243. The First Board Meeting. (Patreon)

Peter Parker-120703 POV:

Oscorp Tower had always felt too tall.

Physically, it was just another monument to money and ego shoved into the skyline of New York, all glass and metal and futuristic patterns pretending to be progress.

But emotionally? It had always towered over my life.

I still remembered the first time I came here for the tour where in the spider room I was bitten and that was the moment my entire life split into before and after.

I remembered Gwen’s smile beneath sterile lights. I remembered Dr. Connors’s tired eyes. I remembered the feeling of wanting answers and finding a curse disguised as a miracle.

And now?

Now I was sitting in the Oscorp board room and at the head of a table worth more than Aunt May’s old house.

Across from me sat Uncle Ben, alive and wearing one of my old sweaters because none of his old clothes were available as we donated them to charity.

Aunt May sat beside him, one hand resting close enough to touch his sleeve whenever she needed to reassure herself.

Captain Stacy sat with Helen at his side, his posture straight even though everything about his face said he still hadn’t emotionally caught up with being alive again.

Howard, Philip and Simon were half-listening, half-staring at the city through the windows like they expected the building itself to start flying.

Gwen sat beside me, her fingers were laced with mine under the table and across from us stood Peter Parker of Earth-65M.

He stood in the middle of Oscorp’s board room like he owned it, which technically, through shell companies, corporate murder and whatever financial sorcery he called “structural correction” he kind of did.

His Gwen sat on the edge of the table beside him, one leg crossed over the other, blonde-pink hair loose around her face while she watched everything with that amused, affectionate look that said she had seen this brand of Peter insanity before and had chosen to marry it anyway.

Peter-65M tapped his glasses once and the board room table lit up as holograms unfolded across its surface and what was being displayed were describable in a simpler word.

Revolution.

“Peter,” he began, looking at me with a pleasant smile that did absolutely nothing to make the words less terrifying, “Oscorp is ahead of other companies in this universe, yes but not by much.”

I blinked. “Not by much? At best, five years.”

I heard Howard whisper, “That’s kind of insulting.”

Philip whispered back, “It’s probably accurate.”

Peter continued as if he hadn’t heard them, which meant he absolutely had. “So I’ve decided to provide you with a starter portfolio.”

Helen instantly stiffened. “Define starter.”

Peter made a small flicking motion with his fingers and the holograms began sorting themselves into labeled categories.

“Class Two Regen serum formula designed for one-time limb regrowth, multiple cancer treatment lines, Opioid alternative painkillers and next-generation antibiotics.”

Gwen’s grip tightened around my hand.

“Laser-based infantry weapons, Hydrogen-cell electric engines, Hydroponic farming technology and Industrial fabrication equipment, Quantum lithography technology for semiconductors, Standard fusion reactor technology, Superconductive metamaterial formula, Geothermal energy systems, Energy conversion dynamos, Sublight engines and Asteroid mining equipment.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. “Any questions?”

Nobody spoke because we were unable to formulate words.

My brain was trying to process each item one at a time but every time it touched one, another one exploded behind it.

He hasn’t given us technology instead he has thrown centuries of human development onto the table like spare change.

Gwen found her voice first.

“Peter,” she whispered, staring at the holograms, “that’s… too much.”

Gwen-65M snorted and we all looked at her.

She held up both hands. “Sorry, sorry. I know that sounded rude.”

“It did." Helen said flatly.

“Yes, it was a little rude,” Gwen-65M admitted, “but also true. These are mostly first-generation technologies. Back home, we’re at fourth or fifth generation for a lot of these.”

I stared at her.

She shrugged. “Believe me, this is chump change compared to what Peter actually has.”

Peter-65M looked mildly offended. “I prefer the term controlled technological uplift.”

Gwen-65M pointed at him without looking. “He means chump change.”

Simon leaned toward Howard. “Are they always like this?”

Howard whispered, “I hope so.”

I watched the way Gwen-65M spoke so casually about his company, the way she knew enough to call out what was outdated and the way Peter didn’t correct her or dismiss her made it evident that she wasn’t just his wife standing beside him. She was also a part of his empire of madness.

Helen recovered faster than the rest of us, because Helen Stacy was apparently made from grief, law degrees and iron.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Fine. Assuming we accept this....”

“You should.” Peter-65M said.

Helen gave him a look sharp enough to cut glass.

Peter-65M wisely shut up.

Helen continued. “Assuming we accept this, we have a problem. A massive one.”

