Acquiring Peter's abilities set Toby's mind racing.
If I can gain Peter's stats by dominating him, does that mean I can farm the powers of every Spider-person in existence?
Usually, there is only one Spider-Man per universe. But the keyword was "usually." From the moment Toby had reincarnated into this world, the status quo had been shattered. He was a walking anomaly. If Peter could become a hero under his influence, why not others?
He thought of the universes where Ben Parker was Spider-Man. Or the ones where Gwen Stacy became Ghost-Spider.
He still had over a dozen super-spiders in the terrarium. If he "made" Ben and Gwen into Spider-beings, could he defeat them and stack their power onto his own? He was tempted. The prospect of becoming a god-tier entity was intoxicating.
But Toby wasn't a reckless man.
Ben and Richard were brothers; their genetic markers were similar enough that a bite might take. But Gwen? In this universe, the spiders were biologically encrypted to the Parker bloodline. If Gwen were bitten, she wouldn't become a hero—she'd likely suffer a catastrophic genetic collapse and die.
Furthermore, there was the "Canon Event" risk. In the Spider-Verse lore, an anomaly like the Earth-42 spider biting Miles Morales led to the death of that universe's original Peter Parker. If Toby turned Ben into a second Spider-Man, would the universe "balance" itself by killing Peter?
High risk, low certainty, Toby concluded, suppressing the urge. He needed to stabilize his current 33% power boost before messing with the fabric of reality any further.
While Toby was deep in thought, Peter's enhanced metabolism kicked in. He groaned and pushed himself off the floor. Toby hadn't "stolen" Peter's power; he had essentially "mirrored" the data and added a copy to his own. Peter was still every bit the Spider-Man he was an hour ago.
He was also every bit as sore.
Peter pulled off his mask, rubbing his lower back with a grimace. "Good lord, Toby! Do you have some personal vendetta against my kidneys? Eight out of ten hits were aimed right at my lower spine!"
Toby pulled his own mask off, his expression neutral. "The more you hurt now, the less you bleed later."
"Statistically, over fifty percent of violent deaths in New York involve a sneak attack from behind. Beyond the head and heart, the lower back is the most vulnerable target with the highest mortality rate."
"People instinctively guard their vitals—the face, the chest. But they almost always ignore the lower back, which is just as fragile and just as lethal. I hit you there to force your body to recognize it as your third vital weakness."
Toby wasn't making this up. Looking at the history of heroes, back injuries were a recurring nightmare.
In DC, Bane had broken Batman's back. Later, Batman had returned the favor to Superman. Even in Marvel, the Spider-Men had a history of spinal trauma. The original Toby-variant Spider-Man had once lost his confidence and fallen from a skyscraper, landing flat on his back and suffering chronic pain for years. It took an "adjustment" from another Spider-Man just to fix it. And even after that, he'd been stabbed in the back by a glider.
Toby didn't want to hear Peter screaming "My back! My back!" in the middle of a real fight.
Peter thought about it and realized the logic was sound. He nodded, filing "Protect the Kidneys" under his top tactical priorities.
Then, Toby led Peter further into the lab, stopping in front of the ecological terrarium.
When Peter saw the familiar, glowing spiders inside, it was like a lightning bolt hit his brain. He didn't need Toby to explain a thing; his genius-level intellect connected the dots in a frantic blur of deduction.
These spiders were identical to the photos of the radioactive specimens in his father's briefcase.
Toby had said their powers came from the spider.
Peter remembered the "pinch" on his neck during the OsCorp evacuation.
A terrifyingly clear picture began to form in Peter's mind. This wasn't an accident. This was a conspiracy.
"I see it now," Peter said, his voice dropping into a dramatic, detective-like tone. "The radioactive spiders didn't just escape. You stole them. You broke into OsCorp, looted my father's research, and then set the fire to cover your tracks and mask the theft of the specimens."
"Then, amidst the chaos of the evacuation—a chaos you created—you followed me and planted a spider on my neck. You chose the moment when I was distracted by Dr. Connors to ensure the bite was successful."
"And based on how strong you are... you've probably been doing this for years! You set up the meeting with Connors to put me in the right place at the right time! Was Gwen in on it? Did you use her to lure me there?"
Peter pointed a finger at Toby, his eyes wide with the thrill of his own "Detective Conan" moment. "Toby Parker! You are the mastermind behind the OsCorp Fire and the creation of New York's newest superhero! Everything yesterday was—"
Smack!
Toby's hand connected with the back of Peter's head, cutting the monologue short.
"Stop watching detective shows, Pete. You're overthinking it," Toby said, though his smirk told a different story. "Just be glad you've got a suit that fits."