Congress Of Doom

It had been a week since the airport incident, and the United States of America, especially New York, was in chaos.

The government had managed to suppress the fact that unknown superhumans had decimated their military, but they really couldn't hide the fact that they'd suffered a large number of casualties when containing a terrorist threat consisting of a single man.

This set off a number of riots, which had gotten so bad that the military had resorted to using force to suppress them, which only made the situation worse.

It only died down when the President himself gave a speech about legislating and passing multiple bills that would crack down on any and all superhumans in America. Of course, things weren't so simple as this caused another divide - this time, a political one. If that wasn't odd enough, Reed Richards from the Fantastic Four was one of the leading voices against the aforementioned bill.

Personally, Peter gave the minimum amount of attention to the political and physical unrest in the state, choosing to work on the Extremis virus instead - where he'd made great strides. He hadn't come around to studying the X-Gene just yet, as he wanted to figure out the mechanism of Extremis to actually incorporate the said gene into himself.

One of the reasons he wanted Extremis so badly was that it was a much more efficient method of integrating foreign DNA than his own. He'd give Killian and Maya that.

The Oscorp cafeteria, which was on the fifth floor, was one of the most simplistic but fancy cafeterias he'd ever seen. Numerous stalls lined two sides of the room, with comfortable chairs and sofas neatly arranged in the middle. Staff and scientists alike lounged on their comfortable seats, gobbling up their morning coffee while having a snack or two.

Two large vending machines that worked via biometrics sat on either side, while a fancy bar was installed at the very centre of the floor. It was closed in the morning, but a sign said that it opened in 4 hours.

"Peter!" a voice called to him in the cafeteria.

He turned around, spotting Dr. Martha next to one of the counters, apparently making some coffee at the machine.

He gave her a grin and a wave, walking up to her with his backpack on his shoulders. Some of the scientists on the chairs who were in the Department gave him looks of worship and even attempted to talk to him, but once they realized he was walking over to Martha, they scurried back to their seats.

"Famous, aren't you?" she chuckled, looking up at him. "Connor's right; you really seem to grow taller every day..."

"Not yet," Peter chuckled, oozing handsomeness with his white shirt and black pants. "I haven't published the papers yet. Nobody knows my name, yet. In the proper circles, at the very least."

"Oh, please," Martha waved her hand. "Rumors of a cancer cure have already leaked but weren't taken seriously. If they saw your research, they'd be scrambling up to your door."

"Well, I'm glad they didn't," he smiled, turning to the counter and ordering some tea.

"You don't drink coffee?" she questioned, picking up her mug filled to the brim with the caffeinated drink.

"Never had the taste for it," he shrugged, grabbing the cup of tea from the stall and walking with Martha to a group of comfortable chairs. "Caffeine is quite useful, though. I really think Oscorp should focus on its effect on the skin. It's a mountain of cash just waiting to be mined."

"We aren't a skincare company, Peter," she chuckled, sinking into a brown chair and taking a long sip of her coffee before letting out a contented sigh. "This'll never get old."

"That's the addiction speaking," he retorted, accidentally gulping down the entire cup of scalding hot tea without a single change in expression.

"Oh, shut up! Coffee is the best thing humans ever invented. Who cares about fire if you got this shit."

"You sound almost fanatical, you know. Hmmm...you really could be used as a case study for the effect caffeine has on the brain. You wouldn't mind if I plucked it out for a quick scan?"

"Peter, the bad comedian," she snorted, carefully gulping some more coffee as though it was from the fountain of youth. "Shouldn't you be in school anyway? Connor told me you got exams, right?"

"I requested the board to let me complete all my exams in a single day, and they agreed," Peter gave her a smirk. "I'm free until my graduation - had to sign an NDA for the questions though."

"You smug bastard," Martha grumbled. "Leave some intelligence for the rest of us."

***

"Peter! It's so nice to see you!" Dr. Connors gave him a quick hug when he stepped into his lab.

They'd grown quite close over the past month that they'd been working on the cure, and at this point, he could waltz into his lab anytime he wanted.

"I can say the same, Doc," he greeted him before placing his bag on one of the chairs. "Has it been synthesized?"

"Oh yeah!" Connor practically jumped in glee. "I oversaw the protein synthesis while Norman is currently supervising the rest. We'll be done by tomorrow, and once you publish the papers, we'll get the green light to start animal testing!"

