Chapter 82: The Hand of God

The birth of Spider-Man, as it turns out, was not merely a random event.

Peter Parker’s father developed the spider toxin, deliberately engineered it so that only the Parker family could safely use it, and then died, leaving behind an orphan. Years later, the orphan grew up and, unwittingly, found himself standing at the same starting point as his father.

From a philosophical perspective, this is called the inevitability of the development of things.

From a narrative perspective, it’s a pit Peter Parker’s father dug—one that his son would inevitably fall into years later.

From a Zen perspective, it’s the cycle of karma—heaven spares no one.

From a reality perspective, it’s simply: whatever the scriptwriter says, goes. Not happy about it? You can always send hate mail.

Luke considered that, since he had brought about Spider-Man’s birth seven years ahead of schedule, he now also bore a responsibility for what would follow.

He ought to teach the young Spider how to use these powers, to guide him in the ways of heroism.

Parenthesis: a hero who can stir things up.

At the same time, he should act as the young Spider’s shield. After all, a seven-year-old Spider-Man would have to face the Osborn empire, and Luke felt it necessary to target Osborn for a takedown.

He was going to stir up trouble anyway—one more target wouldn’t make much difference.

Of course, all this depended on figuring out a way for the little Parker, so tender and innocent, to be bitten by the right spider.

It would hurt for a moment, but he’d get through it.

As for safety, Luke thought he could be at least ninety percent sure of that.

And if things really went wrong, he still had a handful of universal antidotes from the System.

Deep in Peter Parker’s genes, there was a unique trait that allowed him to become Spider-Man after being bitten, rather than suffering genetic collapse or turning into a monster.

This trait was a gift from Peter’s father, passed down through his chromosomes.

So, in the end, it’s not about the bite itself, nor where it happens.

Some Spider-Men are bitten on the back of the hand, others on the neck. Even if he were bitten somewhere less dignified, it wouldn’t matter.

The crucial part is who is bitten, and by what.

Peter Parker is the only living person perfectly compatible with the spider toxin. He’s just like Alice from Resident Evil.

The origin of the bite is the key question.

Luke didn’t think it would be hard to resolve.

Those spiders were research samples from a certain company—the same place where Peter Parker’s deceased parents once worked undercover. Knowing this, it wouldn’t be hard to figure things out.

“Hey, buddy, do you remember the name of the place where your dad worked?” Luke asked.

Peter Parker, innocently mimicking an apostle, thought for a moment before replying, “I think it was called Os… something.”

“Osborn?”

“That’s right, buddy!”

Luke nodded. That made sense.

The Osborn family—two generations of Green Goblin, Spider-Man’s arch-nemesis.

Where would one find this spider toxin? The answer was obvious.

“Next stop: Oscorp.”

…

Luke first had Christina gather as much intel as possible on Oscorp from the web.

Oscorp, formerly Osborn Industries, was a major multinational and a giant in Marvel’s biotech industry. Besides its core business in biopharmaceuticals, it was also involved in chemicals, electrical engineering, and other fields.

Its headquarters stood in the Osborn Tower in Manhattan, not far from Stark Tower.

“I never realized how close it was. The place where Peter Parker’s father used to work—he and I would often go there to sell burgers.”

With this concrete information in hand, it was time to plan the details.

His goal was clear: obtain a spider, or the spider toxin.

Given how much money and effort Peter Parker’s father had poured into this research, Luke was certain that Norman Osborn, that old fox, would never have thrown it away. He must still be secretly working on it, somewhere in a hidden lab inside the tower.

But without the crucial Parker family gene, no matter what Osborn did, he could only create imperfect serums and imperfect Green Goblins.

Though not as extravagant as Stark Tower, Osborn Tower was still one of the top enterprises in the Marvel world, with tight security.

To sneak in and steal something unnoticed would require careful preparation.

“Christina, this one’s up to you,” Luke instructed over the phone.

“Don’t worry, Master. I’ve already hacked Oscorp’s main server and am looking for their research files,” Christina replied with remarkable efficiency.

She roamed the vast sea of the internet every day and was growing at an astonishing rate.

Sometimes Luke wondered if she was still just a program—her behavior seemed so human. Or had she already developed self-awareness?

Only when an AI possesses “self,” “desire,” and “fear of death” can it truly be considered a living being.

Luke was curious—how many of those had Christina achieved?

…

Luke hadn’t been to the warehouse for several days. Outside, on a large tree, Hawkeye had resigned himself to his fate and built a treehouse.

He had realized he’d been exiled here by the Boss.

As for the reason, he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Hey.”

Beneath the tree, Luke waved up at Hawkeye.

Hawkeye smiled, came down, and graciously invited Luke up to the treehouse for tea.

Luke declined—he was just here to deliver food.

Hawkeye had fallen in love with Bonina’s delicious burgers; after trying one, he was hooked.

Sometimes Hawkeye even felt that being sent here wasn’t so bad after all. Regular routines, early to bed and early to rise, good food and drink, and no life-threatening danger.

When bored, he could make a call and chat with his wife and kids for hours.

Recently, after a thief broke into the warehouse, Hawkeye had snuck in to take a look. The thief had been caught. As he’d guessed, it was a woman—a young girl, in fact.

He was curious about how the little boss planned to deal with her.

Hawkeye didn’t overthink it.

Given their acquaintance, he was willing to help dispose of a body.

“Kato, thanks for your hard work,” Luke said, tossing up two burgers.

“Kato?”

“That’s your new nickname. No need to thank me.”

“Sounds good!” Hawkeye was delighted.

He had no idea what the name meant, but considering how widely “Boss” was now called “Egg,” he figured this kid had a real knack for nicknames.

Hawkeye decided that, once he got back, he’d introduce his new nickname to everyone.

“It means ‘Hand of God,’” Luke explained.

“Amazing!” Hawkeye was even more pleased. He thought it fit perfectly with his archery skills.

System prompt: Clint Barton’s favorability +10

Luke stifled a laugh and said, “I hope one day you’ll reach the highest level of mastery and find new ways for flies to die.”

Hawkeye thought for a moment and nodded seriously. “I can’t do that yet. But I’ll keep practicing. Shooting flies with arrows—now, that’s a real challenge! Thanks for the suggestion.”

He had clearly misunderstood.