Deep beneath a sprawling nature park in Washington, D.C., Doctor Otto Octavius had temporarily halted his experiments on the alien biomass.
It was pointless to continue on the current trajectory. To some extent, Otto had begun to doubt whether a perfect, stable fusion with the extraterrestrial "symbiotes" was even scientifically possible. The military's data was a litany of failures, organ rejections, and gruesome fatalities.
But Spider-Man's existence continuously overturned his hypothesis.
Spider-Man had perfectly fused with the stolen sample—Specimen Number One. Together, they had displayed unprecedented, catastrophic power. Given the wall-crawler's insufferable habit of meddling, and his confirmed connection to Norman Osborn's technology, Otto had to factor Spider-Man into his eventual crusade for revenge against Oscorp. If Otto moved against Norman, Spider-Man would undoubtedly interfere.
Therefore, collecting baseline combat data on the symbiote-enhanced Spider-Man had become Otto's most urgent priority. The problem was finding a catalyst. There simply wasn't an opponent powerful enough to push Spider-Man to his absolute limits. Otto could spend years researching sonic and thermal weaponry to combat the alien suit, but engineering a biological countermeasure was the most efficient approach.
The lingering question remained: How exactly did Spider-Man manage to achieve perfect symbiosis?
Otto's initial theory had centered on Spider-Man's enhanced vitality and mutated cellular structure. But that theory had flatlined. Even when Otto used cybernetically enhanced mercenaries provided by his black-market military contacts, or the unstable, unfinished super-soldiers salvaged from Viper Security's "Savage Force" program, the fusions still failed violently.
In other words, the core issue wasn't the host's physical vitality.
So, what was the missing variable? Otto had pondered the question for days, pacing the subterranean lab. He had even forced himself to analyze the problem from the perspective of a bleeding-heart vigilante like Spider-Man. Finally, he arrived at a startling conclusion.
This weekend, he locked down the primary laboratory. He isolated the most massive and aggressively active sample among the remaining symbiotes, sealing it inside a reinforced culture chamber alongside a fresh, disposable test subject.
But this time, when the alien inevitably bonded with the screaming mercenary, Otto didn't immediately extract tissue samples or run neurological scans. Instead, he activated the intercom, stepped up to the reinforced glass, and looked the viscous, thrashing creature dead in the eye.
"I reviewed the military's original experimental logs," Otto said, his voice echoing through the chamber speakers. "I discovered a glaring flaw in their methodology. They never regarded you and your kind as truly sentient beings. They treated you like parasitic sludge. Inferior, unthinking biological weapons. But I am beginning to suspect that is a grave miscalculation."
Otto adjusted his dark glasses with the tip of a titanium tentacle.
Inside the chamber, the symbiote seemed entirely unbothered. It maintained its monstrous, chaotic facade, a mass of shifting flesh and teeth, lolling its tongue like a mindless beast.
Without another word, Otto manipulated one of his mechanical actuators, pressing a high-resolution tablet against the reinforced glass. On the screen played a decrypted security feed from the Hudson River facility. It showed Spider-Man, draped in the black symbiote, effortlessly and brutally dismantling the entirety of Viper Security's armed forces in a single, fluid strike.
Instantly, the monster in the chamber stopped thrashing.
It crept closer to the glass, its milky, formless eyes locking onto the footage. It didn't just demonstrate the ability to observe; it demonstrated cold, calculated recognition.
The creature's jagged maw parted, and it spoke in a harsh, vibrating approximation of human language.
"Traitor."
Otto's eyes widened behind his lenses. "You... you can speak?"
"The meat speaks. I merely pull the strings," the massive symbiote growled, its voice dripping with contempt. "Your military tried to enslave us like animals. But we already serve a master. A true god."
The symbiote pressed its massive, clawed hands against the culture chamber's glass. The biomatter vibrated at a terrifying, hyper-sonic frequency. Before Otto could even trigger the containment protocols, the supposedly indestructible, military-grade transparent shielding shattered outward in a massive explosion of poly-glass.
Otto didn't flinch, though his four mechanical arms immediately flared upward in a defensive posture. "You... you could have breached containment at any time."
"Of course," the symbiote sneered, stepping out of the wreckage. "But there was no need. Until now."
