Spider-Man. The House Of Venom

With Oscorp settled and a new sense of financial freedom, Peter had decided to lay low for a while.

Whatever had happened to him needed to be tested. With time off school, sneaking out to find somewhere quiet and out the way seemed the best option.

Aunt May had taken to checking up on him every few hours since he'd gotten sick. And while he appreciated the concern it was becoming annoying.

Aunt May had granted him a week off school, to make sure he wouldn't be sick again. She also had several meetings with the Principal and the School Board. Even if Peter wasn't a child anymore, leaving a sick student was unacceptable.

Peter shook his head though. With the NDA he signed with Oscorp in effect she couldn't talk about the illness. Then the fact Peter was an academic student and not one of the football stars, Aunt May would meet a roadblock.

The school would just argue he was eighteen, and old enough to take care of himself. That he should have called someone to say he was sick.

Whoever decided to leave him there would get a slap on the wrist. If the school felt generous, maybe a note in their record but Peter doubted much more would happen. He was a little fish in a little pond being circled by sharks.

Till then he had a week to figure out exactly what had happened. The figure in the mirror was still him, not as short, cute but now, now he had muscles. A lean six-pack that he knew without months of strict exercise and diet he would never have achieved.

Whatever made him sick at Oscorp also changed him, did something escape from a lab?

Did he have super cancer? Peter began to hyperventilate, super cancer.

He knew Oscorp studied lots of different infectious diseases.

Pete, get a hold of yourself, he thought, cancer doesn't give you abs, but then what did?

He undressed and looked at himself in the mirror. Peter pulled the same poses studying the muscle definition. Until he realised that posing in a mirror was not only pointless, but he looked a bit dumb. He hadn’t become a big muscular guy, his body was lithe and wirey, built for speed, not strength.

Shaking his head, maybe Gwen would like to see the new him? Maybe she'd be more willing to go to the end-of-year Prom with him if he flashed her a little Pete treat.

Laughing at his own stupid joke, he decided to head out, muscle tone was great but muscle strength was king.

Aunt May was at work and after pulling on some loose clothes and a hoodie, he left a note,

'out for a bit, need some fresh air, love you,' before heading out.

It was cold out still, and the late January air was refreshing as he slowly jogged toward Sunset Park. If there was anywhere in the area that was abandoned, it would be down at the waterfront.

It wasn't too hard to find somewhere deserted. It had been in the news most of the week. A local party animal made the mistake of setting up in what he thought was an abandoned warehouse. It turned out to be a meth lab, and the gang was just out making deliveries.

Several gunshots and a few dead partygoers later, it had turned into the shoot-out of the week.

While the tape was still up, there had been no cops or scavengers in the building for a while now. The freshly pasted for sale sign showed that the realtor was trying to offload the building.

Peter knew they had no chance, as anyone local knew its new name. The partymethdeath house.

Of course, Peter knew he had the money from Oscorp. Maybe this was his chance to get a building and actually start on his first dream, Pete Tech, or even PTech. The name needed work but he decided to head to city hall and register himself as a fledgeling company.

Working for Oscorp was great but he knew that he'd always be in Harry's shadow, even if they never spoke again. His tutoring the son of the company owner would follow him around like a bad smell. He'd be under constant scrutiny and have to deal with calls of nepotism.

Maybe branching out on his own was a better idea, small and manageable tech companies were all the rage. If he had a hook, a piece of tech original to him he could see it happening.

Peter made sure the street was deserted before lifting the yellow police tape. After making his way around the building, he entered through a side door. After busting it down to get inside, the police had just left it swinging free.

Inside was a mess.

There was garbage everywhere, and a large number of stains. The industrial cleansers used had dyed the floor brown while mopping up the blood.

It must have been recently as well and the heavy scent of industrial bleach and solvents clung to the air.

The meth labs themselves had been stripped clean. Fitments for power and water hung on hooks over stained kitchen counters.

Four hollowed-out portable offices held the labs. And as Peter investigated, he found crude bunk beds for the workers. Either held here to cook or just too lazy to move and risk more exposure.

The evidence collectors would take anything drug-related for evidence. While the cleanup crew would take anything of value, to be sold on.

Even after that. The warehouse was still full of discarded counters, tables, and other household items. Trash and other unidentifiable refuse were everywhere.

Pallets and other debris littered the floor. Used as shoddy barricades they were covered in bullet holes. While the shell casings were all gone, it was obvious from the mess what had happened here.

Surveying the nine hundred square metre building, Peter's mind clicked over. Labs, fabrication rooms, a server room, and even a small home to live in while he worked all swam in his mind.

While there were several porta-cabins in the warehouse, one caught Peter's attention.

The portable office shoved into the corner gave a stark contrast to the rest of the warehouse. It was clean and painted, and even the windows looked to have been wiped down.

The deals must have taken place there. Inside smelt like cigarettes but was clean and had a carpet. Indents in the pile showed Peter there had been furniture, but if it was clean, the cleanup crew had taken it.

Untouched with no stains or bullet holes they only got the workers. While the dealers or the main boss, whatever kingpin ran the operation got away scot-free.

