Spiderman: Venom

With two days left before he had to return to school, Peter felt too restless to stay away. On Sunday, he made up an excuse to Aunt May and headed back to the warehouse.

He now had a total of eight office units—four from Aleksei and another four from the sale. The ones that came with the purchase were in rough shape. Peter knew he'd need to put in some time cleaning and repainting to make them decent again. Thankfully, they didn't smell too bad on the inside, though all of them needed fresh carpeting.

Peter glanced at the four units Aleksei had given him, feeling ready to start assembling them. His own space could wait. If these turned out well, he'd ask Aleksei where to get more and, if affordable, place an order.

Putting them together was straightforward. Each unit came in five separate parts.

He measured the floor space, arranged all four units, cut open the plastic, and set it aside. Starting with the roof panels, he placed them off to the side to make the rest of the job easier.

Once unwrapped, he slid each base into position, attached the wall corners, and tightened all the bolts. Without his enhanced strength, lifting the roof into place would have been impossible, but with it, he managed the task—if a bit awkwardly. Once everything was secured, he only had to add the walls.

He slotted each exterior wall into grooves, securing them with a metal plate at the top. Since the panels were modular, it was easy to add one for the bathroom and two for the bedroom's interior walls.

He had some extra panels, so he added a window to each bathroom and bedroom. Privacy film would be necessary, but at least the rooms would have some kind of view, even if limited.

Peter had already gotten sixteen joining plates and bolts from Aleksei. He was glad to pay fifty dollars for them since it was much cheaper than the two hundred he would've paid for the official kit.

With all the bolts tightened, the walls felt solid and secure.

Next, he tackled the wiring that came with the units. Thankfully, it was modular too, and once installed, it was covered by thick plastic casing. Each room now had an outlet, and after securing the weatherproof plug, each home had electricity. Water would have to wait until he worked on the plumbing.

Repeating the process, he created two seven-by-five-meter units.

The interiors were carpeted with durable, office-grade material—a dull gray that matched the pale gray walls. If tenants wanted something different, he could repaint, though he'd have to charge extra. Even the exteriors were a light blue that matched the carpet he planned to get.

With both units set up, he unrolled some tape and began marking out the layout of each room.

Using the panels as a guide, he didn't even have to follow his initial plans too strictly. The units were modular, meant to be used as meeting spaces or restrooms, making them easy to customize.

Peter ended up with a compact bathroom, about six feet by six feet, which he planned to turn into a wet room with a shower.

A hallway three feet by six meters long ran to the bedroom, giving easy access to each section.

Then came the bedroom—a modest but decent six by twelve feet.

The remaining space was for a kitchen counter along one wall, with the rest left open-plan. Even with the counter, the main room stretched twenty-three feet long and nine feet wide.

Peter had checked the city's requirements. New York used to have minimum size rules, but he was glad Matt had told him those had been repealed. Either way, the units would have just made the old minimum of four hundred square feet, scraping by at four hundred forty—small but workable for what he planned to charge.

Using the extra wall panels, he set them up in the center of the warehouse floor to create a shared area. A cheap set of chairs and a sofa would give residents a place to gather or throw small parties. Once arranged, the space looked tidy and organized.

The warehouse floor, previously a mess, was spotless. The walls were now a warm cream color, and the two completed units didn't look out of place.

Peter looked over his work with pride.

After reviewing local rents, he'd already decided to set the rent at a thousand dollars a month—a bit below market, but he knew he'd have no trouble finding tenants.

The units were compact but comfortable. Even with additional storage beside each one, there was room for four more. Once he finished the remaining four, he'd only need to buy two additional units to finish the layout. The roof height would even allow for a second level on top if he added balconies for privacy.

He chuckled to himself. Yeah, engineer Peter, not a landlord.

It was a smart investment and a practical solution for now, but not his end goal. With one unit for himself, five tenants would give him a solid income, even after taxes. It would be a backup plan if anything unexpected happened. If a certain someone happened.

Flash might still be an issue; he might even make Peter reconsider his plans. But he was just a bump in the road, a minor obstacle. Peter shook his head.

Yeah, I'm gonna get more of these and make a ton of money.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the buzzer.

For the past two weeks, Aunt May had grown increasingly concerned.

At home, she was adjusting to Peter spending more time out than in. She knew he was working, but he wouldn't come home until nearly midnight, tired and smelling of hard labor.

He'd greet her with a grunt, eat whatever she'd left for him, and head to bed. By the time she woke up in the morning, he was already gone. She was glad to see him working but worried he wasn't taking time to rest.

