The Public Library was a temple of silence, broken only by the occasional scrape of a chair or the soft clack of a librarian shelving returns. Ethan walked in unnoticed, his hoodie drawn up as it had started to rain on the way here, but took it off so as not to make anyone pay too close attention to him.
He slipped into the science and technology wing, his backpack landing with a muted thud that echoed just once. With the Sage-enhanced supercomputer brain humming beneath his calm exterior, he began selecting books with surgical precision.
The first book he read: "Principles of Neural Engineering."
Within minutes, Ethan consumed the basics of how neurons fired, how synapses formed electrical circuits across the brain, and how electroencephalograms (EEGs) mapped the mind's activity. He internalized the way BCIs (brain-computer interfaces) worked—by translating patterns of thought into machine-readable commands.
His takeaway: To control symbiote-compatible nanotech, he'd need to construct a neural bridge that wouldn't just respond to thought—it would need to anticipate emotion, compensate for latency, and adapt to bi-directional control. A psionically-stabilized neural bridge—an interface that would let the symbiote communicate through electrical and emotional signals without losing autonomy. However, adding a psionic dampener, in theory, could filter thoughts but may slow the symbiote's response, so it would have to be compensated for.
Next came "Intro to Nanomedicine." It outlined the construction and programming of bio-MEMS (biological micro-electro-mechanical systems) and nanobots designed to repair tissue, deliver drugs, or act as tiny scouts within the bloodstream.
What fascinated Ethan was how these bots could be programmed with trigger-response loops—"If-Then" command chains dictated by chemical markers or electrical pulses. Exactly the kind of responsiveness a symbiote interface would require.
He imagined them swimming through the bloodstream, aligning with muscle fibers, reading hormonal surges. Bots like that could tame the unpredictable nature of symbiote behavior with drug therapy. A symbiote acted in response to the needs of the host typically, meaning if the nanobot could help the body release certain chemicals, then it might be easier to control.
He scribbled mental annotations about Scorn—the first hybrid of symbiote and technology. That was the blueprint: biological fluidity merged with adaptive nanotech. He wouldn't copy it—he'd perfect it.
He moved to "Materials for Biomedical Applications." This volume explained how conductive polymers were created for things like pacemakers and artificial skin. Ethan memorized every material type: polypyrrole for conductivity, chitosan for flexibility and biodegradability, PDMS for skin-like elasticity.
His mental notes combined these properties into hybrid compounds that could serve as the material used for the nanobot needed to build the Endo Sym Armor that would merge with the symbiote to form an enhanced suit—materials that the alien biomass possibly wouldn't reject.
"Bioelectric Systems & Energy Harvesting" came next. From this, Ethan absorbed knowledge on how low-level electrical fields could be generated by muscle contractions, heartbeat rhythms, and brain activity. Certain insects and aquatic life, like electric eels, produced enough energy to power micro-devices. Some of this research had already led to energy-scavenging implants in the medical field.
Ethan was particularly intrigued by the possibility of having the Endo Sym Armor draw energy passively from his body without needing a battery or recharging. This was key. Symbiotes thrived on energy—especially neural energy. The Endo-Sym armor had to merge perfectly with the symbiote, not cage or suppress it.
He would have the Endo Sym Armor behave in the same manner as the Extremis and have the suit utilize internal bio-electrical energy loops, acting like a living battery that powers the suit's own enhancements. He would, however, need to ensure his tech wouldn't become a parasite itself like Extremis.
He would also need a backup energy source to rely upon. There were many choices from his memories. An Arc Reactor, Zero-Point Energy Reactors, Isotope-8, Nuclear Fusion, Fission Reactors, Solar Energy, and finally a Neutronium or Anti-Matter Reactor. The question is which could his body and the symbiote accept without harm.
Finally, he cracked open "The Psychophysiology of Emotion and Behavior." This was a study of how emotions like fear, rage, and euphoria altered brainwave patterns, blood flow, and hormonal secretion. It went into detail about biofeedback loops and how neurotherapy helped subjects train their minds to reduce panic, increase focus, or suppress involuntary reactions.
Ethan understood that symbiotes responded deeply to emotion. Their personalities shaped themselves around their host's trauma, desires, and rage. If he didn't want to lose control, he needed to understand what emotional signals looked like—before they escalated. He would also need to deal with his own trauma before the symbiote in his blood learned to echo them. After all, symbiotes don't just mimic emotions—they magnify them. If he wanted harmony, he'd have to understand himself as much as his creation.
By the end of two hours, five books had been devoured and internalized, reduced to code and structure within his mental archive. To most, the effort would take years. To Ethan, it was Tuesday.
With Sage's gift and his own willpower, he had internalized a foundation of scientific knowledge—each fact cross-referenced, each concept stored in structured archives in his mind. With this done and no other books here that would be useful, he had done what he set out to do, so it was time to leave.
