Chapter Text
“Phone call from MJ.”
“Do you even have to ask?” Peter asks with a laugh as he swings, Karen connecting the call as the wind rushes past him.
“You forgot your mug on the counter.”
“And good morning to you, how’re things going? You’re there already?” Peter asks as he sends a web out, letting the momentum of his swing pull him forward and launch him into the air.
“Don’t try and be cute with me when we’re going to have a fight,” Michelle says through the other end of the line, an amused huff and the sound of traffic in the background making Peter smile as he swings.
“Are we having a fight now? Thought we scheduled that for three, I’m a little booked up right now.”
“Three’s no good, I’ll be in an interview by then,” Michelle replies, Peter laughing to himself as she continues. “Seriously, Pete. The mug, really? Again?”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Don’t clean it up, I’ll get it when I get home.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Michelle deadpans and it just makes Peter laugh harder—dodging a pigeon and passing it off as a barrel roll to the tourists below him as she says, “but keep doing it and we might have a fight for real.”
“I am shaking in my spandex,” Peter jokes as Michelle laughs—smiling to himself and swinging once more.
It’s been an ongoing argument—if you could even call it that—of Peter’s penchant for leaving things littered around their tiny apartment. He’s gotten better about leaving actual trash around, rightfully chided by May coming to visit and questioning who raised him, but it was the little things like a leftover mug or a discarded pair of pants that still were hard for him to keep track of.
Even if the latter was just as much her fault as it was his.
“Did you call just to fight with me or are you already there?” Peter asks as Michelle lets out another huff of laughter, imagining the smile on her face and the way her hair would flit about in this weather.
“Both, I’m walking up to the front now. I don’t know how they are about security so if I don’t call—“
“Don’t worry, got it,” Peter lies, the two of them both knowing he would likely worry anyway. After all, it wasn’t every day your investigative journalist girlfriend went semi-undercover at a science & tech conference in order to try to expose illegal genetic experiments conducted by the same man whose earlier genetic experiments led to your own mutations. If that wasn’t enough, there was also the abandoned lab Peter had come across in the sewers the week, finding rotting but still legible notes that spoke of human genetic experiments gone awry amongst empty cargo boxes stamped with Property of Oscorp.
In his opinion, the whole thing made for what he felt was very reasonable cause to be a little anxious.
Michelle doesn’t call him out on the lie, for right now at least as he asks, “You sure you don’t want me as backup?”
“I don’t think Norman Osborn’s gonna be very intimidated by you, tiger,” Michelle says with a laugh, one that just makes Peter frown as he continues to swing.
“I’m intimidating! I’m very intimidating, actually. If I showed up—“
“If you showed up as you looked like right now , you’d get arrested for trespassing,” Michelle interjects, her being right still not making him feel any better about her going in there alone.
“And you could get arrested for harassment,” Peter counters, hearing her hum on the other line. “Or fraud. If he finds out that Mary Jane Watson is you then—“
“Then he’ll have more than just me to deal with. Robbie’s got me covered and besides, my name’s not a total lie,” she says, hearing the traffic in the background.
“I’ll be fine, Pete. This is the best shot I have at pinning those gross experiments on him,” she says, Peter trying and failing to ignore the twist in his gut.
It would be hypocritical at best for him to push back too much on this—not when he was currently suited up and swinging around the city, doing the very thing that had led to more than a few real fights, and breakups, between them over the years.
They were in a good place now, the best they’ve been yet—working together, living together, and figuring out how to be partners to each other in a way that a younger version of himself never would’ve dreamed was possible.
It still didn’t make him feel any better to know she was throwing herself to the wolves, hearing her voice in his head before he hears her out loud as she says, “I can hear you spiraling from here.”
“I’m not spiraling,” he lies, sending out another web. “Just be careful, okay?”
“You be careful,” she says, an admonition and a reminder all at once before he hears her introduce herself to people—no doubt having already arrived and just waiting to hang up with him.
“I will, I—“ Peter flips his head around mid swing when he hears the crunch of metal, body moving on instinct as he heads towards the sun.
“Shit.”
“What?” Peter asks, hearing Michelle on the other end.
“Shit, they’re not gonna let me in,” she says with a huff, Peter hearing the sound of someone actually roaring in the near distance. “Pre-approved press passes only, apparently. Well, if before we only suspected there was something shady going on at the conference, I think it’s pretty much confirmed now.”
“What are you gonna do?” he asks, swinging himself towards whatever the fuck that is, hearing her sigh on the other end.