She could tell the suspension was affecting him, but she didn't press him to talk. She knew pushing him wouldn't help.

Drumming her fingers on the kitchen table, she finally decided to step in. Peter might resent her for it, but she couldn't shake her worry. When he'd first gotten his phone, she'd had the store clerk install a tracking app on it—and on her own. She was sure he knew about it, but it gave her peace of mind.

Taking her phone, she scrolled through the contacts she'd copied from Peter's phone. "Yes, hello, this is May Parker, Peter's aunt. Could I speak to Gwen, please?"

Giving Gwen the address Peter frequented felt a bit like cheating.

She'd looked up the junkyard where he worked. Fixing old appliances was fine—Ben had started with kids' bikes before moving on to cars. She thought there was nothing wrong with starting at the bottom and had been proud of Peter for finding work.

The warehouse, though, worried her. News reports of a shootout and meth lab discovery painted a grim picture. If a cleanup crew was on site, she hoped he was just hauling junk instead of dealing with bloodstains.

Still, she trusted Gwen. She was responsible, and May trusted her to watch out for Peter, even if he didn't realize he needed it.

After the call, Gwen stared at the address May had given her. A quick internet search confirmed she'd seen the building before.

It had been all over the news—a shootout was big news, even in Brooklyn. She called a cab and headed to the industrial district to find Peter.

When she arrived, she was taken aback. Whoever was working here had done an incredible job. The surrounding buildings were grimy and coated with street dust, but this one looked pristine.

None of the windows were boarded up; they shone, reflecting the light with an anti-glare tint that seemed freshly installed. There were no cracks or signs of damage.

Given the news stories, she'd been worried. But if Peter was here, it wasn't as bad as she'd feared.

This wasn't just a random job for him. Someone was clearly renovating the property, likely for resale, and Peter was probably part of the crew. It seemed May might have been overreacting.

Not wanting to barge in, Gwen knocked before noticing the buzzer. She pressed it, hearing Peter's voice crackle through the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Pete, it's Gwen. Can I come in?"

It sounded like he dropped something as a clatter came through the speaker.

"Sure, sure," he replied, buzzing her in.

What she saw inside amazed her.

Gentrification was the buzzword lately, and her father even had a case file on aggressive tactics to evict tenants. It was a lucrative business, with demand for even the smallest units skyrocketing. But this was on another level.

Two large box units sat along one wall, with another two older ones at the far end.

Though not finished, each unit had a taped pathway, and Peter had spray-marked lines for a front yard.

"What the heck, Pete? I thought I'd find a crime scene, not a hipster retreat. Explain yourself right now, mister." Gwen faked annoyance but needed answers. She knew acting upset would get Peter talking.

"Oh, uh, hi Gwen," he mumbled.

"Don't you 'hi Gwen' me, Pete. What is this? Apartments? Are you building condos in an old warehouse now?"

"Uh, no," he muttered, realizing Aunt May had probably put a tracker on his phone and sent Gwen to check on him.

He rubbed his forehead. "Uh, here, Gwen," he said, pulling out a folding chair he'd found at Aleksei's. As she sat, he started explaining.

"So, uh, yeah, I own the warehouse—but please don't tell May. I sort of spent my college fund on it. But look—see? Two units," he said, pointing to the older ones. "And my own place."

"This is incredible, Pete," Gwen said, amazed. "But how big are they?"

Peter showed her inside one of the units, and it was roomier than she'd expected. She peeked into both rooms. It was smaller than her home but larger than the college dorms she'd seen. For one person in Brooklyn, he could easily get two thousand a month for each unit.

"I want one," she declared, "non-negotiable."

"Uh, Gwen, I need the money, and it doesn't feel right charging you."

"No!" She gave him a light shove. "Proper lease and all. Felicia and I were thinking of getting a place, but this—this is perfect, Pete."

Peter scratched the back of his head, grinning. "Well, yeah, most of the plans came from the internet, and Mr. Sytsevich has been—"

"Aleksei Sytsevich?" Gwen interrupted him. "My dad has a file on him, Pete. He's a criminal." Peter looked away, grimacing. "But yeah, you already knew that, huh?" she asked.

"Look, Gwen, it's just a job, and I swear I'm not doing anything illegal. I just, uh, can't tell May, and please, please, Gwen, don't tell her."

Gwen gave him a mischievous grin. "Fine, Pete, but you have to do one little thing for me." She took a deep breath, working up the nerve to finally tell him.

"Anything, Gwen, anything."

She looked straight at him. "Good, because now we're dating."