One month passed in a blur.
In the heart of Queens, a historic red-brick building—renovated into a high-tech laboratory—stood quietly among the bustle of city life. Once a forgotten industrial site, it had been transformed into a state-of-the-art facility, housing a project with the potential to change the world.
Today, that building was filled with reporters, scientists, and powerful industrialists from across the globe.
They came not just to observe, but to witness what could be the dawn of a new era in energy: the Artificial Sun Project.
On the third floor of the laboratory—an expansive space over 400 square meters—guests moved around, examining complex machinery and towering equipment. Several technicians in gray lab coats moved with purpose, checking monitors and calibrating instruments.
At the center of it all stood Dr. Otto Octavius, slightly heavyset but radiating with confidence. His usually tired eyes were alight with energy, and his round face gleamed with anticipation.
This was his moment.
He stepped forward and clapped his hands for attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice brimming with excitement, "thank you for being here. Today, you will witness a miracle—a turning point in the history of energy. This experiment has the potential to bring cheap, sustainable power to every corner of the globe."
Applause erupted.
Among the applauding crowd stood Harry Osborn, sharp in a tailored suit, beaming with pride.
"I want to personally thank Harry Osborn and the Osborn Group for their unwavering support," Otto continued. "Without them, this wouldn't be possible."
Harry chuckled and gave a polite nod. "We're more than happy to back a project this revolutionary."
Standing quietly beside Harry was a young man—nervous, awed, and clearly out of place. It was Peter Parker. Though only a college student, Peter had been invited as Harry's guest. The two were childhood friends, and Peter couldn't believe he was lucky enough to witness something this monumental.
This was no ordinary science demo. This was history in the making.
Dr. Otto gestured to the back of the room, where a metallic platform waited under a white sheet. With a showman's flair, he walked over and yanked the cloth off with a dramatic sweep.
"Let me introduce my assistants," he said, as four gleaming mechanical arms emerged from beneath the platform.
"These mechanical arms are engineered specifically to operate the fusion system," Otto said, removing his lab coat and vest to reveal a specialized metal harness along his spine. "They are immune to magnetic interference and can act with speed and precision far beyond human capabilities."
Gasps of amazement filled the room.
Dr. Otto stepped onto the platform and lowered himself into position. With a click, the harness latched into his spine, and a neural interface fused with his body.
Almost immediately, the robotic arms began to move—perfectly synced with his thoughts.
"They're connected directly to my brain via spinal nerves," Otto explained proudly. "They are my hands, my tools… my partners in science."
He stepped back as two technicians rolled aside metal cable boxes to reveal a five-meter-wide reactor platform. The crowd moved closer, just seven or eight meters from the action.
At the center of the platform, a mechanical rod extended upward. Suspended delicately in the center was a dark golden sphere, no larger than a grape.
"This," Otto said reverently, "is tritium—one of the rarest and most powerful elements known to man. Only 25 pounds of it exist on Earth. This sample was generously provided by the Osborn Group."
The crowd leaned in.
As Otto activated the system, the tritium slowly levitated, held perfectly in place by magnetic fields.
One of his assistants handed him a pair of black radiation-proof goggles. He turned, accepted them with a smile, and nodded gently to his wife, who stood nearby watching with pride.
"Everyone," Otto announced, "don't blink. You're about to see a star born on Earth."
Boom.
A pulse of energy erupted across the room as concentrated laser beams locked onto the tritium. In the blink of an eye, a miniature sun—just over a meter in diameter—flared into life.
It radiated with blinding brilliance.
One of the male assistants stared at his monitor, voice trembling with excitement. "Doctor, the energy index is stable. We did it!"
The room exploded in cheers.
"Oh my God, it's beautiful!" someone whispered.
"You've done it, Doctor Octavius!" cried a reporter.
"Marvelous—this will redefine human history!"
Harry was ecstatic, picturing skyrocketing stock prices. Peter was speechless, overwhelmed by the scientific beauty and magnitude. Reporters scrambled to take photos and stream footage. Scientists applauded, some blinking back tears.
But the celebration was short-lived.
Peter's Spider-Sense triggered.
The hairs on his arms stood straight. Something was wrong.
He scanned the room. Everything—the metal badges, paperclips, jewelry, ceiling lights—began to tremble and swing violently.
A low, rumbling suction filled the air. People began to wobble on their feet.
"It's just the energy peak," Otto reassured the room, trying to maintain calm.
But even he could tell—something was off.
The tritium sphere pulsed erratically. The miniature sun flared, and a hot wind surged outward. The containment field wobbled. Sparks burst from the platform.
Boom!
An explosion erupted near the edge of the platform. The containment failed. Magnetic fields collapsed, and the gravitational pull of the artificial sun intensified wildly.
People screamed as chairs, bags, and even metal scaffolding began flying toward the reactor.
Dr. Otto's face turned pale. He tried to command his robotic arms to shut it down—but the neural interface was disrupted by the magnetic interference. His arms wouldn't respond.
"NO!"
A second blast ripped through the lab, knocking over equipment and shattering windows.
Then it happened.
One of the consoles beside Otto's wife exploded. With a shriek, she was pulled from her position, hurtling directly toward the unstable reactor.
"ROSALIE!" Otto screamed, his voice breaking.
He strained against the malfunctioning mechanical arms, desperate to reach her. But he was trapped, the nerve relay system paralyzed by the chaos.
Peter could barely move under the crushing suction force. "Damn it," he muttered, wishing he had brought his web-shooters.
Even Otto's wife closed her eyes, accepting her fate.
Tragedy was seconds away.
Then—CRASH!
The ceiling exploded, raining debris and sunlight into the lab.
From above, a figure descended in a flash of gold and red.
Bella.
Wreathed in golden energy, her hand flared with blinding light as she aimed toward the reactor.
A blast of energy surged from her palm—precise and calculated—striking the containment cables.
Sparks flew. Power flickered. A secondary field surged into place, halting the artificial sun's growth by the narrowest margin.
Otto's wife, just inches from disaster, was caught midair by one of Bella's energy tendrils and pulled to safety.
Gasps of relief filled the room.
Otto collapsed to his knees. Peter exhaled shakily. Harry stared, eyes wide.
Bella landed with grace, golden sparks still dancing at her fingertips.
She turned to Otto, her voice calm but firm.
"Your calculations were solid. But your containment design was flawed."
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