Chapter 32: A Visceral Hope

I love how I've had big plans to write a lot of chapters during each and every break. And yet each time I write at the same exact pace as I do during the school year.

In my defense, this chapter was super tricky. You'll see what I mean.

And announcements!

- I have now posted this story on AO3! If anyone prefers that site, feel free to switch over. I even used the opportunity to fix a few minor errors. Not many, but a few.

- I updated the cover image. It's almost identical except I worked it up virtually. And I changed his eyes to go with the story.


Pink Lemonade: MJ is a wiley one. Taskmaster may be a tactical genius, but even he can forget key players like her. Phoebe will have an interesting time . . .

Guest: Writers live off of painful cliffhangers. It is our life's blood. Muahahaha!

Shikarai: Gracias! You've got a keen eye there! Interesting take on the green eyes, but Black Cat will be coming back soon. You'll get many answers in this chapter.


When janitor/principal Stan took the Iron Spider suit away, MJ wanted to be the first to hear if there was a threat, so she went the long way around to head him off at the exit. A good reporter knew that you had to cut off your targets' escape route when you wanted sensitive information. When she got there, she peeked around the corner so she could determine how much time she had to prepare her questions.

And her glimpse revealed Stan to be nowhere in sight, and Peter on his knees as Coach Yaeger approached him. The moment Yaeger's hands were on him, Peter hissed in a weak yet spine chilling sort of way, unlike anything MJ had ever heard from him.

For a moment, she dared to hope that her suspicions were true, that the strange intuition she'd had for months might be reality.

Then her current reality hit her and she realized Peter was being kidnapped.

Feeling a little more terrified than she wanted, MJ quickly backtracked. She tried to find an unlocked closet, but the first one she opened had a heap of bodies inside and as brave as she could be, she couldn't bring herself to check if they were still breathing or not. Instead, she let out a little squeak, closed the door as softly as possible, and hid behind a garbage can down the hall. It was really not the most creative spot to hide, but she was small enough that it would probably work. So long as she didn't take another peek, she would be fine.

She took another peek anyway, just in time to see Yaeger put on a Stan mask. At least she was able to suppress her gasp.

Waiting for him to leave was hard. MJ was impatient by nature. Within a minute she was approaching the exit doors, opening them just a crack. Yaeger was efficient though, already in the process of loading both boy and machine into his classic unmarked white van. As he made noise pushing and shoving the containment unit, MJ opened the doors just wide enough to squeeze through. Outside and in need of a new place to hide, she went behind one of the bushes that lined the school. Thank goodness the gardening club had insisted on putting those up.

From her new vantage point, she watched an unexpected development. When Taskmaster moved away to hide the pushcart, Amadeus Cho crept out from the front of the van, climbing into the back. MJ hoped that he would save Peter, but he stayed inside too long. He was probably busy looking at the suit instead. The boy was smart, but highly self-centered at times, especially when tech was around.

Yaeger came back to the van. MJ held her breath for Amadeus's sake, but he didn't look inside as he slammed the back doors shut. She waited for Amadeus to jump out, or scream, or do something. Instead, Yaeger got into the front and drove away.

MJ sat there for a moment in shock before she gathered her wits.

She needed to get help, and she knew exactly who to get help from.

First, she went back to the closet to check the bodies. She was relieved to find heartbeats when she felt their necks, and even more relieved to find the real Stan among them. Content with that discovery, she ran back to the gym. The room felt extremely loud after her brief time trying to be silent. It took way too long to find someone who could help. She couldn't see the guards from the crowd. She wasn't the tallest person in the room. Also, Yaeger had stuffed a lot of guards in that closet, so MJ wasn't too surprised to find less.

At last, she stumbled upon someone who could help.

"Ava!" She yelled as she ran to her. Ava turned around, understandably bewildered by the sudden appearance of a desperate MJ.

"Mary Jane? Are you oka—?"Ava started to ask, but MJ had already taken her deep breath in preparation for this explanation.

"Peter's been kidnapped and so was Amadeus it was Coach Yaeger who did it and he was dressed as Stan which is really weird I mean not the fact that he was dressed as Stan since he's the principal but the fact that he kidnapped two boys in the first place I don't know what he has planned but—oh yeah—he has the Iron Spider suit and there's a closet full of unconscious people too you have to stop Yaeger!"

Ava stared at her nonplussed for a second, and MJ feared she would have to repeat everything and add proper punctuation, but then something shifted in Ava's face and her gaze became hard and focused.

"Yaeger kidnapped Pete? This isn't good. We need to—ah—call the authorities. Have you called the police yet?"

"No," MJ said proudly, somewhat certain this is what Peter would have wanted.

Ava's brows furrowed. "Did you tell the Shield guards?"

"No," MJ admitted, suddenly feeling a little silly. What if she was wrong? This was a pretty crazy theory. What reason did she have to believe it was anything more than her wild imagination?

"Wait, so you told me first?" Ava asked. MJ nodded. "Right, so I really want to ask you why, but time is of the essence, so how about I go call the police and you go tell the guards right over there?"

MJ turned to see the many Shield and school guards near the main entrance. So that's where they'd all gone. "Okay, will do," she promised. But Ava was already disappearing into the crowd.

This was all happening so fast. MJ hoped everything would turn out okay.


Peter woke up gradually. Very gradually. Too gradually.

Something felt off.

He opened his eyes blearily, blinking several times to focus. Why did he feel so tired? And where was the sunlight that always pierced through the gaps in his curtains no matter how hard he tried to shut it all out? It seemed quite dark as he stared at the blank expanse of ceiling a couple of feet above him.

Wait. Why was the ceiling so close? Even on the few occasions he slept on the ceiling, he never faced it like this. Peter turned his head to the right, finding an equally blank wall there. Stretching out, he felt more wall at his feet and beyond his head. Starting to wonder if he was in a coffin, he turned left, and was slightly relieved to see open space.

He might have been more relieved if the open space hadn't been entirely unfamiliar.

Feeling a lot more awake now, Peter sat up quickly despite his spider sense's warning, bumping his head against the ceiling. From his point of view, it looked like he was on the top of a bunk bed set into a wall. The room beyond was almost bare. He had to stick his head out in order to see anything of interest. A small closet and desk sat underneath his bed, with a small chair by the desk. A similar setup was opposite his bunk. And to the left and right. The room was longer than he'd expected, and lined with identical living quarters. A solid-looking door was set into the left end. Two doors were on the right end.

