowd like that. You probably weren't expecting to walk into such a scary opportunity that morning."

Peter tried not to be offended. Harry didn't know that he had spoken in front of crowds before. "Right. It was also hard because, you know, you weren't trying to cancel just any play. It's MJ's play. Maybe you don't agree with her, but I kind of want to back her up."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm proud of MJ for organizing everything. But I just can't get behind the message she's trying to send. Spider-Man is a freak, not a hero. And I'm a stubborn Osborn. I would try to shut down any good Spider-Man play, no matter who wrote it. This time it happened to be hers, and I don't feel good ruining it for her, but I would feel worse knowing that Spider-Man is getting the praise he wants."

Now it was too late to not be offended. Peter looked down, fiddling with his sleeve. His wrists were beginning to feel a little weird, but that might be due to how he was tensing up. "Harry, has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're acting a little biased about Spider-Man?"

"How's that?" Harry's voice turned decidedly colder.

"Literally the only news outlet that agrees with you is the Daily Bugle, and they also post stories on the Illuminati sometimes. And Spider-Man may be a little responsible for what happened to your dad, but . . . there's never been any evidence that he's working with the bad guys." Peter swallowed, waiting for a reaction. One of Harry's eyebrows twitched. That was all.

"Think about it this way," Harry said, sounding as if he were explaining something to a toddler. "Shield doesn't pick up just anybody. There are plenty of other vigilantes like Daredevil that they don't deal with. So they must be keeping an eye on Spider-Man specifically because they're worried about him being a threat."

They're worried, all right, Peter thought wryly. Except they're worried for me, not about me.

"Besides," Harry continued. "You haven't met him yet. He just doesn't seem like a hero."

Peter had to clench his jaw to prevent himself from arguing about that. He wanted to say something to defend himself so badly, but he wasn't Spider-Man right now, he was only simple, little, too-kind—

"PETER PARKER!"

He jumped in his seat, looking around for whoever was calling him out. It took a few seconds before he noticed the short kid stalking towards him. "Amadeus Cho?"

Pale face flushed with fury, Amadeus stopped in front of him, thrusting a flier right in front of Peter's face. "There is no way this can be true!"

Jerking back on reflex, Peter snatched the paper before it could poke his eye out. "Gee, what'd I do to you?"

"You better not be bothering him for no reason," Harry warned.

"Don't act like you don't know. You must have done something big to make the judges believe this lie!"

Peter held the paper out so he and Harry could read it. He instantly regretted that.

There was a huge picture of his Iron Spider suit surrounded by bold lettering:

Come to the twenty-second Midtown Science Fair to see the spectacular Iron Spider suit! Designed by Tony Stark and Midtown High scholar Peter Parker!

"Where did you get this?" Peter asked, heart racing.

"They're being put up all over the school right now! Apparently, you were a last-minute entry. But this isn't possible! Stark works with no one!"

"I never even entered the Science Fair this year tho—" Peter stopped, fist constricting around the flier. "Sam," he ground out.

Harry continued to stare at the crumpled flier. "Is this a joke?" he asked.

"It's—I'm going to go find Sam and give him a piece of my mind." Peter grabbed his things and ran out of there before either boy could question him further.

The bell rang. The hallways began to get crowded. As Peter rushed through, he spotted the student workers and volunteers putting the posters up. People were starting to gather around the bulletin boards. They were starting to gossip about it. About him. Both hims. It was freaky.

He was going to kill Sam.

He found Sam on his way to the cafeteria, chatting and joking with some random people from class. Peter grabbed his arm to drag him away. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Sam noticed one of the fliers. "Ah, so they did decide to make that the main attraction."

"Yes they did, which begs the question: What were you—? Why would you—? How could you—? Gah!" Peter pulled him aside so they wouldn't be swept up in the lunch rush. "Are you nuts?!"

Sam had the audacity to smile. "What are you talking about? You wanted to be in the Science Fair and now you are! There's no way Cho can do better than the Iron Spider!"

