Spider -Man:Peter Venom

"Yeah Felicia, I'll be there, I promise. Wait, didn't you get sick at Oscorp too?"

Felicia pulled a face, "yeah but I didn't need to spend a week in bed like a little bitch."

Peter just shook his head, yup, as tactful as ever. As she leaned over the table to lecturehim he tried not to stare right down her top, as this close, he saw exactly what colour, and how well-fitting her bra was, even if she seemedunaware.

"Look Pete, whatever happened at Oscorp wasn't serious enough for you to screw up my future. If you're still sick or climbing the walls or something, drop out of the club and let me get someone in who's more reliable."

Peter shook his head, "Felicia, I'm fine, so no wall climbing needed. Look just get off my case already, okay?" with more forcefulness than usual, Felicia leant back surprised,

"No need to be a dick about it, Pete."

"Oh, wait, what's the perfume you're wearing, cause uh, it's nice."

Felicia shook her head, "Lame Pete, lame." Standing up to leave Peter could only watch as she walked away.

"What did I say?" he mused to himself. Flipping his phone back over the plans he had for the warehouse was, for now, a secret. Not that he would have told someone like Felicia anyway, she was an acquaintance, not a friend. 

He bookmarked several sites each one with instructions and floor plans of container homes, normally used in places suffering a disaster or with a large homeless population, but to Peter, these were gold waiting to be mined and would put money in the bank.

Closing the browser down he mused over the remains of his lunch. Felicia raised a good point though, with midterms coming up and the clubs seeing their final push for competition season, would he have time to get the warehouse cleaned and fixed up without help? 

He didn't know anyone though. The onlymuscle he knew that could help to move and renovate would be Flash, and he would rather learn to sing and teach racoons to do housework than ask him for anything. 

Even Harry was of no help, he'd hire contractors and Peter would be out hundreds of thousands of dollars just for them to look at the place. No, he needed to make time for this, he needed to get a grip on his life, once and for all.

With his new powers though the work should be manageable on his own. He would have to be careful not to attract too much attention to himself. A skinny kid lifting piles of lumber orsacks of concrete would look strange. He had amazing powers but he needed to be carefulnot to draw attention to himself.

Peter was broke. By the time he'd paid taxes, realtor fees, and a whole bunch of things he never even knew existed for buying a warehouse, he had less than $20,000 left of the money he'd gotten from Osborn. While thatmight have sounded like a lot to anyone else, by the time he paid for materials and supplies to finish the warehouse and the workshops, he would be completely broke.

As soon as he started to buy even the bare minimum of the tools he needed to clean the warehouse up, he realized that getting $50,000 knocked off the price had been a con, and that the inside would need that in maintenance just to make it clean let alone livable.

He needed a job, it didn't have to pay well but it had to pay. Peter had meant to venture around the area his new home was in for a while now but he'd never gotten round to it, or at least not properly. Swinging his way out and back never gave him the street level view he needed, and after walking for about 10 minutes he came across what he had spied earlier.

The area was clean, saying a lot of a semi-industrial warehouse district. There were plenty of truckers and conveniences for them as well as a good amount of hookers, but that wasn't what Peter was looking for. A lot of places like this needed temp workers. A large haul coming in needed an extra pair of hands paid in cash and then forgotten. He could make a few hundred a week just hauling boxes or sweeping floors. If he got desperate or an emergency came up he could look for something temporary, but what he really needed was a steady income. It was in the window of a 7-11 near the warehouse that he spotted an advert for a full-time position.

It wasn't going to be perfect but it suited what he wanted. Good pay, flexible hours and guessing that a junkyard in the middle of Brooklyn wouldn't be completely legit, a good way to score some maybe less than legal electronics or scrapped computer components.

The junkyard was massive, piles of scrap cars had been made into a maze of sorts but from the ground, it was even more imposing. Clutching the advert in hand he made his way through the entrance, under the large yellow and black sign, "Alexsi's Auto and Mechanical Scrap" written across it, the undersign of "we buy any used or broken items" had caught Peter's eye. He was now here not just to try and find a job, but to scout out any useful machinery for his starter company.

As he made his way to the office he saw a fat bearded man about to start prying open what looked like a server rack on the top of a huge steel workbench, raising his eyebrows in alarm. 

Peter shouted "hey, hey you, wait, stop, no," while running towards him. 

The thick heavy sound headphones the man was wearing must have either blocked out all the noise or he just ignored what to him was a kid, but Peter grabbed the crowbar out of his hands. "Hey wait," and as the man reached back for a lump hammer, Peter raised his hands in defence.

"Whatn the fuck'r you doin?" the man drawled as he waved the hammer at Peter, he moved the headphones down and yelled, "Hey boss, we gots a thief."

"Hey no, no. You're about to make a huge mistake, I can explain." Holding up the crowbar, Peter had backed away far enough that if the man swung not only would he miss but Peter would get a clean swipe at his neck. Of course, with the crowbar in hand, Peter was ready to make sure he never got the chance to even swing, and as he tensed he felt the other man coming out of the porta office.

A short but well built and heavily balding man came out of the office, wiping his hands on an already dirty rag. "Oh come on Bens, it's a kid. Hey, what you doin huh? Bens get back to work, and you, you can fuck off." The man had little patience after being disturbed,

"Wait, sir, the server case. Your uh, the employee was about to crack it with a crowbar"

The bald guy shrugged, "So?"

"Well, it's an Oscorp Azura server shell, those have anti-theft devices inside. If the case is cracked or damaged they send out a signal and then destroy the drives so they can't be used again," Peter said. "Even a scrapped one has a small backup power cell, in case, uh, they get stolen."