"Incredible..." Peter muttered, admiringly surveying the equipment-packed space. His gaze jumped from the vacuum chamber to the thermal press. "John, this isn't a garage, it's a DARPA laboratory branch!"
I smirked. Part of the equipment, not fitting, awaited its turn in the living room, hidden from prying eyes by tightly drawn blinds.
"This isn't even close to what I'm striving for, Peter," I shook my head, wiping the industrial sewing machine's bed with a rag. "Ideally, need a full-fledged R&D laboratory. Own tower, like Stark's. Or at least an underground complex, like OsCorp's. There you could really spread out..." The last words I pronounced quieter, almost to myself, thinking about limitless possibilities. "Though, for that first need to earn a couple dozen, or even hundreds of millions."
Naturally I imagined this laboratory in full detail: sterile white walls, humming servers with advanced AI assistants like Jarvis, teams of the world's best scientists in protective sterile suits, testing futuristic prototypes obtained from the Forge. Not just a garage with homemade machines, but a real innovation hub, where the same "Proteus" evolves into something more, maybe suits with integrated neural networks or even an exoskeleton for superhuman physiology. But such dreams required not only money but protection from those who'd see them as a threat. I drove away these thoughts, focusing on the present, but Peter decided to dream.
"We'll earn it!" Peter unexpectedly responded warmly. He stepped forward, and in his eyes burned that very fire of scientific revelation. "I've been thinking a lot these last days... A whole lot. Maybe it's still echoes of the Elixir, but what I came to..."
"Don't drag it out, Parker, spill it."
"I analyzed all existing 'Proteus' analogs. Well, everything in open access," he made a caveat. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"They're junk! Every single one!" Peter threw up his hands from excess emotion. "Take Hammer Industries. Their armor, multilayer kevlar with titanium threads. Sounds cool, but in reality it's just heavy, unwieldy bricks with straps! Six and a half kilograms per square meter! The Pentagon disdains buying this, and I understand them perfectly! Cheap, yes, that's why it's popular with mercenaries, but this isn't technology, it's just more layers!"
He paused to catch his breath, then immediately continued, switching to a half-whisper, as if sharing a state secret.
"But what the Pentagon doesn't disdain is OsCorp's 'Bio-Silk.' Genetically modified spider silk reinforced with carbon fibers. Tensile strength five times higher than steel, that's true. And it's lighter, two and a half kilograms per meter. Already better, but still a kilogram heavier than our 'Proteus'! And here's the main question: what's the catch?"
"And what is it?" I played along, already guessing where he was going.
"It's wildly expensive! Tens of times more expensive than 'Proteus' to produce! Plus, because of the carbon fibers it's quite stiff, wears out quickly at bends, and melts from high temperatures."
"So, to sum up," I set aside the rag, fully concentrating on his words, "compared to 'Proteus,' it has lower flexibility, no dynamic impact protection, and costs like a fighter jet wing. Am I understanding correctly?"
"Exactly!" Peter snapped his fingers. "That's why it's only bought for special forces, in small batches. Stark also had a project with nanokevlar and microactuators, but it's quite bulky, vulnerable to EMP, and failed. The Soviets also have an interesting idea, namely aramid composite with woven steel microfibers and special epoxy coating, but problems are about the same: heavy, uncomfortable, breathes poorly, and also vulnerable to corrosion. And what do we come to in the end? That the US Army, the world's most technologically advanced army, and the Soviets, the most militarized country, still mostly run around in regular kevlar or Dyneema!"
Peter remembered another example, "Nano-Shield" from Roxxon Corporation. They tried integrating nanoparticles into fabric for self-healing, but the project stalled due to instability: the material degraded after several hits, and production required rare elements that cost a fortune. In the end, their armor is only used in experimental units, and even then with a bunch of caveats.
And the Europeans? Aimex has a graphene-based composite that promises super-strength, but in practice it's brittle at low temperatures and doesn't protect against kinetic impacts like our "Proteus." All these technologies are compromises, but we... We created something whole, universal, and truly in demand.
"So..." an electric charge of realization ran through my veins.
Peter smiled widely, confirming my guess.
"Yes, John. This is an absolutely new, empty market! The personal protection market, where we're not just competitors, we're innovators, decades ahead of everyone! Clothing and equipment, that's expense item number one for any army. And nobody, not OsCorp, not Stark, has managed to create truly comfortable, light, cheap, and effective combat uniform!"
I saw it clearly: our corporation, "Proteus Labs" or something like that, with contracts from the Pentagon, UN, even from private security firms. We could not only sell armor but develop civilian applications, protective clothing for firefighters, rescuers, even for extreme sports. This wasn't just business, but a revolution in safety, where every person could feel invulnerable.
