However, Gwen's debut as Spider-Woman didn't mean things would progress quickly. Instead, it added more uncertainty.
If things followed history, Peter Parker would discover his father's inheritance, a priceless formula that would propel Dr. Connors' cross-species genetic research, ultimately leading to the creation of the Lizard.
In Gwen's version, Peter, under the stress of being bullied by Eugene "Flash" Thompson and facing various injustices, injects a self-made serum and becomes the Lizard, eventually meeting his demise.
In this life, Atreus stopped the bullying because he didn't want to see Peter die.
"So, what happens next?"
Atreus anticipated changes in the "storyline." As a butterfly flapping its wings against history, he awaited the wheels of fate to turn while keeping himself busy, like summoning Eugene Thompson.
In a private room of an exclusive members-only club, Atreus met the Thompsons, father and son.
"No need to be nervous, Mr. Thompson. I mean your son no harm. I just want to make a friend."
In this life, old man Thompson was a retired football player, and his son had clearly inherited his genes, now a football star at school.
Old man Thompson, having seen his share of the world, could tell just from Atreus's aura that this man could crush both him and his son as easily as swatting a fly.
"Make friends? Eugene should feel honored."
"No, no, no!" Atreus casually shook his right index finger. "Mr. Thompson, the only person who qualifies to be my friend is Tony Stark. I don't care about how much money someone has, because no one has more than me."
The exaggerated entourage of bodyguards, the glamorous secretary, and his understated but luxurious attire exuded an aura that left Eugene breathless.
"Mr. Atreus, I was out of line today. Please forgive me," Eugene said, lowering his head heavily.
A cold glint flashed in Atreus's eyes. "The person you owe an apology to isn't me. It's Gordon and Parker."
Perhaps already lectured by his father, Eugene quickly agreed. "Yes, I'll apologize to them tomorrow."
Before old man Thompson could speak, Atreus waved his hand dismissively. "Kids who haven't entered society are still children. I don't hold grudges against kids."
With that said, old Thompson had no choice but to remain silent.
"I invest in biotechnology, and I'm actually interested in Eugene's genes. Perhaps we can collaborate in the future." Atreus finished speaking, and Black Canary handed a proposal to the Thompsons.
This was essentially just to fool them, though the plan had some similarities to what Oscorp's Dr. Connors was working on.
Atreus didn't expect the Thompsons to trust him completely.
But according to history, Eugene would lose his legs in the Middle East war and later participate in a U.S. government experiment that successfully bonded him with the Venom symbiote, turning him into a superhero, the "Agent Venom," a government operative.
Atreus didn't plan to let such a useful tool fall into the hands of the government.
His trick lay in the proposal's section on "limb regeneration experiments."
Right now, Eugene was at his peak, feeling invincible. Atreus wouldn't deliberately crush his spirit.
When the time came, and history unfolded as expected, that's when Atreus would step in.
Sure enough, old Thompson frowned at the proposal, finding it irrelevant to his son's promising future as an athlete. Moreover, the idea of extracting Eugene's genes and running multiple blood tests and experiments didn't sit well with him.
Politely, he declined Atreus's offer.
Atreus wasn't upset. "Eugene, I know you're not convinced. How about we arm wrestle?"
"Arm wrestle? That's my thing."
Eugene was naturally hot-tempered. Though he feared Atreus's power, he was confident in his own strength.
"With who?" Eugene blurted, before his father could stop him.
Atreus rolled up his sleeve and placed his arm on the table. "With me!"
At that moment, Eugene's eyes filled with contempt.
Atreus's arm appeared muscular but still within the realm of an average strong man.
Eugene, on the other hand, was a football star, a true muscle-bound powerhouse.
His father watched helplessly as his son placed his oversized arm—thicker than the secretary's thigh—on the table. His heart sank: *We're doomed!*
The young heir to their fortune, his son's massive arm, might seriously hurt Atreus, causing a grudge!
His father wanted to speak, but no words came out.
The challenge was issued, and his son accepted.
After all, these two were still the same age.
There was nothing more old Thompson could say.
It wasn't just the Thompsons who were curious; even Atreus's bodyguards stretched their necks to watch.
Arm wrestling didn't need much space; as long as the table held up, it would do.
When the two powerful hands clasped together, and with a sharp "three, two, one" countdown from Dana, Eugene launched his attack.
Atreus was genuinely surprised by the sheer strength in that bear-like hand.
A power level of 17 points!
For an ordinary human, that was impressive.
Remember, Eugene was just a football player, not a professional weightlifter. His role required more focus on leg strength than arm strength.
But from Eugene's perspective, he was confident he could crush the "weak" rich kid in front of him.
At first, he seemed right. His overwhelming strength slowly forced Atreus's arm closer to the table.
Yet, when the angle between Atreus's arm and the table was reduced to just 30 degrees, it stopped moving.
"Grrr… Aaah… Raaaah!"
Eugene roared in frustration, his neck, shoulders, and arms bulging with veins. He was clearly giving it everything he had.
But despite his best efforts, Atreus's arm refused to budge.
"What's the matter, Mr. Thompson? Is this all the strength you're so proud of?" Atreus's taunt only stoked Eugene's Atreus.
"Damn it… Aaaah!" He pushed even harder, trying to complete the victory.
But no matter how hard he tried, Atreus's arm remained steady.
"Mr. Thompson, since that's all the strength you have, it's my turn now," Atreus said calmly.
Eugene's arrogance, fury, and pride crumbled under the slow but overwhelming force Atreus exerted.
He felt Atreus's arm, thinner by a third, steadily pushing his hand down, inch by inch.
"Thud!"
In the final stretch, Eugene gave up, his hand slamming onto the table.
He panted heavily, tears welling in his eyes. He had no idea how he had lost.
The rich boy, who appeared to be nothing more than a spoiled heir, had just defeated him at his own game.
Old Thompson felt both heartache and gratitude, thankful that Atreus hadn't injured his son's arm—a potential career-ending injury for a football player.
After the defeat, Eugene, his eyes wide with disbelief, muttered, "So, arm strength is your greatest power?"
Atreus smiled and wagged his finger. "No, no, no. My greatest power right now is *money* power."
"..."
(End of Chapter)