The sound of breathing came from a bunk Peter couldn't see. He controlled his own breath in hopes that the other person wasn't aware of their company.

Where was he? Who was that? What was going on? He remembered the science fair, and Stan, and—oh yeah, Stan had turned out to be Taskmaster in disguise, who appeared to know about Peter's powers.

Wait, WHAT?!

Peter retreated back into his bunk and hugged his knees to his chest. This seemed like the safest place in the room because it was very nearly enclosed, and he needed someplace relatively safe so he could have his panic attack in peace.

Taskmaster had kidnapped him, as in Peter Parker him, not Spider-Man. And, judging from what he'd said, Taskmaster already knew they were one in the same. And Taskmaster had promised to kill him someday! Oh god, Peter was going to die!

And yet . . .

Oddly, instead of immediately killing him, Taskmaster was trying to use his old scam of 'Shield is the bad guy, not me'. Did he think Spider-Man was gullible enough to fall for it the second time around? He hadn't even believed him the first time, which was how he ended up on Taskmaster's hitlist.

On the other hand, Peter supposed he did have a track record of being a bit too trusting at times.

Anyway, the fact remained that Peter was kidnapped and being held in a cramped yet comfortable living space.

Huh, that was sort of odd too. Usually, being kidnapped meant being strapped to a table or locked in a cage. This was abnormally generous.

What did Taskmaster have planned? Did he seriously think he could get Spider-Man to cooperate this time? If he did, that didn't bode well for Peter. Taskmaster wasn't one to succumb to overconfidence often.

Whatever was going on, Peter was in danger and he needed to get out of here any way possible.

Any way possible . . . Did he really want to include his venom in that? He didn't want to use it, not again, but—

On high alert, Peter stiffened when he heard heavy footsteps drawing closer. Peter slowed his near-hyperventilating breaths, hoping whoever it was would move on. Of course, the person entered this room, turning on the lights and coming to stand in front of Peter's bunk. Peter still had his contact lenses, so the lights didn't blind him for long as the room dimmed for him. He blinked the remaining spots away.

Taskmaster in his Coach Yaeger persona was standing in front of his bunk. He was tall enough to see into the bunk bed without needing to stand on his toes.

Peter suppressed a hiss, although he supposed it didn't really matter anymore, but his brain hadn't quite caught up to the idea that his secret identity had been compromised.

"Hello, Peter," Taskmaster greeted with excellently feigned kindness. "How are you feeling?"

Peter decided he wouldn't be giving him any information, no matter how menial it seemed. "What is this place?"

"This is a safe haven for enhanced individuals such as yourself. I'm not your enemy, despite what Shield may have told you."

Despite what Shield told him? Peter had faced Taskmaster more than enough times to have firsthand evidence. But he didn't really care about whatever spiel Taskmaster was about to give him. He only cared about one thing. "How did you know about me?"

"I'm afraid you weren't quite as secretive as you thought you were. Another student saw when you developed the ability to spew white liquid from your wrists. Between that and your work on the Iron Spider suit, I was able to deduce your spider powers."

Peter's heart dropped straight through the floor. He was officially doomed. Even though Taskmaster hadn't killed him yet, it was only a matter of time before he realized that Spider-Man would never give in.

"Are you feeling alright?" Taskmaster asked. "You look a little pale. I must apologize for needing to sedate you, but I wanted you to be safe." He stepped closer.

With his back literally against a wall, Peter stuck to it to get as far from Taskmaster as he was currently able, moving up until he was laying against the wall instead of the bed. This new position would also make it a little easier to leap out the second he saw an opening for an escape. Or leap onto Taskmaster to incapacitate him.

This was why Peter paid attention during training.

Again, instead of answering Taskmaster's question, Peter asked one of his own. "Why did you bring me here?"

"As I said, it's a safe haven for enhanced individuals, and you are most certainly enhanced. Although, I suppose we're a little more than a safe haven. This is also the homebase of a small group I've been assembling: the Thunderbolts."

The Thunderbolts? That was a ridiculous name. There were lightning bolts, but thunder wasn't enough of a physical phenomenon to come in bolts. It was a lie.

Oh, that's probably why Taskmaster picked it then.

Peter was about to make a snide comment about that, but Taskmaster continued his explanation, "The Thunderbolts are a group of people such as yourself who may be seen as weapons by Shield. You've been lucky enough to fraternize with them harmlessly through Stark, but there's far more beneath the surface. Tell me, have they tried recruiting you yet?"

And now Peter was confused again. Why was Taskmaster acting as if he didn't know Peter was one of the youngest Shield agents in training?

Wait a second . . . what if he really didn't know?

That was . . . That would be sheer luck, which Peter wasn't really known for. He had no idea how Taskmaster hadn't put two and two together yet, but he would gladly accept any bit of luck the universe decided to give him, especially if it meant no one was trying to kill him and he wouldn't need to use his venom.

There was one problem though.

Taskmaster knew he had spider powers, and he had likely committed nearly all of Spider-Man's moves to heart. If Taskmaster didn't realize it yet, he was sure to figure it out the moment Peter did something too Spider-Man-ish.

Hm, so what if he didn't do what Spider-Man would do? Would Taskmaster believe that there might be two completely separate spider mutants in the city?

Peter was willing to try to keep his secret. He was always willing, for his aunt and for his friends.

Speaking carefully, he answered Taskmaster's question for the first time. "They asked a couple times, but they never pushed." He watched Taskmaster expectantly. Yaeger's face didn't betray any hint that he knew Peter was lying, but it was too early to tell if he just had a really good poker face.

"That's good," Taskmaster said. "Others have not been so lucky. I'll be happy to explain everything to you once our other newcomer is awake."

Other newcomer? Peter remembered the sound of breathing and watched warily as Taskmaster walked away from his bunk. He went deeper into the room, so the path to the left door was unblocked. This might be Peter's chance to escape. Sure, he didn't know what was waiting for him outside of this room, but he could be out here before Taskmaster could say 'Thunderbolts Ho!'.

Except there was someone else here. Whoever this person was, they shouldn't be left with Taskmaster alone.

Too tense to sigh, Peter crawled out of his bunk. He dropped down to his feet because Taskmaster didn't need to see him act more spidery than necessary. His legs were slightly wobbly from the drugs leftover in his system, but he held onto the wall until he regained his balance. He followed Taskmaster to a bunk nearby. On his way, Peter noticed that not every unit was the same. Three had some stickers on the closet doors and items on the desks. Peter decided to investigate later as he went on his tiptoes to see who was in the only other occupied bed.

