Webs We Weave 2.3 (Patreon)

Webs We Weave

Commissioned by Bobbananaville

Chapter 2.3

“Sit here.” Dr. Connors led me to a smaller room connected directly to the main lab. “After the…attack, I took the opportunity to have this space renovated into sort of exam room, just to make things a bit more comfortable.”

I took a seat in the chair offered. It really wasn’t a hospital exam room, just two chairs, a desk against the wall for a computer, and easy access to the wide-open space that was Connor’s lab.

“We’ve taken pictures of the site, and I received your bloodwork back from OzLab a few days ago. Connors rolled over a stool. “Thank you for taking care of that so promptly.”

“It was in the paperwork,” I replied.

“Yes, well.” He gave a small smile. “If everyone read the fine print.”

Before I could reply, Gwen Stacy entered the ‘exam room’ with small vial tray. As one of Connors’ three interns, and the only woman, Gwen was taking part in this trial.

Trial was a big word, from what I’d been told, Connors was going to shoot me up with his serum and keep me in observation for a few days. The thought failed to provide much confidence, but Peter had said to trust the doctor, so I would.

I’d had plenty of time to work through my doubts after the attack on the lab. It had taken just over a month to get the damages fixed, which felt fast to me, but what did I know? In the meantime, I’d done my best to help Peter manage his time as Spiderman, and got the occasional homecooked meal from his Aunt May. Pete had even shelled out his own hard-earned money from selling ‘Pictures of Spiderman!’ to the Daily Bugle. I hadn’t convinced him to unmask to May yet, but at least he was willing to listen to some of my other advice.

Now if only I could get him to stop asking questions about where I learned all of these things.

“Thank you, Gwen.” Connors selected a vial from the tray, placing it into the back of a high-tech syringe shaped like a scanner gun.

She nodded, flicking her eyes at me.

The two of us…did not quite get along, because of all the time I spent with Peter. She thought I was the reason he was busy all the time now. It did not endear me to Peter’s oldest friend.

“Thank god for this little beauty. Before these things, I had to get help from the clinic for anything involving a direct injection,” Connor’s told me. “Now, absolutely no fuss. Roll up your sleeve for me.”

I’d worn a shortsleeve shirt despite the dreary rain for just that reason.

I swallowed once as he pressed the cool metal of the injector against my arm and depressed the trigger. I heard a hiss and felt a small prick of pain.

Nothing else.

“There we go.” Connors set the injector back on the desk before picking up a clipboard. With the 3D awareness granted to me by what was left of my power, I could easily figure out he was marking a few check boxes, probably which vial of the gene editing serum he’d just used.

“Let me know if you feel any symptoms at this time: nausea, fever, anything out of the ordinary,” Connors said.

“Nothing so far.”

He nodded, even though he looked a little disappointed. “That’s expected. This is a slow process; even in mice, the most receptive individuals took several days to show any noticeable change. We’ll keep you under observation here for the next half an hour or so, just to make sure you don’t have an immediate allergic reaction. After that, I’d like you to come back to the lab each morning.”

I nodded.

“Excellent. Gwen, if you could take another measurement of Ms. Hebert’s arm, we can wrap things up here.” He stood. “We’ll do your next cheek swab in twenty-four hours as well, see how far the genome changes have spread, if at all.”

Gwen swapped places with Connors, who took the rest of the vials and set the auto injector aside to be disinfected later.

“Is reusing those things sanitary?” I asked.

“They’re self-sterilizing,” Gwen replied. “Connors just likes being thorough.” She caught my look and half rolled her eyes. “We don’t make a habit of using them for multiple patients either, if you care so much.”

I held up my hand. “Sure, thanks for answering my questions.”

She hummed, before taking out a simple measuring tape and a set of calipers. “Arm out please.”

It was, in a word, very different than a visit to the hospital. While I felt that Connors ran a tight ship, he was not a medical doctor. Gwen didn’t even give me a dum-dum after she finished measuring my stump.

“Let me know if you feel any changes,” she said. “I’ll be right outside, but you should wait here like Dr. Connors said.”

Very much not a hospital.

“Right.” I nodded. “I’ll check with you before I—”

The muscles in my arm suddenly clenched in a full-body cramp. I grunted.

I saw Gwen start to turn back my way, but then my vision whited out. I heard a shout as I pitched forward. Someone tried to catch me.

I felt myself hit the floor.

When I came to sprawled out across the hard tiles, Peter and Eddie pinning one arm each.

I paused, examining that thought again.

“Miss Hebert.” Connors’ voice cut through the thick fog swaddling my thoughts. I could feel his hands bracing my neck. “Are you with us?”

Slowly, I tilted my head to the right. My arm was back. Pale, yes, and thin, but there. I could feel the cool tile pressed against the back of my wrist.

“I thought you said this was a slow process,” I said.

