Spider-Man. The House Of Venom

It was his two days before returning to school, but Peter was impatient. On Sunday he made excuses to Aunt May and headed down to the warehouse once more.

He had eight in total, four from Aleksei and four from the sale. The four included in the sale weren’t in the best shape. Peter would have to spend time cleaning and then painting them to get them back in order. The insides weren’t too smelly but they all needed carpet.

He stared at the four homes he had been given by Aleksei, ready to start building them. His home could wait. If they looked good he would ask Aleksei where he got them, and if it wasn’t too expensive, order more.

Building them was simple. And the offices were in five parts.

Measuring out and placing all four down he slashed open the plastic and bundled it on the other side. Picking the roof from the tops he moved them to one side and the rest was easy.

Once the packages were open he slid both bases in place. He then attached the wall corners and tightened all the bolts. Without super strength, Peter would never have been able to lift the roof into place, but it was easy if a bit awkward. Once those were tightened, all that was left was to install the walls and he was done.

He lifted and slid the exterior walls into place. They simply slotted into a groove and a metal plate was fastened over the top, holding it in place. As the panels were modular, it was easy enough to fit one for the bathroom and two for the bedroom interior walls.

There were plenty of spare panels and he fitted one window into the bathroom and bedroom. He needed to get some privacy film, but at least they would have a view. Even if it was less than perfect.

He had already asked Aleksei, who had given him sixteen plates and the bolts to join the offices together. Peter didn’t care that it cost him fifty dollars. It was still cheaper than the two hundred he would have paid for the proper kit.

Once they were in place, and the bolts were all tightened, the walls were sturdy and strong.

Next was the wiring, that had come with the offices. He was thankful it was modular as well, and once it was run through the home it was covered in a thick plastic cover. Each room now had an outlet. and making sure the thick weatherproof plug was secured. Each home now had power but water would have to wait until he fixed the plumbing.

Repeating the process he now had two seven-meter by five-meter boxes.

The insides were already carpeted. It was office-grade carpet, hard wearing but a dull grey colour, matching the pale grey of the walls. If anyone wanted different, well. he could paint them but would have to charge. It was clean and tidy. Even the exterior was a pale blue colour and matched the carpet he had planned to get.

Now he had both set up, he got out a roll of tape and started to measure and mask off where each room was going to go.

Using the panels as a guide he didn't even have to follow the layout he had planned. The offices were modular, designed to be used as meeting places, or toilets. Everything was easy to assemble.

In the end, Peter had a small bathroom, six feet by six feet. For ease, Peter intended on making a wet shower room.

A corridor of three feet by six meters between that and the bedroom was big enough to get into each room.

Finally, there was the bedroom. It was not amazing spacious but not too stingy, at six feet by twelve feet.

In the remaining space, he was going to add in kitchen counter along one wall and leave the rest open plan. Even with the counter, the room was still twenty-three feet long and nine feet wide.

He had checked. New York once had a minimum space requirement, but Peter was glad Matt told him they had struck that law off. Either way, the homes would have barely scraped by, as the minimum was four hundred square feet. The homes squeaked over at four hundred and forty. Small, but as he wasn't going to charge the Earth for them, acceptable.

With the spare wall panels, he set them down in the middle of the floor, hoping to create a common area. A cheap set of chairs and maybe a cheap sofa would give people a place to gather, and if they wanted to hold small parties. And once they were down, it looked pretty clean and tidy.

The messy warehouse floor was now clean. The walls were a clean warm cream colour and the two offices weren’t out of place.

He looked in pride at what he had achieved and smiled.

Checking prices, Peter had already decided the rent would be a thousand dollars a month. It was below market value but he knew he would get tenants easily.

The home was small but still roomy. Even with the additional storage space next o each one, there was still space for four more. Once he built the remaining four, he would only have to buy two more and the units would be complete. The roof was even high enough that if he wanted he could add a second layer over the top. And build balconies to ensure privacy.

He chuckled to himself, yeah, engineer Pete, not landlord,

It was a good investment, and a means to an end but not his dream. With one for him, five tenants were a lot of money coming in per month, even after paying taxes. He would have a career to fall back on if anything happened. If a certain someone happened.

Flash might be a problem. He might even make Peter rethink his plans. But he was a bump, an inconsequential hiccup in the road, and Peter shook his head.

Yeah, I'm gonna get more of them, and make a tonne of money.

He was drawn from his daydream when the buzzer went.

⁂

For the past two weeks, Aunt May had become more and more worried.

Back in their apartment, Aunt May was taking her time getting used to Peter being out of the house more than home. She knew he was working but it was nearly midnight each night before he wandered in, tired and smelling of work.

Grunting a basic hello before devouring her home-cooked offerings and heading to bed. Most days he was gone before she even got up. It was good to see him work but at the same time, it was worrying he wasn't taking any breaks.