She stood and began pacing slightly.

“You can’t just release technology like hot chocolate at a school fundraiser or one-dollar lemonade on a sidewalk.”

Peter-65M nodded, looking genuinely pleased. “Good. Continue.”

Helen narrowed her eyes at him but did.

“We need research personnel. Names,.papers, documentation, FDA approval, Nuclear Regulatory Commission approval, working prototypes, ethical human trials, ethical animal trials, national patents, international patents, manufacturing pipelines, safety standards and legal shielding.”

She pointed at the holograms.

“And that’s assuming our people can even understand this technology. Even if this is outdated for you, it’s not outdated for us.”

I looked at Helen with quiet awe.

God, I had missed hearing an adult with common sense talk back to insanity.

Peter-65M nodded. “Correct on all counts.”

Helen paused. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re correct,” he said. “Which is why I prepared supplementary materials.”

The holograms shifted again.

“Eos has already catalogued Oscorp’s personnel. There are still many fresh talents buried beneath layers of corruption, nepotism and ethically bankrupt leadership. You’ll need to purge roughly 37% of senior staff, retain 52% under probationary oversight and promote several junior researchers who were being suffocated by bureaucracy.”

Eos’s calm voice chimed from the room’s speakers. “Preliminary personnel recommendations are ready for review.”

Howard whispered, “Robot lawyer is back.”

Eos replied, “Administrative intelligence.”

“Sorry.” Mumbled Howard.

Peter-65M continued, “You can also rehire Dr. Curtis Connors and Engineer Max Dillon.”

I blinked. “You know Max?”

Peter-65M looked at me. “Brilliant electrical engineer, socially overlooked. Exploitable resentment patterns but not beyond correction if handled early and with dignity which is unfortunate for our world's Max Dillion.”

Gwen-120703 leaned closer to me and whispered, “We are absolutely hiring Max.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. We are.”

Peter-65M brought up another folder.

“I’ll provide full research notes, implementation studies, safety parameters, manufacturing limitations and theoretical frameworks for all technologies listed. You won’t be reverse engineering from nothing. You’ll be adapting.”

Helen crossed her arms. “And the mid-tier financial crisis caused by the board collapse?”

Peter smiled.

“I’ll invest 250 million dollars through digitized currency.”

Captain Stacy stared at him. “Say that again.”

“Two hundred and fifty million dollars in this universe’s money?”

“Yes.”

George leaned back then leaned forward and then looked at me then at Peter-65M. “Answer something for me.”

Peter-65M beamed. “Shoot.”

“How does that work?”

Peter-65M’s expression lit up like a kid at Christmas as he looked truly excited.

“Finally! Someone asked!”

My Gwen blinked. “Wait, nobody asked before?”

“Never, dear Miss Stacy.”

My Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Dear Miss Stacy?”

Gwen-65M smirked. “He’s being theatrical. Let him cook.”

Peter-65M dropped a black credit card onto the table. It looked ordinary which meant it absolutely wasn’t.

“Currency in digital form,” he began, “is specialized data designed to be interpreted by specific financial systems. The system recognizes codes, verifies structure, confirms ledger interaction and creates functional value representation.”

Simon leaned toward Philip. “I understood none of that.”

Philip whispered, “Money is computer soup.”

Peter-65M pointed at Philip. “Crude but not entirely inaccurate.”

He picked up the card and spun it between his fingers. “This card carries a large amount of adaptable value-data. Let’s say, for example, one billion dollars but the stored data is not actually the most important part.”

He tapped the card.

“The Virtual Intelligence inside is.”

Helen frowned. “Inside the card?”

“Yes.”

George stared. “There’s an AI in your credit card?”

“Virtual Intelligence. Not AI. There’s a distinction.”

Gwen-65M coughed. “A distinction he gets very dramatic about.”

Peter-65M ignored her.

“American Express exists here as it does in my universe but in other realities names and hierarchies differ. For example, in Earth-1610-B, the equivalent is American Wind. Their highest card tier is Platinum Imperator instead of Black Centurion.”

“That's such a weirdly specific difference.” I muttured.

“The multiverse enjoys branding variations.” He continued, clearly thrilled to have an audience. “My card’s VI reads the financial parameters of the dimension’s electronic systems, molds the value-data accordingly, then begins circulation through rapid trades, stock exchange fluctuations, gold exchange, cryptocurrency if available, high-frequency commodity arbitrage and other quick-return investment loops.”

