AN: Hello and welcome! I hope everyone is excited for a new chapter of Excelsior! This chapter was so much fun to write and I hope you all get just as much enjoyment out of reading it.
I also want to take a moment to thank each and every person who has fav'd and followed this story. I love you all so much and I hope that you keep on reading. Make sure to leave plenty of comments :)
As always, eternal thanks to my lovely beta annbe11. If anyone here has an interest in the world of Aladdin and in tigers, be sure to check out her story Rajah's Curse. It's a great story that needs a lot more readers.
Quirk Potion Number 8
Three Weeks Later…
Tony Stark's Workshop, Stark Tower
Peter stared through the lens of the microscope, quick tempoed jazz playing from the cell phone sitting nearby on the workbench. His gaze was fixed on the small sample of adhesive he had placed under the microscope some time ago. His anxious hands kept moving, spinning a pen around his fingers before clicking the nib out and then repeating the movement again. Still, he watched and waited. When the bonds between the particles of adhesive began to dissolve and break, Peter's eyes snapped to his watch and then to the open notebook beside him.
"Sample of formula two-point-one now manages to maintain adhesive bonds for twenty-five minutes," he muttered to himself as he jotted down notes. "Huge improvement over two-point-oh, but still not long enough to make a viable capture tool against criminals. Sizable chance that bonds would dissolve before arrival of police.".
Peter put down his pen and scratched his head, staring at the new version of the adhesive formula he had made. The focus of version two was to increase the time before bonds broke down. Peter was hoping to increase time to at least one hour so that he could focus on adhesive strength for version three.
The formula had improved dramatically during his time with Tony, but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. Something that should be right in front of his face. Something…
Peter groaned and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. He had been staring at that microscope for way too long and it was time for a break. He replaced his glasses and walked away from the workstation, swiping his cell phone on the way.
Out of the many perks that came with working for Tony Stark, one of Peter's favorites had to be the new phone. Tony had taken one look at the old flip phone Peter owned and had almost had a heart attack. Less than five minutes later, all of the information on Peter's phone had been transferred to a super-advanced Stark Industries cell phone. Its body was a bizarre transparent slate with a protective border around it, but all interfaces and screens were holographically projected onto the slate surface. It had amazing sound quality, incredible battery life, and could download an entire music album in about a second and a half. It was also piggybacked onto a coverage plan for Stark Industries so that essentially meant that Peter had unlimited talk and text until Tony decided to fire him.
Another great perk of working with Tony was that he always kept snacks in stock. One corner of the workshop that was relatively free of scientific equipment had a fridge and a few cabinets filled with chips, sodas, and other foods. Everything necessary to keep a super-genius going. After searching through the cupboards, Peter sat down with a candy bar and an apple for a well-deserved break.
Peter had been coming to Stark Tower three afternoons a week for the last three weeks. In that time, his technical knowledge had practically exploded. He sucked up every kind of lesson that Tony had to teach him, from thermodynamics and organic chemistry to soldering and alloy creation. It had been a truly incredible experience to spend so much time here working alongside Tony. Granted, Tony Stark wasn't always the perfect teacher. He tended to have a bit of a sink-or-swim mentality toward his lessons. It was just a good thing that Peter was able to swim most of the time. Peter still remembered the warning Tony had given him on his second visit to Stark Tower.
"Kid, I am the Number One Pro-Hero and CEO of a multinational company. On top of that, I am a genius billionaire philanthropist. My time is literally worth thousands of dollars. I am not Google and I am not Wikipedia. If you have a problem, I want you to at least make an effort to find the answer on your own. If you come to me with a question you could easily figure out, I will ignore you. Worse, I will judge you. Now let's get to work."
And being able to work on devices, concepts, and formulas next to Tony Stark was a dream come true for Peter. Of course, one of Peter's biggest dreams - and he had said as much to Tony - was to get a look at the inner workings of the Iron Man suit. Tony had just laughed and moved on with the current lesson.