He was greeted by a familiar pale face.

"Amadeus Cho?" Peter exclaimed. "You took him too?"

"Technically, he snuck into my van on his own, but he's welcome here for his protection as well." Taskmaster took a vial from his pocket. When he opened it, Peter's eyes immediately began to water from the smelling salts inside. "I'm sure you've seen how intelligent this boy is. Shield looks for brains as well as brawn."

Amadeus began to stir. As he rubbed his eyes, Peter noticed the singe marks on his hands. What had happened to him?

"Wh—What's going on?" Amadeus asked blearily as he climbed down. "Where am I? Who—Parker?"

"Hi." Peter waved at him unhappily. Not only was he upset that another student had been taken, he was annoyed by the fact that it was Amadeus of all people. Almost literally anyone else at school would have been more cooperative. Well, except maybe Flash. Flash would never listen to Peter Parker in a million years.

Taskmaster put the salts away. "Come with me and I'll explain everything."

Forced to go along with this a little longer, Peter fell into step beside Amadeus. They went through the left-end door (which was thicker than Peter would have liked) and entered a hallway. It was long, extending far off into the distance. More sturdy doors set into it unevenly. Some looked the same as the one they'd just gone through while others were double doors.

Cho seemed to be going through his own initial bout of confusion before the terror of the situation set in. He stared raptly at his surroundings. Peter followed suit in hopes that the exit might be clearly marked. Even though they walked through a considerable portion of the hallway, there wasn't anything notable to see, particularly no exit signs.

Taskmaster led them to a door that looked like any other. The difference was on the inside. Instead of more bedrooms, it opened to a simple office. It appeared used with a computer and papers about, but there were no personal items in sight. Taskmaster settled behind the desk and gestured for his two 'guests' to take the hard wooden chairs in front. Peter sat reluctantly on the edge of his seat. Amadeus, still a little groggy, settled in a bit more readily.

"I know I've met Peter before," Yaeger began. "But considering all the lies I've been forced to give, it seems best if I introduced myself properly. My real name is Anthony Masters, and I was once a Shield agent."

Peter allowed some of his surprise to show. He didn't have access to Taskmaster's complete file, but he knew that much was true.

"I won't bore you with my entire life's story," Taskmaster continued. "There's not much to say about that anyway. I joined Shield very young, and within several years I gained much rank among them. I was special, you see, with a near perfect photographic memory which allowed me to remember clues and quickly learn patterns."

Oh yes, your memory is so great, Peter thought to himself bitterly. He wished he could say a joke, but he still wasn't sure how much Taskmaster knew, and jokes were a Spidey thing. He desperately hoped his identity was safe. The problem was that Taskmaster was entirely too capable of acting clueless as part of some mind game.

"Back then, I thought it was the beginning of a long and fruitful career." Taskmaster sounded very reminiscent which made Peter want to gag. "Sure, I didn't always follow orders, but I always completed my missions. Other agents were sometimes wary of my confidence, but they knew they could trust me and I thought I could trust them."

Peter tried not to appear affronted. That description could be used for Spider-Man too. He wondered if Taskmaster had really been similar, or if he was tailoring his story to this audience. Peter decided he didn't want either of those scenarios to be true.

"However," Taskmaster changed his tone with the art of a full-time liar. "My trust was misplaced. After a difficult yet successful mission, the director himself took me aside. I anticipated medals and accolades. Instead, I was thrown into a cell and experimented on."

Amadeus looked appalled by that, so Peter tried to portray a similar emotion. It was hard when he knew the truth. After realizing how powerful his memory could make him, Taskmaster had chosen to live a self-serving life of villainy. That was a part of Taskmaster's story that would never be a part of Spider-Man's.

"Shield tried to turn me into a perfect soldier who would follow every order to the letter. I fought back as hard as I could, managing to evade mind control. Yet my freedom came with a price. They put me through a series of experiments with electric shocks and medications in the hopes that they could at least strip my personality from me. All they succeeded in doing was taking all of my memories from before Shield."

Despite knowing that the story was at least partially false, Peter still felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn't know what he would do if he forgot his life before Spider-Man. That era of his life already seemed so distant.

"After a while, I managed to escape, and since then I have sworn to expose Shield for its crimes. That is why I have invested in this place and my team, the Thunderbolts. And that is also why I hoped to save you two from similar fates," Taskmaster finished solemnly.

Amadeus gasped. "You mean that's what they want to do to me? They just want my brain to make tech for them?"

"They've already approached you?" Taskmaster asked.

"Yeah! Director Fury was the one who gave me a free ride to Midtown when I got kicked out of my last school." Amadeus rubbed his forehead. "I can't believe I ever felt grateful for that."

Peter hid his disappointment. He had hoped that Amadeus would be smart enough to remain dubious. Maybe he could still plant some seeds of doubt. "Wait, I don't know if I believe this," Peter said carefully. "First off, if all this is true, why did you pretend to be Coach Yaeger at Midtown? The school said you were fired for inappropriate actions towards students." That was the understatement of the century, but Harry and Flash were supposed to be the only students who knew what really happened.

"I was scouting for students such as you, but Shield caught on too quickly." Taskmaster leaned back, staring at Peter contemplatively. This wasn't good. "I must say, I hadn't expected you to be enhanced at that time."

Partially relieved that his 'bad at gym' act worked so well, Peter didn't let his fear show. It was time for the next lie, even if he didn't yet know what the rest of his false story would be. "I wasn't enhanced then."

"Interesting." Yaeger's face didn't convey any further information. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Yeah. I've met Shield agents several times and no one ever tried forcing me anywhere. And everyone seems perfectly fine there. I mean, look at Tony Stark. He hasn't been brainwashed. Why should we believe you?"

"Fury is smart," Taskmaster explained. "He knows that he can't make a wild celebrity like Stark turn sober overnight. No, they focus on the young dedicated ones such as that team Spider-Man leads."

Peter made sure he didn't cringe, focusing instead on the implications of the statement. It was another example of Taskmaster referring to Spidey without necessarily referring to Peter. This was good. Now to add some plausible ignorance, "What do you mean? What's going on with that team?"

"Allow me to show you." Taskmaster typed a few things into his computer before swiveling the screen around to face them. "I'll apologize beforehand; this may be difficult for you to see, Peter."

