"Then I shall begin," Ratchet announced, his voice a deep rumble. His palm, larger than half of Tony's torso, began to rotate slowly counter-clockwise over the glowing Arc Reactor. A small, dark shard of metal materialized in his massive hand. "Success."
"Now that's a neat trick," Tony exclaimed from the operating table, feeling no pain at all. "No pain, all gain. Go ahead, get them all out at once!"
"Understood," Ratchet replied. He continued the motion, and one by one, pieces of shrapnel were drawn from Tony's chest and deposited into a glass container. After the last piece was removed, a scanner extended from Ratchet's wrist, and he ran it over Tony's chest.
"Tony, all the shrapnel has been removed," the Autobot medic reported. "However, I am detecting mild palladium poisoning. The reactor must be removed from your chest as soon as possible, or its use significantly reduced."
As he spoke, Ratchet took off the Fire Glove and handed it back to Tony. The glove flowed like liquid metal, transforming back into a sleek watch on Tony's wrist.
"Then let's do it now," Tony said. "Help me take out the reactor and patch up this gaping hole. I'm finally done having a light bulb in my chest!"
Ratchet picked up a tiny, human-sized scalpel in his giant metal hand and slowly brought it toward Tony's chest.
"That's a terrifying sense of scale you've got there," Tony complained, then a thought struck him. "Wait, did you give me any anesthesia?"
Ratchet paused, his massive head tilting. "Haha," he chuckled sheepishly. "I forgot."
Tony's face was a mask of disbelief. "I'm different from you, doc. My body isn't made of metal. If you perform surgery on me without anesthesia, I will die!"
"I will be more attentive," Ratchet said, his tone returning to one of serious professionalism.
Peter Parker woke in a rush. Today was the day Midtown High was visiting Oscorp Labs, a trip he had been looking forward to for weeks. After grabbing a piece of toast from Aunt May, he slung his backpack and camera over his shoulder and hurried out the door. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw her waiting for him at the corner.
The girl, with her beautiful blonde hair and a smile that radiated youthful energy, was his childhood best friend, Gwen Stacy. When Gwen saw him, she raised her hand and waved. "Peter, over here!"
"Coming!" he called back, jogging over to her. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Gwen! Hey! Sorry, sorry I'm late."
Gwen just laughed, unbothered by his tardiness, and handed him a thermos. "I figured. You probably ran out the door without eating again. Hehe, I brought you some hot chocolate."
Peter took the thermos with a grateful, goofy smile. "Gwen, you're the best."
"Well, you still have to take good pictures of me today," she teased. "You can't do that if you're weak from hunger! Come on! If we miss the school bus, we'll have to get a ride in my dad's police car." Gwen hooked her arm through his, and they started walking toward the school.
At Oscorp's biology laboratory, the students of Midtown High moved from one exhibit to the next, guided by a lab tour guide. They were currently in the arachnid section, which displayed countless species of spiders from around the globe, including some that had been genetically modified or subjected to radiation experiments.
Gwen peered into a glass enclosure. "Peter, what kind of spiders are these?" she asked curiously.
Peter, who had been framing a shot with his camera, lowered it and looked at the display case. "The biggest one is a tarantula. You can see its brown fur and powerful chelicerae. It's very dangerous and venomous."
"What about this one?" Gwen asked, pointing to a spider with a striking three-colored pattern.
Peter studied it for a moment. "That looks like a tricolor wolf spider. Its most distinctive feature is its coloration. See the fine hairs? Black, white, and yellow."
Gwen scanned the display cases, trying to find a spider that Peter couldn't identify. "This one! What about this one?"
Peter pushed his glasses up his nose. "That's the famous black widow. It's highly venomous, and you can see the red hourglass-shaped marking on its abdomen."
The teacher overseeing the tour walked over, a pleased smile on his face. "Parker's explanations are spot on. He seems to have a real passion for biology. There are fewer and fewer students like him who focus on genuine knowledge these days."
"I'm not very strong, so I usually just read books," Peter said, scratching his head again.
After a sigh, the teacher led the two to another display case. "I guarantee you don't know these spiders, Parker," he said with a grin.
"Why?" Gwen asked. "Are they particularly special?"
Peter looked at the spiders inside and shook his head. "I don't recognize any of these. They must be the results of Oscorp's own experiments."
The teacher smiled. "Very clever, Parker! The spiders in this section have all been either genetically modified or subjected to radiation. They are vastly different from their original species. It's perfectly normal that you can't identify them."
Gwen leaned closer, fascinated. The spiders here were beautiful, some even faintly glowing. She turned to Peter. "Peter, look how pretty they are! Come take some pictures of me with them."
"Okay!" Peter stepped back, found the perfect angle, and directed her. "Gwen, move a little to the right. Perfect."
"Like this?" Gwen asked, striking a pose.
"Slightly bend your body... yes, that's it! Don't move!"
After a series of clicks from his camera, Peter checked the photos. "Okay, Gwen, come take a look!" he said with a smile.
"Ouch!" Gwen started to walk over, then suddenly cried out, her hand flying to the back of her neck. She pulled something away and looked down at her hand. It was a spider.
Peter rushed to her side, his voice filled with concern. "What's wrong, Gwen? Are you okay?"
Gwen held out the now-dead spider. "I think it bit me," she said nervously. "Peter, is it poisonous?"
Peter took the spider and examined it closely, then looked at the bite mark on the back of her neck, where a strand of silk was still stuck. "This looks like one of the modified spiders. I don't know if it's venomous. I'll go ask someone in charge. They'll know for sure."
Just as Peter was about to find a staff member, the teacher heard the commotion and hurried over. "What happened?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. He was responsible for these students.
"Sir, Gwen was bitten by a spider," Peter explained.
The teacher's voice rose in pitch. "Bitten? What kind of spider? Is it venomous?"
"I'm not sure. It was one of the experimental ones." Peter handed the dead spider to the teacher.
The teacher visibly relaxed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. Gwen Stacy's father was the Commissioner of the New York Police Department. He regained his composure. "It's probably not venomous. I've been told that all the experimental spiders Oscorp has on display are non-venomous. They were afraid of what might happen if the venomous ones were modified, so they don't display them here."
Hearing this, Peter also felt a wave of relief. "Still, Mr. Bell," he said, "we should take Gwen to the lab staff. As you know, spiders that have been experimented on could have unforeseen hazards."
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