Spiderman: Venom

It took him another two days to organize the chaos, but by the end of it, he was satisfied with his progress. More importantly, so was Aleksei.

"So, two days, huh?" Aleksei remarked, taking a drag on his cigarette. "Well, I did say a week, but you know what the reward for hard work is?"

Peter shrugged, unsure of the answer.

"More work," Aleksei said with a chuckle, seeing Peter's expression. "Nah, I'm just messing with you, kid. Look, take the rest of the day off. We'll have one of the guys deliver your offices. It's just a few blocks, so I don't mind you using the van."

"Can I borrow the power washer?" Peter asked, hopeful.

"Haven't started cleaning it?" Aleksei asked, and when Peter shook his head, Aleksei waved dismissively. "It's fine; I know where it is. Just make sure it's back by Friday."

"Thanks, Mr. Sytsevich, sir," Peter replied, setting off. He'd already borrowed some half-full bleach bottles; Aleksei had said it was okay since they bought in bulk and used bleach constantly to clean everything.

Peter had nearly handed over all of his hundred-dollar advance while gathering cleaning supplies, but Aleksei waved his money away as usual.

"It's just junk, Pete. Can't sell it, and I'm not taking your cash for it," he'd said, though Peter didn't want to press his luck.

They were all minor items—a bucket with a small crack, a broom with a split but usable handle, and some torn sponges. It might've been junk to Aleksei, but to Peter, it meant a lot of saved money.

Peter hadn't been offered a ride in the van, so he didn't ask. Even with his bundle of scavenged supplies, he made it back to the warehouse before the van arrived.

He unlocked both sides of the massive warehouse doors. The old brick building still had its original doors: two huge, steel-reinforced wooden gates. They were sectional, with two smaller sets of doors and a single-person door on one side. He could've opened just the smaller section, but he wasn't sure if the van would fit through.

After some fumbling, he got the large double doors open for the van to pull inside. He could lift the office units himself—they were still flat-packed and wrapped in thick plastic—but as a lean teenager, he didn't want to attract any extra attention.

He felt a little bad that, after unloading all four offices, he had nothing to offer the workers. Using minimal water power from the rain barrel he'd found on the roof, he managed to get a clean but cold rinse.

After the van was gone, Peter locked both doors with padlocks on each side. He noticed two thick bolts in each corner of the doors that could keep the shutter tightly closed. Later, he planned to borrow a blowtorch from Aleksei and weld it permanently shut. Such a large door wasn't needed, and welding the bottom bolts would keep it sealed.

The door faced away from the river, so insulating it against the colder winter winds would be easy. Watching the van pull out of the lot, he realized the smaller doors would've been enough and decided to seal the larger ones permanently, leaving only the van-sized doors usable.

Another item for the list, he thought to himself. For now, padlocks would do.

When the van had gone and the doors were locked, Peter stacked the four new office units alongside the disassembled ones already in the warehouse.

Now he had eight in total, although the original four still needed cleaning and paint.

He put everything else into the clean office and sat on the floor to rest.

Aleksei had been right. Flash didn't really care about Peter—he only cared about himself. If Peter wanted to get rid of Flash, he'd either have to become intimidating enough to keep Flash away, or he'd have to find a way to avoid him altogether.

He couldn't depend on anyone else to help. Gwen and Felicia were his friends, but he didn't want to drag them into a problem he could handle on his own.

He could make himself more intimidating—the fight in the alley had proved that. But as Matt had warned, Peter was now dealing with the fallout. Flash wouldn't fight fair, and the more Peter resisted, the worse things would get.

Not that things weren't already bad. Being suspended felt unfair. Was it some kind of power move? Peter didn't know; he only knew it felt harsh.

School itself wasn't a problem; if Matt eventually saw it as a dead end, he'd probably quit. Peter could finish his education in college, or if that was too expensive, he could get a GED—a General Education Diploma.

He already knew he had a football scholarship at Empire State University, which meant Flash would probably be there too. He could complete his diploma part-time, work outside of class, and avoid the campus as much as possible.

At least Hammer was his alone; Flash was going to Oscorp—his dad was on the board, so that made sense.

It was frustrating that he had to go to such lengths to avoid one person. It just wasn't fair. He pounded the floor in frustration. One dumb argument… he banged his head against the floor… one mess after another, and now his life was spiraling.

He rubbed his eyes with his hands.

Enough, he thought, letting out a small laugh. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Pete. You've got friends and powers. Moping won't help. You have options, and you have a warehouse.

Standing up, he took a deep breath, grabbed the broom, and went back to work.

It took him the rest of the afternoon and part of the next day to get the place spotless.

