This was the first time Peter had ever laid eyes on Jessica's father.
Dr. Jonathan Drew, the current lead developer of Oscorp's resurrected Super Soldier initiative, didn't look like a mad scientist. He looked like a tired academic. The closest Peter had ever come to understanding the man was a few months ago, during a late-night server infiltration. Peter had sliced through Oscorp's firewalls and skimmed a highly classified file labeled Savage Force. He'd seen Jonathan's name attached to a radical proposal: utilizing synthesized spider-venom peptides to treat Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.
Peter still had no idea how radioactive spider DNA was supposed to cure a degenerative nerve disease, but seeing the man in person connected a few dots. If Dr. Drew was pushing so hard for an ALS cure, it was highly probable that Jessica had been diagnosed with an early-stage variant of it. She seemed perfectly healthy right now, kicking down doors for the Midtown High Detective Club, but Peter filed the thought away.
"It's a genuine pleasure to meet you, Peter," Jonathan said, stepping forward. He extended a hand, his grip firm and calloused. He looked to be in his late thirties, possessing a thick shock of dark, messy hair that defied any attempt at combing. Like Jessica, Jonathan was Latino, his features carrying strong Indigenous characteristics beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway.
"I have to admit," Jonathan continued, a warm, slightly disbelieving smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "When Mr. Osborn told me you were Spider-Man, I nearly dropped my coffee."
Peter shook his hand, his brow furrowing. There was an easy familiarity in the man's tone that threw Peter off balance. "Excuse me, Dr. Drew, but... do we know each other?"
"Oh, no. We've never met," Jonathan chuckled, releasing Peter's hand. "But I knew your parents. I was your father's student. Later, I became his primary lab assistant. We worked side-by-side for over a decade, right up until he left the Savage Force project. The same project that eventually produced the genetically modified spider that gave you those abilities."
Hearing Richard Parker's name casually tossed around in an Oscorp corridor felt like catching a stray punch to the ribs. Peter's chest tightened. He immediately thought of the classified S.H.I.E.L.D. files, of Nick Fury's grim face, and the Winter Soldier. He forced his breathing to remain steady, simply giving Jonathan a slow, heavy nod.
Beside them, Norman Osborn pulled back the cuff of his bespoke suit to check a heavy gold Patek Philippe watch. He offered Peter a perfectly practiced, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to cut this reunion short, Peter. I originally planned to stay and observe the new lab's integration, but I have a rather pressing board meeting. I'll have to leave you boys to it."
Norman pivoted on his heel to leave.
"Wait. Uncle Norman."
The billionaire froze. He slowly turned back around, a look of genuine surprise momentarily cracking his polished veneer. "I'm sorry... did you just call me uncle?"
"Yeah," Peter said, shifting his weight. He kept his posture relaxed, unthreatening. "You're Harry's dad. It's respectful. Is that a problem?"
Norman stared at him for a second before a dry, breathless laugh escaped his chest. "No. No, of course not, Peter. Was there something you needed?"
"Yeah. Since you're here, why don't you go inside and talk to Harry for a minute?" Peter gestured toward the frosted glass doors of The Web. "He's pouring his soul into this lab. It's his mother's legacy, her environmental foundation. He'd want you to see what he's building."
Norman's eyes drifted to the frosted glass. For a fraction of a second, the corporate titan vanished, leaving behind a profoundly tired, hollow man. Then, the mask snapped back into place. He shook his head.
"No. Let's not ruin his afternoon. Harry wouldn't be happy to see me intruding on his space." Norman offered a tight, final smile. "I'll go now. Good luck, boys."
Peter watched Norman's tailored back disappear down the long, white hallway. A heavy silence settled over the corridor.
"Man," Peter muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just realized I completely forgot to ask him why those terrorists from earlier today were trying to hijack a military hang glider."
"Oh, I can answer that," Jonathan said brightly, adjusting the grip on a scuffed metal thermos in his left hand. "Their actual target was a shipment of raw radioactive isotopes used to power our gene-editing centrifuges. But their inside intel was outdated. They hijacked the wrong transport truck entirely. Shall we head inside?"
