Chapter Text
"No you have to multiply first, than the subtraction." Spidey pointed at the place with the multiplication on the paper. Norman was doing well but his arm had reacted badly at a certain nightmare he couldn't remember. So, Spidey webbed the thing up and was helping Norman with his homework while waiting for a prototype antidote to… do something.
"Like this?" Norman was a smart kid, but well, the bad-arm. Peter nodded at the kid, earning an excited smile. "Do you feel anything on the arm?" Peter looked at the now limp bad-arm. The antidote they tried had stoped its movements but now Norman couldn't use it either. "Nah, nothing yet. It's okay though, better than an annoying arm"
Spidey sighed, "well, it does look like a spider leg… so worst case scenario I get a new co-worker" Norman tilted his head, Peter shook his head. "Nope, don't do that. It's dangerous and it's exhausting."
Norman shrugged. One thing he noticed is that Spider-Man lost his finger when he was tired. When he said his goodbyes to the hero at the window, he taught Spidey must've been working hard.
And yes, he was.
Spidey had questioned ten scientists ever since he got the list from Doc, sadly everyone ended up being a dead lead. Whoever was doing this knew how to hide. In the meanwhile, the police told him that there were two new victims to the bio weapon. An old man whom leg mutated and a middle aged woman whom back had transformed.
The cops was willing to work with him with a weird situation like this going on. It was obvious that the formula used wasn't the finished product, which was scarier. Peter was surviving on energy drinks and vitamins between school, internship, the Daily Bugle and well… his vigilante job.
His internship was… well, still intact.
He had finished his thesis, he was so close to getting his life back together.
Peters tasks the last four days working under Doctor Willow were relatively easy. Today was no different, his to-do list pretty simple: cleaning of certain equipments, re-calibrating the microscope and organising lab reports.
Despite the simple tasks, it was taking a while to go through the reports.
Someone let a couple binders fall in front of him, "Organise these and bring the yellow one to Doctor Arnold" The man didn't give Pete a second glance and went back to his work. Peter sighed and started organising the new files, putting the yellow binder to a separate spot so he wont confuse it.
He knew they weren't going to take him serious, he realised this on his second day when he made a suggestion about a vaccine they were testing out and got shut down with a couple "What would the intern now?" and "He doesn't even have a degree, he won't understand"s. It wasn't even told to his face but to his supervisor.
He got extra reports to do that day.
What a bunch of a-holes…
Once the repetitive work started tiring him out, Peter stood up. He could bring the binder to Doctor Arnold and stretch his legs for a bit while doing so.
Picking up the binder, he went around his desk towards the door, moving his neck around to stretch it. What a pain.
With curiosity, Peter took a look at the report in his hands.
Written on and by… research made by… Project 017… huh, the title was a bit cryptic, shouldn't it specify what project it is?
Reading further, Peters confusion tripled.
Living subject required?
The list of used materials was also familiar.
Too familiar…
Norman.
That's why they were familiar.
The reactions listed were the same ones as he had discovered. The process described matched pretty much what he had expected it to be…
Peter skipped over to the result.
Works on larger mammals such as dogs and reptiles such as alligators, moving on to monkeys…
They were aiming for humans.
Was the one used on Norman made for humans or smaller animals? How dangerous was it?
Without thinking much, Peter took a different turn than the offices, going to a printer.
Peter held two fingers out under his waist to snatch the ID of a professor walking down the hall. He didn't need anyone to track that he was the one to copy these pages.
Luckily, many were working. The only person beside him was an office worker napping on the table in the room. Peter used the ID to log into the printer and start copying the files. He had to be fast.
A weird noise came from the printer and Peter held his breath.
C'mon… don't be like a campus printer…
The printer started to let pages out and Peter sighed in relief, checking on the sleeping guy just in case.
With this report and help from Doctor Octavius he could actually cure Norman. And the report could help him catch the culprits.
Sure, it's a bit unsettling to find it in the company he is interning at but it could be that it was just a few scientists doing this as a sort of side gig.
But again, why would they need a report for that? He had to come here as Spidey at some point. And maybe also catch some of the armed men that attack people with it so he can find the distributors of the bullets.
Peter started shaking his leg while waiting, theorising in his brain. The system he was imagining worked like this: the lab workers make the liquid and sell it to a weapons maker. They turn the liquid into bulkets and other weapons. Those get sold to arm dealers and they seel it out. Working system with levels. It could also be that the same person was making the liquid weapons and sales.
Someone skilled in both science and arms.
When the paper were finally done, Peter picked them up from the printer, looking around for a different binder. Peter froze, his body hair reaction towards a certain direction. Someone was coming. He reacted quickly and flipped the papers over so only the empty backside was visible.
"Do you need something to put those in?" A dark hand held out a red foil. The one you put papers in.
"Uh-uhm… thanks… mister…?" Peter took the foil hesitantly, sliding the papers in before the man could read them. He was in a lab coat, dark hair, eyes and skin. The hair was styled incredibly, the curls staying in a shape that kept them out of the eye but still shows them off.
"Doctor Arnold. Someone told me you have a report for me?" The man held his hand out. Peter nodded and put the yellow binder in his hand. "Yup, Doctor Smith asked me to bring it. I was just re-printing a different report. The doctor working on it spilled coffee on it so… yeah"
Doctor Arnold nodded, still smiling. "I get it, happens to the best of us"
"So… I will get going now… I still have to finish putting the reports in correct order" Peter took a step back, suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. The man's smile was so… creepy, unsettling. And no, he wasn't being rude. He was listening to his spider-sense.
"Sure thing, work hard, earn much. Right?" Arnold waved the hand with the binder at him and Peter turned around, walking towards the hallway.
He was only able to breath again when he slumped down on his chair and secured the copies in his backpack.
"Peter? Why didn't you bring Doctor Arnold the report?" Doctor Smith complained and Peter narrowed his eyes. "What? But I just gave them to him. By the printer."
Doctor Smiths face went pale, "Peter, Doctor Arnold is… a woman. Felicity Arnold."
Peter stood up, "what? But- he said he is Doctor Arnold. A dark skinned man with super cool hair"
Doctor Smith quickly turned towards a blonde woman when someone else barged in, panting and black hair damp on the young mans forehead. "Someone call an ambulance, Doctor Arnold has been shot!"
Chaos erupted in the lab with the doctors screaming and arguing.
Peter realised one thing.
During the whole conversation, the man hadn't used his right hand at all, hiding it behind his back.
Uh-oh...