Peter Parker.
I looked at the back of this slouched guy and tried to correlate his image with the legend. There was no confidence, no hidden strength, not even a hint of the witty hero he was supposed to become. Just awkward youth. That's what the absence of a radioactive spider bite does to people.
The question was different. What should I do? And should I do anything at all? Reasons for intervention? At least two, and both were weighty.
First: Peter Parker is a freaking genius. One of the smartest people in this world. I didn't know how genius specifically this version of him was, but it could easily be understood from a conversation.
Second: his tragic future. His Lizard alter ego, which is almost inevitable in those variations of the universe where Gwen-Spider exists. I'm not a hero, but... Is it possible to prevent the emergence of one of New York's most dangerous monsters at the early stages?
Okay, stop. No rush. Let's rethink everything once again. Coldly and in order.
Asset: Genius. What does this mean specifically for me? I am not a genius, not even close. I am a practitioner with access to potentially incredible technologies, but I don't always understand the fundamental principles behind them. Parker is a bridge. He's not just a resource; he's a force multiplier. A living supercomputer capable of taking my blueprints from the Forge—artifacts from other realities that violate the laws of physics—and finding a way to make them work here, in my garage, with a soldering iron and parts from the radio market. He will be able to explain the biochemistry of the Muscle Stimulator to me, optimize the mechanism for the Protective Field Generator, and help with programming. It's not just about accelerating the OP farm. It's a quantum leap in the quality and speed of my development. Peter Parker is one of the few universal geniuses, and ignoring such an asset when it's literally within arm's reach would be criminal stupidity.
Liability: Lizard. And on the other side of the scales is his monstrous alter ego. To be honest, I don't care much about the moral dilemmas and the path of Gwen becoming a heroine. I'm concerned about the risk analysis. Is this tragedy as important to Gwen as, say, her father's death? Judging by the way Peter is now shadowing Mary Jane, preparing to fulfill her request, it's unlikely that he and Gwen have a close relationship right now. Most likely, his act will be dictated by envy of the superheroine (if he already knows about her alter ego) and a desire to prove something to the world. Classic. A weakness that can and should be played on. Preventing his transformation means eliminating a future threat and possibly gaining his loyalty.
No. I can think about it later. They're leaving. The window of opportunity closes with every second. The first step in any strategy is data collection. I need to talk to him. Assess him. Understand who is in front of me—a future Nobel laureate, a future monster, or just a beaten-down yesterday's teenager.
Yes, this is the easiest and most obvious option. I'll build on the results of this conversation.
They had almost disappeared around the corner of the corridor. The chance was slipping away. I had to act immediately.
"Hey, MJ, hold up!" I called out, trying to make my voice sound as casual as possible.
They stopped. Mary Jane turned around, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before being replaced by friendliness.
"I overheard something about a spotlight... What catastrophe has befallen?" I approached, deliberately using the word "catastrophe" to play on her slight theatricality.
It worked. The girl threw up her hands, tragic notes entering her voice.
"Oh, it's simply dreadful! The main spotlight broke on one of the rehearsal stages! And we have to submit a request to the official electrician, wait three days... you know how that red tape goes! And the girls and I have a performance in a small theater tomorrow; we vitally need to have a final rehearsal today!" She paused and nodded proudly toward her companion. "Fortunately, after talking to the department, I was able to bring in an independent outside expert!"
I shifted my gaze to Peter, who seemed to shrink even further under that title, looking like he wanted to merge with the wall.
"An expert, you say?" I allowed myself a slight smirk, extending my hand to Parker. "Is he sure he can handle it? He strikes me as more of a theorist than a practical guy."
"He can certainly handle it!" Mary Jane immediately interjected, while Peter shook my hand awkwardly. "Peter's the smartest person I know!"
"And can this smartest person..." I pretended to search frantically through my mind for options, though I had actually chosen the test beforehand, "Build a Marx Generator, for example?"
Mary Jane looked at the guy questioningly, clearly not having the slightest idea what I was talking about. But Peter changed. Up until then, he'd looked like Mary Jane's shadow, lost and awkward. But at the words "Marx Generator," something clicked. He straightened up, his gaze behind his glasses focused on me, and a spark of lively, professional interest flashed in it.
"Messed around with it in high school," his voice, previously quiet, took on slightly more confident tones. "True, getting identical high-voltage capacitors is quite the task... had to put them together myself out of foil and plastic bottles."
"Hmm, respectable," I nodded, feigning slight surprise, though I was ecstatic inside. Test passed. "Where do you work, anyway, if you don't mind me asking? Or study?"
"I study at New York University. Biochemistry Department, Genetic Engineering," he scratched his untidily disheveled head awkwardly. "I work part-time on the side."
Bingo. Such coincidences don't happen. But I needed a control shot.
"Doesn't Dr. Curt Connors work there by any chance?"
Now Parker's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"He does. I even assist him a little. Part-time for now, but... I can't complain. Getting access, even limited, to a lab of that level and to truly invaluable knowledge is an incredible stroke of luck."
Jackpot.
"Boys, maybe you can stop whispering about your science?" Mary Jane interrupted our budding dialogue, dramatically placing her hands on her hips. "We kind of have a spotlight that won't fix itself."
"Yeah, I guess we should get going," Peter agreed guiltily.
I realized that this chance couldn't be missed. "Can I have your number, please?" I addressed him directly. "Having the smartest person according to Mary Jane Watson in my contacts is better than not having him."
A light blush touched Peter's cheeks, but he nodded.
"Um, yeah, no problem, jot it down."
After writing down the number, I said goodbye and left the College in an even more elated mood than after the expulsion. I hadn't just gotten rid of unnecessary obligations; I'd acquired a key asset.
Getting into my Honda, I steered out onto the avenue, feeling like I was in control. The world was full of opportunities. But the euphoria didn't last long. Due to a lack of driving experience in this body, in this car, and considering the specifics of American traffic laws, I was, as yesterday, extremely focused on the road. And it was this concentration that allowed me to notice something unpleasant.
A black SUV had been hanging in my rearview mirror for several blocks. A Toyota Land Cruiser, tinted to the max. I turned right onto a less busy street. A second's delay—and the Land Cruiser followed me. A cold trickle of sweat ran down my back. Another turn. It was still there. This was no longer a coincidence.
"Fuck," I hissed through my teeth, gripping the steering wheel. "I hope this is just paranoia, and the route of that coffin on wheels, down to every even random turn, just happens to coincide with mine..."