Back at the hotel, Ethan moved quickly through the lobby, barely nodding at the concierge as he passed. In his room, he shut the blinds, sat at his desk, and opened his laptop—not to browse, but to organize the massive flood of knowledge now cataloged in his head.
The Sage-enhanced structure in his brain converted books into frameworks. Every equation, concept, and method he'd absorbed from the library clicked together like puzzle pieces. Now, it was time to chart the rest of the puzzle—starting with what was still missing.
Ethan opened a blank page and titled it:
"Symbiote Integration & Tech Harmonization: Long-Term Strategy."
The first section read:
What I Know:
Neural bridges allow signal transmission from brain to machine (learned from EEG/BCI systems).
Nanobots can mimic organic behavior and react to chemical markers (bio-MEMS).
Bioelectric energy harvesting is possible using passive muscle and brain functions.
Emotions alter neurochemistry in predictable ways (psychophysiology).
Symbiotes bond through DNA, react emotionally, and reject foreign interfaces unless primed and altered.
This was his foundation. With that, he constructed the second section:
What I Still Need:
Genetic editing capabilities to imprint host data onto symbiote or interface
Nanobot construction blueprints with bio-compatible functionality
Neural bridge refinement that supports emotional feedback and two-way learning
Host/symbiote immune system harmonization theory
Advanced material fabrication techniques to create symbiote-compatible armor shells
He then searched around and listed essential university-level textbooks and research papers that could help:
"Genetic Principles of Symbiosis Engineering" – covering DNA grafting and immune suppression
"Advanced Nanorobotics for Biological Systems" – theories on constructing programmable bio-integrated microbots
"Neural Echoes: Emotional Feedback in Brain-Machine Interfaces" – Stanford research papers
"Constructing Responsive Bio-Armor" – peer-reviewed engineering journals
"Psycho-Neuro Imprinting for Artificial Intelligence" – controversial paper rumored to be rejected from MIT for ethical reasons and being too radical.
These wouldn't be in any public library. He'd need to steal them. But rather than physical theft, digital infiltration would suffice—if he found the right cracks in university databases or repositories of pre-publication drafts.
To gain the latest insights, Ethan needed to track the leaders in each field. Using online academic databases and citation indexes, he created a hit list:
Dr. Helena Porter (Johns Hopkins) – CRISPR modification expert, focused on symbiotic gene expression
Prof. Isaac Feldman (MIT) – leading nanobot architect, focused on turning the theoretical and experimental field into a viable thing
Dr. Renee Cho (Stanford) – pioneered dual-channel neural interfaces that adapt to user states, used mainly by hospitals to map the brain and gauge the chemicals within
Dr. Viktor Sokolov (Warsaw/Oscorp) – electrical field research; known for patenting biological energy converters
Dr. Mara Alvarez (SymBioTech) – ex-Oxford researcher in parasite-host biology and possible beneficial parasites
He mapped their email servers, publishing histories, and current research grants. Each represented a potential intrusion point or a pipeline for stolen knowledge.
One major advantage remained: he didn't have to learn symbiote biology. He already knew it.
From his past life—his real-world memory—Ethan knew the Klyntar weren't mindless monsters. They were a genetically diverse race of extraterrestrial, hive-minded species of amorphous, parasitic organisms created by Knull that require hosts to survive. When bonded properly, they form a powerful, symbiotic relationship, enhancing the host's strength, agility, healing, and more. Rage and fear nurtured stronger, more violent strains. Isolation birthed loyalty. Love bred confusion.
Although the ones on Earth were corrupted, the Klyntar race believes in honorable bonding—enhancing heroes, and protecting life.
He knew they were vulnerable to fire, sonic frequencies, and sometimes intense cold. But he also knew how to calm them—how to train them. Most importantly, he knew how to create new ones from a genetic base, as Carnage and Scorn had proven. The Klyntar could also absorb knowledge, DNA, and experiences from different hosts. A useful trait if used wisely.
The sample Felicia gave him was small, but with the right tech and bio-stimulus, it could evolve into something far more superior to normal Klyntar. If he could also rein in this new creation, its future offspring would be the opposite of Carnage and could be used by his allies. Although he would need to separate them from the hive mind for when Knull would eventually awaken.
After imagining what he could create he looked at reality and sighed. Oscorp was his only option for truly advanced biotech.
Alchemax and Horizon Labs didn't exist yet.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was too dangerous to touch in his current condition.
Oscorp was doable—not now, not so soon. If he built himself up a bit more and developed enough tools, he could slip through cracks in their external-facing systems. Scrape experimental data. Copy blueprints. Maybe even trace shipment manifests for their prototype gear.
He typed:
Target: Oscorp External Research Server
Priority: Sokolov's Oscillation Field Reports
Entry Plan: Port scan → DNS leak → masked proxy flood → scrape
Backup Plan: Physical infiltration (last resort)
Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
He had an alien in his veins, six identities in the system, three companies on paper—and now, a plan to rob the most dangerous lab in New York.
Things would soon become hectic.