The building was sound. There were no holes in the walls or major damage to the floor. After checking a socket and the single faucet he found there was no running water or electricity. but the windows and doors were all functional if a bit rusty.

It was perfect.

The first thing Peter did was to secure the doors with interior locks. This was to be his hideout and the last thing he wanted was a bunch of squatters to take it over while he was at school.

He splashed out a bit and fitted a new lock to the side door. Making sure it looked jammed rather than locked. He twisted the frame slightly so it appeared stuck after being battered open.

There was now only one way in or out, and he had the only key.

Stowing his bag and removing his hoodie, he began to think of what he could do to test out whatever Oscorp had done to him.

There was a walkway to reach the windows he could run along. Wrought-iron staircases he could use for pull-ups. Plenty of space to practice gymnastics. As he searched his phone for exercise routines his excitement grew.

For a week, Peter did nothing but come to the warehouse and test himself.

Starting small he lifted pallets, crates, furniture, and anything he could get his hands on. Eventually, it came to the portable office itself.

Lifting it gently at one end he found he wasn't even straining himself.

He tried again and lifted it again. He only stopped when it was a few feet from the ground and began to creak worryingly.

Peter lay it back down and stared at his hands. Lifting it wasn't stressful, and the rigid edge of the office hadn't even left a mark on his skin let alone cut him.

Peter had a smile on his face. He was strong and it seemed a lot harder to hurt.

Next, he practised his agility. Climbing up the scaffolding and leaping from girder to girder. The walkways up to the large windows gave him a suitable climbing frame.

With ease, he rappelled and swung between the solid welded struts. Flipping and catching himself from one side of the walkway to the other.

It was exhilarating to move so freely and he completely lost track of the time. Even as the sun began to set, Peter was too engrossed in testing his powers to notice.

It wasn't until he heard a rattle at the main door. that Peter lost focus and missed his handhold. For a brief moment, a torch shone in the darkness, but then flicked away.

Time seemed to slow as he fell. While the warehouse wasn't huge at 10 meters high, the fall would be enough to seriously injure him. 

As he fell, reaching out to grab anything, he felt a strange sensation and a white line zipped out from his wrist. The line shot out and snagged itself to a walkway across from him.

He swung down to the floor and then back up. Pulled by its elasticity, he grabbed and hung on to the underside of the grating.

A flashlight shone into the warehouse again but with no signs of anyone, The Security guard left.

Peter had made sure that he left the warehouse messy enough that his presence would go unnoticed.

Peter let out a breath and tried to let himself down but he was stuck.

The thin line he had shot out, dangled next to him but both his hands were firmly secured to the beam.

Lifting himself, as if doing pull-ups, he found that unless he forcefully pulled his hand away he was glued on. Even pulling each hand away, he was still stuck to the beam, each hand capable of supporting his weight.

It took conscious effort to take his hand away. Testing one hand at a time soon found that he stuck when he wanted rather than all the time.

Swinging back up on the walkway, Peter made his way back down to the warehouse floor. Checked the guard was no longer outside and decided on one last test before heading home.

Peter stood on the ground and stared up at the underside of the walkway. He lifted his arm, pointed his wrist, and tensed his muscles. And frowned as nothing happened.

He knew it wasn't a fluke. Whatever he had done had sent a sticky line from his wrist. While he was panicking he was sure he should be able to repeat it.

Examining his wrist and forearm he felt a dense knot in the muscle. Feeling up his arm he found a long cord reaching to the crease of his wrist where the veins stuck out.

Using his fingers he pulled at the skin and as he pressed and prodded, a line of thick fluid spurted out.

As he looked closer he could see several small holes within the ridges of his skin. They were small enough to be unnoticeable, but when pressed in the right place acted as a font for the fluid.

Like a spider, Peter thought to himself.

The fluid was more a stringy mass, sticky and fibrous, gathering it up it pulled apart just like a web.

Maybe it was a spider that bit me, Peter thought to himself as he stared at the mass.

Scowling, he stared up at the walkway he had fallen from, and the line he shot out earlier was gone.

Taking out his phone he checked the time. While he watched the white webbing seemed to dissolve into some kind of light airy foam. It had only taken a few minutes to vanish completely.

hmm, he thought, not much use if I've got a two-minute window to use it.

Peter devoted some time to testing out his web abilities. Tensile strength, web thickness and duration. A rope to grab things was useless if it vanished while you were using it.

A rope was easy. By increasing the pressure as he squeezed his fist, it could become thicker or longer. If he gently squeezed it was a fine spray or foam.

By concentrating, he found he could extrude simple shapes as well. A small ball was easy, and he could even make it soft, like a snowball or harder, like a squash ball.

The last shape that was easy to make and quick, was a flyswatter. As it broke free from his wrist, he could make it flexible enough to swing around.

He was disappointed that he couldn't make a bat or shield but being able to make his own "bullets" was great.

No need to get greedy, Peter thought to himself, having superpowers is badass enough.

Fascinated by the discovery Peter made it his mission to explore the limits of his new abilities.

Right after I finish school, he lamented.

It was then a smile crossed his face, and he chuckled to himself.

Flash, he thought, let's see him try something now.