One day… One day I'll get a look inside that suit.
Today, however, had been a bit different. When FRIDAY had picked him up from school, she had passed along a message that Tony wouldn't be around tonight. In fact, the message had been a recording of Tony that said 'Hey kid. Sorry I can't be there with you today. Got this super big villain hideout raid going on. Might get exciting. Might not. Just do some independent study for today. I left your web chemicals on the counter and there's a sandwich in the fridge. See you later. Have fun, kid.'
Peter had checked. There was no sandwich.
And now here he was. He'd spent much of the afternoon and early evening working on his dad's formula and it was coming close to the time when FRIDAY would give him a ride home. In fact, he was just pondering if he would be able to convince FRIDAY to stop and get a burger on the way home when the AI suddenly spoke to him.
"Hey, Peter. Just wanted to let you know that the boss just got back. He's upstairs in the penthouse if you still wanted to talk to him."
Peter smiled as he took the last bite of his apple and tossed his trash in one of the bins.
"Thanks, FRIDAY. I'm on my way up."
One short elevator ride later, Peter walked into the penthouse apartment. The large open living room had an absolutely stunning view of Empire City, especially during sunset. Peter looked around the room and saw Tony sprawled on one of the couches. He was dressed in a black bodysuit over his weird frame suit and was taking deep shuddering breaths with his hand plastered over his chest. Peter could have been wrong, but he swore that Tony's arms were shaking.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter said cautiously. Tony jolted in his seat and spun his head to face Peter, his eyes wide and panicked.
"Kid?" he asked, looking confused after a moment. "What… what are you doing here?"
Now it was Peter's turn to look confused. "Mr. Stark, it's Friday. I come in on Fridays, remember?"
Tony blinked for a moment before he nodded in understanding.
"Right, yeah. It's Friday."
"Are you okay?" Peter asked, now halfway across the room to Tony. "You look like you're hurt."
"Nah, I'm fine," Tony said with a shake of his head. "I'm good. How's the glue stuff coming?"
"Oh, well," said Peter. "It's coming. I've managed to make version two-point-one last for twenty-five minutes. I'm thinking of a few things I could add to the formula to try and slow down the decay of the bonds, but I think that will need to wait until the next time I come in."
"Cool," Tony said, trying to control his breathing. He stood up from the couch and walked toward a bar set against the other side of the room, causing Peter to notice Tony was limping on his left leg. Tony opened the fridge under the bar and pulled out one of those foreign orange sodas before taking a long pull from it. Peter scuffed his feet against the tiled floor before swallowing any apprehensions he still had. The time was now.
"Hey, Mr. Stark?" he said.
"Ahh," Tony said, lowering the soda bottle. "What's up, kid?"
"I wanted to ask you something. You probably know that the Stark Expo is coming up next week, right?"
"Yeah, I knew that," said Tony. "I tend to keep track of things that have my name on them."
"Right," Peter said. "Sorry. Anyway, you wouldn't happen to have any extra tickets, would you? My friend Ned and I have wanted to go to an Expo together for a really long time." Peter cringed a little and looked off to the side. "I mean, only if you're able. Or you want to. Or-"
"Okay, kid," Tony interrupted, taking another sip from the soda. "Hey, FRIDAY."
"Yes, boss?" the AI asked.
"Would you be a doll and get this kid two VIP passes for the Expo?" he said before draining his soda and tossing it in a bin.
"On it. They'll be in the mail by tomorrow morning," said FRIDAY.
"Thanks, FRIDAY," said Tony. He looked back at Peter whose jaw had now dropped wide open. "Shut your trap, kid. You're gonna catch flies." Peter did so.
"Wow," he said. "Mr. Stark, t-thank-."
"No problem, kid," said Tony, limping into the elevator. "I'm gonna call it a night if that's all the same to you. Looooong day. Grab a soda from the bar before you have FRIDAY drive you back. I'll see you later, kid." With that, he pressed the button and the elevator closed, letting him ascend to the sleeping area on the floors above and leaving Peter standing there like a fool.
