Chapter Nine: The Birth of Spider-Man

The group continued forward, but Peter did not follow as agreed. He couldn’t risk being questioned by Gwen any longer, fearing he might reveal more inconsistencies. Besides, he was here to find Connors, and it was clear that sticking with Gwen would not bring him to Connors again.

He glanced around; seeing no one paying attention or doubting his identity, he set off in the direction Connors had disappeared. Soon, Peter arrived at a laboratory bearing the same emblem as his father's briefcase. He felt certain this was the place—even if it wasn’t Connors’ office, it was connected to his father.

After discreetly observing and obtaining the code, Peter effortlessly unlocked the door. Inside, he was greeted by strange machines, apparently weaving something that was compressed into bullet-sized capsules and stored in small boxes. Through the glass, he saw blue machinery spinning continuously, piquing his curiosity. He opened the door and stepped inside.

Within, he found an array of peculiar, large spiders producing silk, spun by the rotating mechanisms. Driven by curiosity, he touched one of the finished threads; unexpectedly, this triggered something, the machine halted, and the spiders fell onto him. Peter quickly brushed them off, unaware that one had crawled into his clothes.

Fearing discovery, he hurriedly left. Meanwhile, Gwen, realizing Peter was missing, doubled back and found him, disheveled and dusty. With a stern face, Gwen demanded, “Alright, now hand me your ID.” Reluctantly, Peter produced his ID and gave it to her. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Gwen, still preoccupied, turned and left. She didn’t notice that a nearly invisible strand of web attached Peter’s ID to a red-and-blue spider, which now crawled onto her clothing. Without his ID, Peter was stranded, forced to wait patiently.

“Hey, Peter.”

Hearing his name, Peter turned and saw someone he’d rather avoid. Michael smiled, “Peter, what brings you here?” He patted Peter on the shoulder.

Peter felt a slight sting, like a mosquito bite, but paid it little mind, simply brushing Michael’s hand away. “I…”

He was about to make up an excuse when he noticed Michael was also wearing a lab coat, apparently another staff member. “Are you here for an internship like Gwen?”

“No,” Peter replied.

“Oh.” Peter felt relieved. If Michael and Gwen were together, who knows what might happen. But Michael’s next words made Peter tense again.

“I’m a full-time researcher here, with my own lab.”

Peter couldn’t believe it—he glanced at Michael’s nametag, which indeed read ‘Professor,’ forcing him to accept the truth.

“Oh, you must be the intern looking for Dr. Connors. Got lost?”

“Yes,” Peter admitted reluctantly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know where the group is, but I do know where Dr. Connors is.”

“Could you take me to him?” The words slipped out before Peter could stop himself; now he owed Michael a favor.

“Follow me.”

With that, Michael led the way to Dr. Connors’ office. Peter hesitated—this was a rare opportunity to meet Connors—and decided to follow.

Connors had just endured another failed experiment. If he couldn’t show progress soon, funding would be withdrawn; the military’s patience was wearing thin. Frustrated and at a loss, he sat in his office. The decay formula remained unresolved—perhaps he truly wasn’t as brilliant as Richard Parker. If only his old friend were still here; together, they might have succeeded, and Connors would no longer be crippled.

Staring at his empty right arm, Connors seethed, slamming his fist on the desk. But soon he calmed himself and prepared to try the calculations once more.

“Hello, Dr. Connors, am I interrupting?” Michael asked.

“Not at all, Dr. Morbius. How can I help you?” Connors, himself born with a defect, felt a sense of kinship and pity for another super-genius with congenital limitations.

“A friend of mine got separated; I believe he’s your intern.” At that moment, Connors saw Peter Parker.

“It’s you—I remember, the second-place genius,” Connors remarked.

Peter felt awkward; it seemed Connors didn’t quite know who he was. “Yes… Dr. Connors, I came to see you about something.”

Connors, noting Peter’s hesitation, grew serious. “I admit you’re exceptional and imaginative, but I can’t offer you any special treatment. Like everyone else, you must tour the facility, be evaluated by Gwen, and then await a decision from HR and myself.”

“Dr. Connors, I’m not here to tour or apply for a position. I came to ask you about something—my father is Richard Parker.”

Connors studied Peter’s face and recalled many things, including his old friend’s frequent mention of his son.

“Peter.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell over the room.

Michael broke it: “Well, it seems I’m not needed here anymore. See you at school, Peter.” With that, he turned and left, pocketing a small device and pulling out a tablet.

The small device was a blood sampler, coated with an enzyme derived from mosquito proboscis, allowing it to pierce and numb the skin painlessly and without leaving a mark. Michael opened the tablet, accessed the company’s surveillance system, and navigated to Connors’ office. Such feeds, being classified, were off-limits to security personnel and controlled by the company’s AI, only reviewed post-incident by a select few with the password. But Michael, exploiting his position, had hacked the system and gained access.

Just as he’d expected, Peter soon produced his father’s life’s work and handed it to Dr. Connors—a touching moment of filial devotion, perfectly illustrating the saying: “A child sells the family land without remorse.”

Through the surveillance, Michael obtained the decay formula as he wished. With his knowledge of company files and the books authored by Connors and Richard, Michael had become an expert in cross-species genetic splicing. His interest in the decay algorithm stemmed from the challenge of combining different genes—be it super-serum or bat serum, both involved cross-species integration.

Indeed, common genetically modified soybeans and corn are examples of this research, but plant-to-plant and animal-to-animal differences are vast and profound. Hence, the necessity of the decay algorithm.

Now, with another piece in the super-soldier puzzle, Michael decided to return to his research on cross-species gene splicing, and, incidentally, to analyze the cellular mutations in Spider-Man.