She could see the suspension bothered him. But if he didn’t want to talk, she knew an argument wouldn't help matters if she forced it.

Tapping her finger on the kitchen table,  she was going to interfere. While Peter might hold it against her this time, she was worried. When Peter had first asked for a phone, she had asked the store clerk to install a tracking app on it and her own phone. She knew he knew it was there, but it still gave her peace of mind.

Picking up the phone she flicked through the list of contacts that she took from Peter's phone. "Yes hello, this is May Parker, Peter's Aunt, can I speak to Gwen please."

Giving Gwen the address Peter hung out at most seemed like cheating.

She'd been online and checked out the junkyard he worked at, repairing old appliances was fine. Ben had started off fixing kid's bikes before moving up into a car mechanic. She thought nothing was wrong with working your way up. and had been proud he had found work.

The warehouse he had been to most days though was worrying. The news report of a shootout and subsequent meth-lab discovery wasn't a happy image. If a cleanup crew was there, she knew he'd be hauling trash rather than cleaning bloodstains.

It would be fine though. Gwen was a sensible young woman and she trusted her with Peter, even if Peter didn't know he needed it.

⁂

After the phone call, Gwen stared at the address May had given her. A quick internet search later and even if she didn't recognise it, she recognised the building.

It had been in the news plenty, as even with Brooklyn, a shoot-out was huge news. She had immediately called a cab and headed into the industrial zone to find out if Peter was okay.

When she got to the address though she was shocked. Whoever had been here had done a great job. Most of the buildings had the usual grime and street dust blackening their walls but this one was clean.

None of the windows was boarded up. Instead, they shone as the light reflected off their anti-glare tint. Which was either freshly repaired or newly installed as it wasn't cracked or aged.

After the horror stories on the news, she was glad if Peter was in there it wasn't as bad as everyone made out.

This wasn't a work job for Peter. Someone was renovating the property for sale again. Meaning Peter was probably on the crew helping them and May was just panicking.

Gwen knew better than to just barge into a strange building so she banged on the door before noticing a buzzer. Pressing the large button, the intercom crackled as Peter's voice,

"Hello?" sounded through it.

"Yeah Pete, it’s Gwen, can I come in?"

It sounded like he fell off something and there were a lot of clattering noises.

"Sure, sure," and the buzzer sounded as the lock released.

What was inside blew her mind.

Everyone was talking about gentrification these days. Her father had a huge file on the more aggressive attempts to get tenants out of their apartments. It was becoming a big-money business and the tenants were there for even the smallest places. But this was on a whole other level.

Two massive box apartments sat on one side, with another two scruffier looking ones at the top end of the warehouse.

While unfinished, each box house had a path taped out and Peter had begun to spray mark lines for a front yard.

"What the hell Pete? I expected a crime scene, not a hipster farm. You explain right now, mister." Gwen was faking her anger but she still wanted to know. Making Peter think she was mad was the fastest way to get proper answers.

"Oh uh, Hi Gwen," was all he said though,

"Don't you hi Gwen me, Pete. What's this? Apartments? Are you helping build condos in old warehouses now?"

"Uh, no," he replied and cursed under his breath. He'd bet anything Aunt May put a GPS tracker on his phone and had now roped Gwen in to keep tabs on him.

He rubbed his forehead between his eyes. "Uh here Gwen," Peter pulled out a folding chair he'd scavenged from Aleksei, and as Gwen sat down, he began to explain.

"So uh, yeah, I own the warehouse but please don't tell May. I kinda spent my college money on it. But uh, look, see, two apartments," and motioning over to the dirtier portacabin, "and my own place."

"This is great Pete," Gwen was in awe. "But how big are they?"

Peter had shown her the inside of one of the box houses and it was huge. She peered into both rooms. While it was smaller than where she lived, it was larger than the places she had been looking at for college. She could see that for one person in Brooklyn he could maybe get two thousand easy for each one.

"I want one," she immediately stated, "non-negotiable."

"Uh, Gwen, I really need the money you know and it doesn't feel right charging you for it,"

"No!" She pushed against his shoulder, "proper landlord, lease, and I want one. Felicia and I were talking about getting our own place but this, this is amazing Pete."

Peter grinned and scratched the back of his head. "Well yeah but most of the plans came from the internet, and Mr Sytsevich has been,"

"Aleksei Sytsevich?" Gwen interrupted him, "My dad has a file a couple of inches thick on him Pete, he's a crook." Peter looked away pulling a face, "but yeah, you already knew that huh?" She asked.

"Look Gwen it's a job and I'm not doing anything illegal I swear. I just uh can't tell May and please, please Gwen you can't tell her either."

Gwen smiled evilly at him, "It's fine Pete, you just gotta do one little thing for me." She took a deep breath, taking a risk to finally admit after all this time how she really felt about him,

"Anything Gwen, anything."

Looking him straight in the eye. "Good, so now we're dating."