Billions. Not just money, an entire empire. The simplest and, importantly, legal opportunity to come out of the shadows. Build the best laboratories, hire the best minds, create on industrial scale, not limited by anyone or anything. This thought was so stunning that for a moment my breath caught. This was a dream.
I allowed myself to enjoy this picture of the future for just a few seconds, then harsh reality crashed down on me like an icy shower, because such visibility would attract not only clients but predators.
"Unfortunately, in reality everything's a bit different," I shook my head, and my voice sounded cold and sober, instantly knocking all enthusiasm off Peter.
"What do you mean?"
"You see, Peter," I looked him straight in the eyes. "In this world, right isn't on the side of whoever has a brilliant idea or patent on it. Here right is on the side of whoever's stronger."
"That's barbarism!" he was sincerely outraged. "We've long outgrown that. I don't argue, there are corporate games, espionage... but what does brute force have to do with it?"
"Oh, Peter, how wrong you are..." flashed through my head while I listened to his naive but so understandable indignations. My inner world for a second filled with dark images. A conditional Kingpin, hearing about our technology, wouldn't send lawyers with a purchase offer. He'd send a team of thugs to "convince" us to work for him, and in case of refusal, without hesitation bury us somewhere under the foundations of another construction site in Hell's Kitchen.
And there's also whispers about "Hydra," the snake that's penetrated all spheres of society, which simply can't ignore technology capable of changing the balance of power. There's Hammer and OsCorp, playing their games dirty, very dirty. There are shady organizations like the Ten Rings, Hellfire Club, or damn shinobi from the Hand, who clearly wouldn't mind equipping themselves with something that'll withstand not only cold weapons but something more serious.
For all of them "Proteus" isn't just billions in profit. This is mass, easily reproducible technology capable of turning their infantry into elite units. Mercenaries in our armor would be far scarier than Hammer's drones. And the suits of Goblin, Octopus, Scorpion, or some Vulture with Shocker? I also thought about S.H.I.E.L.D., that shadow behind the scenes, which surely actively monitors any technology breakthroughs. If they decide "Proteus" threatens the balance, they'll either recruit us or neutralize us quietly, under the guise of an "accident." What about mutants or alien threats? Our armor could become a key in the hands of the Brotherhood or even Skrulls, if they exist in this version.
No, revealing cards too early is like waving a red flag before a bull. Peter doesn't need to know all this yet. I haven't explained the old secrets, and new ones will only spawn extra questions.
"Think yourself, Peter," I began carefully, choosing words. "It's precisely military strength that allows the USA to occupy a leading position in the world. The three largest tech giants, Stark, Hammer, OsCorp, they're all closely connected with military contracts. It's the strength of special units and individual personalities that kept some countries from collapsing into chaos. And it's precisely strength that allows lone wolves like Spider-Woman or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to pursue their activities."
"In what sense?" Peter was sincerely surprised. "Is heroism forbidden? We've got freedom, right..."
"Freedom is an illusion when it comes to people capable of single-handedly demolishing a block or standing against an elite special forces unit in full gear," I smiled bitterly. "Such individuals are too valuable a resource. Certain circles simply can't not pay attention to them. But because of their personal strength, recruitment happens as softly, imperceptibly as possible. Let's say, they're allowed to act as long as they don't cross the line. Everything in this world, and especially in a city like New York, happens with someone's invisible permission."
I fell silent, feeling I'd explained everything somewhat confusedly. But, fortunately, Peter didn't wear the Genius title only in my eyes, and grasped the general meaning. He frowned, deeply immersed in thought.
"So," he began slowly, as if probing a new, frightening idea. "We... not possessing personal strength or connections with those who possess it... become a tasty morsel for anyone stronger? And almost everyone's stronger than us now?"
"Right on the mark," I confirmed grimly. "Can't stick out with 'Proteus' at our current stage. Billions, undoubtedly, beckon, but right now such money would do more harm than good."
We discussed this topic a bit more and came to the conclusion that if we patent something for money, it should be something less... militarized. And definitely not so ahead of its time.
"Alright, 'Proteus' is clear. Today we'll create first samples and go test them, I already rented a closed range for the evening," I decisively changed the subject. "Better tell me, what about Phantasmin? How's progress?"
Peter immediately grimaced, as if he'd eaten a lemon.
"Like with the muscle stimulator, I have no idea how this thing works," he muttered grumpily. "Phantasmin's molecular structure violates a couple fundamental laws of chemistry. In principle it shouldn't exist. It's unstable, but in the body somehow holds form. Copying this is impossible. But..."
