Medical

"No, I knew that Dr. Connors was a bit crazy (who else would care and help a terrifying space monster?), but just a little, right! But what this person proposed... if I become the Dark Lord (the main thing is not to end up like in that nightmare, brr), I will definitely make him my advisor... or chief executioner, with his imagination – that's the perfect role for him. Mengele suggested nothing less than introducing a part of my cells into Parker, not in their pure form, but in a physio-solution, after subjecting them to sound at a certain frequency and volume. Those cells will certainly not enjoy this procedure. In such a "partially disassembled" state, they should instinctively merge with the most "advanced" cells that have evolved further than others in Peter's body. Then, I would replenish my own cell count, effectively killing the infiltrators within Spider-Man, and they, in turn, would take the mutated cells from Parker to the other side. Afterward, it would be necessary to remove the dead tissues from the body (there shouldn't be much, and the body could probably handle it on its own) and inject a couple of stimulants and strengthening substances. Such a method might indeed help, although not entirely – it won't stop the evolution, but it will eliminate unpleasant side effects like power loss. Moreover, Spidey wouldn't discover my identity, as everything can be explained using "invented" medications. When asked why Dr. Connors didn't betray me, I received a perplexed and slightly offended look in response."

"You are a good person, though you often behave like a real pest, but you haven't turned into a monster, Nazgul," the professor said, giving me a thoughtful look. "You try to do good, in your own way. I owe you a lot, as does Parker, so I prefer to wait until you two settle your differences, rather than turning one friend against the other. I don't have many friends to afford betraying them," he added sadly.

"Alright, I'm sorry, Doc. I was wrong," I confessed. At that moment, I wanted to tell Curt the whole truth, not just the fragment I gave him during our last conversation, but my common sense prevailed. Curt didn't need to know the whole truth; it would be too much of a blow for him. Besides, I still didn't want to lose such a mentor and... a friend.

"We've forgotten it," the professor summed up, returning to the topic of the plan. "So, what do you think about my plan?" Curt asked.

"There's not much to say... It will be painful, very painful. And if the process has gone too far and affected the brain and nervous system... such 'treatment' could kill Spider-Man or turn him into an idiot. Though he came to us seemingly in time, so he might survive... probably," I explained.

"Hmm, we need to try to reduce the risks," Curt pondered.

"We'll try. Let's start by skipping the sound treatment. I can give the necessary commands to our particles on my own. I've had some practice with that," I replied.

"Alright, should we add some dyes? I think anthracite – a black liquid in the syringe – could raise unnecessary suspicions for Spider-Man," Doc thought.

"Changing the color is not a problem. So the liquid will be transparent. I'm more concerned about dealing with the pain; after all, I'll have to cut him open while almost simultaneously handling almost his entire body," I said.

"I can only suggest painkillers. I doubt Spider-Man trusts us enough to agree to full anesthesia," Curt said.

"It's worth suggesting, but it's better to have the morphine syringe ready, just in case," I nodded. "But all this is dealing with the consequences. What about the cause?"

"We could pass him through the emitter; that would slow down the process, but still, in five years, he'll become a monster," Curt sighed heavily.

"Five years is not that short; maybe we can come up with something during that time," I suggested.

The rest of the day, we argued tirelessly, coming up with and dismissing various theories, trying to find some other ways, but nothing led to a solution. And then the moment of truth came – Spider-Man entered the lab, taking advantage of the partially open window. The treatment was already prepared – three syringes with my cells, painkillers, and a stimulant lay on the table.

"How's the progress?" Spider-Man asked nervously.

"It's hard to say... We can't fully cure you, at least not yet. But we found a way to significantly slow down your evolution. Walter, please explain the details," Curt said.

"Alright, based on your blood, I managed to create... um... antibodies, that's the closest description. They will target and remove tissues that have mutated beyond the necessary point. Since such tissues are distributed uniformly throughout your body, the damages from their destruction will be painful but not fatal," I explained thoughtfully. "Oh! We could try using the same method with cancer cells; it might help to cure some types at early stages... hmm, sorry, I got carried away. So, after my antibodies – and indeed, they are entirely mine – Doctor Connors will attempt to use his emitter to slow down the evolution process itself. But mind you, even with this combined method, it will only buy you about five more years, at most."

I might have gone too far, judging by his reaction. It was heart-wrenching to see Spider-Man like that, even with his mask hiding his face, his drooping shoulders and despairing emotions spoke for themselves. Wait! Am I sensing his emotions? How? I tried to understand; if I learn to feel the emotions of others, maybe I could transmit emotions as I did with Hobgoblin. I delved into my thoughts, but Curt's shout and gentle shaking brought me back to reality.

