Dr. Connors assumed Peter was trembling with rage.
Gwen assumed he was shaking with grief.
Only Toby knew the truth: Peter was just feeling a bit awkward and incredibly nervous.
In this universe, the "Butterfly Effect" of Toby's presence had changed the timeline. Peter hadn't stumbled upon his father's old briefcase in a dusty attic as a confused adult. With Toby as a strong, protective figure by his side, Peter had grown up more resilient and optimistic.
Because of that, Ben Parker hadn't felt the need to hide Richard's belongings to "protect" Peter from the past. He had handed over the briefcase years ago.
Through the photos hidden in the lining, Peter had long known that his father and Connors were close colleagues. It was the reason he had developed a fascination with cross-species genetics in the first place—he wasn't just following a passion; he was following a ghost.
Peter looked up, and instead of the expected anger, his face showed a sheepish, apologetic smile.
"No, Dr. Connors. I'm the one who should apologize. This was a project you and my father started together. Because of his... departure, you've been trapped in this loop for a decade. I should be apologizing to you on his behalf."
Connors froze, staring at the boy in disbelief. "You... you don't blame me?"
Peter scratched his head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Doctor. My father's death was an accident. It had nothing to do with you."
Connors felt a sharp pang in his chest. He had spent his life as an authority in genetics, prideful and guarded, yet he realized he lacked the emotional maturity of the two young men standing before him.
Richard, Connors thought, you weren't just a genius. You raised a hell of a son... and quite a nephew.
As Connors drifted into thought, Peter gestured toward a large chalkboard filled with discarded equations. "Dr. Connors? May I?"
"Be my guest," Connors replied. He was still reeling from the emotional weight of the conversation and would have agreed to almost anything at that moment.
Peter picked up a piece of chalk and began to write.
Connors watched from behind, his eyes narrowing as Peter's hand moved with rhythmic precision. The symbols looked familiar. Within seconds, he realized what he was looking at: the regeneration formula for the lizard serum.
It was the formula Connors had beat his head against for ten years. But now, in less than sixty seconds, Peter was mapping out a complete, elegant algorithm that bypassed every hurdle Connors had ever faced.
"This... this is..." Connors' voice shook.
Clack. Peter set the chalk down and turned around, nodding simply. "That's the missing piece. My father actually finished the algorithm before he left; he just never got the chance to hand it to you."
Connors walked slowly to the board, staring at the solution that had eluded him for a decade. It was right there—beautiful and terrifyingly simple.
"Richard," he whispered. "Ten years later, and you're still teaching me. You always did have to have the last word."
The sorrow in Connors' eyes was replaced by a flickering flame of hope. He turned to Gwen. "Gwen, could you do me a massive favor? Go tell the other interns that something urgent has come up. The Q&A is postponed. Take them through the facility tour instead, alright?"
Gwen knew her mentor well. With the decade-long riddle solved, Connors wouldn't have the patience to answer basic questions from undergraduates. She nodded and prepared to lead the crowd away.
Connors then turned back to Peter, a wide, genuine smile on his face. "Peter, how would you feel about stepping into your father's shoes? I want you to help me finish this. We can change the world together."
Peter's eyes went wide. "Me? Are you serious?"
"I'll fix you up with an official internship title," Connors added. "And yes, it's a paying position."
Peter's neck turned red with excitement. He wanted to scream "Yes," but he stopped and looked at Toby. "Toby? Is it okay?"
He remembered May and Ben's warning about part-time jobs and focusing on his studies. But he knew if Toby backed him, the old couple wouldn't stand in his way.
Toby shrugged. "It's your life, Pete. Make your own calls. Just remember—I've always got your back."
Peter didn't catch the double meaning in Toby's words. He only heard the approval. Within minutes, he and Connors were hunched over a terminal, lost in the world of genetic sequencing.
Toby gave them a small nod and walked out with Gwen.
His original plan of leading Peter to the spiders had hit a snag, but it didn't matter. He'd just snag a few extra "Super-Spiders," find a quiet moment later, and make sure one of them gave Peter a "love bite." The result would be the same.
Once they were clear of the lab, Toby checked his watch. "I need to hit the restroom, Gwen. Go ahead and meet up with the interns. I'll catch up with you in a bit."
Gwen didn't suspect a thing. As she headed toward the lobby, Toby turned a corner and vanished into the restricted access hallways.
He didn't need a map. He had memorized the blueprints Kingpin had procured for him weeks ago. He moved through the shadows, avoiding the blind spots in the security cameras with the ease of a professional ghost.
He reached the heavy, pressurized doors of the Super-Spider Incubation Chamber.
He pulled a small device from his pocket—a genetic key-code Kingpin's hackers had cracked from OsCorp's mainframe. The door hissed open, and Toby stepped into the sterile, blue-lit room.
In the center of the room sat the glass enclosures. Inside were the spiders Richard Parker had engineered. Because Richard had locked the spiders' potential behind his own genetic sequence, OsCorp had only been able to harvest their silk. They had no idea they were sitting on the greatest biological weapon in history.
Toby pulled a reinforced glass vial from his jacket. It was time to collect.