“I’ll figure it out. Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m—I don’t know how I am, I think something’s going on,” Peter says as he swings, squinting and seeing someone dressed as—“There’s a rhino in the middle of 87th.”
“A what?”
“I gotta go. Be careful, okay?”
“You too,” Michelle says before they hang up— Peter telling himself that maybe it was for the best that she couldn’t get in.
He should probably feel guilty about that but he doesn’t.
Then again, if she did—it was just a conference. Norman Osborn might be creepy as hell but it’s not as if he was going to murder his investors. Hell, even his competitors he wouldn’t dare touch, at least not so publicly. No, if anything he just wants to show off.
What could possibly go wrong?
Tony steps out of his limo, taking just as much pleasure in the narrow-eyed looks of some of his company’s competitors as he does in the media outlets stationed outside who quickly start filming and snapping shots of him.
“Decided to arrive in style, eh Stark?” a Northrop Grumman executive that Tony is unfortunately acquainted with snidely asks just as Tony walks by.
“You know how it works, Anderson,” he responds without looking as he makes his way toward the main entrance, “gotta make a good impression.”
“That’s what you call a good impression, then? Hm.”
“A lasting one, then!” Tony yells over his shoulder, before giving a shit-eating grin and a peace sign to the press camped out closer to the lobby doors. Through his teeth he mutters, “God I hate these things.”
Well, that isn’t entirely true, actually. Tony doesn’t mind conferences and similar events when they involve his work being the main attraction—with the exception of the disaster that was Stark Expo ‘10, of course. Now that he’s retired, he hasn’t had to attend one for years. His presence at the OsConference today is a favor, and a big one at that. Not that he minds helping the kid out; schmoozing with his fellow megarich assholes and getting whoever he wants through any kind of security are two things he has always done very well, thank you very much.
Speaking of the kid, there she is—standing inside the lobby area in a sleek white suit with her arms crossed, and a look of mild annoyance on her face.
“You’re late, Stark,” Michelle says by way of greeting.
“True, Jones, but consider: without me you wouldn’t get in at all,” he replies with a self-satisfied grin, handing Michelle her press pass. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops I had to jump through to get that for you last-minute.”
“Let me guess, you made a phone call to your PR department and told them to make it happen?” Michelle asks with a raised eyebrow.
Tony shrugs innocently. “Perhaps.”
Michelle sighs, finally giving him an exasperated smile that reminds him of Pepper as they continue past security and toward the main auditorium for the opening remarks. “I really do appreciate you coming on such short notice, Tony. I know you don’t care for these things unless they’re all about you.”
“You’re absolutely correct,” Tony replies. “But me, pass up the chance to potentially make life even an iota more difficult for Norman Osborn? Please.”
“Oscorp’s up to some shady shit, that’s for sure,” Michelle says to him quietly, glancing around to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping as they take their seats—tucking the press pass into her purse. “Far worse than anything I’ve ever dug up on SI, if my sources and Peter’s intel are to be believed.”
“Aw, and here I thought you didn’t care for any multinational defense tech corporations. I’m touched, kid.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t stand your evil company either,” Michelle smoothly banters back, reading over the schedule of the day’s presentations. “I just hate Oscorp slightly more. The enemy of my enemy, and all that.”
“You truly never fail to tell it like it is, MJ,” Tony tells her, genuinely impressed. “Just one of the many reasons why I admire you.”
Michelle snorts. “Do I dare ask about the others?”
“Well, you put up with Pete’s shenanigans on a daily basis, for one.”
Michelle rolls her eyes at that but doesn’t refute it, giving him a smile that he would almost call fond. Good, Tony thinks. They have a long day ahead and no doubt she’ll be plenty sick of him by the end.
The lights turn down then, everyone in the audience clapping as a man Tony recognizes as one of Osborn’s business partners steps onstage.
“Here we go,” Michelle murmurs, Tony suppressing a sigh in response.
Here we go.
Tony manages to sit through the opening speech and four presentations before he breaks.
“I thought we were here to expose Norman,” he whispers to Michelle as they sit through yet another boring talk, this one on the use of electromagnetism and its properties on eels of all things.
“I think this might be a wash,” Michelle says back, looking miserable herself. “Osborn hasn’t made an appearance yet and nothing in the schedule so much as hints at anything Peter and I have uncovered the last few months.”
Tony hums his agreement. “Well, if there’s one thing I know about Osborn, it’s that he can’t stand having his ego threatened. Let’s see, how about—”
He stands up in the middle of the seated audience, ignoring Michelle hissing something at him as he waves at the presenter. “Hello, yes, excuse me! Just one moment of your time, if you please.”