"But?" I leaned forward, holding my breath.
"...but we can try approaching from another side. More precisely, from three. I sketched several hypotheses. Without the Elixir I can't realize them, but purely theoretically... they're possible."
Peter approached a small board on the garage wall and began quickly drawing formulas.
"First hypothesis, direct approach. Neuro-catalyst synthesis. We can't recreate Phantasmin, but I can try isolating its active functional groups, those molecular 'tentacles' it uses to grab neurons. Theoretically, under the Elixir, I could design a completely new, stable alkaloid that'll mimic these groups. If it works, this'll be pure chemistry we can brew right here."
He paused and looked at me.
"Sounds simple, right? But there's a fly in the ointment the size of a barrel. Even under the Elixir this is incredibly complex. Without understanding that 'magical' component stabilizing the original, my synthetic analog might turn out to be toxic poison, weak dummy, or won't work at all. The Elixir will help find the path, but walking it might take years. This isn't a sprint, John. This is a marathon. Even Stark's quantum computers couldn't handle something like this..."
Explaining this idea a bit more, Peter eventually moved to the next.
And his second hypothesis made me mentally whistle. The idea to solve the problem not with chemistry but physics fit perfectly with my future "Technological Modernization" skill. Create a device that with an external field tunes the brain to peak operating frequency... This sounded like pure, elegant science fiction. No alchemy, full control, absolute safety. I almost felt how the future skill responded to this idea, how my hands itched to start assembling something so elegant. But as Peter, enthusiastically gesticulating, began going into details about the necessity of sub-atomic focusing precision and complexity of field gradient calculations, my enthusiasm cooled. I understood that "Technological Modernization" was a brilliant master's tool, but it wouldn't make me a brilliant theorist. Without blueprints, without fundamental scientific base that only Peter could provide, my skill would most likely be useless, but we'll see as we go.
As for the third hypothesis... it made me concentrate as if my life depended on it. I leaned forward, forgetting about everything else. Symbiotic stabilizer agent. Not try to copy the miracle, just extend its life. Create a "bodyguard" for Phantasmin's unstable molecule. Extend the effect from measly couple hours to dozens of hours, maybe even days. Of all three options, this path to long-term enhancement looked most realistic. But here too were pitfalls: creating another incredibly complex substance and unpredictable side effects.
I looked at Parker and honestly was shocked. Just a day had passed, and he not only analyzed an "impossible" substance but developed three radically different approaches to reproducing it. He didn't just chat and draw something on the board, he showed me his notebook, filled with formulas and diagrams, from which I understood absolutely nothing, but their very complexity inspired awe. In this moment Peter Parker grew in my eyes by several more orders of magnitude. Betting on him was the best investment in my new life. Now the main thing, keep him close. An unpleasant image of Norman Osborn flashed through my head, predatorily smiling and offering this brilliant youth a contract impossible to refuse. Definitely need to act preemptively.
Though, in fairness, Peter wasn't that type. In our brief acquaintance I understood the main thing: money for him was just a tool for solving problems, like what happened with his uncle. The real drug for him was the process itself. Cognition, creation, solving unsolvable tasks. Biochemistry, physics, materials science, he didn't care what to immerse his brilliant brain in. And the best bait for such a person isn't a stack of green bills, but an endless horizon of new, exciting challenges and unlimited resources to solve them. And I could give him that.
"Peter, do you realize what you've done?" I interrupted his technical explanations, and my voice sounded sincerely enthusiastic. "You came up with all this without the Elixir. Now imagine what'll happen when you can analyze each of these ideas under it. Find flaws, see shortcuts, improve and bring to reality! We're talking about a revolution!"
Peter thought for a second, then awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
"Well... most likely, under the Elixir I'll just come up with a fourth, even crazier idea I'd never think of in normal state," he smiled his usual slightly crooked smile.
"And that's also not excluded," I agreed, smirking. "In any case, I understood you. After 'Proteus' we'll tackle this closely. But such projects aren't a school club. This'll require full immersion. What about your university and work, by the way? This could all drag on."
"Ah, that's simple," he waved it off. "At the institute I know most subjects better than teachers, so they overlook rare absences. With Doctor Connors I work without a strict schedule, he cares about results, not hours sat. And I won't even mention the Daily Bugle, I have zero obligations there."
"Excellent!" I clapped my hands, and the sound echoed through the garage, marking the beginning of a new stage. We looked at each other, a young but already cynicism-hardened self-proclaimed strategist and ideologue, and a brilliant, idealism-filled scientist. The partnership was sealed. "Then let's not waste time. Let's get to work!"