Thinking about changing the rest of Act 1's release schedule to every other week instead of every third once I upload the 'last' chapter of Occultus Angelus. I'll probably take a couple months break from posting anything after that so I can build up another backlog of Tangled Web, as well as anything else I might be working on.
A fun tidbit about runners? Because of all the heat their bodies generated, on cold days sometimes all you needed to stay warm was a vest. A nice, tight vest to help insulate your core while your extremities were regulated by the enhanced blood flow. Said fact was why I was pushing Flash a little harder than normal; his usual pace was barely a warm up for me, so stepping up a mite faster was necessary if I wanted to stave off the chill.
"Hey, Pete," he huffed out between breaths, "can we stop for a bit? My legs are killing me."
"There's a patisserie shop down the street," I said, giving him the decency of rushing my words. After another quick block, I had us lower our pace slightly, granting us (though mostly Flash) the chance to cool down. His breathing was rapidly reaching conversation-able by the time we entered the store. "Any preference on your tea?" I asked, giving an employee I recognized from a different store a happy wave.
Flash shot me a tiny look of annoyance as he grabbed a seat, but answered all the same.
Teens and their energy drinks, I mentally griped. In short order, I joined him at the table, having paid with my smart watch instead of phone or actual wallet (and after a tiny conversation with Carlie, newly entering into college for Forensic Science). Flash fidgeted uncomfortably as we waited for our food, and it only took me a moment to realize why. The store I'd chosen was decidedly a little more 'girly' than what he normally would have gone to, and it certainly didn't help that it was after school when a significant amount of students would be out and about. "Normally I feel like you'd be rizzing them all up," I muttered, keeping my voice quiet enough that those around us wouldn't hear.
"Usually I wouldn't be stinking from a run," he grumbled back just as quietly.
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair and raising a hand when I noticed a different staff member with our order look around hesitantly. "Thanks." The teen blushed and almost skittered back behind the counter. A moment later, I heard Carlie say something excitedly and jokingly slap him in the chest. "Seems we both have fans," I remarked, taking a sip of my freshly brewed tea.
Flash gave me a tiny look but said nothing, taking a sip of his own berry-centric tea.
"Is it worth it for you to hit new weight records?" I asked as I broke apart the slice of banana nut for us.
"Not really. Coach said I'm at that sweet spot where if I bulk up any more, I won't be as mobile as I need to be. Also, 'developing body'." Flash pulled his phone out from his arm band, flicking through a couple times before he placed it on the table and spun it towards me.
I said nothing as it landed the wrong way, merely picking it up and making sure the volume was quiet enough before I started playing whatever he wanted to show me. It was an edited video of Screwball's stream from a week ago, clearly showing that it was a screen capture and not a download of the original footage from wherever it was she streamed. A bunch of the comments were talking about how it was 'clearly' edited, but a handful (outing themselves as locals) talked about how Spider-Man was real and that while he (or she, as some responses were arguing; stupid vocal chords) hadn't shown up in a couple streams, they were definitely real, as leftover webbing could attest to. There were even some videos on the suggested list that showcased a record of all the leftover evidence from Spider-Man's passage.
Flash tilted his phone down a little so he could peek at it, waiting until after the costumed vigilante on screen zipped after the speeding vehicle before speaking. "So? What do you think about him?"
"I think he needs to leave that kind of stuff to the professionals," I answered with a half-truth. "If he's not in on Screwball's actions, then clearly he knows where they try to hit. If he has that info, then he should give it over to the police." I placed his phone down and slid it over, taking another sip of my tea. "And he should be more careful about how he handles stuff. That car he took down happened on a major street. Cindy has to reroute nearly five blocks because of the repairs and traffic that caused."
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I think he's doing a good thing. Police responses take a while, and by the time they show up, like they tend to whenever SM doesn't show up, Screwball and her gang are long gone. As for that car, I think that's his first time ever dealing with something like that, so I think he gets a pass."
"Should all the civilians he's inconvenienced not be troubled if they're late for work or an appointment because of his inexperience? How many days more is that repair gonna take?" I shot back mildly, well aware I was playing devil's advocate on myself. "If Spider-Man wants to do what he does, then he needs to do it by the books, not as a vigilante." I pressed my tongue against my left canine, taking a quick breath to try and calm myself down. "This isn't like the comics, Flash. There's a whole living world around us. Every action a Hero takes has repercussions that don't get to go unnoticed. Besides: even if we did live in a world of heroes, personally, I'd rather have a couple of heroes that take care of the little guy. Be a friendly neighborhood hero, not just a national-international response hero."
