"What an amazing little thing," Dr. Connors murmured, peering through the microscope with fascination.
"Organic lifeforms… single-celled symbionts," he continued, his brow furrowing. "Harry, where did you get this? It's obviously not something from Earth."
Harry twirled a small strand of the black substance between his fingertips. It pulsed faintly, like it was alive, shifting and stretching as though trying to crawl free.
"It's from Peter Parker — Spider-Man," Harry replied casually.
Dr. Connors' eyes widened. "Harry, you shouldn't have brought it here. This thing is far more dangerous than any drug. It amplifies a host's desires, twists their thoughts, and feeds on their darkest impulses."
Harry tilted his head. "Relax, Doctor. I'm not that reckless."
But then his expression grew thoughtful. "Still… is there any way to use it?"
Connors leaned back, deep in thought. After a long pause, he sighed. "Not safely. Unless someone with telepathic or psychic control could wipe the symbiote's mind completely — and even then, the risk would be enormous."
"The ability to control minds…" Harry muttered, immediately thinking of the bald telepathic professor he'd heard about. But that wasn't a connection he could make. Not yet.
"Fine," he said at last. "For now, we'll leave it here."
Dr. Connors nodded. "Don't worry. With its unique molecular structure, it can't tolerate ultrasonic waves. It's also weak to fire and electricity. As long as Max is around, one electric pulse will put it right back to sleep."
Max smirked and nodded from the corner.
"...Right," Harry said slowly, losing all interest in the alien creature. He had assumed "Venom" would be something extraordinary — but after the doctor's explanation, it sounded more like a dangerous parasite than a miracle.
"Forget it," Harry said, unscrewing the bottle cap. "If that's the case, you're useless to me."
He dropped the writhing sample back into its container. The symbiote churned restlessly — until the moment Harry gave his command.
A soft ding echoed in his mind.
System prompt: "Unclaimed item detected — Venom Suit (Level 50). Convert to points?"
"Convert immediately."
At his words, the black substance vanished instantly, dissolving into nothing. Harry's point counter on the system screen jumped to 100.
"Where did it go?" Connors asked, startled. "Harry, what just happened?"
Harry smiled faintly. "Don't ask, Doctor. You wouldn't understand."
Connors opened his mouth to protest, but seeing Harry's calm expression, he simply sighed and dropped the subject.
Instead, he pressed a button on his remote. "In that case… take a look at this."
A mechanical clank sounded overhead. A circular section of the ceiling descended, revealing a cylindrical glass chamber. Inside, gleaming under the lab lights, stood a sleek silver suit of armor — Harry's new combat gear.
"As you requested," Connors said proudly, "I redesigned the mask. The raised strip at the back is a retracting mechanism controlled by neural sensors. You can summon or retract the helmet with a thought. There's also a breathing filter, infrared vision, and a built-in database interface."
Harry walked around the armor slowly, admiration flickering in his eyes. "Excellent. It's not a full mech suit, but for individual combat — this is perfect."
Then he turned to Max. "You'll need one too."
"Got it," Max said with a grin.
"I'll start designing it right away," Connors added.
Days passed quietly. Harry spent them attending high-society galas and corporate banquets, the kind of gatherings that once thrilled him — now nothing more than dull formalities. Occasionally, a familiar face would approach him, a man with kind eyes and a reckless grin. Tony Stark.
Harry had ignored him for days, but tonight would change everything.
That night, the Osborn mansion was quiet. Harry sat on the sofa in the living room, a half-empty glass of red wine in hand. The cold night breeze danced through the open window, tugging at the long curtains.
"Tucker was attacked and went missing in Afghanistan," Harry murmured to himself. "His fate is unknown…"
He swirled the last sip of wine in his glass and smirked. "A month from now, a new hero will be born."
Tony Stark's fate — and his genius — were part of Harry's plan. The system had awarded him ten more points after converting Max's old armor. And Tony's suits… each one unique, each one a potential source of limitless points.
"I'm really looking forward to it," Harry said, refilling his glass.
The wind blew stronger, the moonlight spilling across the floor. Suddenly, a sharp gust made him shiver.
"Master, shall I close the window?" asked the butler, Al, walking over.
"No, Al," Harry said with a faint smile. "You can go now."
"Yes, sir."
As the old butler left, Harry tilted his glass, eyes glinting toward the window.
"Since you're already here," he said calmly, "why not come out?"
A soft, teasing laugh answered him.
"Oh, you found me? I hate men with sharp senses," came a familiar sultry voice.
Felicia Hardy — the Black Cat — emerged from behind the curtain, her white hair shimmering in the moonlight, her black leather suit hugging every curve. She sat gracefully across from him, took the wine bottle in both hands, and drank straight from it.
"Is everything ready?" Harry asked, setting down his glass.
Felicia leaned back lazily. "Yeah. Everything's arranged. Kingpin contacted me. Tomorrow's the day."
Harry stood and walked toward the stairs. "Good. I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow."
Without another glance, he headed upstairs.
Felicia frowned, watching him go. Something about Harry felt different — colder, more distant than before.
Later that night, Harry opened the window of his room. Below, Felicia appeared once more, holding the bottle of wine she'd taken. With effortless grace, she leapt the high wall and vanished into the night like a shadow.
Only after she was gone did Harry close the window.
Tomorrow would be a long day — one that could change everything. He lay on his bed, eyes drifting toward the armor standing beside him, gleaming under the faint light.
As sleep overtook him, one thought echoed quietly in his mind:
Tomorrow, the world would finally see the real Harry Osborn.