Uh oh, if this was Spider-Man related, did that mean that Taskmaster really did know? Peter's brain hurt from trying to keep track of all the subterfuge and hidden meanings. As smart as he was, he still preferred straight up hitting the bad guys rather than undercover work.

The computer showed an image of lush greenery. It didn't look like anywhere in New York. In fact, it reminded Peter of—

Spider-Man fell into view, and Peter just barely suppressed a gasp when he recognized the dart in his chest. As it was, he didn't think he was controlling his expressions properly anymore.

After his nightmares of the Savage Lands ordeal began to go away (or at least become less vivid), Peter had taken solace in the fact that he would never need to see himself like that again in real life. Phoebe had even stopped trying to show him the memories even though she thought he looked fine with six arms. And yet here was a perfectly crisp video of his transformation, the one moment that he couldn't remember at all.

He remembered the pain though, even if his guttural scream slipped his memory.

Why couldn't he look away? He didn't care if Taskmaster would be suspicious that Peter seemed to know what to expect. He wanted to close his eyes and run from the room, but for some unfathomable reason he remained in his chair, gaze transfixed.

Two new pairs of arms burst from his sides, fingers stretching and reaching.

Two large pedipalps, snapping and flexing.

Two huge fangs, briefly visible as he roared.

Most of those body parts he remembered, but there were a few details he didn't. Like the way his fingers and toes had merged to three long claws on each hand and foot. And it was different to see the pedipalps from this angle. He'd felt them, but they were right on either side of his mouth so he couldn't see them well before. They were so much bigger than he had thought. And his movements looked a lot more spidery here, jerking twitches of his limbs as he backed away from Wolverine.

Peter was glad the top half of his mask remained. He still didn't know if anything had happened to his eyes, and he never wanted to find out.

Spider-Man hissed and roared at Wolverine, revealing his fangs again, and all Peter could think of was how Ava had told him that his transformation then was different from how he was transforming now. Seeing this was finally proof she was right. His current fangs were much smaller. The ones on the screen barely fit back in his mouth. No wonder he hadn't spoken. He couldn't.

Another shiver ran up his spine at the thought of losing his voice for fangs. He never wanted that again. Never ever never—

Spider-Man wobbled on his new limbs, and Peter couldn't help but remember what they felt like, what everything felt like. His body was all wrong and his surroundings were all right but he didn't know what to do about any of it. It was too bright and so loud and there was something smelly coming to attack him. He needed to defend himself. Needed to—

". . . Peter? Can you hear me?"

Peter blinked and jumped back, nearly falling backwards in his chair. Sticking onto the desk for stability, he discovered that the screen had gone blank and he was very nearly hyperventilating. The last few seconds of imagery must have come straight from his own memories.

Why did he keep reacting to the incident like this? He didn't like falling into those sorts of flashbacks, and he couldn't afford them now. Both Taskmaster and Amadeus were staring at him questioningly. If he was supposed to be separate from Spider-Man, what reason did he have for being so scared of that video?

"What just happened? What's wrong with you?" Amadeus asked oh so politely. Not.

"There is something you may not know about your classmate," Taskmaster said softly. "I'm sorry, Peter. I knew this might be hard for you to see, but I didn't realize it would be this bad. Do you mind me asking why this video is so disturbing? Did Shield do the same thing to you?"

There it was, the suspicion Peter was dreading. He had to keep his secret, but now he had to explain this too. It was impossible!

Yet he didn't care that it seemed impossible. The word 'impossible' meant nothing to him at this point in his life. If he could do the impossible when he saved the world, then he could do it here to save his small slice of the world, his only family left.

This was a bad day like any other. A bad guy was being bad, and Peter needed a plan to stop him. A plan. Yes, he could make a plan. He could do that. The first step to making a plan was to understand the problem. All the problems.

So, what were his problems?

Taskmaster knew he had spider powers, and may or may not know he was Spider-Man.

Either way, he probably wanted to recruit Peter to the Thunderbolts.

Peter couldn't join the Thunderbolts because he would eventually end up needing to fight, and he didn't want to fight his friends. Not to mention that Taskmaster would surely recognize his classic moves.

Before he even got to fighting, Peter had already made the mistake of absolutely freaking out with this video, so his little PTSD episode needed to be explained as well.

All in all, he needed a cover story that let him be a spider man without being the Spider-Man, with details to make Taskmaster less interested in using him for battle.

He could . . . Peter could work with this. Yes. This was just like all those times he spoke to his friends after major superhero events. All he had to do was lie. He'd already lied when he said he got his powers after Yaeger left Midtown. That was a starting point he could use.

Peter could feel his heartbeat slowing as he finally regained his breath to speak. He had a plan now. A very nebulous plan, but a plan nonetheless, and it was going to give him a chance to get out of here alive without needing to fight anyone.

"I'm sorry," Peter began slowly. "Is Amadeus allowed to know about my . . . Um—you know?"

Taskmaster nodded. "There are no secrets here. All of our members know about each other's abilities. We're all friends here. In fact, I was going to ask you to tell me more about your powers. I try not to invade your privacy too much, but I do need to know enough to accommodate any special needs."

Holding in a snort at the idea of friends in this place, Peter got his thoughts in order. "Okay, so . . . that video was hard for me because I . . . I've been scared of something like that happening to me. It wouldn't be Shield's fault though. I mean . . . it's the way I got my powers." Come on, his speech was too irregular. He sounded unsure. He needed to make this sound believable.

"And how did you get your powers?" Taskmaster gently coaxed.

"What powers?" Amadeus butt in. "What are you talking about?"

Taskmaster looked at him sternly. "Let Peter speak. This may be important." He turned back to Peter. "Did Shield experiment on you?"

"No, I told you it wasn't Shield. It was Green Goblin." Peter took a deep breath like people in movies did when they were about to explain something difficult. "He kidnapped me months ago. I'd been his son's best friend for years, you know Harry Osborn, and Mr. Osborn . . . he always liked me more because I was such a nerd. When he became the Green Goblin, he decided he wanted to adopt me like a son, but I had to prove myself first in his sick, twisted way." This was a good spot to pause. Actors always paused before elaborating. Black Widow said it made your listeners more interested in your story so they forgot to be dubious.