Outside, Peter had borrowed a sprayer and drenched every weed. He coated the chain-link fence with rust remover, though he'd have to wait to seal it with weatherproof paint. The power washer also made quick work of the grime on the building's exterior, revealing a brighter, cleaner red beneath. Thankfully, it didn't need repairs.

In just one afternoon, he was done.

Inside, Peter had climbed up to the walkways, dusted the lights, and scrubbed the windows and walls. The floor had been swept and power-washed.

The street outside was lined with garbage bags, but the warehouse was finally clean. Even though some dark stains remained, it was ready to be painted.

The following day at the junkyard went smoothly. Aleksei nodded when Peter handed him a list of equipment with prices, and by the next day, everything was there. Aleksei even set up a petty cash fund, allowing Peter to spend up to a hundred dollars as long as he provided receipts.

Aleksei didn't blink when Peter handed him a second list for acrylic floor paint, tools to spread it, and sections of pre-cut office carpet.

Aleksei just laughed. "You know I'm not giving you this at cost, right? Maybe if you'd been here longer…"

Peter nodded, handed over the money, and found himself another thousand dollars down.

Aleksei gave him the next day off, so Peter found himself back at the warehouse, dressed in a painting suit and ready to tackle the floor.

He'd disassembled the offices he'd had for weeks, adding the final clean office to the stack with the four from Aleksei.

He didn't mind that the paint was a satin white; anything was better than faded, blood-brown stains. It took him a week, working section by section and airing out the place enough so he wouldn't feel dizzy from the fumes, but at last, he'd finished the floor.

He left it to dry for a day. Since his work hours only covered weekdays, he'd have two full days to let the floor dry and air out with the windows slightly open.

While the floor dried, he focused on the exterior of the building.

He cleaned the parking lot with the power washer, pulling weeds and moss from between the paving stones. He noticed some cracks and sighed, adding pre-made concrete or cement to his list since some path sections were loose.

He did the same to the walls, blasting away grime.

But the new floor color created a new problem. The satin white finish made the walls' filthiness even more obvious, something he hadn't noticed with the previous lighting.

He scraped at the yellowed walls, peeling away not only grime but some of the paint. After checking the entire interior, he decided a repaint was essential.

The walls were stained with nicotine, cracked and peeling paint, and even had bullet holes in places. They looked shabby next to the clean floor, and even without the new paint, they would have needed a fresh coat.

Unsure how to repaint the thirty-by-thirty-foot walls without it taking weeks, he asked Aleksei for advice.

"Get a paint sprayer. I don't have one here, and they're not cheap. Go rent one."

Peter checked his phone. Many hardware stores offered interior sealant paint and sprayer rentals. He'd need drums of paint to cover the entire place, not just small cans.

He sighed, called a store, and ordered the warm cream-colored paint along with a sprayer for the week.

It was another hit to his budget, but it would be worth it.

It took the rest of the week and the weekend to finish, but it was finally done.

Peter aired out the warehouse, carefully peeling back the window coverings. The place was spotless.

To break up the monotony of painting, he began marking pathways on the floor with tape. After measuring, he found a site that sold large, pre-cut rubber-backed mats for each "home." He chose dark blue.

The warehouse was coming together, and he felt proud. It was finally ready enough that he could tell Aunt May—at least about his job.

Aleksei had been pleased with Peter's progress. Lists were organized, and being honest earned Peter a lot of goodwill.

He hadn't actually repaired anything yet, but so far, Aleksei didn't seem to mind.

"Uh, Boss, sir?" Peter asked nervously. Aleksei had been good to him over the past two weeks, letting him leave early and giving him plenty of advice.

"You leaving?" Aleksei asked, flicking ash into a tin tray.

"Uh, no. But I'm back in school next week. Can I adjust my hours?"

Aleksei laughed. "That's it? Fine. Five till eight, and all day Saturday. We don't work Sundays here." He nodded toward the cross on his wall. "And I expect you to actually fix something this time," he said with a chuckle.

"Thank you, sir," Peter replied, smiling.

His first stop was the warehouse. He brought down the office sections from the walkways and laid them out to ensure they fit together as planned.

There was ample room for people to move around and store items outside their homes.

He even thought about adding small sheds outside to house washing machines and other large appliances.

He shook his head, deciding that might be too much—at least for now.

There was one issue, though. The warehouse's center section was empty, creating a large, open space. Peter sat and studied it.

Maybe it could be a meeting area?

Grabbing his tape measure and masking tape, Peter marked out a square, measured the walls he'd have from the offices, and made adjustments. Power would be an issue, but a cable from an outlet, covered in a metal tunnel, could solve that.

Another thing to add to the list, he sighed.

Before locking up, he gave the place one last check, leaving the windows slightly open to finish airing out the paint smell. After securing the doors, he gathered his things and began jogging home.

Now, it was time to tell Aunt May.