In a country like America, where "freedom" and "openness" are the cultural north stars, a girl willing to wait two years for a guy who barely acknowledges her is a rarity bordering on a miracle. Gwen Stacy was a 99th-percentile anomaly.
Peter, who had been inadvertently forced to consume a double serving of romantic tension, suddenly leaned his head between the two of them. He looked back and forth with a dead-pan expression.
"Hey, guys. Just checking—do I still exist in this dimension?"
"Also," Peter continued, "Dr. Connors' seminar starts in ten minutes. Can we maybe go to the thing we actually came here for?"
"Once it's over, you two can go off and do whatever it is you're doing. I won't stand in the way. Deal?"
The interruption snapped Gwen out of her trance. Her face turned a brilliant shade of crimson as she spun around to hide her embarrassment.
"Right! Of course. Follow me. Dr. Connors should already be in the briefing room."
She started walking again, her movements still a bit stiff and uncoordinated. Peter scratched his head, watching her go. "Is Gwen okay? She's walking like her legs are made of wood."
Toby looked at his cousin, who was somehow even more of a "straight-shooter" than he was, and gave him a sharp flick to the back of the head. "If you don't have anything smart to say, keep the silence. Nobody's going to mistake you for a mute."
With that, Toby strode forward and caught up to Gwen. Without a word, he reached down and folded his large hand over her smaller, cold one.
Gwen froze. She stared down at their joined hands, her brain—which had only just cooled down—instantly going back into overdrive. This isn't a drill, she realized. The brick wall actually has a door. Do I... do I have a boyfriend now?
"Gwen? Miss Stacy? Aren't you going to introduce me to your guests?"
A calm, measured voice pulled her back to reality.
She looked up to find that Toby had already led her right in front of Dr. Curt Connors. Gwen was a natural intellectual; outside of her "Toby-induced" brain fog, she was incredibly sharp. She quickly regained her composure to introduce her cousin.
"Dr. Connors, this is Peter Parker. He's my classmate, and honestly? His grades in biology are even better than mine. He's my only real competition at Midtown High—a total genius."
Peter, blushing at the high praise, reached out his right hand. "No, no. Gwen's being modest. She's the smartest person I know... well, besides my cousin."
Dr. Connors gestured with his left hand toward his empty right sleeve and shrugged with a weary smile. "Apologies, Peter. I'm afraid I can't give you a proper handshake today. My right arm hasn't quite decided to grow back yet."
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Dr. Connors. I didn't mean to—" Peter stammered, his face full of regret. He knew the story—how Connors had lost his arm serving as a combat medic—but the nerves of meeting his idol had made him forget the basics.
Connors laughed gently. "It's quite alright, Peter. Don't worry about it."
Seeing the doctor wasn't offended, Peter's scientific curiosity took over. "Dr. Connors, you said your arm hasn't 'grown back yet.' Does that mean—?"
Connors' eyes lit up. This was his passion. "Indeed. I've been researching the regenerative properties of reptilian limb cells. If we can successfully map that process onto human DNA, we could help thousands of soldiers who came home 'incomplete.' We could make the world whole again."
He looked at Peter, remembering Gwen's "genius" tag, and made a sudden decision. "The other interns won't be here for another twenty minutes. Why don't I give you three a private tour of my laboratory?"
Connors had hired Gwen specifically because his academic peers were stuck in old formulas. He wanted young, fresh minds that hadn't been boxed in by "the way things have always been done." Meeting someone supposedly even more brilliant than Gwen was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
Peter was beaming. A private tour of the Connors Lab was a dream come true.
Before they moved, however, Connors turned his gaze to Toby. "And how should I address you, young man?"
Gwen knew that while Connors was a kind man, he had the typical elitist streak of a high-level scientist. He generally had no patience for "meat-head" athletes or simple-minded bodybuilders. Fearing he'd look at Toby's massive physique and dismiss him as a "dumb jock," she jumped in.
"This is Toby Parker. He works at Fisk Industries. But before that, he was New York's 'Prodigy of the Decade.' He graduated from MIT with honors at eighteen."
Connors' expression shifted from polite curiosity to genuine surprise. He lowered his guard, offering his left hand to Toby with a respectful smile. "Mr. Parker. I remember you now. Your graduation made waves throughout the city. Every major corporation was tripping over themselves to sign you."
"I believe even Norman Osborn personally tried to recruit you," Connors added. "It's a shame you turned him down. If you'd said yes, you'd probably be my boss by now."
Toby shook the doctor's hand, his smile easy and practiced. "You flatter me, Doctor. I wasn't that much of a genius; my peers just made it easy to look good. As for biology? That's far from my specialty. I didn't think I'd be much use to a biotech giant like OsCorp."
Connors chuckled, clearly enjoying the humility. "The future belongs to the young. I'm just an old man trying to keep up. Tell me, Mr. Parker, what kind of work do you do for the Fisk family?"
Toby shrugged, his voice direct and devoid of emotion.
"Pest control," Toby said. "Mostly underground. I specialize in clearing out the infestations in New York, though I occasionally travel to other cities if the client has a specific target they need... removed."
Gwen's eyes went wide. She stared at Toby, her heart skipping a beat. She knew exactly what "pests" he was talking about.