At Taskmaster's encouraging nod, Peter continued. "Goblin injected me with a new kind of that symbiote creature, Venom. You know about it, right? Well, he put that in my blood and it hurt and . . . things get a little blurry after that. He ordered me to go kill Spider-Man, and the symbiote thing made me obey. It was hard to think. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but it didn't really care about what I wanted." Could he squeeze a tear out here? Yes! Ooh, he would have been a great actor.

Wiping the semi-fake tear away, Peter took another breath, trying not to sound too dramatic. Overselling was a very real and very bad thing. "So the symbiote forced me to go hunting for Spider-Man against my will. Thankfully, as you both know, I didn't really get to hurt him and he's fine today. He's one of the ones who helped get me away from the symbiote. He and his team stopped Goblin, and my little adventure was supposed to be over. It sort of was, for a few days."

It felt dangerous to skirt around the truth like this. Part of Peter was afraid that he was getting too close to the truth and was only helping Taskmaster figure it out. But Fury had once told him that the only way to simulate truth was with literal truth. If people could verify parts of your story with their own memory and research, then they're more likely to believe the whole story. People rarely question their own memories and beliefs.

Well, here was some more truth. Peter could already feel more absolutely fake and not-real tears coming.

"I got sick. Very sick. I hurt all over and had a fever and I slept for a whole day. I thought I was going to d—d—" He couldn't help but shiver at the thought, folding his arms tight. This was getting too close. It was time to move on. "A—anyway, I woke up and I felt a lot better. Too much better. My asthma was gone and I could see without my glasses or contacts. And I was strong. And sticky. It didn't take me long to realize I had spider powers like Spider-Man." There, now he had explained just enough to allow himself to use his strength in escape without anyone being shocked.

Amadeus's eyebrows shot up, nearly getting lost in his dark bangs. "You mean the Goblin discovered how to give people spider powers?"

"N—not exactly." This was the trickiest part. Peter had to make this sound like a one-off deal or else Taskmaster would sell this info and a lot of people would be experimented on for nothing. "The symbiote wasn't supposed to give me lasting powers. It never was. But . . . my body was weak. Or defensive, I guess you could say? The Shield doctors explained it to me afterwards. I had a sort of allergic reaction to the symbiote, so the only way it could stay in my system without my body attacking it was for it to become a part of me. It changed my DNA so it was no longer seen as foreign."

Peter looked away and hugged himself tighter to buy himself some time. Now that he was up to this part of his story, it seemed a lot harder. He needed more details, more bad things that would make even a villain like Taskmaster think Goblin's method was a bad idea. As it was, Yaeger was looking a little too interested.

"You're saying that the symbiote embedded some of its powers into you because your body was overly sensitive to it?" Taskmaster clarified. "I'm sure very few people would have that reaction."

There it was. Taskmaster was already scheming. Okay, what could Peter say to squash that? "Um—yeah, the doctors said it was literally a one in a million chance. But, because my body was weak, there was a one in a hundred chance of me surviving the changes." There, those numbers sounded believable and bad. In fact, Connors had guesstimated the second probability himself when Peter explained his true power origins.

Yup, those numbers hadn't freaked him out at all.

"What a lucky young man," Taskmaster said, and it might have been Peter's imagination, but he could have sworn there was a keen glint in his eyes.

Okay, so Peter needed to make this sound even worse. What was so terrible about the process? What was bad about having these powers?

Hey, hadn't he been obsessed with that topic for weeks now? A burst of inspiration had words flying out of Peter's mouth again.

"Lucky? Me?" He exclaimed loudly, angrily. "You're still missing half the story. Sure, it seemed cool at first. Who doesn't want to be fast and strong? And having sticky hands and feet can be fun too. Shield connected me to Spider-Man and he gave me a crash course in using my new powers. He was the first to suggest I join his team. I was too scared then, but the idea of being a part of something like that when I was ready . . . I thought I could be a hero too. I thought I could be just like Spider-Man." For a bit of flair, Peter abruptly softened his tone. "But I'm not like Spider-Man, and I never will be."

"What happened to make you think that?" Taskmaster gently prodded.

This was getting better and better. Peter could see the pieces clicking together into a perfect cover story. The only issue was that it was getting hard to hide his relief. He needed to seem sad now. "The way the symbiote changed my DNA, it—it didn't do it right, or maybe I could never be perfect. Either way, I . . . I changed a few more times. The spider DNA spread further. Not much changed physically except for these." Peter raised a wrist and pulled the skin a little to show the slit. Taskmaster had already mentioned his spinnerets, so there was no use trying to hide them. "I developed these spinnerets in my wrists. I went to Spider-Man about them, hoping he had them too and he could show me how to use them. He tried to be nice about it, when he explained that he'd never seen anything like them before. I think—I think they made him a little nauseous though. I didn't have much control then and the inside of these things . . . aren't pretty."

Oh yeah! This would definitely sell the idea that he and Spider-Man were completely separate people!

Taskmaster hummed thoughtfully. "This occurred months after your initial incident?"

Peter nodded slowly in an attempt to look melancholy. "They took a while to develop," he said.

"Wait a minute," Amadeus said, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You said that not much changed physically. What about, like, mentally or whatever?"

There it was! Peter had hoped one of them would notice. This was the final piece, the part that would hopefully make him seem absolutely useless. "I . . . developed these instincts that Spider-Man doesn't have. You see, real spiders are . . . cowards. They run and hide and stay curled up in the dark all day. That's what they do, and that's what I want to do. I can fight against the instincts most of the time, especially when I feel safe with my friends. But when bad things happen around me—"

"Like when Electro and Rhino attacked the school recently?" Amadeus interrupted.

"Um—yeah—like that. When those things happen I just bolt. I can't help it." This was going to be embarrassing even if it wasn't true, but he needed to sell his point. "I—With Electro, I hid in a school closet for hours. And with Rhino I just—I ran home." He looked away and rubbed his arm. "That's why I'll never be a hero. I'll never be able to help anyone."

And that was the end of his performance. Everything was out on the table now.

He watched Taskmaster out of the corner of his eye. Yaeger looked pensive for a long moment. Peter kept up a mantra of 'Please believe me' in his head.

It wasn't Taskmaster he needed to worry about though.

"Seriously?" Amadeus asked. "Your DNA changed your mind? This is incredible! This proves where instincts come from! They really are built into our genetic makeup!"

Peter's mouth opened, but no sound came out. While not untrue, what Amadeus was saying was sort of off topic.