A bark of laughter escaped Connors. “So did I. Boys, please help her up. Gwen, I’ll want that DNA sequence I was going to have you run tomorrow done right now, if you would. Eddie, my—” He paused, taking the clipboard. “Yes, that, thank you.”

Connors paused mid-motion, glancing between my face and my arm. “Why don’t we…have a seat.”

I let Peter help me down into the chair once again. He hovered awkwardly at my elbow even as the other two interns darted out of the room to do…science stuff, I don’t know. I’d never been in a university lab before.

“Well.” Connors drummed the metal fingers of his prosthesis against the clip board. “Well, this is not…”

Peter nudged me. “See, Tay? Told you it was a good idea to sign up.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “So you have good ideas sometimes.”

I flexed my fingers as he laughed. My grip felt weaker than I was used to. I could only squeeze for a second before my hand started to tremble.

I’d just started running through a simple stretching routing before Connors caught my fingers. “Let’s take things slow for a second, Miss Hebert. I’m worried about the integrity of the tissue. And also where the mass came from.”

I stiffened at that. Connors nodded. “Peter, why don’t you get your friend something to eat from the canteen. It wouldn’t do to have our success story fall over from something as mundane as low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t what I was worried about however. As far as Connors was concerned, the mass of my forearm couldn’t just come from thin air, but I happened to be connected to an alien super computer with the ability to shunt matter across dimensions.

Passenger? I asked the silence. Did you do this?

I felt the faintest thrill of glee run down my spine. It felt like such a natural emotion that I wouldn’t have even questioned it were the feeling not so out of place. The feeling vanished as fast as it came.

I found myself sitting in the ad hoc exam room, letting Gwen swab my cheek and snip a bit of hair, munching on the sandwhich Peter got me as the four scientists ran back and forth across the lab, babbling nonsense that I couldn’t begin to follow.

It seemed almost like they’d forgotten about me, even Peter.

“Dr. Connors, look at this!”

I perked up when Eddie Brock came back into the main lab with another tray of samples. “These were in the other refrigerator than Taylor’s batch. The color is different, it’s slightly darker.”

I winced at the thought that my serum might have been spiked with something.

Connors quickly found another solution. “The attack, by that electric individual…Eddie, was this unit closer or farther from the door?”

“Farthest one back. The other fridge is a lot closer.”

Connors nodded. He looked so serious in profile through the open door. “There was damage all the way to the storage area. Could it be that the refrigeration unit was damaged?”

“Actually, I think he might have supercharged it with lightning,” Peter said.

I fought the urge to slap my new hand across my face.

“What do you mean, Peter?” Connors asked.

Peter paused suddenly, eyes flicking back and forth.

“Did you get some pictures of it or something?” I called. “For that job of yours at the Bugle.”

“Y-yeah!” Peter nodded. “I told you guys I was close by when Electro showed up. Now that you brought it up, I think I remember it looked like he might have zapped the freezer directly. But it’s still working, so he didn’t short it out.”

“Then, what?” Eddie crossed his arms. “You think that whatever electricity he was doing affected the samples?”

“Doesn’t it look brighter?” Peter asked. “Almost like it was juiced up.”

“Yes, well.” Connors coughed. “‘Looks like’ is not a valid unit of measurement, but if both refrigeration units are working properly, Peter’s hypothesis is the next one to test. Eddie, go ahead and store both sets of the serum. We’ll run some tests on the composition of the differentiated samples.”

Peter grinned. “Does this mean I can whip out the generator?”

Dr. Connors laughed, running a hand through his shortcut hair. “Yes, it means we might be using that ‘generator’ of yours.”

“Score!” Peter punched the air. “I told you it was a good idea to keep it.”

“We’ll be doing a normal series of—and he’s run off already.” Connors shared a commiserating look with me through the open door of the exam room. “Teenagers.”

“It looks like you’ve got some good help, Doctor.”

“They’re certainly enthusiastic.” He came back over to my exam room, sitting down heavily on the other chair.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds as his three helpers went about their various tasks. If I remembered correctly, Gwen was already running a third, more detailed DNA sequence. The first one was something I vaguely remembered from my GED courses, chopping up my DNA with an enzyme and seeing how long the strands were, electrolysis or something. After that returned an interesting result, they’d pulled out the actual sequencer. That one took quite a bit longer.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Hmm?” Connors straightened in his chair. “Right, right. I’m going to ask you to remain here in observation for the next forty-eight hours at least. It will be a bit of work, but we’ll set up a basic schedule so that someone is always in the building with you. There should be a cot in one of the storage rooms; remind me to show you the bathroom later.”

I pursed my lips. “Shouldn’t I go to a hospital?”

Connors blinked at that. “The hospital?”

“You know, for a blood draw? Maybe a tissue sample of this.” I waved my new arm. “Stuff we can’t do here?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “We’ll roll you into the ER with a sudden case of spontaneous regeneration.”

My frown deepened.

