The hum of machinery filled Oscorp's underground lab, a sterile environment of polished steel and flickering monitors. At its center, Mac Gargan sat shackled in a reinforced containment chamber, his massive frame almost too large for the space. His glowing green eyes pierced through the glass, a low, guttural growl reverberating in the air. Scientists huddled at their stations, their fingers flying across keyboards as alarms occasionally blared warnings about his rising aggression levels.
"Neural activity spiking again," one scientist muttered nervously, adjusting a dial. "We're at 190% of projected tolerance. If this continues—"
"We know," another interrupted sharply, sweat dripping down his temple. "Just stabilize him before he—"
A thunderous bang silenced the room. Gargan slammed a clawed hand against the glass, the reinforced barrier groaning under the impact. His lips curled into a menacing snarl. "Let me out."
Above the chaos, Alaric Kane stood in the observation deck, his arms crossed and his jaw tight as he glared at Norman Osborn. "This isn't a soldier you've created—it's a ticking bomb!" Kane's voice echoed with a mix of anger and fear. "You can't control him. No one can."
Norman leaned against the railing, his smirk unwavering. The soft glow of the monitors reflected in his calculating eyes. "Bombs, when used correctly, can change the world," he said smoothly. "And Gargan is the key to a new era of innovation."
Kane took a step closer, his voice lowering. "And when this 'key' explodes in our faces? What then?"
Norman's gaze didn't falter. "Progress always comes with risks, Alaric. If you can't handle that, perhaps you're in the wrong business."
Before Kane could retort, a deafening roar erupted from the chamber below. Sparks flew as Gargan's restraints malfunctioned, either from his overwhelming strength or a deliberate trigger buried deep within Oscorp's corrupted systems. Metal groaned and snapped as the hulking figure broke free, the glass shattering into countless shards.
Scientists screamed, scrambling for the exits as Gargan tore through his containment chamber. His claws raked across consoles, sending sparks flying as monitors exploded. His glowing eyes locked onto Kane through the observation deck's glass.
"You," Gargan growled, his voice guttural and dripping with hatred. He leapt with terrifying speed, crashing through the observation window. Kane stumbled backward, but Gargan grabbed him with one claw-like hand, hoisting him into the air effortlessly.
"You helped make me this way," Gargan hissed, his voice venomous. "Now you're going to help me find Norman."
Kane gasped, his face pale. "I-I didn't… It wasn't… Please!"
With a sneer, Gargan hurled him across the room. Kane slammed into a control panel, crumpling to the floor, barely conscious. Gargan muttered under his breath as he stormed out, his voice low but seething with rage. "Spider-Boy… Norman… they'll both pay."
The lab lay in ruins, a chilling silence falling over the space as Gargan's hulking form disappeared into the corridors, leaving destruction in his wake.
Adrian Toomes sat in his dimly lit workshop, the faint hum of his Vulture suit serving as a steady backdrop. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the cluttered workbench beside him, untouched as his eyes fixated on the news broadcast playing on a small screen.
The footage showed Oscorp's underground lab in chaos, Gargan's monstrous form tearing through scientists and equipment alike. Toomes leaned forward, his expression twisting into a satisfied smirk.
"Looks like Norman's pet project has gone rogue," he muttered, rewinding the footage to study it again. His eyes narrowed as he caught glimpses of another figure darting through the chaos—a hooded vigilante with uncanny reflexes.
"You again," Toomes murmured, pausing the footage to get a better look at Spider-Boy's blurred movements. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You've got a knack for showing up where you don't belong."
He reached for a tattered map pinned to the wall, its surface covered in red circles and annotations. His finger traced a route to another Oscorp-affiliated warehouse, this one rumored to house critical blueprints and materials for Norman's future projects.
Toomes' smirk widened. "While that overgrown scorpion wreaks havoc, I'll hit Norman where it really hurts—his empire."
He began outfitting his Vulture suit with new weaponry, the workshop filling with the sounds of clicking mechanisms and faint energy hums. Each addition was precise, designed for maximum efficiency and impact.
"If that vigilante shows up again," Toomes muttered, tightening a strap on his gauntlet, "I'll make sure he doesn't walk away this time."
As he powered up the suit, its jagged wings extending with a metallic hiss, Toomes glanced back at the map. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of anger and determination. "Let Gargan tear through the noise," he said quietly. "I'll clean up the pieces."
With that, he activated the thrusters, the workshop bathed in a brief flash of blue light as he disappeared into the night, his wings slicing through the cold air.