"So," Amadeus continued with scientific curiosity. "If I jumped out and scared you, would you jump on the ceiling and run away? Despite the fact that I pose very little threat?"

"Um—yeah—maybe—I mean, sometimes my friends do that and even though I feel like running away, I can usually trust them enough to stay, but—"

"Is there anything else?" Amadeus pressed. "Do you want to eat insects or make webs?"

Internally cursing Amadeus, Peter debated how to respond. On one hand, he didn't want to give away everything, but on the other he needed to make himself more spidery than Spider-Man. "I—uh—well—yes. Yes for both. I'm not proud of it, but I can't—I can't help it—"

"And your spinnerets are fully functional? Let me see." Amadeus unexpectedly grabbed Peter's hand and jammed a finger unnecessarily forcefully into the slit. It hurt a lot. A lot a lot. Peter pulled his arm away roughly and hissed before he could stop himself. When he realized what he'd done, he decided to knock his chair over and start backing up into a corner to emphasize his earlier point about cowardice.

Amadeus jumped back too, looking thoroughly startled by the reaction. There was a part of Peter that noted his fear, realized it was one of the first times anyone had ever been scared of his hiss, and that part of him felt quite vindicated.

The rest of him was not so content.

"I—I'm sorry," Peter said meekly, rubbing his wrist. "It's just that it hurt and—I'm sorry."

"How interesting," Taskmaster spoke up at last. "Spider-Man hisses as well. Perhaps you two aren't as different as you think."

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Peter needed to convince him now or all hope would be lost! His brain was out of coherent ideas, so he let himself ramble in the hopes that a fraction of what he said would work. That's how he stumbled upon most of his good jokes. Why couldn't it work here too?

"Oh, sure, the two spider people hiss and climb walls so they're identical. Did you not hear everything I just said? Spider-Man got all the good powers, the ones that are actually useful, while I got all that and the baggage of instincts which don't let me do anything right! While he gets to go out and be a brave and perfect superhero, I have to struggle just to keep my powers a secret, and look how well that turned out!" He stopped for breath, thoroughly caught up in the emotions of the moment and the lingering pain in his spinneret. He hoped the small organ wasn't injured. It would take Dr. Connors some time to learn how to treat a broken spinneret, let alone whatever mad scientists Taskmaster might have on call.

"So Spider-Man has none of these instincts?" Amadeus asked, regaining his rampant curiosity.

"No," Peter answered more harshly than he meant to. Why did Amadeus have to keep interrupting with these questions? "Trust me, I pestered him about it for days. He tries to understand, at least. I appreciate that. But he's never had to deal with any of it like I have."

Amadeus barely let Peter finish that sentence before starting his own. "What about after whatever happened in that video? He was turned into a spider monster. Surely he developed your instincts then. That's why you were so afraid of it, right? Because it ruined your hero?"

Peter was forced to hesitate, and he hoped Taskmaster didn't take that the wrong way. "He . . . Spider-Man told me something like that had happened to him, but he didn't remember much of it. Whatever happened, nothing stuck. He went back to normal. I was only afraid of the video because—because that's what I've always been scared might happen to me. When the mutations kept coming . . . I was afraid they would keep going. They shouldn't, not anymore, but my subconscious never listens to reason. I've had nightmares . . ."

Amadeus was already opening his mouth again when Taskmaster spoke first. "I see. This does explain a lot. Thank you for sharing. But perhaps we should get our conversation back on track. I was going to explain the video, and your observation about Spider-Man is exactly what I feared. Shield has refined their experiments to the extent that the subjects don't usually remember them. In this case, I believe they were attempting to turn the loose cannon that Spider-Man is into a trainable beast." Taskmaster let that sink in for a moment before asking, "Peter, exactly what did Spider-Man remember?"

"Uh—very little. He said that most of what he knew was told to him afterwards, but . . ." Peter took a breath. Here went nothing. "He remembered who did it to him, and it wasn't Shield. It was Kraven and Taskmaster." He remembered at the last minute that Taskmaster had only appeared as Yaeger so far here, and the students of Midtown had never been told his true identity, so he couldn't simply accuse Yaeger outright.

Yaeger laughed. "Of course he would think that. Taskmaster is my pseudonym, and Shield has used every opportunity to make me seem like the bad guy."

Amadeus nodded.

Oh rats, why was Amadeus believing this guy? Why couldn't he pester Taskmaster with a million questions too?

"Now, Amadeus, would you like to tell us a little about yourself? And Peter, please sit down again. Neither of us will touch your spinnerets."

Peter approached his chair cautiously as Amadeus gladly told his own story about what a genius he was and how his brain went unappreciated in every school he went to. A few experiments gone wrong shouldn't be a reason to expel such an exceptional student, Amadeus insisted, but that's exactly what they did, so he had to transfer every year, or even every few months. Until, of course, he made a rip off Stark mini reactor that blew up an entire wing at his last school. Then he was officially banned from nearly every school in the U.S. except for Midtown at the behest of Shield.

Or something like that. Amadeus's real explanation was a lot longer, but Peter found his focus drifting.

When he first walked into this office, Peter had thought that Taskmaster was the only one he needed to worry about. Surely his fellow kidnapped student would be on his side. Yet now it sounded like Amadeus believed Yaeger's lies, which greatly complicated everything. Peter was forced to accept that he might be alone in his escape. He was already feeling outnumbered. His spider sense had begun buzzing softly since Amadeus hurt his spinneret.

His suspicions were confirmed when Amadeus started tying Yaeger's ideas into his own experiences. Shield had seemed awfully adamant about him going to Midtown, even though some schools abroad still hadn't banned him. And they told him that a job was waiting for him once he finished school. Obviously they were waiting for him to reach his full genius potential before mind controlling him.

How much more gullible could you get?

Even more surprising, Amadeus said he believed that the Iron Spider suit was being misused by Spider-Man, so he'd tried to take it, using the plan he overheard from Yaeger to facilitate his theft. The only thing that stopped him was the taser in the keyboard.

Now Peter understood the singed fingertips. He would have felt more sorry for Amadeus if he wasn't making his life more difficult.

"Well," Taskmaster said when Amadeus was done. "I'm glad we all understand each other now, and I'm glad you can be safe here. I think you'll find our small group much more hospitable than a public school. You won't need to hide who you are here. I've accrued many resources for your benefit, Amadeus. And Peter, I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable about your instincts once you meet some of our other members."

Other members. Great. How many more people had fallen for this poppycock?