“Apologies, Miss Hebert. That wasn’t called for.” He let out another breath, good arm shifting to rub the socket of his prosthesis where the metal met flesh. “I will be putting in a request for more comprehensive test with a colleague at the hospital, but it will take a few days to set up. Because I doubt she’ll believe me.”

Again, not comforting, but maybe that was better than Connors pulling out a scalpel and biopsy-ing me himself.

If possible, the rest of the day rushed by even more quickly. Connors did find a cot and showed me the shower stall. Peter was gentleman enough to buy me some toiletries, on account of me still being broke.

Money for being a lab rat was part of the deal, but that had understandably gotten lost in the shuffle of the arm serum suddenly working. Eddie even made some joke about how it was a good thing it happened to me, because if Connors had tested the serum on himself, he wouldn’t have wanted to go through all the hassle.

“It’s different,” he’d said. “When you have to dot your t’s and all that.”

“And cross your i’s?” I’d asked with eyebrow raised.

“Got it in one.”

So yeah, Peter’s fellow interns were fun, even if Gwen was still only being polite because I represented the greatest breakthrough in medical care since inoculation. She was the one who’d remembered to give me a key to the exam room so that I could have some privacy.

For my part, I focused my energy on trying to get in touch with my passenger. I’d felt it reach out to me before, right after my arm had regrown, but since then, nothing.

Sometimes it felt like the range of my person sense expanded slightly, but I couldn’t tell if that was from my nerves, or if the serum had somehow healed my brain as well. Maybe it was better if it hadn’t; the last thing I wanted was a lizard brain.

I glanced up when Gwen poked her head into the room late into the night. “Any change?”

“Nothing since your last check-in.” She was touching base every hour, and it had started to wear on both of us. The boys had left hours ago.

I glanced at the clock above my cot. “Why don’t you head home? No reason for us both to be tired.” I wasn’t supposed to sleep tonight either.

“Gotta keep you under observation,” Gwen replied.

“Peter should be here in time for my next check in.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I’m good company.”

She worried her lip, glancing from me to the clock. Eventually though, the tiredness wore out. “You’ll stay here? N-not that I want to keep you locked up, it’s just…”

“I promise I won’t go poking around the lab.” I waved my old hand. “It’s fine, there really isn’t reason for you to suffer on my account.”

“Yeah, just…” She lingered a bit longer. “You’re sure you’re fine? No changes?”

“No changes.”

Gwen sighed. “Okay. Call as soon as you feel anything, though. I’m gonna go clock out and get everything ready for Peter.”

I nodded, settling back against the wall as she pulled the door closed.

Through my power, I could feel her drifting in and out of the main room, cleaning up like she said. Soon enough though, it was just me, alone in the darkened laboratory.

I sighed, thumping my head against the wall. “At least half an hour before anyone shows up, Passenger. Wanna talk now?”

As always, no responses.

“You really know how to make a girl feel appreciated,” I said.

The muscles in my arm locked up again. I hissed at the sudden jolt of pain. “Passenger?” The hot flare of agony pulsed once, making my fingers clench. “Can’t you come up with a better way to—”

Another shock traveled through me, whole body tensing. I gasped, fingers splaying wide open. I caught sight of my palm and stiffened in an entirely different way.

Scales had started growing out of my skin. They pushed through the pads of my fingers, sharp green and growing far too fast.

I threw myself off the cot towards the phone I’d left on the desk. Halfway there, another pulse traveled through me, muscles locking again. I staggered, slamming into desk.

On reflex, I caught the phone before it could hit the floor. My legs went out from under me, and I screamed.

“C’mon, fuck. C’mon.” Trembling fingers on my good hand struggled to press the numbers. From the corner of my eye, I saw the scales start to rush up my arm. “Pick up, pick up!”

The phone rang.

Peter answered with a yawn. “Taylor? ‘M on my—”

“Peter, I—” A scream swallowed the rest of my words.

“Taylor?” His voice sounded far away. I’d dropped the phone. I reached for it, only to realize both hands had turned scaley. My nails had sharpened into points that looked more likely to shred the phone’s case than pick it up. “Taylor, what’s wrong.”

“Ieeaa…”

My voice was wrong. It had reached my face. It had reached my head.

Acting on instinct, I ignored Peter’s half-shouted questions and turned.

The legs of the exam chair were metal, those hollow tubes that made them easy to stack. I reached out, grabbing one of the legs with both claws and ripped it off.

“Taylor? What was that? I’m almost there!”

Hurry, I wanted to say. But my lips hurt so much. When I tried to breathe, I snarled and snapped at the air. I clawed and tore at the floor.

Scared. I Needed to hide. Needed to flee.

No! No. Can’t—

Groaning, I lifted the metal stake overhead, and stabbed it through my arm and into the wood of the desk.

Roaring echoed through the room. Folded the metal in a white-hot fit of thrashing. Slammed the desk against the wall. More pain, more roaring.

My last thought was the realization that I was the one—