The eels guy stops his presentation, looking out at the crowd before catching sight of Tony and saying, “Uh… yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tony says with a jovial chuckle, “but I couldn’t help but notice that this entire conference has so far been boring as hell . As such I was wondering—when is Osborn himself going to be appearing? Because I’d really like to ask him when we’re getting to the good stuff.”
The crowd starts to murmur amongst itself, the presenter looking a mix of affronted by the implied insult and shocked to be talking to Tony Stark, opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish.
Tony glances down at Michelle, who despite shaking her head at him looks honestly impressed.
“You’re a menace, Tony,” she says, only for her eyes to dart to something behind him. “Oh great, now look what you’ve done.”
Tony twists around just in time to see a security guard walking to the end of their aisle, one hand held to his earpiece and another motioning for Tony to follow him.
“Well, it was worth a try,” he mutters to Michelle as they gather their things and exit the aisle, only to follow the guard out of the auditorium. But instead of being escorted to the doors the guard takes them the opposite direction, all the way to the elevators.
“Basement Level 2,” he tells them without preamble, then putting an arm out to bar Michelle, “not you.”
“Absolutely not,” Tony tells him. “You tell your boss we’re a package deal. He has something he wants to tell or show me, he can tell or show her too.”
They watch as the guard turns away, muttering something into his radio. There’s a few seconds’ wait before he turns back around, giving them a nod. “Okay, both of you are cleared. Go ahead.”
A minute later the two of them exit the elevator, entering the hallway of Basement Level 2 to see a vaguely annoyed-looking Norman Osborn waiting for them.
“Stark. Always a pleasure,” he says with a sneer, before eyeing Michelle up and down, narrow-eyed and judgmental. “And who is this, another one of your one-night conquests of old? Tsk-tsk, Anthony. Not a good look for a married man.”
“Why did you call me down here, Norman?” Tony asks, ignoring the jab in favor of trying to get Norman’s attention back on him. The less he knows about who Michelle actually is, the better.
“I called you down here because you seemed rather dissatisfied with the conference upstairs,” Norman says haughtily, thankfully turning back to him. “I thought perhaps you may want to see a real show instead.”
Tony inwardly grins, and despite the neutral look on her face Tony can sense Michelle’s excitement beside him. Thank god for Norman’s giant fragile ego, is what he wants to say. Instead he says, “Of course we do.” Looking around, “Well then? Where’s the show?”
With a purse of his lips Norman twists around, walking down the hallway—Tony and Michelle looking between each other before following with a shrug.
He leads them to a set of double doors, punching in a quick code before they unlock and swiftly entering, Tony letting Michelle go in next before entering himself.
It’s a lab, half of it still in some professional disarray but the other half with cleared space where about a dozen people are standing, facing toward a small staging area—Tony recognizing even from behind a few bigwigs among the large corporate science and tech investors. They take a place near the back, standing by the open door of a side office.
“Prepare to be impressed, Anthony,” Norman says smarmily before walking away, standing next to the stage and speaking with a blond man in a lab coat Tony doesn’t recognize. The man looks rather ill and manic, wiping at his sweaty brow incessantly even as he and Norman talk. Tony can’t hear what they’re saying but he doesn’t miss the moment things seem to turn a little heated—Norman frowning and hissing something at the man before all but pushing him toward the stage.
“Here we go for real,” he hears Michelle murmur, the two of them exchanging subtle looks of victory before focusing their attention toward the stage.
“Thank you for being here today,” the man greets the crowd, his voice throaty. He coughs a few times before continuing, “My name is Dr. Curtis Connors and I am the Lead Scientist of Oscorp’s Genetic Research Department. Mr. Osborn has asked me to give a small demonstration of the latest breakthrough in our research. Of course, no phones or cameras allowed on your person at this time. You all understand, I’m sure.”
An assistant goes through and collects everyone’s devices, Tony reluctantly handing over his phone even as he covers his StarkWatch with the sleeve of his suit—seeing Michelle do the same with the one on her own wrist. He’s never seen her wear one before, and recognizes it immediately as a sly precaution on her part for today, precisely in case someone took away her phone. As always with Michelle Jones-Watson, Tony finds himself impressed, nodding his approval before turning back to the stage.
The next few minutes are spent with Connors going through a basic overview of their research—boring stuff that is for the most part public knowledge for anyone who wants to Google Oscorp’s genetic work.
It’s not until about fifteen minutes in that things finally get interesting, Connors turning toward a table where there’s a mouse in a cage, next to a whole slew of large syringes with pale green liquid inside.