(How many people would he be up against?)

(And also: heh, poppycock. His brain never failed to find humor under pressure.)

"Wait a second," Peter said as Yaeger started to stand. "You never officially asked us if we would join your Thunderbolts team or whatever. What if we don't want to? What if we can't?"

"Then you don't have to," Taskmaster replied simply. "I'm offering you protection for free. The others chose to help in my cause so I could find more like you, but the choice will be yours just as it was for them. Bear in mind, however, that if Shield ever finds out about us, you may need some formal training to protect yourself." He went to the door and opened it, gesturing for his two 'guests' to follow. "Come, I'll take you back to your room so you can get comfortable before dinner. You'll meet everyone else there."

Peter looked down at himself, just now realizing that he was still wearing his slacks, button-down, and tie. It really wasn't very comfortable to wear them for . . . however long he'd been wearing them.

He hated underground bunkers. They didn't let you tell time right.

At least the team was probably already looking for him, he reassured himself as he followed Taskmaster back to the shared room. He'd been the star at the science fair. People were bound to notice he was missing. Clues might be hard to come by since Taskmaster had organized the kidnappings, but they always found him. And if it took a while, Peter had hopefully bought himself some time with his story.

Yeah. It would work out in the end. It always did.

Forcefully keeping himself calm, Peter rubbed at his right spinneret again. The pain was easing up now, so maybe it would only be bruised? He wasn't sure if the area could bruise anymore, but both of his spinnerets were starting to feel tense anyway. All of him was, but he could actually do something about his spinnerets. When he was done with his right, he went to his left and—

His thumb pressed against something hard wrapped around his wrist.

His eyes widened hopefully before he schooled his expression.

His communicator! How could he have forgotten?! Since Taskmaster didn't think he was an official agent, he hadn't bothered checking if Peter had any communication devices! Thank goodness for cloaking abilities!

Nearly giddy with relief, Peter dampened down his happiness and joined Amadeus in listening as Yaeger told them there were clothes in the closets and bathrooms on the other end of the room. Peter offered a shy goodbye to Yaeger as he closed the door, and he heard the faintest of clicks from within. It was fine if the door was locked. Peter only had to worry about cameras or microphones now. He glanced around as subtly as he could, straining his ears to hear the telltale buzz of electronics. Aside from the constantly droning ventilation system, it was quiet, so the room didn't appear to be bugged.

"So," Amadeus said into the silence. "That was a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it," Peter replied, not quite able to keep the wryness from his voice. He glanced at Amadeus. "Do you believe Yaeger?"

"Not completely," Amadeus admitted to Peter's surprised relief. "But it does make some sense. In any case, I'm going to be using these resources to my advantage. What about you?"

Peter decided on the truth here. "Every one of my instincts is telling me to get out of this place. Something isn't right here."

Amadeus had the audacity to snort, which made Peter bristle. "I'm sorry, but you're the one who said you jump at your own shadow. You might be exaggerating here."

"I never said I jump at my own shadow. Surprises can startle me, yes, but for a full-on sense of danger? Something has to be going wrong."

That made Amadeus pause. "How accurate has this sense of danger been so far?"

"Very. I told you I was never around to see any of the school attacks. This is why."

"Okay then. I'll just set myself up with the Iron Spider suit when I can. If we need to get out of here, that thing will make it a piece of cake."

Amadeus said it so mildly, it took Peter a second to realize he had just suggested an escape plan. "Oh, okay, that's—that sounds like a plan."

"It's not a plan, only an idea," Amadeus corrected. Then his expression changed. It wasn't quite soft, but it wasn't cold either. "Have you really had nightmares similar to the video Masters showed?"

Oh, right, Yaeger had explained his name to be Anthony Masters. Peter needed to keep up with all these aliases. "Yes."

Amadeus nodded in approval. "I'd be afraid to lose my rational mind too."

Everything about Amadeus was starting to get on Peter's nerves. His superior attitude and his rampantly cold curiosity and this idea that he could actually approve of someone else's fears. Peter immediately wanted to contradict him. "Spiders aren't necessarily irrational. They do everything for a reason."

"Yes, but those reasons are food and survival. Higher reasoning would be lost. Since you already have these instincts, there must be a part of you that cares nothing about society and science, a part that only cares where to find your next meal and that nobody tries to kill you along the way."

Peter's mouth opened to respond, but he couldn't settle on something to say. Amadeus was both right and wrong. A large part of spiders did revolve around those basic instincts, but Peter had proof that there was more to their little lives. Phoebe cared about society and science and all sorts of other things. And Peter did too. Aside from the Savage Lands, he'd never focused solely on survival—

And yet, didn't he? Whenever his life was in true danger, didn't every part of him hone in on that one need to stay alive? The need to come home?

But that was different. It had to be. Aunt May had approved when he managed to evade Kraven last time. She said it was okay . . .

And—and pure humans liked to survive too. Every superhero fought tooth and nail sometimes to stay alive. Right?

"Don't you want to survive too?" Peter asked him, because although he was sure that ordinary humans fought to survive, Amadeus seemed to consider himself different everyone else.

"Of course I do, don't be ridiculous. But I don't just run and hide every time. I assess the situation and react accordingly."

Oh . . . of course. Normal people didn't always need to fight the immediate instinct of running away.

No, wait, why was he thinking like that? Peter shook his head slightly. He was buying into his own story a little too much.

Amadeus gave him a once over as if appraising him. "I don't think I've ever spoken to a mutant before. It'll be fascinating to see what you can do! And I can't wait to understand how animal instincts manifest in a brain that was originally human." He inclined his head slightly in a highly diluted version of his ancestors' respectful bows, and went to find his bunk.

Peter stood there for a long moment. Never before had anyone simultaneously described and offended him so thoroughly.

He had never felt more inhuman than he did right now.

But . . . he had things to do. Clothes to change into . . . a communication device to test . . . his survival to plan . . .

Yeah, he was planning it. Assessing his situation like a human. He was human. He couldn't let Amadeus change his mind. He had to stay positive.

Pushing down the hurt and fear, he checked again for any recording devices. He even went to the tiny closet under his bunk and opened it. Inside were some T-shirts and pants of varying colors. Peter pretended to be searching through them as he turned on his communicator.

It was working. Good. He hadn't expected it to be broken, but a lot could happen while you're unconscious.

Next step, was there a signal? Peter waited with bated breath as it scanned, a little animated Shield logo spinning to indicate it was searching . . . searching . . .

