"That's all you brought?"
Vincent stared at the small backpack Gwen tossed onto the rear seat.
"A change of clothes and a swimsuit. That's all I need," Gwen said, buckling her seatbelt.
She had wanted to bring more, but her locker at school was tiny, and she couldn't carry a suitcase around all day without looking suspicious.
Vincent laughed. "One outfit? Unacceptable. We're going to Fifth Avenue."
Without waiting for an answer, he gunned the engine and headed straight for Manhattan's luxury district.
"Fifth Avenue? No way! My allowance won't even buy a scarf there!" Gwen protested.
Vincent ignored her objections. He parked the car and dragged her from store to store. Chanel, Gucci, Prada.
Vincent didn't have much cash on hand, but he had the American Express Centurion Card (Black Card). With his current net worth, getting approved for a multi-million dollar credit line was trivial.
Americans lived on credit. Vincent just played the game better.
Soon, the trunk was stuffed with bags.
Gwen eventually stopped fighting it. Seeing the price tags made her dizzy, but it also reminded her of Vincent's secret identity as a "best-selling author."
She realized she shouldn't be so materialistic, but watching Vincent pick out dresses for her made her brain short-circuit. Every rational thought was replaced by the thrill of being spoiled.
"I'll regret this later," she mumbled.
Vincent grinned. "No regrets allowed."
He drove towards the Long Island estate. He was looking forward to tonight. He had bought a very specific outfit for her.
From the Shadows.
Black Widow watched the couple drive away.
"Millions of dollars from one book," Natasha mused. "He spends money like water."
She decided to pull back. She didn't want Vincent to spot her tailing him again. He was too perceptive.
"I need to report to Fury. The intel about HYDRA... it's too dangerous to discuss over comms."
Natasha headed for Washington D.C., leaving New York for the weekend.
Meanwhile, another observer stepped out of the shadows.
Mystique, disguised as Ms. Juliet, watched Natasha leave.
"So the guidance counselor is Black Widow," Mystique confirmed. "This intel is gold."
If SHIELD was this interested in Vincent, the Brotherhood had to move fast.
Oscorp Tower. Lab Sector.
"Dr. Connors, we're moving to human trials," a man in a sharp suit announced.
It was Menken, Norman Osborn's personal aide.
Dr. Connors stood up, his one arm trembling. "No! We have the formula, yes, but stability is still an issue. Human trials are premature!"
Menken stared at him coldly. "Doctor, everything you create belongs to Oscorp. You can take your time, but Mr. Osborn doesn't have time. He's dying."
"If you won't do it, we'll find someone who will," Menken sneered. "You're dismissed."
Menken left the lab.
Connors slumped into his chair. He looked at his missing arm.
He had spent his life trying to fix himself. Trying to be whole.
"They'll ruin it," Connors whispered. "They'll kill someone."
Desperation clawed at him. The formula was right there. It was his work.
He grabbed a vial of the serum.
"If anyone is going to be the test subject... it should be me."
He injected the green fluid into his stump.
Pain. Agony.
Then... growth.
A new arm burst forth, scaly and strong. Connors laughed, tears streaming down his face.
But then the scales began to spread. His mind clouded with a primal urge.
Terrified, he fled the lab, disappearing into the sewers.
Minutes Later.
Peter Parker entered the lab.
He saw the chaos. He saw the empty vial. And he saw the cage where the test rats were kept.
One rat had mutated into a lizard-like monster and was devouring the others.
Peter stared at the carnage.
He realized the flaw in the formula. It lacked the specific genetic key—the key hidden in hisfather's blood. The Parker DNA.
"This is my father's legacy," Peter whispered. "The only perfect map lies within me."
Peter's eyes were dark. Since learning the truth about his parents' death (orchestrated by Oscorp), his kind heart had been consumed by rage.
He modified the remaining serum, adding his own blood to the mix.
"A new world opens for me."
He injected himself.
Fire coursed through his veins. It wasn't just spider-powers. It was something more unstable. A vengeful mutation.
He deleted the security footage and stumbled out of Oscorp.
He needed to hide. When he emerged, he wouldn't be "Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man."
He would be the Predator of New York.
The Atlantic Ocean.
Vincent didn't know his actions had accelerated the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was in full swing.
But as a transmigrator, he existed outside the Sacred Timeline. His presence was the chaos factor.
Right now, he didn't care about lizards or spiders.
He was steering a luxury yacht into the open waters of the Atlantic.
"I mentioned wanting to see the ocean once," Gwen said, leaning against the railing, the wind whipping her hair. "And you rented a yacht?"
"I called the bank," Vincent shrugged. "They were happy to oblige."
For a VIP client with hundreds of millions in liquid assets, getting a boat for the weekend was just customer service.
Gwen looked at him. The mystery, the power, the sudden wealth. It was overwhelming, but intoxicating.
"So," Vincent said, cutting the engine as they drifted under the stars. "About that swimsuit..."
Now Get The FULL NOVEL at Once!
At 30% OFF for limited time
@patreon.com/Authorizz