Marvel: Absolute Universe

The dim glow of monitors illuminated the SHIELD command center, casting faint shadows across the faces of the agents stationed at their terminals. At the center of it all stood Nick Fury, arms crossed and his single eye fixed on a screen displaying the transcript of Tony Stark's last phone call. Maria Hill stood beside him, her sharp gaze scanning the data for any missed details.

["This isn't a joke, Tony!"] Pepper Potts' voice echoed through the recording. ["Where are you? What are you doing?"]

Tony hesitated: ["I can't tell you that, Pep. It's safer this way."]

"Is that all we got?" Fury asked, his voice low and gravelly.

An agent at the console shook his head. "Yes, sir. The phone went dead right after they saluted each other. No trace on the signal, burner phone, pre-scrambled, and no repeatable pattern to track."

Fury's jaw tightened. "Stark's always been a slippery bastard."

Hill tilted her head slightly. "Are we going after him?"

Fury's gaze didn't waver from the screen. He seemed to be weighing his options. Finally, he spoke. "No."

"No?" Hill echoed, frowning.

"No." Fury repeated firmly. "We sit tight. See what Stark does. He's unpredictable, but he's not stupid. Whatever he's planning, it's going to lead to something big, and I want to know what."

Hill nodded, though her expression remained skeptical. Fury's approach was unconventional, but his instincts had rarely failed him.

On a nearby monitor, a news broadcast flickered to life. Obadiah Stane stood at a press conference, his broad shoulders and carefully measured smile dominating the frame.

["The actions of Tony Stark have left us all in shock and dismay."] Stane's deep voice carried an air of authority, but there was something in his tone that made Fury's jaw tighten further.

["As the new CEO of Stark Industries, I want to personally assure the public that we are committed to transparency and accountability. We will not allow the mistakes of the past to define our future. We owe it to our employees, our shareholders, and the world to do better."]

Reporters shouted questions, but Stane raised a hand, his expression grave. ["Let me say this, Tony Stark was a friend, a partner. His actions have left me heartbroken, but I promise Stark Industries will rise above this and restore the trust we've lost."]

The feed cut to the newsroom, but Fury didn't move.

Hill broke the silence. "You don't believe him."

Fury shook his head slowly. "Not for a damn second."

"What's the move?" Hill asked.

Fury turned to her, his expression steely. "Keep an eye on him. I want to know every move Stane makes. If he so much as breathes wrong, I want to hear about it."

Hill nodded, already pulling up Stark Industries' internal reports on her tablet.

Fury stared at the darkened screen, his thoughts churning. "Everyone's playing games tonight, Maria. Let's make sure we win."

....

The soft glow of a streetlamp outside Gwen Stacy's bedroom window cast faint, shifting patterns across the walls. The house was silent save for the faint ticking of a clock on her nightstand and the distant hum of passing cars. Gwen lay sprawled on her bed, her blanket twisted and half-kicked to the floor.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths shallow and uneven. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, glistening in the dim light, and her blonde hair clung to her damp skin. She muttered incoherently in her sleep, her body writhing as though caught in an invisible struggle.

Her fingers twitched, clenching and unclenching the sheets. Beneath her pale skin, subtle movements rippled through her muscles, as if something deeper was stirring. The normally delicate lines of her arms appeared more defined, the tendons in her wrists standing out faintly.

Gwen's legs jerked suddenly, her knees bending as her toes curled involuntarily. The muscles in her calves flexed, their contours sharper than before. Her breathing hitched, and a faint moan escaped her lips.

Her spine arched slightly, and for a moment, her entire body seemed to tense. The faint sound of fabric straining filled the air as her slender frame shifted, her muscles subtly expanding and contracting beneath her skin.

Her heartbeat, previously rapid and erratic, slowed to a deep, resonant rhythm. It echoed faintly in the quiet room, steady and powerful, as though her body were recalibrating itself.

Sweat trickled down her neck, soaking the collar of her shirt. The veins along her arms and neck became faintly visible for a moment, pulsing with an almost luminescent hue before fading back into her skin.

The transformation was not violent or grotesque; it was slow, methodical, like a symphony building to its crescendo. Gwen's body was becoming something more, something stronger.

Her hands flexed again, and this time, her fingertips brushed the edge of the nightstand. The wooden surface groaned slightly under her touch, as though the pressure of her hand was far greater than it should have been.

Gwen's lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. "Peter…"

Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't wake. The tension in her body began to ease, her form settling back into the mattress. But beneath the surface, the transformation continued, each change imperceptible yet profound.

....

The quiet hum of a space heater filled Peter Parker's makeshift lab in the garage. The room was cluttered with textbooks, notebooks, and tools scattered across the workbench. At the center of it all sat a row of makeshift cages, each containing one of Oscorp's stolen spiders.

Peter leaned over the workbench, his brow furrowed in concentration. He adjusted the focus on his microscope, peering at a thin strand of webbing he'd extracted from one of the spiders. The structure was unlike anything he'd seen before: dense, elastic, and glowing faintly under the light.

"This is insane." he muttered to himself, scribbling notes into a battered notebook.

Each spider in the vials exhibited unique traits. One spun webbing that could hold over ten times its own weight, while another seemed to emit faint bioluminescence. A third's venom sample showed compounds that could theoretically paralyze a human instantly.

Peter stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "And these are incomplete?" he muttered, glancing at his notes.

The files he'd stolen from Oscorp detailed experiments aimed at enhancing the spiders through genetic engineering and traces of a super-soldier serum. But according to those same files, the project had been abandoned when the lead scientists, his parents, had disappeared.

Peter's gaze hardened as he stared at the vials. "What would they have looked like fully developed? What could they do?"

His mind raced with possibilities, but unease gnawed at him. The spiders' potential was incredible, but their origin was steeped in the same secrets that had claimed his parents' lives.

Peter sank into his chair, his thoughts turning inward. His parents had been scientists, brilliant minds who'd worked on cutting-edge projects. But were would they hide the core information?

He clenched his fists, the weight of his questions bearing down on him. "Mom… Dad…"