Blocked.

Peter sighed frustratedly. There wasn't simply a lack of a signal down here, the Shield frequencies were actively being blocked. It made sense. He was in enemy territory. But, hey, a guy could dream.

He fiddled with the frequencies to be thorough. Only two worked down here, and both were for Taskmaster's people to communicate. Maybe he could figure out some way to use those later, but for now he had to pick his battles. He'd already won one anyway, possibly. There was no sign that Taskmaster knew his real connection to Spider-Man.

Yet.

No, nope. Stay positive. He would be fine. His aunt would be fine. Phoebe would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

Even Amadeus, whom Peter was feeling more and more inclined to let rot down here.


Everything was wrong.

Students weren't supposed to be stuck in a classroom on a Saturday morning. Students weren't supposed to vanish without a trace. Students weren't supposed to have to deal with any of this.

Luke sighed. He knew all of those arguments were useless since he wasn't only a student. He was a hero. He had responsibilities in this mess.

He just wished Shield would let him do something already!

It had been hours since they realized Peter had been kidnapped by Taskmaster. The entire gym had been cleared out to allow professional Shield investigators to search for clues. Some guests had been asked to wait in various classrooms for questioning, but even the most observant witnesses weren't very helpful.

Luke wanted to be helpful. He wanted to get out there and do something. Maybe he wasn't a trained detective, but he knew Taskmaster as well as anyone. He could figure some things out! He could break into all of Taskmaster's known hideouts. Sam could fly in search of the van. Ava could track Pete down. And Danny—

"Calm down, everyone. Panic is as useful here as it is in battle."

Danny was able to keep them from making any rash decisions.

The other members of the team stopped pacing or fiddling with items or generally acting antsy. Luke stopped pacing and returned to the desk he had already dented when they were first told the situation. Ava stopped pacing near the window, shooting one last glare at the squirrel outside that had been there the entire time. Sam stopped juggling the little knick knacks left on the teacher's desk, causing half of them to fall on his head.

"How did we let this happen?" Ava asked angrily. "Fury himself was in charge. How did this happen?"

"That is what the investigators will find out," Danny answered gently.

"But why didn't we notice that Pete was missing?" Ava pressed.

"We were looking at the other projects as well. We were not on duty."

"What happened to constant vigilance? Our Shield training doesn't go away just because we're off the clock."

"There were plenty more vigilant agents on duty, many of which were incapacitated by Taskmaster."

Ava growled, the pitch of it deep and serious. "Stop explaining away everything! We're supposed to learn from any mistakes!"

"It is admirable to learn from other's mistakes, but do not take them on as your own."

"Ava," Luke interrupted, refocusing her wrath. "I completely agree with you, but we all know Shield protocol. Investigators first, agents later. We always need some sort of upper hand with Taskmaster, and any clues may help."

"Plus," Sam chipped in, "we're already failing the one task they did give us."

"Well, that is a battle that we cannot win," Danny admitted meekly, making everyone smile, even if it was without true mirth.

"Will you please just stay in here!" someone shouted from outside their classroom. The door opened, and May Parker marched in resignedly for the fourth time. "We can't give you info we don't have, so please be patient!" The exasperated Shield agent slammed the door.

The team had been assigned to 'comfort' Mrs. Parker, which was to say that they were supposed to keep her out of the way while everyone did their job. Simple in theory, but nearly impossible in practice. When May Parker wanted to do something, she intended to do it. She lived by Yoda's words: "Do or do not, there is no try."

May turned to them, her eyes glistening. Luke had never seen them so shiny except when she was sick. He figured this was the phenomena mentioned in most stories he read: eyes wet with unshed tears.

"Fury promised he'll come soon so long as I stay put," May said. "But in the meantime, I did overhear some information."

Just like that she had everyone's rapt attention. "What did you hear?" Sam asked.

May cleared her throat. Her voice was full of forced calm, as if she was just another Shield agent relating facts. "I was able to watch some of MJ's interrogation, but she was hiding something. I'll need to speak to her privately after this. But I do know that she did see Peter hiss, so she must be aware that something is different about him."

Luke grimaced for Peter. He was going to freak if MJ was suddenly in on his secret. Fury wouldn't be happy either having to deal with a reporter in training. But there was a more pressing implication to be dealt with. "Does that means that Peter hissed in front of Taskmaster too?" he asked, and May nodded. "Aw man, so Taskmaster must know too!"

"But Taskmaster said he would never deal with Spider-Man again," Ava said quietly. "He said he would kill Spidey."

May's tough facade was cracking. "Kill him? He said—? Oh god . . . But MJ said that Taskmaster didn't seem to harm Peter except—unless he really—or—"

One moment May was standing upright and defiant, the next she was collapsing like a ragdoll. Luke pushed aside his desk chair, rushing forward and catching her right side. Sam caught her left side. Ava and Danny came closer too.

"I'm sorry!" Ava said. "I didn't think—I should have—"

Danny laid a hand on her shoulder. "Those were hard words to hear, but we did need to hear them. We need to be aware of the urgency of this rescue mission."

Ava shook her head. "I'm too blunt. I'm always so harsh."

"That is your strength."

"It's a curse on others."

"Ava . . ." Danny actually seemed at a loss for words, so he did the next best thing: enveloped her in a hug. Ava normally squirmed out of hugs, but she stayed this time. That made Luke wonder how much she believed that Taskmaster was going to kill Peter. And how soon it might happen. Even if that was Taskmaster's endgame, he might keep Peter alive for some purpose or another. Maybe to teach him about the Iron Spider suit. Except . . . he had Amadeus to figure it out for him. Maybe . . .

Maybe.

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat. It was hard to think that there was a chance that Peter was already dead.

May's eyes started to flutter back open, though she still seemed dazed. "My boy," she mumbled. "My sweet little boy."

"We'll find him," Sam told her softly. "Pete is a smart cookie. He can figure something out. And—and he has a few new tricks up his sleeve. They helped him last time, and they can help him again."

Oh, that was right. Peter's venom. The thought gave Luke hope in an uneasy sort of way.

Taskmaster wouldn't be expecting venom, and the unexpected was the only way to get him.

He just hoped Peter had the courage to bite Taskmaster.

No, that was too harsh. He knew Peter didn't want to bite anyone ever again. Luke rescinded that last hope and settled on a new one, a hope that Peter would do whatever it took to stay safe.