Norman's office looked like a war room when Alex arrived Friday afternoon.
Six soldiers stood along the far wall in full tactical gear, patches on their shoulders marking them as attached to a specialized unit Alex didn't recognize by name but understood immediately given Oscorp's existing military contracts.
Rifles modified with tranquilizer capabilities alongside standard ammunition. Body armor rated for something bigger than human opponents.
A tactical map of the Lower East Side sewer system was projected across Norman's usual wall display, red markers showing three separate sighting locations.
"Mr. Carter. Good, you're here." Norman didn't look up from the map. "Dr. Connors has been absent for three days. No calls, no communication, his apartment shows no signs of habitation during that window."
"You think the creature and Connors are connected."
"I know they're connected." Norman turned, his cold eyes sharper than usual. "You worked closest with him. You understand his research better than anyone else on staff. I've requested support from our contracted unit given the potential threat level. You'll accompany them as biological consultant."
Alex kept his expression neutral, calculating fast. Oscorp's military contracts made this technically legal, a private company requesting specialized federal assistance for a hazardous bio-containment situation involving proprietary research gone wrong. Not clean exactly, but not the kind of obvious civil liability a corporate security team running weapons through public sewers would represent.
"Understood, sir. What's the operational protocol?"
"Capture if possible. Neutralize if necessary for personnel safety." Norman gestured to the unit's commanding officer, a broad-shouldered man with a name patch reading TORRES. "Captain Torres has full tactical authority once you're underground. Oscorp's involvement ends at providing intelligence and consultation."
"Understood."
Norman studied Alex a moment longer than necessary. "You seem calm about this. Most analysts would be nervous heading into a sewer to consult on a hunt for something that used to be a colleague."
"Panic doesn't help anyone, sir. Although I am not as calm as I appear to be, I believe Dr. Connors is a good man, and I'd rather we are able to help him."
Something almost like approval flickered across Norman's face. "Good. Briefing continues in twenty minutes. Be ready."
Alex left the office and immediately texted Peter from the stairwell.
Norman's coordinating with a military unit going into the sewers tonight. I'm attached as consultant. Need to talk before this happens.
Peter responded within a minute. My place after school. Bring everything.
...
Peter's room looked exactly like every other visit, posters on the walls, textbooks scattered across the desk, except now a section of his closet had been cleared out for equipment storage. Alex had helped set that up two weeks earlier.
"Okay," Peter said, sitting on his bed while Alex laid out a case on the floor. "Tell me what we're dealing with."
"Dr. Curt Connors. Head of cross-species genetics at Oscorp. Lost his right arm years ago, some kind of military accident before he came to work for Norman. He's been obsessed with regeneration research ever since, trying to find a way to regrow it."
"And he found one."
"He found the venom compound I extracted from Specimen 15. The one that bit you." Alex clicked open the case. "Catalyst X integrates foreign genetic material permanently. Connors likely synthesized something similar using reptilian DNA, hoping controlled regeneration would regrow his arm the way lizards regrow tails."
"But it didn't stay controlled."
"No. Based on the footage, the mutation appears to have overtaken him completely. Full-body transformation. He's not just growing back an arm anymore. He's becoming something else entirely."
Peter leaned forward, staring at the case Alex had opened. Inside sat a modified version of Peter's web shooters, sleeker than the ones Peter had cobbled together himself, along with what looked like a compact injector device and a small comm unit.
"Whoa. What is all this?"
"Upgrades." Alex picked up the web shooter housing, turning it so Peter could see the internal mechanism. "I redesigned your cartridge feed system. Triples your ammunition capacity in the same housing size. I also adjusted the polymer formula. Faster tensile strength, degrades in six hours instead of one, which means you won't need to worry about evidence dissolving before you're clear of a scene."
Peter took it from him, turning it over with the reverence of someone examining a religious artifact. "How did you even, this is insane, the tolerances on this machining alone would need serious equipment."
"I have serious equipment. Built most of it myself, upstate."
"You built a machine shop. In your secret bunker."
"I built several things in my secret bunker."
Peter laughed, some of the tension breaking. "Okay, nerd. What's the injector for?"
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