"Yeah. No problem, Doc. Right this way."
Peter keyed the biometric scanner, and the heavy doors to The Web hissed open.
Inside, the warm amber lights reflected off the sleek, hidden armory walls. Harry was standing by the central holographic table, his knuckles pressed hard against the glass surface. He glanced at Jonathan, then looked away, his jaw clenched tight. Peter could tell Harry had been listening to the hallway feed. Norman's parting words had stung, but Harry was stubbornly refusing to show it.
"Alright, kids, don't mind me," Jonathan announced, stepping into the high-tech sanctuary and looking around with mild appreciation. "Mr. Osborn just needed a legally recognized adult to serve as the nominal director of this research center, given your ages. My primary directive is to monitor Peter's ecological and biological metrics, seeing as I designed the catalyst that mutated his DNA. And, incidentally..."
Jonathan walked over to an empty workstation. He set down a heavy, reinforced steel briefcase and popped the latches. The metal sides folded outward, revealing a pressurized, climate-controlled terrarium.
Peter took a step closer, his eyes widening.
Inside the glass cylinder, crawling over artificial foliage, were seven or eight massive, vividly colored spiders. Each one was easily the size of a human palm, their mandibles clicking silently against the glass.
"Whoa," Peter breathed, his Spider-Sense giving a faint, confused flutter at the back of his skull. "Are those...?"
"Backup test subjects, yes," Jonathan confirmed, tapping the glass lightly with a fingernail. "Ever since the containment breach at the Expo six months ago, we've had to start the sequencing from scratch. These represent the current peak of our research. But realistically, it will take another year or two of selective breeding and radiation exposure before any of them reach the genetic perfection of the spider that bit you."
A year or two. Peter translated the scientist-speak instantly. We won't have another Spider-Man running around anytime soon.
"So," Jonathan said, pulling up a stool and opening his thermos. "Unless you start growing extra arms or feeling ill, pretend I'm not here. I'm just going to sit in the corner and study my arachnids."
Peter leaned against the central console. "If you're busy monitoring me, what happens to the rest of the Savage Force project? Did Oscorp scrap the military super-soldier contract entirely?"
"Oh, heavens no," Jonathan replied, taking a sip from his thermos. "Oscorp never leaves money on the table. The next phase of Savage Force is being handed over to an old classmate of mine. Another one of your father's former students, actually. Dr. Curtis Connors. He's shifting the focus to cross-species reptile genetics. I think he's much better suited for that particular brand of aggressive bio-engineering."
Peter's blood ran cold. Reptile genetics. His brain instantly painted a terrifying picture. A desperate scientist. Missing limbs. Highly volatile lizard DNA. A giant, scaly monstrosity rampaging through the New York sewer system. Nope, Peter thought, a phantom shudder rolling down his spine. Absolutely not. He mentally slammed Curtis Connors to the very top of his priority watchlist. I am not letting that guy near a syringe.
Harry suddenly grabbed Peter by the elbow, dragging him toward the back of the lab near the 3D printers.
"Why are you being so friendly with the new guy?" Harry hissed, his eyes darting toward Jonathan. "He works directly for my dad. He's probably a corporate mole sent here to spy on our tech."
"I really don't think so, Harry," Peter whispered back, keeping his voice level. "Dr. Drew seems decent."
"You can't just assume a guy is decent because he built the radioactive bug that gave you abs, Peter! That just means you're a good person. It doesn't mean he is."
"He was my dad's student, Harry. And..." Peter paused, delivering the kicker. "He's Jessica's dad."
Harry froze, his eyes bugging out behind his messy bangs. "Wait. Our Jessica?"
"Yeah."
"Jessica Drew? The president of the Midtown Detective Club?" Harry rubbed his temples, suddenly looking incredibly stressed. "Peter, the circle of people around us is way too small. This is a disaster. What if she drops by to visit her dad? What if she starts snooping around the base?"
Peter let out a soft snort, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Harry, relax. I really don't think it's gonna be a problem."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because," Peter smirked, "your club president spent the last six months aggressively investigating Spider-Man, and she never once realized that her own father built the spider. I think our secret identities are safe."