It only took another five-point-three seconds before Peter had whipped his phone out and started texting Ned.
The two of them were going to the Stark Expo.
SLA Primary Campus, Salem North
Pleasant, soothing birdsongs echoed through the bamboo garden as the wind whispered through the leaves above. In the middle of a clearing in the bamboo, Jean Grey had been sitting cross-legged on a bed of grass and leaves for most of the last two hours. Her jaw was clenched hard enough to hurt. Sweat dripped from her hair and down the sides of her face. Her fingers were curled into claws and her whole hand shook. She had had a splitting headache for the past half hour, but she kept on going. Jean was determined to win this battle against gravity.
She tried to focus on her breathing, not taking her eyes off of the two barbell weights floating in front of her. She had been expending her energy and effort to keep them floating in the air off and on for her entire lesson and she was determined to break her record. Her eyes darted to the clock sitting next to her on the grass, but her lapse in attention caused the two weights to wobble in the air.
"Keep your focus, Jean," Magneto said from where he sat behind her in the clearing.
"Yes, sir," Jean said, reaffirming her control over the floating weights.
Keep going. Just ten more seconds.
The weights were twenty pounds each, well within her much-decreased weight limit, but what made it difficult was the fact that she was having to focus on two of them. Jean had barely been able to multitask on any object bigger than a notebook for the past year, but things had been different since the Professor helped her take down her barriers. It was like there was a clarity to her mind that she hadn't felt in a long time.
Just when she was feeling confident that she could beat her record for holding these weights, two things happened at the same time. The first one was the metallic CLANG of an identical twenty-pound weight dropping on top of each of the weights she was holding. The second was a physical sensation that Jean could only describe as feeling like someone was trying to yank her brain out through her nostrils.
"Gah!" she gagged as all the barbell weights fell to the ground with dull clunks, entirely out of her hold, and she just barely managed to prevent herself from falling over with them. She closed her eyes against the now pulsing migraine in her head as she also found a dampness on her face.
"Not what I was hoping for," said Magneto as he stood up walked around to face her. "You won't get yourself any stronger by staying within your comfort zone. You have to push through the pain. I know that Charles always has a 'go at your own pace' approach, but the Entrance Exam isn't going to wait until you're ready. You have to go past your limits if you ever want to excel at this school."
"That really hurt, Magneto!" Jean gasped. "My skull feels like it's cracking open!"
"Don't dwell on it, Jean. It's all in your head."
"That's… kind of what I just told you."
"Not like that," he said, rolling his eyes. "Your Quirk is incredibly powerful and is only defined by limits your mind has set for itself." Magneto crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at her. "It's all in your head and you must work to free yourself of those restrictions if you want to fully utilize your Quirk."
Jean finally managed to clear her head and wiped at the dampness around her mouth, only for her fingers to come away red. Her nose was bleeding again. She glared up at Magneto and showed him her fingers.
"Is this all in my head too?" she asked angrily.
"Strengthening you your body against the effects of your Quirk will be just like exercising a muscle" answered Magneto, not looking particularly concerned. "You must work it to exhaustion and break it down before it can become stronger. You have grown far weaker than should have been allowed and we must work harder than ever to build up your strength."
"And what's the use if you kill me while doing it?" Jean demanded, rubbing the blood away from her face. She took a deep breath between standing up in front of Magneto. "I really am trying to get stronger, Magneto. I just don't want to give myself a stroke just for the sake of lifting weights."
"And what will you do when someone else is in danger?" Magneto demanded. "What will you do when an ally has fallen over a ledge or if a building is collapsing on top of you? Will you just curl up into a ball and wail in pain or will you decide to actually act like a hero." Magneto let out a sigh before walking past her. "End program."