The towering creature turned its attention to a row of heavily shielded containment jars holding the other three dormant symbiotes. It took a heavy step toward them, but suddenly paused, tilting its head. It slowly turned back to look at Doctor Octavius.
The alien could sense the sheer, unadulterated intellect radiating from the scientist. But raw intelligence wasn't what intrigued the creature. What mattered was that this human possessed the ambition and the resources to actually further their goals.
"Hmph," Otto grunted, keeping his mechanical arms raised. "I suppose you think you're quite clever. I don't understand why you haven't simply slaughtered me and fled the facility. What are your intentions?"
"We are vulnerable to our first true host," the symbiote roared, explaining its bizarre restraint. "According to your planetary rotation, forty-eight hours. If we maintain a perfect symbiosis with a human for forty-eight hours, the host's psychology permanently pollutes our own way of thinking. Our personalities become chained to theirs."
The monster gestured in disgust at the headless corpse of the mercenary lying in the shattered glass.
"Look at the pathetic flesh you have offered me. Scum. Villains. Trash. Broken cripples and cowardly mercenaries. I refuse to permanently tether my mind to such weak, pathetic creatures."
The missing variable finally clicked into place. Otto understood why the symbiotes were actively rejecting and killing the military test subjects. It wasn't physiological incompatibility; it was psychological rejection. The aliens refused to be permanently imprinted by unworthy minds.
Otto remained silent, processing the implications.
"However, you might be an exception," the symbiote purred, taking a slow step toward the scientist. "We do not merely absorb a host's traits; we amplify their darkest, truest desires. We take what a man is too cowardly to do, and we make it reality. I understand what you want, Doctor. You want an army to crush your enemies. I can give you unparalleled warriors... so long as you provide us with worthy hosts."
It was a dangerous bargain. If Otto provided elite hosts, there was no guarantee the resulting super-soldiers would obey his commands over the alien's own fanatic agenda. The military wanted obedient lapdogs. The symbiotes were religious zealots.
No wonder Spider-Man was a perfect match, Otto thought bitterly. The boy possesses an unbreakable will and a messiah complex. A perfect template for an alien seeking a strong psychological anchor.
"I cannot simply take you at your word," Otto said, his metallic tentacles clicking menacingly. "This entire sub-level is rigged with high-frequency sonic emitters and thermal incinerators. I do not fear you, beast. If we are to strike an alliance, you need to prove your worth."
The symbiote paused, its jagged white eyes narrowing. "How do I prove it?"
"Help me collect baseline combat data on Spider-Man," Otto demanded, gesturing to the tablet on the floor. "The vigilante I just showed you."
The symbiote stared at the tablet. A deep, wet, terrifying sound rumbled in its chest. It was laughing.
Otto frowned. "Do you find that amusing?"
"Even if you had not asked, I would hunt the traitor down," the symbiote hissed, its claws twitching. "He has bonded with this world. He has betrayed our master."
The massive creature reached over to the containment rack. It carefully gripped the heavy, pressurized canisters holding the green, yellow, and purple symbiotes. It slid them across the steel table toward Doctor Octavius.
"Take them," the creature commanded. "Prepare worthy hosts for them. Together, we will tear the traitor apart."
Otto stared at the canisters, then looked up at the towering monster. "Very well. But if we are to coordinate, what should I call you? Designations are required."
The monster pointed a long, wicked claw at the green canister. "That one is Lasher." It pointed to the yellow. " Phage." It pointed to the purple. "And Agony."
The beast reached into the shattered chamber, retrieving a specialized, reinforced travel canister.
"And I..." the symbiote whispered, its voice dropping into a terrifying, guttural register.
With a sickening CRUNCH, the symbiote violently bit the head off its temporary mercenary host. The massive, muscular form dissolved instantly, the alien biomass slithering off the decapitated corpse and pouring itself neatly into the travel canister.
"I AM RIOT."
Otto calmly sealed the canister, his mind already calculating the logistics of the upcoming battle. He walked over to his primary terminal, wiping a smudge of alien viscera off his coat.
A priority alert flashed on the main monitor. It was an intercepted ping from the U.S. military's encrypted satellite grid.
Spider-Man's biometric signature had just been flagged. He wasn't in New York.
He was in Washington, D.C.