Marvel: Web Of Evolution

Monday passed in a blur of routine for Peter Parker. The morning had been typical: classes, notes, and the usual banter with his classmates. He shared a laugh with Harry and Gwen. Harry's jokes... half sarcastic, half genuine... kept things lively, while Gwen pointed out that Peter looked more confident.

Peter just chuckled. If only you knew.

The afternoon went smoothly, but Peter's mind was already elsewhere. As the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, he headed straight for Oscorp, ready for his daily responsibilities as Dr. Connors' assistant.

When Peter arrived at the lab, the space was as chaotic as ever. Beakers, papers, and notes were scattered across the workstations. It was routine for him to clean up and organize the place before Connors arrived the next morning.

He swept the counters, stacked the papers, and carefully arranged the equipment. As he was wiping down one of the desks, his eyes landed on a notebook lying open near the edge.

Curiosity got the better of him. Dr. Connors must've forgotten this here, Peter thought, picking it up. The cover was worn, the pages filled with dense handwriting and diagrams.

As he skimmed the contents, Peter's enhanced brain immediately began to process the data. The notebook contained detailed notes on the regenerative serum Connors had been working on.

So this is the famed Regenerative Serum, Peter mused.

The more he read, the more flaws he began to notice. Connors had overlooked a few crucial variables, understandable given the complexity of the project. Even great minds like Connors could miss things, especially when working under pressure.

Peter's own understanding of advanced genetics came into play. His rapid adaptability allowed him to not only spot the flaws but also come up with potential solutions.

The serum's molecular bonding is unstable, Peter realized. If applied in its current state, it could cause cellular degradation instead of regeneration. And the genetic markers, they're off by a fraction of a percent. That's enough to trigger immune rejection or mutation in a human subject.

Peter grabbed his notebook, tore out a sheet of paper, and began scribbling. His handwriting was quick but neat as he wrote down corrections and proposed adjustments. He wasn't trying to finish the formula, for he didn't have enough data for that. Instead, he focused on reducing the serum's risks and pointing Connors in the right direction.

Once satisfied, Peter folded the paper and tucked it back into Connors' notebook.

This should do it, he thought. Just enough to push him forward but not enough to give away everything. Don't want to make it too obvious.

Peter finished cleaning the lab and left. For him, it was another normal day.

That evening, Peter sat at his desk, a laptop open in front of him. He wasn't just Spider-Man; he was also a tech enthusiast, and his growing expertise in cryptography and computer science reflected that.

His latest goal? Create an untraceable online presence, to start uploading videos as Spider-Man. But for that, he needed to ensure his identity remained a secret.

Peter leaned back in his chair, stretching. "A YouTube channel could be the answer," he muttered to himself. "Fame, money, and maybe even some respect. Plus, it'd give me a platform to gather evidence if things ever get messy."

He spent hours researching videography techniques, editing software, and ways to encrypt his uploads. By the time he was done, he felt confident in his plan.

Nightfall came, and with it, Peter's transformation into Spider-Man. He pulled on his homemade suit: the red mask paired with a dark blue hoodie. An upgrade was long overdue.

It was a quiet night in Queens... Well, as quiet as it could be. Peter Parker, swung through the city, enjoying the sound of distant car horns and the occasional noises from alleyways.

Quiet nights make me nervous, he thought, flipping onto the side of a building to survey the streets below. Because quiet nights never stay quiet.

As if on cue, a loud CRASH!! echoed from the corner of 31st and Main. Glass shattered, alarms blared, and Peter's enhanced senses picked up panicked shouting.

"Here we go," Peter muttered, leaping into action.

He swung toward the commotion, landing on the wall outside a local bank. Peering through the broken window, he saw three masked figures inside.

"Seriously?" Peter whispered to himself. "Guys robbing a bank... at night... with Fantastic Four masks? Oh, this is too good."