All around them, the bamboo garden suddenly melted away. The birdsongs were silenced and the wind ceased to blow. In seconds, the garden had been replaced with a bare room made of metal, projectors on the ceiling and walls whining slightly as they powered down. SLA had many of these hard-light projection chambers, known to the students as Danger Rooms, scattered around the expansive campus. They ranged from a moderately sized room such as this one for small-scale training and recreation to rooms the size of coliseums designed for exercises involving entire classes. This was one of two smaller Danger Rooms in the main mansion of SLA. Before Magneto departed through the door that had just appeared, he stopped and turned back to face Jean.
"If I had my way, I'd have started working with you six months ago, but we don't have the time to take you where you need to be. You need to decide for yourself to start actually living up to the school motto, Jean. 'Go Beyond. Excelsior.' Otherwise, you will fall far short of your potential." After a pause, he walked through the door. "I'll see you at dinner."
"See you," Jean muttered quietly. She shouldered her backpack and left the Danger Room, intent on getting a shower and a change of clothes before dinnertime. As she walked, she thought over Magneto's words.
'Go Beyond'? How am I supposed to go beyond? The only way I'm performing to Magneto's standards is when I've got blood pouring out of my nose. I… I'm not sure I can do what he needs me to do. I should talk to the Professor. Maybe he can talk some sense into Magneto.
Jean set a course for the third floor, pulling a spare shirt out of her bag to wipe her face clean of blood. As she reached the top of the last set of stairs, she checked her reflection in the window and found her appearance to be good enough to converse with people. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the hall and knocked on the Professor's door.
"Come in."
Jean pushed open the door to see Professor Xavier sitting by the fire and reading a read leather-bound book. He looked up and smiled at her.
"Hello, Jean," he said in a welcoming tone of voice. "How are you? It looks like you're working hard with Erik."
Jean swallowed. "Professor," she said. "I want to talk to you about Magneto's training. I think…" She took another breath as her fingers curled into fists. "I think that it might not be the best fit for me."
"Oh?" said the Professor, setting his book aside. "What makes you say that?"
"He's… he's never satisfied with me. No matter what I accomplish, he expects way more than what I'm capable of doing. Every single session ends with blood coming out of my nose." She tried to loosen up a little and ran a hand through her hair. "I just… I just can't keep up with his expectations. I don't think this is the way I should be trained and I was hoping we could figure out a different way I could get trained."
"Hmm," the Professor said, tapping his fingers against the armrests of his hoverchair. "I might need to disappoint you in that regard, Jean."
"What?" Jean asked, her eyes going wide.
"Erik and I discussed at great length what sort of training you should receive and what we came up with was the best plan to make up lost ground and to get you ready for the Entrance Exam."
Jean stared at the Professor, unable to say a word.
"I do understand that this training is hard for you, Jean," he said, guiding his chair closer to her, "but we both agree it is the best way to prepare you. I trust Erik to know the best way to bring out your potential and I promise that his training will all pay off when you make it to the Entrance Exam. Do you understand, Jean?"
Jean swallowed before silently turning around and walking out of the office.
"Jean?" she heard him say. She kept walking.
Jean? she heard in her mind when she reached the end of the hallway. She just shook her head and closed the doors into her mind. She didn't want to talk to him anymore.
As if in a daze, Jean made her way down to the first floor in one of the drawing rooms on the south side of the mansion. There was a comfortable window alcove that Jean liked to sit in and relax. She leaned against the cool glass of the window, looking out at the flower gardens and beyond them to the trees of the expansive estate.
And so she sat there, trying very hard not to think about Magneto or the Professor or-
"Hey, Jean."
Jean came back to the present and turned to face the door, where Scott stood. She gave him a watery smile.
"Hey Scott," she said quietly. Scott started walking toward her. His expression had looked happy, but now it turned worried.
"What's wrong, Jean?" he asked.
She considered telling him that nothing was wrong but turned that down in an instant. She didn't think she could fool anybody right now.
"I had my training with Magneto today," she said as Scott sat down next to her. "Things went overboard again."
"Your nose started bleeding?" Scott asked. When Jean nodded, he sighed and took hold of her shoulders. "Have you talked to the Professor about it?"
