OMNI V2 C3

Ben stepped into his lab, stretching his arms as he let out a tired sigh. The familiar hum of machines filled the air, casting a soft glow around the dimly lit space. His eyes immediately landed on Peter, sprawled across the old leather sofa like a ragdoll. His mask lay discarded on the floor beside him, and his suit—still clinging to his body—was torn in multiple places, revealing bruises and scratches underneath. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and his face was contorted in a mix of exhaustion and deep thought.

Ben arched an eyebrow. "Damn, you look like you went twelve rounds with a wrecking ball. And lost."

Peter cracked open an eye, scoffing weakly. "Pfft. Beating me? Please. You should see the other guys."

Ben snorted but didn't press further. Instead, he walked over to one of his drawers, rummaged around, and pulled out a small container. Without warning, he tossed it towards Peter.

Peter's reflexes kicked in despite his exhaustion, and he caught it midair, though he winced as the motion sent a sharp pain through his shoulder. He looked at the container and recognized the medical ointment inside.

"Apply that to your bruises," Ben said, plopping onto the front sofa, leaning back as he watched Peter struggle to sit upright.

Peter groaned, pushing himself up, adjusting his torn suit with a wince. "Ugh, man, this stings! Are you sure this isn't just hot sauce in a bottle?" He dabbed the ointment onto a deep bruise on his jaw and winced again.

Ben smirked. "Nah, it just burns because your body is weak. Should I call Aunt May? I'm sure she'd love to hear how her nephew got his ass kicked."

Peter shot him a deadpan glare. "Ha. Ha. So funny, Tennyson."

Ben chuckled but then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright, for real though, what happened?"

Peter exhaled heavily, rubbing the ointment into another bruise. "I was patrolling when I caught two guys breaking into Oscorp. I jumped in, thinking it was just another break-in, but then things went south real fast. Turns out, those guys weren't alone. By the time I started fighting, three more showed up. One of them could shoot electricity—like, full-on taser-fingers. Then there was this guy with wings, another with a mechanical scorpion tail, some dude with a giant blade, and one weirdo with a—get this—fishbowl for a head."

Ben blinked. "So, what you're telling me is... New York's crime scene just turned into a villain reunion special?"

Peter scoffed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. "You're telling me. I was doing fine, y'know, until Mr. Shock-and-Fry decided to turn me into a human battery. Then Baldy McScorpion-Tail tried to impale me. Meanwhile, the fishbowl guy kept pulling weird illusions out of nowhere, and—oh yeah—Birdman was throwing razor-sharp feathers like some kind of medieval assassin."

Ben leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, five high-tech criminals just so happened to be at Oscorp on the same night, looking for something? That's too much of a coincidence."

Peter rubbed his temples. "Raid party was only two people initially. The other three just showed up when I started chasing them. By the time I could even focus on what they were after, they had already bolted. I barely managed to stop them from tearing the place apart, let alone find out what they were looking for."

Ben frowned, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "So you didn't see them take anything?"

Peter shook his head. "Not a thing. They were searching for something, but whatever it was, they didn't find it. And trust me, I was a little too busy dodging lightning bolts and getting thrown through windows to investigate."

Ben turned to the large screen on the lab wall. "Baymax, pull up the Oscorp security footage. See if you can track what they were after."

A small animated face appeared on the screen, smiling as Baymax's voice chimed in. "Sir, I have already analyzed the CCTV footage. The intruders appeared to be searching for something specific, but they left empty-handed. I also ran a background search on the technology they were using. There are no known records of any companies developing such advanced gear, nor any recent purchases of materials that could build those suits. Only major corporations would have the means to even research that level of tech."

Ben leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Which means whoever made those suits isn't buying their parts through legal channels. Someone's building these underground."

Peter groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "Great. Just what I needed. A bunch of high-tech criminals with mystery gear running around."

Ben turned his gaze back to him, serious now. "Listen, if you run into them again, don't engage alone. Call me."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Ben cut him off. "I mean it. These guys have gear that even the military doesn't have access to. If they ambush you again, you might not be lucky enough to walk away."

Peter exhaled through his nose and gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. But that means you have to call me too, alright? No solo hero crap."

Ben smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I'll call you. Maybe."

Peter gave him a deadpan look. "Ben."

Ben chuckled. "Alright, alright, I promise. Now, get some rest. You look like roadkill."

Peter let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. "Thanks, doc. I'll be sure to send you my hospital bill."

Ben rolled his eyes before turning back to the screen. "Baymax, keep monitoring the streets. If any of these guys pop up again, I want to know immediately."

"Understood, sir."

Peter exhaled heavily, leaning back into the couch. "Y'know, I was hoping for just a normal week for once. Just classes, some patrols, maybe even catching a movie with MJ . But nope. Here I am, covered in bruises, dealing with a rogue gallery straight out of a sci-fi comic."

Ben chuckled. "Well that's our world, Parker. Now shut up and get some sleep."

Peter scoffed but didn't argue. Within minutes, his eyes fluttered closed, and he drifted into much-needed rest. Ben, however, remained seated, his mind turning over everything they had just discussed. Something was off about this whole situation—he just didn't know what yet.

But one thing was certain.

Whoever these people were, they weren't done. They were after something.

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