Helen stared at him in horror. “That sounds wildly illegal.”

“In some jurisdictions.”

“In this one?”

“Probably several.”

“Peter.”

He smiled. “It works.”

I felt my brain slowly collapsing inward.

Peter-65M looked at me next. “Believe it or not, I made my first millions not through scientific invention, but through a quick-trade algorithm that generated around 100,000 dollars per day.”

I stared at him. “You did what?”

“I hid the money in encrypted black boxes accessible only through special currency cards. Spoofed the IRS for a long time.”

George’s eyes narrowed. “For a long time?”

“They never caught me.” Clarified Peter.

“That doesn’t make it better.” George replied.

“But it makes it successful.” Replied Peter.

Uncle Ben cleared his throat. “Son, that sounds like crime.”

Peter-65M looked at him, then at Aunt May, then smiled innocently. “Alleged crime.”

Aunt May-120703 gave him a look.

He sighed. “Fine. Crime-adjacent innovation.”

Gwen-65M patted his shoulder. “Growth.”

I stared at the black card.

It was wrong, brilliant, elegant and illegal at once which becomes obvious once explained and impossible for me to have thought of.

I had the brain of a genius and the imagination of someone who had spent years thinking the only way to save people was by throwing myself between them and danger while armed with silly strings.

Peter-65M saw systems while I saw rooftops. He saw economies while I saw alleys. He saw a planet and asked what could be rebuilt and I saw a city and asked who needed saving tonight.

We just thought of different scales.

“Anyhoo,” Peter-65M said suddenly, completely shifting tone, “I want croissants and espresso.”

He pronounced croissants so badly that Gwen-65M physically flinched.

He turned toward her. “Do you want some, wifely unit?”

Gwen-65M stared at him. “Your French accent is still terrible.”

“False.”

“It's historically bad like the Maginot Line.” Replied Gwen.

Peter-65M gasped as if he was shot. “Gwen the drummer making history puns? The world is ending.”

My Gwen laughed softly beside me while I looked at the two of them.

The banter, the ease, the way they fit together. For one second, I saw myself in their place.

Not as him. Not exactly but older. Married with Gwen and maybe with three kids living in a warm house with a hamster for some reason.

"Focus, Peter." I thought hard and then they vanished in blue light.

Uncle Ben stared at the empty space. “Did they leave our reality?”

I shook my head. “No. Localized teleportation I think.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “To where?”

“Probably some mom-and-pop bakery and coffee shop.”

I slumped back into the revolving board chair and stared at the ceiling.

Gwen squeezed my hand. “Hey.”

I turned to her to see her smiling at me gently.

“Maybe this can work.” Gwen muttured.

“What can?” I asked.

“This.” She gestured at the board room. “Doing things differently and saving lives differently.”

I looked down at our joined hands. “With a little less trauma and death?”

“That would be a nice bonus.” Replied Gwen.

A hollow laugh escaped me. “I keep thinking about how many things I could’ve done differently.”

Gwen’s thumb brushed over mine. “Then do them differently now.”

I looked at her. She was alive and I wasn't dreaming. She was alive and telling me to stop worshipping grief.

“I still have a lot to learn.” I admitted.

Aunt May came up behind me and rested her hand on my shoulder then she leaned down and kissed my hair. “If I could get a nursing degree at my age while taking classes with girls half my age,” she said softly, “then you can learn a few more things from him.”

She continued, “There’s no humiliation in learning, Peter. Only exaltation.”

Uncle Ben smiled from across the table. “And for the record, admitting you need to learn is usually the first sign you’re finally growing up.”

George nodded. “And if you’re going to run a company, kid, you’re going to need more than web shooters and guilt.”

Helen added, “A legal team. A very good one.”

Eos chimed. “Already assembled.”

Howard raised his hand. “Do we get company badges?”

Helen looked at him. “What? I’m asking practical questions.”

Philip said, “I want one too.”

Simon added, “Mine better say Junior Board Member.”

George's laughter filled the board room then Gwen rested her head on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to become him,” she whispered. “You just have to become more of yourself.”

For years, I thought the best version of me had died with Gwen. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he had just been waiting for the permission to begin again.

I opened my eyes. Looked at the holograms showing patents, formulas and the impossible future sitting on the table.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel crushed beneath it.

I felt challenged, I felt afraid, I felt inadequate but beneath all that was a small spark ready to reignite my will to live.

“Okay,” I said loudly causing everyone to look at me. I sat straighter. “Let’s learn.”