Baxter Foundation.
"Urgh." Peter set down his coffee cup and massaged his stiff shoulders. "I need another one."
He crossed to the machine in the new laboratory, which had a certain structural resemblance to Richards' lab from the film, only more square and slightly smaller.
Some equipment was still covered with cloth because he had not yet determined its purpose.
The lab had been arranged with a sofa bed, a better coffee machine, and an improved refrigerator for temperature-sensitive components.
The chemical research room was adjacent. The bathroom was through the door on the left.
Now going back to the previous conversation, there was a long discussion and negotiation which allowed the ladies to arrive at a simple solution: sharing.
He had been clear with them: he was a lustful person with a life that would continue to be complicated, alongside a moral compass that did not function the way standard models were expected to function.
He had made promises he intended to keep: that they would always be his top priorities, that he would treat them well, that proposals would follow as soon as circumstances permitted.
After the conversation ended, there was a lot of sexual tension, but he decided to pass because he was really exhausted. May and Missy understood this too, so nothing happened.
"Those women talk a great deal," he muttered, yawning, "and high school teachers are basically walking lullabies" He picked up a fresh coffee and returned to the workbench. "Cortana, I need you to add something to the spider."
"What would that be?" she said, materializing beside him.
"This," he said, showing her a small vial. "Daredevil's blood. I want it added to the spider's genetic framework."
'It is a shame that Wolverine's blood was too contaminated with the healing factor to produce a usable sample, but Daredevil's is another matter entirely.'
"Why Daredevil's specifically?"
"Because Daredevil's echolocation is in some ways superior to my spider-sense. If I add that to the existing framework, the combination would be a significant upgrade. Close to OP, which is exactly what the future requires."
"Ah." She rubbed her eyes, nodded, and accepted the vial through the robotic arms. "Fine. I will add it."
"Thank you. You are the best."
She huffed at him, gave him a small smile, and disappeared.
The spider project was progressing.
He had fused the original specimen with the one he was developing, incorporating DNA from Caerostris Darwini and Portia Fimbriata alongside the base framework, selected for their specific and unusual capabilities.
Daredevil's DNA was now being added to that combination. With Oscorp's data, Cortana's processing capacity, his own knowledge, and the limited but useful data from his father's files, the creation timeline was looking like a few weeks if nothing went wrong.
He turned from the computer to the suit on the workbench.
Ting.
He crossed to the machine that had produced the sound and removed a test tube.
The liquid inside was the result of work he had been doing in parallel, something that would address a persistent and increasingly inconvenient problem.
He poured it into his coffee. The liquid turned a faint purple for a few seconds and then returned to its normal color.
He drank it.
Every trace of fatigue he was carrying, three hours of sleep and the weight of the previous day, dissolved as if it had never been present.
"YES!" He held up the remaining vials.
"With this I will never feel tired again! And it is not addictive and does not cause harm to the system with regular use! Suck it, Bruce Wayne! Smartest man alive, my sexy ass!"
He fed the remaining vials into the synthesizer to produce them in pill form. "Cortana! Name this project Spartan Pills! Hahaha!"
An acknowledgment came back from her.
With energy restored he returned to the nanotechnology research, which had been stuck against a particular wall for several days.
He had made progress converting standard circuits to more intricate microcircuits in the suit architecture, which was something, but the larger theoretical problem was still outstanding.
"Sir," Cortana said, materializing gently. "John's funeral is in an hour."
All the energy left him in one breath. He sat down and rubbed his eyes.
"Yes," he said, quietly. "I remember. Thank you anyway."
A pause. "What is the weather forecast?"
"Rain."
"Yes," he said. "Of course it has to rain."
"You cannot avoid this," she said, and he leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling.
"I know. But I am finding it very difficult to face."
"Listen," she said, materializing fully and moving to stand in front of him.
"There was not much you could have done differently. You could not have known there was going to be a gang war that day.
Spending time on what you could have done or how things could have been different is a bad and illogical use of what you have. Instead, think about what you learned.
Use your failures to make sure this does not happen the same way again. Keep going. Keep improving. Even perfection is never sufficient."
She looked at him steadily.
"Pain is not something you will be able to avoid throughout this life, especially with the way you are living it. But you can choose to carry that pain and learn from your mistakes so you do not repeat them."
He smiled at her.
"You have learned to understand human feelings very well, and in a remarkably short time." She gave him the same smile back. "Thank you, Cortana. Your thinking, logical and emotional both, was exactly what I needed."
"You are welcome, Peter," she said, and disappeared.