"I wouldn't set our expectations too high, Doc," Peter reminded his colleague, amused at the enthusiasm. "My papers have to be screened and peer-reviewed first. Hell, I haven't even submitted them yet."

"Yeah, yeah," Curt tried to calm himself and looked at Peter with pleading eyes. "You've finished gaining the experimental evidence in our lab in the past month. How long will it take for you to complete the papers? A few months? No, that's asking too much. A year ma-

"I've completed it."

"...eh?" Connor's throat clenched as the sentence he'd been about to say scuttled back down his throat. "What'd you say?!"

Peter enjoyed the flabbergasted expression of the Doctor before unzipping his bag and pulling out five thick stacks of paper that were neatly filed and labeled.

"The citations were a problem as I had to write separate papers for them, but it's more or less done. If you go through them and approve them, I can submit it today."

"...." Connors' mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he stretched his trembling hands toward the papers, slowly opening the first paper titled -

[Harmonious Harmony: Investigating Protein Resonance and Its Implications in Cancer Biology]

Flip

Flip

For the next five minutes, the sound of rustling paper echoed in the quiet lab as Connors went through the biggest and most important of his research papers. Peter sat in one of the chairs, closed his eyes, and continued working on the Extremis virus mentally as Connors went through his work, proofreading it.

"H-how'd you do it?" Connors whispered after a good fifteen minutes, making Peter pause his mental project. "How'd you write all of them in a week?"

"It wasn't a week, Doc," he frowned as though it was a stupid question. "I've been working on them for over a year - ever since I began developing the Apoptosis cure. It was just a matter of putting everything together."

Connor's brows twitched before he shook his head. "Whatever! However you did it, it's before me, right now and that means it can be published."

"I can?!" Peter grinned with genuine surprise. Publishing a research paper was something he'd dreamed of in past lives, which was why he looked up to the Professor so much who had published more papers than the years Grant had walked the Earth. And now, he was publishing not one, but five papers at once.

"Oh, of course!" Connor nodded vigorously, regaining his previous enthusiasm. "I'd be a fool not to."

He pointed to the papers, "Get these down to the ninth floor. Martha will help you publish them."

"That fast?" Peter looked surprised. He'd thought it would take longer for Connors to give his say-so.

They'd already agreed that Connors would be his guide in the scientific world until he gained his own footing, which was nothing but beneficial as Connors was a world-renowned figure in cancer biology owing to his research on T-Cells. That meant, he wouldn't publish it without his blessing - after all, Peter respected Connors' experience in the field even though he was much, much smarter than him.

"This fast," Connors nodded before looking at his watch. "The annual international conference is in four months, and it's on Cancer Research. My name would get your papers peer-reviewed and revised within two months at best. I'll make sure to get you in the conference."

"You will!!!" Peter exclaimed, as his eyes almost flashed a bright green. He quickly managed to suppress it, but it was evident that he was incredibly excited. A scientist being allowed to present at the annual scientific conference was akin to a cricketer winning the World Cup. It was practically a dream come true.

He currently wanted to prance around and squeal like a little girl but he held it in.

"Your research would definitely get you in there," Connor grinned at the excited Peter. "I was just like you when I first got invited you know. I presented my research and was grilled by every prominent scientist in the world for five minutes before I got my standing ovation."

"I saw your presentation on the website. You definitely deserved it."

"Thank you," Connor grinned, feeling slightly proud of himself. "You know, no matter how good my presentation was, I wish I could've done it in this WCCR (World Congress on Cancer Research). Your career could skyrocket if you play your cards right."

"It could?" Peter frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Because it's taking place in a very....ahem...special country. America hates it, but scientists love it," Connor grinning, intentionally building suspense.

"Not this again," Peter grumbled, used to Dr. Connor's odd habit of dragging out an answer. "Where is the conference taking place?"

"In Europe."

"Very specific, Doc," Peter glared at Dr. Connors, who finally relented.

"Okay, Okay," he raised his hands in fake surrender. "It's going to take place in the Kingdom of Latveria. Happy?"

"WHAT?!" Peter exclaimed, his eyes widened.

"I told you!" Connors grinned, mistaking Peter's surprise for happiness. "And the Keystone address will be done by none other than arguably the greatest scientist to ever exist."

"Is it..."

"Victor Von Doom."

***