"Maybe I wouldn't mind the chance to upstage him, but not like this! I'm supposed to have nothing to do with Spider-Man! How am I supposed to explain this?!" Peter felt his fangs push on his veneers, and he had to clench his jaw shut for a moment to keep them in place.

"Relax, Pete. Believe it or not, I thought this through. And I planned it out with Stark. You see, you were his intern over the summer, but it was kept hush hush because he's a superhero and all. You helped him make the Iron Spider suit, and you even got to meet Spider-Man when he came to try it out. Awesome summer, right?"

"That's nice and dandy, but I don't want that sort of attention!"

Sam's smile finally began to falter. "It won't last forever. You know how fast fame goes around here."

"That doesn't matter! Do you know how angry Harry's going to be? As far as he knew I never met Spider-Man!"

"Oh . . . um . . ." Sam looked down. "You're leaking."

"What?"

"Your wrists are leaking."

Peter's eyes widened, and he looked down, expecting to see blood soaking through his bandages. Instead, it looked like the bandages themselves were dripping from his fingertips. He raised a hand, rubbing his fingers together. The liquid was white and sticky.

"Is that silk?" Sam asked in a whisper. "And it's like, coming out of your arm? You got it all over your pants. And my shirt."

All Peter could do was nod mutely, because it seemed like his voice had stopped working. He felt as confused as Phoebe had probably been when she had first seen him use his web shooters.

Webs and wrists should not go together like this!


Why were his wrists strapped to the bed? That was the first question on Kraven's mind when he came to. But then he saw Shield's logo all over the place and he knew. He was captured. Again.

He vaguely remembered waking up in this room earlier, when the doctors had still been bustling around. His arm hadn't looked good at all, and he had even felt worse. The swelling seemed to be down now, though he still felt a little weak. Kraven didn't like feeling weak. He cursed the doctors in his native tongue. If he had escaped back to his place, he would have been able to cure himself completely by now. A simple bezoar probably would have done the trick. Or perhaps two.

A grin began to grow on Kraven's face in spite of himself. He hadn't even known that Spider-Man had fangs. He had prepared for all sorts of scenarios, but not for receiving a bite. Normally, Kraven would have been able to avoid such an attack anyway from sheer experience. But he had made the mistake of expecting Spider-Man's usual style of attack. The fast snatch and chomp had caught him off guard, although he really should have anticipated such a classic spider attack.

There was no point in wasting time by ruminating on his regrets though. There were far more pressing things to think about. Like the sheer power of the bite. The fangs had pierced through his leather armor, and he had almost thought that his arm had been broken. Kraven had received dozens of bites during his lifetime of hunting. Few had affected him this badly.

He knew a formidable predator when he faced one, and the Spider-Man was growing as strong as the White Tiger. New York was now home to two very unique prey. Hunting them was going to be an even greater challenge than he had imagined.

. . . Once he got out of here.

His grin faded. It could take weeks for him to escape Shield, maybe months if this Tricarrier was any better than the old one.

That could be a long time, but he would spend it wisely, using it to make his plans. Hunting two predators in a team of heroes would not be easy. And he needed to decide whether he wanted to keep them alive for any amount of time. All he needed White Tiger for was the amulet, but the Spider . . . Kraven was still interested in seeing the damage he could do to New York. But keeping him for milking was also an idea. His venom was certainly stronger and far more plentiful than venom from a regular spider. Kraven could use a weapon like that. And he knew many people who would pay good money for such a resource as well.

It would take quite some time and effort to make this work, but a good hunter was nothing if not patient. And Kraven was the best hunter of all.


Fun facts:

- Spider venom works like a cocktail of millions of kinds of poisons. There are paralyzers and pain inducers and all that good stuff in there along with the enzymes that break flesh down into fluid.

- Spiders are milked for their venom, recently for medical purposes. It's not very productive though since it can take thousands of spiders to give one gram of venom. Hence why Peter's a gold mine.