"Just came from his office," she answered. "He said he agreed that this was the best way to train me. The best way to get me ready for the Entrance Exam."
"Jean, if this training is hurting you, you shouldn't go so far with it," said Scott.
Now Jean felt confused. "Scott, you said so yourself. We need to train hard so we give a good showing at the Entrance Exam, right?"
"Well, yeah I did, but…" Scott looked askance "Maybe not you, Jean."
"What?" she said in surprise.
"I just… I think you should talk to the Professor about doing the private test. It will be a lot simpler than whatever crazy thing they cook up for everyone else. I…" His hands moved down her arms and he intertwined their fingers. "I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?"
Jean looked down at their joined hands and then looked up into his face, staring at her reflection in Scott's glasses. It was times like this that she really wished she could look into his eyes. What color were they? Sky blue? Stormy gray? Maybe nut brown? Or were his eyes just as red as his optic blasts? Odds were she'd never find out.
Jean looked back down at their hands and gave his fingers a comforting squeeze.
"Okay," she said before giving him a better smile. "I don't want you to worry about me. We can talk to the Professor about me taking the other test."
Scott let out a relieved sigh and kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks, Jean," he said.
Out in the hallway and unknown to the both of them, Magneto stood against the wall listening to their conversation. His fingers drummed on one of the biceps of his crossed arms as the two of them continued to sit by the window.
"Hrrmm," he grunted to himself as he went on his own way. "Need to talk to Charles about this."
One week later…
Empire City
"We're here, Peter!" Ned practically squealed excitedly. "We're actually here!" Peter had to laugh at his best friend, who currently had his face pressed up against the windows of FRIDAY's limo. Outside the vehicle, Peter could see the convention center coming into view, decorated with signs and banners showing that this was, indeed, the Stark Expo. He had a joyful smile of his own, his brain buzzing with excitement and thoughts of the kinds of things they would see today.
Ten years ago, the Stark Expo had been held at a large fairground in The Burbs, a place filled with pavilions and conference halls that showcased the ideas and technologies of the future. That was the Expo that Peter had gotten to attend, but everything had descended into a full-scale battle before he really had the chance to enjoy it. Since then, the Stark Expo had been held in an indoor convention center in Midtown West close to the pier. The Expo was not quite as sprawling as it had been in the past, but it was still one of the international capitals for showing off scientific innovation.
FRIDAY pulled the car up to the curb before her hologram in the driver's seat turned its head to talk to them.
"Alright boys," she said. "Here's your stop. I'll be around, so just give me a call when you want me to come pick you up."
"Thank you!" shouted Ned before opening the door and leaping out of the car.
"Thanks for the ride, FRIDAY," Peter said to the hologram.
"No problem, Peter," she said with a smile. "And if you ever need me for something, just let me know."
"You got it," Peter said before he climbed out of the limo. Ned was some distance on the sidewalk and looked liable to take off running on his own if Peter didn't hurry up after him. Thus, Peter immediately hurried up after him.
If the ticket checker at the gate felt anything was weird about two middle school boys wearing VIP badges, she didn't make any mention of it as she waved Peter and Ned through. As soon as they are through the front gate of the Expo, they are away like a pair of bullets. They ducked around photographers and weaved out of the paths of the packs of people in lab coats until reaching the main floor of the Expo. It looked like an absolute paradise to the two boys. Everywhere they looked there were displays and tiny pavilion exhibits set up to show off new technologies. There was everything one could possibly imagine. From superfoods and advanced medicine to futuristic sports cars and microscopic robots. There were so many things they wanted to see that it was an ordeal just for the boys to figure out where to start.
Donald Menkin hated the Stark Expo. Not only did it come with an enormous workload on his shoulders to organize people and resources toward setting up Oscorp's displays, but the act of being at the Expo was always a lesson in humiliation.
