Working for the Arbiter? Joining the Shadow of the Kinkou?
Although Skye had no idea what the "Shadow of the Kinkou" actually was, the name sounded incredibly cool—exactly the kind of high-concept superhero organization a tech-savvy teenager would daydream about.
Skye stuttered incoherently for a good minute before finally recalibrating her speech module. She looked at Peter with wide, expectant eyes.
"You mean... we'll be partners? Like Batman and Robin?"
"Emmm, you could look at it that way," Peter said, deciding to dangle a very large "carrot" in front of her. "But I'm not adopting you—I'm barely older than you are. Also, your role won't just be an assistant."
Peter pointed a gloved finger toward her chest, using a tone that was classic "mysterious mentor."
"Hidden within you is a unique potential. If it's perfectly developed, you won't just be a hacker. You'll be a superhero in your own right."
Normally, a cynical teenager like Skye would roll her eyes at such cryptic talk. But coming from her idol? It wasn't annoying—it was awesome. Her entire body trembled with excitement.
Aizen Sosuke was right: Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding.
"Oh my god, that is so cool!" Skye couldn't wait to start her "internship." Her words poured out like a machine gun. "What do I do first? How do I trigger this power? When do I start training?"
"Awakening your power is a major project; we have to take it slow. As for what we're doing right now..." Peter paused. "Have you heard of the Life Foundation?"
While Peter was busy recruiting his new hacker protégé, thousands of miles away in San Francisco...
Inside a sleek, futuristic office at the Life Foundation headquarters, a man in a high-end suit and gold-rimmed glasses stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city's nightscape.
This was Carlton Drake.
To the public, he was a prodigy who tackled medical impossibilities at nineteen and founded a global empire at twenty-four—a visionary philanthropist dedicated to solving resource scarcity through space exploration.
In reality, he was a sociopath who viewed homeless "volunteers" as disposable lab rats for his grand design.
"Dr. Drake."
His assistant, Doris, entered the room, her voice tight with excitement.
"The Drake has entered its return orbit. Communication with the astronauts is stable. They report the successful containment of four unknown extraterrestrial lifeforms. They are scheduled to land in Houston in fifteen days."
"Excellent."
Carlton turned around. His eyes flickered with a fanatical, near-maniacal intensity.
No one knew that during a previous off-world expedition, Carlton's body had already been claimed. He was the host for the symbiote leader, Riot. Whether they had reached a mutual understanding or Riot had simply warped his mind into a subservient tool was irrelevant.
In Carlton's warped view, Earth was a dying husk. Humanity was a failed experiment. Only by merging with the symbiotes—evolving into a new species—could mankind survive the vacuum of space and colonize the stars.
He saw himself as the prophet leading humanity to its new era. In reality, he was just a "planetary traitor" who hadn't realized he'd sold out his own species.
"How is the recovery team?" Carlton asked.
"Ready and waiting, Doctor."
"And the screening for hosts?"
This was the crux of the plan. To prove the "beauty" of the symbiosis to the world and secure government backing, he needed powerful "Symbiote Soldiers" as proof of concept.
"Doctor, we've screened the 'volunteers' provided by Mr. Fisk's associates, but... the results are poor," Doris said, looking uneasy. "If the physical requirements are as high as you say, a homeless person's constitution simply can't survive the cellular assimilation."
A flash of predatory rage crossed Carlton's eyes before being smoothed over by his refined mask. He pushed up his glasses. "If ordinary people won't suffice, find those who are extraordinary."
"The world is full of lucky individuals who have stumbled into 'talent' through accidents, isn't it?"
Carlton opened an encrypted file on his desk. Several profiles expanded across the holographic screen.
The first was a man in a green combat suit with a mechanical scorpion tail.
[Scorpion: Mac Gargan. Mutated via biological experimentation. Currently held at Ryker's Island following the Stark Tower incident.]
[Rhino: Aleksei Sytsevich. Enhanced via polymer-bonding and radiation. Currently held at Ryker's Island.]
[Slayer Brothers: Luke and Henry. Enhanced constitution. Currently held at Ryker's Island.]
Carlton's eyes burned with greed as he stared at the four candidates. "Look at them. Is there a more perfect set of vessels in existence?"
"But Doctor..." Doris's voice wavered. "They are federal prisoners. Because of Stark Industries and the NYPD Captain, they've been denied bail. We can't just ask them to participate in a trial."
Carlton turned his head sharply. For a split second, his pupils turned a ghastly, swirling greyish-white before snapping back to normal.
"There is always a way, Doris. Always."
"Focus on preparing the backup hosts for now. As for those four... I will personally handle the 'bail' process."
Doris swallowed hard. Carlton's twitchy, neurotic behavior was getting worse. Out of a lingering sense of morality, she tried one last time. "Doctor, I really don't recommend—"
"GET OUT!" Carlton roared, a sound that was more animalistic growl than human voice.
Doris fell backward onto the floor, terrified. She didn't wait for a second command, scrambling out of the office as fast as her legs could carry her.
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