“This serum is able to cause near-instantaneous mutations in injected subjects, such as spiders and rodents, like this one here,” Connors tells the group. “Thus far, it has only been tested on animals, not humans. At least, officially.”
The crowd around them begin to talk amongst themselves, Michelle and Tony exchanging a wide-eyed look even as Norman steps onto the stage.
“Calm down, everyone, please,” he says with a laugh that speaks of nerves, “Curt was only joking.”
“I in fact was not, Norman,” Connors says in an aggressive tone, and even Osborn looks worried now. “If you had let me do the trials here at Oscorp like you promised, I would have. Unfortunately, I was forced to do them in secret.”
“Oh my god—it was his lab in the sewer, not Osborn’s,” Tony hears Michelle say to herself, turning to her.
Before Tony can ask her what lab she’s talking about, Connors continues, “But their results remain key to the funding I need to bring my research to the world stage, and since you wouldn’t let me take that step neither earlier nor for this presentation, I’ve been forced to take my future— the future—into my own hands.”
“That is enough, Connors,” Norman says angrily, stepping toward the man. “Stop this nonsense at once or I’ll fire you on the spo–ah!”
The crowd gasps as Connors punches Norman in the face, sending him flying off the stage into the group. Tony catches a few nervously glancing at the door but nobody moves to leave—too greedy and eager to see what has Connors so excited to show them that he’d assault his own boss for the chance.
“It’s taken many failed attempts but I have finally perfected the serum,” he tells the group, injecting himself. “But I feel confident that— GAH!”
The group watches in horror as Connors begins to morph, his skin turning green and scaly and his mass increasing in size by a factor of two, then five.
“Do not be frightened!” he shouts even as he screams from pain. The crowd looks nervous but once more nobody leaves, Tony getting a bad feeling even as Connors has yet to do anything obviously hostile. Before his very eyes he witnesses Connors complete his transformation, no longer a man but a giant lizard.
A woman in the crowd screams, the lizard opening a mouth full of sharp teeth to say in a guttural voice, “I said, do not be frightened! Watch and be amazed as I can control my mutation, morph back into my human self at will!”
The crowd does indeed hold its breath to watch, even Norman—bloody nose and all—looking with wide, expectant eyes at the genetically mutated creature on the stage.
But nothing happens, the lizard looking increasingly stressed as it tries and fails to change back into a man.
“I can’t… no… no no NO…”
The bad feeling from before is now positively screaming at Tony, and he turns to Michelle.
“We need to go now,” Tony whispers to her, Michelle nodding her agreement and looking around the room for the assistant so they can grab their phones. They start to make their way over to her, and that’s when everything goes to hell.
The lizard suddenly lets out a massive roar, screaming, “This is not RIGHT, THIS IS NOT RIGHT! I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO CONTROL IT!”
The crowd begins to back away from the stage, Norman having moved first and already at the door—someone bumping into Michelle and knocking her over in their desperate haste, Tony coming to a halt to help her up.
It’s then he hears the sound of glass breaking, whipping his head over to the stage to see that the lizard has topped over the unused vials, the liquid contents interacting with the air to turn into a gas, quickly beginning to fill the room and making everyone cough.
“Hold your breath!” Tony yells at Michelle before doing the same himself, glancing over at the door where people are pounding on it. He sees that Norman is on the other side but has locked everyone else in, coughing into his arm—probably having inhaled at least one big breath of the toxic gas.
Their eyes lock even from a distance and Tony spares one moment to mouth a silent but very clear fuck you at him before grabbing Michelle’s arm and rushing her toward the office, pulling her inside and closing the door shut. He takes off his coat and presses it to the small gap at the bottom, only then allowing himself to take a breath.
“What do we do?” Michelle asks, already starting to cough a little—Tony knowing he had only bought the two of them an extra minute, if that, by bringing them in here. Outside the screams have mostly stopped, just the sound of people harshly coughing followed by the roar of the lizard as it continues to wreak havoc.
Tony looks around the office, but there’s no window beside the tiny one on the door, and the lone vent is hardly big enough for a cat to squeeze through, much less a human. He looks back at Michelle, feeling his own throat start to tickle—the gas slowly but surely filtering in.
They can’t get out of this one by themselves.
There’s only two people in the city Tony can think of that might not have a reaction to the toxic serum.
“I’ll call Rogers,” he says to Michelle, “you call Pete.”
He’s himself overtaken by a fit of coughing then, just barely managing to get it under control—only to see a tiny small patch of green bloom on the back of his hand. He stoically ignores it, but he knows his eyes are filled with concern for them both as he looks up at Michelle.
“And tell him to hurry.”