Oscorp was the only company in America that came close to Stark Industries' position as top of the market and everyone knew it. Everyone also knew that Tony Stark and Norman Osborn had a bitter rivalry that stretched back decades. Because relations between the two companies had to remain officially civil, though, Oscorp was still allowed to set up displays for their products at the Stark Expo. Of course, every single time they did Stark Industries made sure to put their most impressive and eye-catching display directly across from the area assigned to Oscorp. Any convention-goers who had even a chance of stopping by to see Oscorp's life-changing genetic research would be immediately taken with whatever mad science experiment Tony Stark had likely thought up the week prior and ignore them completely. This year it was a new type of arc reactor that Stark Industries believed would soon be capable of powering an entire city for at least ten years.
Donald scowled and turned away from the Stark display. Every second spent here was an embarrassment, but Mr. Osborn was adamant that he and the other researchers at the Expo do their damnedest to get attention for Oscorp, no matter what, and that Donald, in his capacity as Mr. Osborn's assistant, stayed on-site to oversee their display and make sure everything ran smoothly.
Currently, Donald was just finishing a phone call with a delivery company whose truck had somehow managed to get lost on the way to the biggest event in the city.
"Look, Alan," Donald snapped into the receiver of his phone while covering his mouth with his free hand, "if that truck does not make it here within the next twenty minutes, you'll be out of a contract. And if we're feeling generous, we won't force you all into bankruptcy on our way out."
He smashed the disconnect button as if it had personally offended him before shoving his phone in the pocket of his suit and running his finger through his hair. The experience of preparing for this particular Stark Expo had been one setback and screw-up after the next. Things were getting to the point that he'd be surprised if his hair wasn't thinner by the end of this week. Just as he was shaking out a few more headache pills from the bottle he kept in his pocket, one of the scientists rushed up to him, his face white as a sheet as his thick brown mustache wobbled pathetically.
"Mr. Menkin, I… I think we have a problem."
"What now, Warren?" Donald demanded. "Haven't you and your colleagues caused Oscorp enough headaches already?"
"Well, sir…" Dr. Warren said, tugging at the collar of his starched shirt before readjusting his thick glasses. The man's hands were shaking and there were drops of sweat trailing down his brow.
"Spit it out!" snapped Donald, crossing his arms. Dr. Warren's reactions were starting to make him nervous. Warren was one of their heads of genetic engineering and was normally an unflappable man. Whatever had him spooked must be… No, he needed to know the situation before he got too far.
"M-my assistant and I were setting up the specimen containers, you see," said Dr. Warren, clasping his hands together to try and stop their shaking. "Something went wrong and a few of the containers got knocked over. We finished setting them up, but it seems like the hatch to one of the containers was damaged. We turned our backs for a few seconds and when we looked again, the hatch was open." Dr. Warren looked at Donald with terror, his pupils as small as the eye of a pin. "Specimen Eight is gone."
Donald's eyes widened. This… this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. The business side of Donald's brain went into overdrive, coming up with ideas and doing a cost-benefit analysis on all of them. He needed to get in touch with Mr. Osborn and get instruction from him. But in the meantime…
"Pack up," he said to Dr. Warren. The man looked confused.
"Mr. Menkin?".
"Pack up everything. Now. The displays. The tables. All of it. We're leaving. I need to call this in." He turned from the doctor and pulled out his phone before Warren suddenly grabbed his arm.
"But we can't leave!" he said frantically. "We need to try and find the specimen!"
Donald snarled and grabbed Dr. Warren by the shirt collar and yanked him close until they were almost nose to nose.
"A specimen created by Oscorp's genetic engineering has just gotten free in an uncontrolled public environment," he snarled quietly. "If anyone in this building gets hurt and it gets tied back to us, it's our heads on the chopping block. Or, to be more specific, yours, Dr. Warren." The man's face somehow managed to get even paler. His bouncing mustache only further emphasized his quivering lip. "All we can do right now is try to get out of here before something happens. The retrieval of your specimen is not important." Warren looked like he was going to offer a meek protest, but Donald silenced him with a glare. "Now, doctor, I highly recommend you shift your priorities toward telling all your coworkers to grab their shit and get everything off the premises as fast as possible. Understand?" The doctor nodded rapidly as Donald released him before he scurried off to inform the others. Donald pulled out his phone and tried to figure out what he was going to say to Mr. Osborn.