I popped the last of my bread in my mouth, savoring the texture of the handful of nuts in the bread as I chewed them. Sometimes it was disturbing how easily a lie flowed from my lips. It was one part habit, one part skill from my previous go around, and it was also something that Cindy had accidentally nurtured across our adventures escaping curfew. But everything I said was something I wholeheartedly believed in. If they were to actually come true, I don't know if I would be willing to go along with them, but rules and procedures were something that I needed to create for myself, sooner rather than later.
Flash huffed and sank in his seat. "Always the realist, Parker," he grumbled, taking a swig of his drink.
I chuckled. "How else am I to do the impossible if I don't know what the expectations are?" I mimed huffing an inhaler, chuckling even more when Flash gave a short laugh of his own. "Think you can handle pushing hard the rest of the way back?"
He made a subtle show of stretching out his legs underneath the table, locking eyes with me as some giggles broke out. "Give me another minute and definitely."
/ - /
Bitch work was what the other interns called it. Doing nothing more than labeling vials, prepping fluids and chemicals for use in experiments down the week, and pulling out petri dishes and examining them one sample at a time.
Lazy and unprepared was what she (privately) called them, especially when grousing to Peter or her non-work friends. When most people thought of working at Oscorp, they expected to be working on top of the line, experimental technologies. Even as college students actually working on their degrees instead of just their general courses, it was a bit of a wakeup call to what such work actually entailed. Nothing more than quiet hours upon hours in the lab of prepping materials, handing them off to someone else more qualified to actually perform (and maybe get to watch if time allowed), and then sometimes going to a different department to aid another project.
It was a terrible environment for someone trying to avoid thinking about home, even if there was a radio in each lab when conditions permitted it.
"Cindy."
She made sure to press the label on the vial down as firmly as she'd done the rest of them before standing up. "Yes, Mr. Smythe?"
Alistair gave one more almost intentionally condescending sneer at her work before speaking. "Redo all of your vials. Your hand writing might get praise outside of a professional setting, but here it will only get annoyance and grievances."
Cindy pursed her lips like one might upon realizing they were sucking on a lemon and not a lime or orange. "Yes, Mr. Smythe." The arrogant bastard of a man gave one tiny 'hm' before stepping out of her lab. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had peeked his head in looking for something and had made the impulse decision to torment her for no reason than he could.
Prick.
But she'd have to do it anyway. Alistair was exactly the kind of jackass to make note of all the different ways he'd try to trouble someone just so he could come back and reprimand them for not acquiescing, regardless of how trifling the remark was.
As head of their overall division of R , it was well known that Doctor Octavius considered the ever growing ant hill of so called infractions and insubordinations as nothing more than 'eventual kindling, should we ever need it', but it was still a pile of reports that would be incredibly troublesome should anyone else with any meaningful amount of pull come across it. A gentle cough pulled her attention away from the set of new labels she was working on.
"Any particular reason you're doing another set, Ms. Moon?"
Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear, so it was said. "Mr. Smythe's request," she said simply, fighting the still-ingrained reaction to bow.
A sigh. "That man. Were it not for his genius in innovation and reverse engineering, he would have been out of here years ago." Doctor Octavius laid an apologetic hand on her shoulder. "I truly must apologize for the work environment Alistair creates. I'll see what I can do to keep him busy and out of everyone's hair." The head of Oscorps R gently pulled the extra set of labels away, scratching out the handful of already used stickers and placing the page at the top of their relevant stack. "Join me for tea, Ms. Moon?"
From anyone else, especially previous bosses, the invitation might have been anxiety inducing. From Doctor Octavius, it was a relief. Tea with the Doctor was a chance to lay bare all your concerns about the workplace, be it coworkers, job demands, or stresses from the outside world. It was a quiet joke among the interns that if their boss hadn't become a scientist, a career in Psychology would have been the immediate second.
The trip to Doctor Octavius' office was long and eventful. As head of Oscorp's Research and Development, the good doctor made it a point of pride to keep up to date on every project within the department's walls. From the genetically modified spiders to the body regrowth experiments of the jellyfish, sharks, and rats; no project was beneath Doctor Octavius' time, and Cindy spent the trek alongside R 's head taking in every bit of information she could as unobtrusively as possible.
