"It is locked," he said, looking at the building's front entrance. "Well. It will have to be the other way." He walked to the rear of the building, confirmed the alley was clear, put on a red mask, and began climbing.
He found the window he was looking for without difficulty, opened it, and stepped inside.
"This place is very tidy," he said. "Which does not surprise me."
He set the suitcase on the table, placed a folded note on top of it, and left the same way he had entered. He pulled the window back to its original position.
Once he was in a position where no one could see him, he dropped to the ground and landed without sound, removed the mask, and walked back to the car.
------------
He stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the laboratory, internally directing a small prayer to every available deity that the experiment would succeed and that he would not transform into something that required containment.
He entered the laboratory and activated the Solitude Protocol.
"It is now or never," he said.
"Do not worry," Cortana said. "Everything will be alright."
The robotic arms opened the lid of the glass containment box. "I performed a thorough analysis. Today's experiment will be a controlled success, broadly speaking. I must inform you that you will experience pain, stress, convulsions, and poisoning effects, but your body will adapt to the sting."
He stretched his hand toward the spider, which looked at him with the specific cautious curiosity of something very intelligent assessing something new.
She approached his hand and began climbing it. He watched her with something genuine.
"Success is a long and tedious road," Cortana said. "But I am afraid this particular road is also long and painful."
"Ah." He looked at the spider, who was turning around on his hand in confusion, trying to understand what was happening.
"When has my path not been long and painful?" He brought the spider to eye level. They looked at each other for a short time. "Let us do it."
He brought his other hand toward her. Sensing danger, she panicked and tried to run, but he held steady, and she bit down on his wrist as a defensive response, injecting everything she had into his bloodstream. When she finished, he caught her gently and returned her to the container.
"Well," he said. "That was completely disappointing."
"It did not work?" Cortana said, equally confused. "The venom concentration was extremely high. I expected the process to initiate immediately."
"Reality is often disappointing." He shrugged. "It may require time. I will go home and rest."
"I will conduct an analysis of the subject in the meantime."
"Good." He picked up his coat from the chair and moved toward the door. "I am so tired. I do not think May will mind just a bit of rest and...."
Thump-Thump.
Thump-Thump.
He gasped as his legs stopped cooperating.
His knees hit the floor. He pressed his hand to his chest and felt each heartbeat as a distinct physical impact.
Sweat appeared on his face immediately. He crawled to the sofa and, with everything available to him, pulled himself up, and fell.
Miraculously the sofa was underneath him. He tried to call May. His eyelids became very heavy. His vision began to deteriorate.
Thump-Thump.
....
In an abyss of pure darkness he found himself floating, a neutral point between consciousness and subconsciousness.
Even there he could feel the venom warming through his bloodstream, moving toward his heart.
Each painful pulse pumped more mutated blood through the system. His body was changing, from the DNA level outward to each individual cell, his bone structure, his muscle mass.
It was not simply changing.
It was evolving.
....
In an apartment lit by the glow of an advertising sign from outside, a man wearing red-tinted glasses sat for a moment looking at a suitcase that had not been on his table when he had last been in this room.
He located a piece of paper on top of it and picked it up. It was written in Braille.
From SM to DD/MM
Hello, Matthew Murdock. Also known as Daredevil.
How I identified you is simple. You left a significant blood sample during our shared engagement. Identifying you from that was straightforward. Do not be concerned about anyone else discovering the same thing. I contaminated the sample on every other channel so that no one else can trace it. You are not at risk from anyone but me, and I have no intention of using it against you.
Inside the suitcase you will find a gift. When I last saw you in your suit I noticed a number of significant weaknesses, so I took the time to build a new one, along with some weapons to help you improve your work. The suit has considerable capabilities. I left documentation inside the case covering everything.
Now, Matt. I know there are times when you want to give up, or when the weight of Hell's Kitchen makes you want to break your code. But doing the right thing requires firmness, and sometimes it means giving up what you want most.
You may have lost more times than you have won. But you always get back up, and that is what matters. Have faith in what you do. The smallest change is always the most important. As some say, faith moves mountains.
PS: Inside you will also find some inspiration. I hope the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the Knight of New York can work together again as allies. I do not use my methods in other vigilantes' territories, so Hell's Kitchen is yours.
PS2: To open the case, press your fingerprint and a blood sample to the smooth surface on the top. To grant others access, say: "I, Matt Murdock, also known as Daredevil, authorize (name) access."
Good luck, Murdock.
From your not entirely Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
Matthew Murdock finished reading. A small smile appeared.
He did what the note described. The case opened.
He briefly touched the suit inside and located the documentation. It took him a few seconds to read it.
He found the music player mentioned in the note and pressed play.
When the music started, he understood immediately what the inspiration was.
He began putting on the suit, surprised by several things.
One was the quality of what he was hearing. The other was how light and flexible the suit was despite its reinforcements.
Once it was on, he tested the weapon. The changes it offered were significant. One in particular was his immediate favorite, because it meant he could move through Hell's Kitchen with considerably less expenditure of energy.
He left through the window.
'Thank you for this,' he thought. 'Spider-Man.'
----------
"So that is what happened," said one of the two young men sitting outside a bar. "I do not know what to do, Mike."
"She ended things with you?" Mike said, looking at his friend Sam with the carefully weighted sadness of someone trying to calibrate the correct level of sympathy. "After a month?"
"Yes. Now tell me with a little more pity this time. I did not feel it last round."
"I understand the pain," Mike said. "But look at the bright side! You are finally single!"
"We had only been together a month," Sam said, with the specific expressionlessness of someone who has moved past the active grief stage and into the flattened aftermath.
"Well," Mike said, with a smile that was doing considerable structural work, "it is not like you really lost anything in that case. So that is ven-...."
"I lost my virginity in that month," Sam said, with quiet annoyance, and Mike pressed his lips together and looked at the table.
"Well. I.... Argh." He put this aside. "Forget all of this. The moon is out. This is our favorite bar. You are eating your favorite food. I am drinking my favorite beer. My best friend is right here. Let us have some actual fun tonight. I know a perfect place for this occasion, and I am telling you there is no better way to clear your head than spending time with a woman, so finish up and let us go."
"Your optimism is both unsettling and genuinely annoying," Sam said softly.
"Go to hell and stop crying!" Mike threw a small salt packet at him. "You can try again. And again. And again. It is not like things could get significantly worse for you."
Sam sighed. "I suppose."
"Come on! After all, what could possibly go wrong?"
BOOM.
The roof of a building three stories up exploded.
Both men stopped moving entirely.
People around them began to scream and run in every direction with the specific energy of people who have never had to process this situation before and are doing it badly. Debris came down around the tables. Sam and Mike stared at each other.
"HAHAHAHA!" The Green Goblin dropped a pumpkin bomb from his glider and watched the results with visible satisfaction. "That is it! That is it! Scream! HAHAHAHA! Cry! Beg! Ask for help! Scream for someone! Come on! I want Spider-Man! HAHAHAHA!"
Boom. Boom. Boom.
"I genuinely hate your luck," Sam said, in a hollow voice with no emotion remaining in it at all, "and your mouth."
Mike laughed nervously. Both friends ran.
-------------------