Peter, his wounds freshly bandaged, stepped into the living room and found Loren lounging on the sofa like a king—relaxed, regal, and effortlessly composed. A complicated expression tugged at Peter's face.
Sometimes, he really thought the world was unfair.
This guy in front of him? Already born into obscene wealth, from a family dripping with prestige—and yet, on top of all that, he'd been blessed with looks so unfairly perfect they'd make any man seethe with envy. With a face like that, Loren could've had anything. And he did: beautiful women flocked to him, and even Gwen—his Gwen, the one Peter had quietly loved for years—still couldn't tear her thoughts away from him.
And Peter? He'd busted his back trying to be decent, responsible, good... only to remain painfully ordinary in every way. Plain. Unremarkable. And Gwen had never once looked at him like she looked at him.
Now even Venom—the one thing that had finally given him a shot at greatness—had been ripped away… by Loren, of all people.
Whether he'd ever get it back now depended entirely on his say-so. How was that fair?
But then he remembered: it was Loren who'd saved his life today. The thought cut through his bitterness like a cool breeze. Maybe some things really couldn't be earned through grit alone. Maybe fate wasn't something he could outwork.
He exhaled quietly and let the resentment go.
"Peter? You okay?" Loren asked, concern softening his voice as he noticed him standing there.
To Loren, this Peter Parker was different from the bright-eyed, selfless Spider-Man he remembered from another world. Still, he was his classmate—someone he'd watched over these past weeks. This Peter might not radiate the same idealism, but he wasn't lost. Even bonded to Venom, he hadn't turned villain. Instead, he'd taken on the name Venom Spider, mimicking Gwen's Spider-Woman to fight crime. That alone told Loren there was still good in him.
"Thanks for asking," Peter said, forcing a neutral tone. "Your guards kept me safe. But… Loren, could you please give Venom back?"
He'd sworn he wouldn't ask so soon—knew it was desperate—but Venom wasn't just a suit to him. It was power. Purpose. Hope.
Loren didn't look surprised. Of course he wasn't. To Peter, Venom was a cheat code—the golden finger that could lift him from obscurity. And to Loren? His dimensional tech system served the same role. He understood the sting of losing it.
"I'll return the symbiote," Loren said smoothly, "but you'll need to do something for me first."
Peter's heart leapt. "Anything. We're friends, right? I'll help however I can."
Loren smiled. "Good. Tell me where Dr. Kurt Connors is hiding."
Peter froze. "...What?"
He hadn't expected that. Since the lab accident—the night Connors transformed into that hulking lizard monster—everyone had come knocking. Norman Osborn, chair of Oscorp and Harry's father, showed up demanding answers. Then came a sharp-suited S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, flashing a badge and asking cold, clipped questions. Both wanted Connors.
Peter had lied to them both: "I don't know where he went."
But Loren? Why would he care?
"What's wrong?" Loren asked, watching him closely. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I… I really want to help," Peter stammered, "but Dr. Connors vanished after the lab accident. I swear, I don't know where he is."
"Is that so?" Loren tilted his head. "Funny. No one's ever called it a 'lab accident.' Where'd you hear that phrase?"
Peter's breath hitched.
"And," Loren added, voice dropping just slightly, "every time you lie, you touch your nose. You did it just now."
Peter's hand flew to his face—too late.
Guilt flooded his expression. "Loren, I didn't mean to trick you. Connors made me promise—swore me to secrecy. If the wrong people find him… he'll be hunted. Or worse."
Loren leaned forward. "What if I told you I have a way to reverse the mutation? To stop him from turning into that creature—permanently?"
Peter's eyes widened. "You… you know it was Connors? The lizard—it was him?"
"I know far more than you think," Loren said, calm but certain. "If you truly care about him—and if you trust me as a friend—then let me help. I'm the only one who can."
Peter stared at him, weighing years of loyalty against this one, impossible gamble. Finally, he gave a slow, silent nod.
"Connors doesn't trust anyone but me now," he said quietly. "Even if I tell you where he's hiding, he'll sense you coming. His mutation lets him communicate with reptiles in a wide radius—he'll vanish before you get close."
"Then take me there yourself," Loren said.
Peter hesitated, then nodded again. "Alright."
"Good." Loren turned slightly. "A2. Go with Peter. Retrieve Connors—and bring him back safely."
"Understood, boss," came the crisp reply from the shadows.
Loren reached for the glass container on the table—the one holding the inky black symbiote. With a sharp twist, he crushed it in his palm.
The glass shattered. The symbiote oozed out… but instead of rushing to Peter, it coiled around Loren's hand, then slithered up his arm.
It tried to bond—but stopped short, trembling.
Loren's sheer presence—his overwhelming aura, the latent power humming beneath his skin—was too much. The symbiote ached to merge, but it dared not overstep.
Then a low, rasping voice bubbled up from the black mass, awed and utterly smitten:
"Damn… What is this body?! This power—this kingly presence… I've never felt anything like it!"
It pulled back slightly, forming a crude, eager face. "My lord… might this humble symbiote serve you? Might I… merge with you? Please?"
It sounded less like a predator—and more like an overexci
ted husky meeting its favorite human.
Peter just stood there, jaw slack.
"...Huh??"
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