Heads were going to roll for this, and he wanted to make sure his wasn't one of them.
Peter and Ned were wide-eyed as they walked through the cluster of exhibits by companies specializing in Hero Support gear. The exhibits are almost all hands-on, some of them manned by researchers and engineers eagerly demonstrating their new devices. There was advanced night vision, a deep-sea diving suit, and a headset that gave you omnidirectional surveillance. Peter was particularly excited when he tried that one, only wishing that the headset could fit over his glasses so he could have a clearer view.
Next on their trip was a visit to the Stark Industries area. Displays of Stark Industries technology dominated an entire corner of the convention floor, where demonstrators showed off new advancements in clean energy generators, smart appliances, and cutting-edge security devices. On the edge of the Stark Industries area, there was a display for the prototype of what could become a city-level arc reactor and the two boys spent a few minutes gushing over the possible implications of technology like this.
Neither of them paid attention to the Oscorp display being rapidly disassembled behind them.
They continued walking down the avenue, stopping to look at and discuss the different pieces of tech they saw. Sometimes they made ideas of what it could be used for while for others they quietly discussed modifications and changes they would make to such a device or concept. All in all, the two of them were absolutely having the time of their lives.
As they came to the center of the avenue, however, they both stopped in front of a particularly extravagant exhibit. Two tower-like structures were arranged six feet apart from one another within a roped-off area and each had an almost bowl-like dish pointing towards each other at the top of those towers. As Peter took in all of the display, his eyes landed on a man in a lab coat working on a tablet while addressing a crowd of people gathered around him. Peter gasped in excitement and began shaking Ned's shoulder.
"Ned! Ned! Do you know who that is?!" Peter said, pointing to the scientist.
"Um…" Ned said in thought as he stared at the man. "I don't think I do. Who is he?"
"That's Dr. Farley Stillwell! He's the premier specialist in the field of neogenics, the study of Quirks. I've read so many of his published studies. This guy is amazing!" Peter grabbed Ned by the arm and dragged him toward the crowd. "C'mon! I wanna see what this thing does!"
By the time the two of them managed to worm their way to the front of the crowd, Dr. Stillwell had started giving a presentation.
"...and thanks to years of research done by myself and my coworkers, we are finally unveiling the device you see before you. The Neogenic Recombinator." He gave a dramatic pause, probably in case any members of the audience were to gasp upon hearing the device's name. "Our research into humanities genetic code has led to the discovery of numerous markers and genes that, if altered in just the right way, can lead to the development of Quirks where none previously existed." Now some members of the audience did gasp, including Peter. He could feel butterflies in his stomach. "Currently, we have had some positive results with using our device on cell samples, but we are still working out a foolproof design to the device and the energy it projects. Once that is completed, we'll move forward to treatment on laboratory animals and eventually to human trials. Who knows? Within the next ten or fifteen years, we could create a treatment that will cure Quirklessness."
As the crowd applauded Dr. Stillwell, Peter felt his stomach drop into the floor. A possible solution to his Quirklessness had been dangled in front of him only to be snatched away as soon as it appeared.
Back by the machine, Dr. Stillwell nodded to a nearby assistant who started tapping on a tablet. Blue energy crackled from the dishes atop the two towers as a platform rose up from the base of the device, lifting a metal capsule high enough to be directly between the two dishes.
"This capsule contains Quirkless human stem cells," continued Dr. Stillwell as what looked like bolts of electricity began to spark from the towers. "When they are exposed to the energy from the Recombinator, we hope to find that they now carry the genetic markers of Quirk development. Andrew, if you would?"