"Walter! Finally, you're back with us. Did you get lost in your thoughts?" Doc exclaimed, but I could clearly feel his concern. Wait, does that mean I'll be constantly sensing everyone's emotions now? Nah, no way, screw that!

"Sorry, I got lost in thought. So, shall we proceed?" Spider-Man nodded in agreement.

"There are two options – under general anesthesia, which I would recommend, or just under local anesthesia, remaining conscious. What do you choose?" I asked.

"Let's go with local anesthesia," Spider-Man decided after some contemplation, rolling up his suit's sleeve.

I cleaned the skin with an alcohol swab and injected him with the painkiller first, followed by the "antibodies" solution. For a couple of minutes, nothing happened, and then Parker convulsed in agony. Despite the full syringe of morphine, he emitted a hoarse wheeze instead of a scream; it seemed my cells had reached his vocal cords. When it was all over, Spider-Man struggled to stand up. It was no easy task for me either, as I had to determine what to capture and separate from Peter while making sure not to remove anything essential (like brain tissue). The experience was invaluable as a training exercise in control, but constantly monitoring the work of thousands of cells within Spider-Man's body was incredibly difficult. I felt like my own brain was about to explode, but I managed to handle it. As I suspected, some brain cells had already begun to transform, but there was nothing to be done about that. While analyzing my own sensations and the data still coming through an inexplicable channel from the cells in the patient's body, a somewhat creepy voice interrupted me.

"And how often do I have to go through this?" his voice now resembled my Nazgul hiss.

I approached Peter and, rolling up his sleeves on both arms, began to scrape off the sweaty brow with a scraper (simultaneously gathering and retrieving my cells, leaving in Parker only the "on-duty" minimum).

"At least once a month, but the next time will be much easier. We treated you for the entire period, from when you became Spider-Man until today. So we eliminated most of the cells that had undergone transformation or were in the process of doing so. But you should have your blood tested weekly – I need to monitor the progress of your evolution to optimize the antibodies for the next time," I explained.

"Thank you, Walter. I owe you," Peter said.

"Forget it; you saved my butt on that plaza, so it's the least I can do for you. Now, it's time to see Dr. Connors," I replied.

"Ah, I've always dreamed of being a guinea pig for a mad scientist," Peter cheered.

"Well, then don't miss your chance; Doc is already waiting," I smiled and injected Peter with a stimulant.

"By the way, I can hear everything!" came Curt's cheerful voice from the neighboring room.

"Oops..." both his former and current assistants said in sync.

A few hours later, when the exhausted Parker crawled away in an unknown direction (the tracker indicated southwest), Curt and I held another meeting.

"What do you think?" the professor looked tired and somewhat older.

"As we thought – five years... if the speed of his transformation doesn't change dramatically for any reason. But with my method of treatment, he can last no longer than three years. After that, there's a high chance he'll die from the pain, given how he reacted even with a full syringe of painkiller!" I explained.

Doc's expression darkened even further. "Do you have any other ideas?" his voice carried exhaustion and despair.

"Other than the Fusion, none. And that's still death, just not for the body, but definitely for Spider-Man's personality," I said.

"This is not good. We'll have to think some more..." But we couldn't come up with any viable solutions. So, we closed the lab and went home.

As I walked, I pondered. How was Peter cured in the canon? I remember there was a substance that significantly accelerated his evolution, but how did they reverse the process? I've been considering that substance myself for a while. I wonder what it could do for me. Hopefully, Peter will turn to me first before introducing an unknown drug with vague descriptions into his body. In fact, it was because of the substance that I didn't take the easiest route – knocking out Spider-Man, infusing myself with his blood, and bringing myself back to normal in a couple of days (it's not that simple, but it's doable). Selfish? Yes. Cruel? Definitely, but I never pretended to be a paladin, nor do I intend to become one. This substance will only cause problems for Spider-Man, but for me, it could be quite helpful. The funniest thing is that I didn't lie in a single word – the method of treatment I described was, in essence, a partial fusion, and the complete one would indeed kill Peter's personality, which I absolutely refuse to do. The only concern is that Curt won't like the direction of my thoughts, but he can't be upset about something he doesn't know, right?

*Michael Morbius*

"Mayer! You bastard, how could you humiliate me in front of the whole group, in front of Felicia!" The student slammed his fist against the wall of his room, and an unsuspecting bat dropped from the ceiling.

"And now how am I supposed to face her when my mere presence within the institute elicits hysterical laughter from everyone?" the guy continued to rant. "No, this scum needs to have an accident; such a thing won't be forgiven. Maybe I'll find something interesting and compromising in his lab? It's worth a try."

Morbius left his house and headed towards the laboratory building, where in one room, stored in a refrigerator, there was a sample of very intriguing blood... Meanwhile, in an ultra-secure prison, inside a solitary cell for the most dangerous criminals, a small robot infiltrated with an interesting device and a note...