Indeed, the robbers had chosen masks that were a bit... on the nose. One wore a blue mask of Mr. Fantastic, complete with a stretched-out fake nose. The second had a Human Torch mask that glowed faintly in the dim light, and the third donned a clunky mask of The Thing.

Peter crouched on the window ledge, watching as the trio worked. Mr. Fantastic was fiddling with the ATM, trying to hack it open with a knife. Human Torch stood by with a baseball bat, keeping watch, while The Thing waved a pistol at the nervous security guard tied to a chair.

"This has got to be the most ridiculous heist ever," Peter said, shaking his head. He fired a web at the ceiling and swung in, landing on top of the ATM.

"Hey, fellas!" he called out, grinning beneath his mask. "Don't you think the real Fantastic Four would be a little embarrassed by this? I mean, at least pick masks that match your skill level. And where is the fourth one, is she... Invisible?"

The robbers froze, startled by the sudden arrival.

"What the?!" Mr. Fantastic blurted, spinning around.

"Relax, Luffy," Peter quipped, flipping off the ATM and landing in front of them. "It's just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Now, who's into some nice, old BDSM?"

"Take him out!" The Thing growled, raising his pistol.

Peter's reflexes kicked in as he fired a web at the gun, yanking it out of The Thing's hand. "Whoa there, Rocky! Guns are dangerous. Let's stick to good old-fashioned fisticuffs, shall we?"

The Thing charged at him, but Peter flipped over him with ease, landing a playful tap on his shoulder as he landed.

"Tag! You're it!" Peter teased.

Meanwhile, Human Torch swung his baseball bat, aiming for Peter's ribs. Peter ducked and fired a web at the bat, pulling it out of the robber's hands and sending it clattering to the floor.

"Come on, Flame Boy," Peter said, shaking his head. "A bat? At a bank robbery? What is this, Little League?"

Human Torch tried to throw a punch, but Peter sidestepped and webbed his feet to the ground. The robber yelped as he lost his balance and toppled over.

"Don't worry," Peter said, patting his head. "You're still a hothead, even without the bat."

Mr. Fantastic, still holding his knife, tried to sneak up behind Peter. But Peter's senses flared, and he spun around just in time.

"Yikes! Stretchy with a knife?" Peter exclaimed, dodging a slash. "What's next, The Thing with knitting needles?"

He disarmed Mr. Fantastic with a quick flick of his wrist, then webbed his hands together.

"Knife safety is important, buddy," Peter said, wagging a finger. "Don't run with one, and definitely don't rob a bank with one."

The Thing, now weaponless but still determined, tried one last charge. Peter jumped onto a wall, sticking there effortlessly as The Thing stumbled into the ATM.

"Careful, Rocky! You'll break the poor machine!" Peter called out, firing two webs at The Thing's arms and yanking him backward. The hefty robber hit the floor with a grunt, webbed up like a cocoons.

The trio were now thoroughly webbed up, except the nostrils. Three web coccoons...

As police sirens wailed in the distance. Before leaving, Peter noticed a wallet full of cash that had fallen out of one of the thug's pockets. He hesitated, his mind racing.

"This is wrong," he thought. "But... is it really? These guys stole this money. Consider this... redistributing the wealth. Robin Hood would be proud."

He grabbed the cash and stuffed it into his pocket. Before he swung out, he heard some muffled sounds from the other room.

Peter rushed to the room, only find a security guard who was still tied to a chair.

"Hang tight, sir," Peter said. With a quick snap, he freed the guard.

The guard nodded, his hands trembling. "T..thank you."

"Just doing my job," Peter replied, swinging out of the window. The police started rushing in, right after he had left.

"Fantastic Four masks," he said, shaking his head. "What's next? Hulk masks at a donut shop?"

The night air felt cool against his skin. He allowed himself to enjoy the the moment, before swinging away into the city.

As he swung away into the night, Peter couldn't shake the complicated emotions swirling in his chest. He wasn't a hero, not in the traditional sense. He was just trying to make things right in his own way.

By the time he got back, it was past midnight.

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