The assistant tapped the tablet again and suddenly blue beams of energy were projected from the dishes, meeting in the middle to coalesce around the capsule. The audience 'oohed' and 'ahhed' for a moment while Peter just stared the capsule currently being blasted with energy. After a few seconds, the beams shut off and the capsule was lowered once again.
Nobody noticed the small black shape that emerged from one of the dishes before ducking out of sight.
Peter and Ned stayed by the display as Dr. Stillwell took a few questions from the crowd. Peter wanted to ask a few questions of his own, but he suddenly found his mouth to be entirely uncooperative. Ned looked between the Recombinator and Peter before shaking his friend's shoulder.
"You wanna take a breather?" he asked when he finally had Peter's attention.
"Y-yeah," Peter said, giving a nod. They walked a bit further down the avenue before they both leaned against one of the thick columns supporting the ceiling high above them. "This is… pretty crazy stuff, isn't it?"
"Totally," Ned nodded. He smiled at Peter and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey man, thanks for bringing us here. I'm gonna remember this day for the rest of my life."
Peter laughed and returned the nudge. "Just wait until we're setting up our own displays here after we graduate. It's gonna be crazy." Peter let out a relaxed sigh and looked around the convention floor. "Wanna go take pictures by the sports cars next?"
"You read my mind, Pete," Ned said with a nod. "You think they'll let us pose for pictures in the-!"
Ned suddenly gasped. When Peter looked at his friend, Ned's face had gone white. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with fear.
"Ned?" Peter asked. "What's wrong?"
"Pete… your hand…"
Peter looked down at his hand and instantly felt panic flood his body. Sitting perched on his hand was an absolutely massive spider. Eight long legs supported an abdomen that was easily the size of Peter's fist. Its body was black and hairless and its exoskeleton seemed to shine in the light. Now that he stared at it, he could feel the tiny, hook-like hairs clinging to his skin as it sat contently on his hand. On the back of the carapace was the number eight written in yellow paint. The most alarming feature of the spider is that it seemed to be faintly glowing. Peter swore that he could see bolts of blue light below its carapace.
Peter desperately tried to control both his breathing and the scream that was desperately trying to break free. His eyes shot toward Ned.
"Ned!" he squeaked. "Help!"
Ned barely hesitated before he began taking off his jacket to swat the spider away. Peter's gaze turned back down to the spider. Every iota of thought was focused on staying as still as he possibly could. He stared down at the creature clinging to his hand and then suddenly found the spider meeting his gaze with its eight beady black eyes. They seemed to stare at one another for a small eternity.
And then the spider bit him.
Peter screamed, jerking his hand and flinging the spider away from him. He clasped his other hand around the bite and screamed again. It felt like somebody had stabbed him with an icicle before setting the wound on fire. His body was in agony. It was as if there were molten metal flowing through his veins instead of blood. His nerves were crying out in pain as he lost his balance and toppled over.
"Pete!" Ned shouted, dropping to his knees next to him.
It hurt. Everything hurt. His vision was swimming. Everything was a haze, even though he didn't remember taking his glasses off. All colors around him dulled and every speck of light suddenly seemed a hundred times brighter.
"Kid! Kid!"
Suddenly there was someone else kneeling over him. He was dressed casually and wouldn't have stood out in a crowd, but it only took a moment for Peter to see through the baseball cap and sunglasses the man was wearing.
Mr. Stark?
Peter opened his mouth to ask what he was doing here but the only thing that came out was the remnants of his breakfast as he vomited onto the floor. He heard Tony yelling for someone to call an ambulance, but it was as if he were hearing everything from the bottom of a pool. His nausea was worsening by the second. He couldn't breathe. His tongue felt too large for his mouth. He shivered and shuddered.
So… cold…
"Kid, keep your eyes on me!" said Tony, holding Peter's chin. "You have to stay focused! Eyes on me!"
Sorry… Mr… Stark…
Peter blacked out.
I just wanted to mention that I made a few changes to the previous chapter. Just making the Stark Expo an annual event and changing a bit of Tony's elevator.