"Hey! Venom, I'm here—I'm your host! Come on!"
Seeing Venom suddenly cling to Loren—wrapping around him like an overeager puppy and practically leaping into his arms—Peter felt a pang of betrayal, as if his closest ally had just sided with a rival behind his back.
Venom's sudden affection surprised not only Peter but Loren as well.
But on second thought, it made a twisted kind of sense. Symbiotes are survival-driven; they bond with hosts who offer strength, resilience, and compatibility. In other universes, Venom's ideal host is Spider-Man—Peter Parker, enhanced and battle-tested.
But in this world, Peter never became Spider-Man. He was just… ordinary. Physically unremarkable, under-trained, and unoptimized. Compared to Loren—a genetically enhanced, combat-capable time traveler with access to cutting-edge tech—Peter was no competition.
In Venom's alien logic, Loren represented power incarnate: wealthy, formidable, and biologically superior. Peter? Just a scrawny kid with a heart too big for his own good.
Unfortunately, Loren had zero interest in bonding with a raw, unmodified symbiote.
As he'd noted before, their weaknesses were glaring—crippling vulnerabilities to high-frequency sound and fire. Integrating one would be like voluntarily adding two fatal flaws to his already complex physiology.
But more importantly: symbiotes read memories. And Loren was a time traveler with secrets that couldn't afford exposure. Letting a sentient alien parasite rummage through his mind? Absolutely not.
Besides… the idea of merging with a male-coded, possessive entity like Venom gave him an unsettling, invasive feeling he couldn't quite shake.
No thanks.
So when Venom cooed, "I'm your host, come here!" in that oddly saccharine tone, Loren simply raised a hand—and flicked the symbiote off himself, sending it tumbling back toward Peter.
He dusted his hands together with mild disdain. "Sorry, but I'm not interested. And for the record—I'm not gay."
"???" Peter blinked.
"????" Venom pulsed, confused.
Both stared, stunned—then realization hit. Loren wasn't rejecting Venom for being gay; he was rejecting the implication that he'd bond with something so… clingy and invasive. But the blunt phrasing came out sounding like a crude insult.
Their moods soured instantly. That was kind of offensive.
Even after being rebuffed, Venom couldn't stop fixating on Loren's overwhelming bio-signature. Compared to Loren's enhanced musculature and energy output, Peter felt… inadequate. Pathetic, even.
If Peter had known what Venom was thinking—"Why couldn't I have him instead?"—he might've locked himself in the bathroom and cried.
First his crush (Gwen) seemed drawn to Loren… now even his "cheat system" preferred someone else? It felt like divine mockery.
But once Venom slithered back onto him, Peter's spirits lifted. The symbiote's presence—however fickle—returned his confidence.
"Thanks, Loren," Peter said, grinning. "I'll take you to see Dr. Connors now."
He turned to leave—but Loren stopped him.
"Hold on, Peter. While you were recovering, Gwen and Harry came to me multiple times, worried about your leg. Since my company specializes in advanced prosthetics, I had one made for you. Consider it a welcome-back gift."
At a nod from Loren, Tifa stepped forward with a sleek case.
Peter's eyes widened. "You… made me a prosthetic leg?"
"Yes. And keep the symbiote out of sight. Things like that tend to attract… unwanted attention."
Inside the case lay a silver-gray mechanical leg, forged from lightweight titanium alloy. It gleamed with quiet sophistication, lined with neural sensors and subtle weapon ports.
"Whoa…" Peter and Venom breathed in unison.
"It's slightly heavier than a biological limb," Loren explained, "but the neural interface syncs with your nervous system. You'll control it like it's your own. Plus, it has built-in defensive systems—just in case Venom isn't around."
Peter, still missing part of his lower leg from the accident, carefully attached the prosthetic. It auto-adjusted, sealing seamlessly over the residual limb.
"This… this is incredible!" he gasped, flexing his toes—metal toes—with his thoughts alone. "It actually moves like a real leg!"
He looked up, awed. "How much did this cost?"
"Money's meaningless to me," Loren said with a shrug. "Just don't break it."
Then he paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Peter's new silhouette—the dark symbiote clinging to his torso, the gleaming metal leg…
Huh. He looks like a budget-tier Winter Soldier.
He quickly banished the thought. "Anyway—you're welcome. No need to thank me."
His gaze drifted to Gwen, who was watching him with soft, admiring eyes. When their eyes met, she flushed and looked away—adorably flustered.
Loren smirked inwardly. Yeah… your 'goddess' is practically mine. What's there to thank me for?
Aloud, he simply said, "Alright. Go find Dr. Connors. And A2—"
He turned to the android standing nearby. "—be persuasive, but not excessive. If he resists, we can always escalate later."
A2 gave a crisp nod. "Understood. I'll 'invite' him properly."
She ushered Peter out, leaving Loren alone in the grand living room with 2B, Tifa, and Gwen—three pairs of curious, knowing eyes locked onto him.
"Boss," 2B said, a teasing lilt in her voice, "isn't it time for your… reward?"
"Ooh!" Gwen perked up. "What reward? What do you mean?"
Tifa gave a wry smile. "Miss Gwen, some things are better left unknown."
"Why? What does he do?" Gwen pressed, intrigued.
Ignoring the chatter, Loren quietly excused himself and headed toward his private lab.
As he walked, he muttered under his breath,
"There are no three positive integers a, b, and c that satisfy aⁿ + bⁿ = cⁿ for any integer n 2. Fermat's Last Theorem… but how would I prove it from first principles here, without Wiles' framework…?"
He sighed. "I'll need a few days of isolation to work this through. Tell everyone I'm deep in research—math doesn't wait."
Behind him, Gwen and 2B exchanged baffled glances.
"…He's
going to prove Fermat's Last Theorem… tonight?" Gwen whispered.
2B just facepalmed. "Of course he is."
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