Of surprising note was the work within the medical subdivision. While Cindy more than knew her periodic table and chemical compositions of this or that, the way different compounds interacted with biological functions was something that failed to interest her, especially when results were on such fractional level it might as well have been the top ten spots on a speed run leaderboard. She let out a huff at that specific memory, of an accidentally obsessed summer spent over a racing game. Was it fun to pull out the crouching moron, hidden badass card during late night gatherings? It very much was. But still, that was an entire summer of fun that could have been better spent out and about instead of indoors on a couch (surrounded by the two people she cherished the most).
"Psst. Cindy. Doctor Octavius is moving on."
"Thanks, Kathy," she mouthed, silently catching up to the doctor.
No one was ever quite sure who had decided to make the office of Research and Development's head researcher be at the very top of everything, overlooking the main lab floor that was often used to display the most promising experiments to visitors (or shareholders). Some said it was the choice of Doctor Octavius, which was often countered with the wall to wall coverage of the Doctor's fixation of robotic prosthetics within said office, others said it was a result of the petty feud between the Doctor and Osborn. After all, what better way to take a snipe at your long time friend than giving them the best office in their department, which just so happened to be at the top of a near story spiral staircase with no elevator in sight (though there was a small landing for a scissor lift to help transfer things).
As far as tea preferences went, Doctor Octavius' weren't the worst. There were the common flavors: jasmine, mint, earl gray, chamomile; but it was the quality that the Doctor splurged on. Brands that were imported beyond the household expectations, often with their labeling written in their native language. "Tell me, Ms. Moon," Doctor Octavius began as the loose leaves began to impart their essence into the kettle'd water, "has any of our divisions here garnered your interest yet? You've mentioned your current major is biochemistry, yet I hear good things about your efforts in our tech departments."
Cindy mirrored the Doctor's posture, crossing one leg over the other. "True interest?" she clarified, shaking her head. "As I mentioned during our first conversation, I've yet to find something that truly draws me. Biochemistry is interesting and offers a variety of fields should I choose to pursue them, but I have yet to find my calling." She let a small smile grace her face, memories of all the different experiments her brother had dragged her into assisting him with; experiments that often ended in a late night meal to help his increased metabolism and her forgetfulness to eat dinner. "Though I will admit to a passing fancy regarding the bio-engineering and husbandry of the spiders."
Doctor Octavius chuckled. "I'm told that subject 51 in particular holds the majority of your attention, that if it wasn't for your insistence on its liveliness that it would have been returned to the drawing board."
She narrowed her eyes in mild concern, focusing on a mug on the Doctor's desk. "Peter became fascinated by it during his visit here." A lie. But not entirely. "He kept asking me about it ever since his visit, and I suppose his fervor became mine." She met Doctor Octavius' gaze with a small smile. "I suppose I didn't want to come home one day and tell him his favorite part of my day was no longer there."
Doctor Octavius chuckled once again. "No, I suppose not." Another moment passed, and the Doctor began pouring the tea, letting it steam for a few seconds before taking a sip, one that Cindy mirrored. "Speaking of your brother, has he found a focus of his own?"
She held the cup, a simple reddish black thing that lacked a handle, close to her mouth, inhaling the steam and letting its scent briefly fill her mind. "Not yet, no." She allowed a tiny smirk, a fraction of the wry smile she actually wanted to express. "He's still infuriatingly picking up whatever hobby catches his fancy, and learning enough about it that were he thirty years older he would likely have a garage full of all the tools he'd need for whatever craft he desired."
"That boy." Doctor Octavius expressed disapproval (and dissatisfaction, and frustration, and a variety of other emotions that everyone older than Peter who knew about his almost ADHD levels of skill leaping) with a tiny head shake. "How would you feel if I were to extend a brief internship to your brother? A once a week deal or so? I've seen Peter's touch in some of your reports," to that the Doctor gave her a reprimanding look, "and frankly, I think he would fit in quite nicely among our lab. A mind like that, where things are a textbook or three away from becoming near fundamental understanding, shouldn't be wasted away on arts and crafts." Doctor Octavius turned their cup around a few times and gave a quiet hum. "Regardless of how spectacular they might be."
Cindy stared out the front wall, mentally tracing the path of some of the piping infrastructure of various liquids and gasses along the ceiling. "It could keep him out of trouble," she muttered loud enough for the Doctor to hear. Properly facing Doctor Octavius, she spoke up once more. "The fights in Long Island City have been weighing down on him lately. Hands on lab work might be what he needs to stop fixating on things."
Next chapter will be released October 16th.