Chapter One: A Fangfull

Midtown High, Classroom 3-08, 8:30 AM

Peter Parker, the spectacular science champion!

Yeah, that didn't really have a nice ring.

Peter Parker's hyperactive, neurotic mind raced as he rubbed his acne-ridden face, sitting up straight. He was in History class- first period. The 15 year old wasn't a morning person, but he never had a problem staying up in those early hours. No, the problem was that he was simply bored by History. Yeah, it was important, and he got that- he wasn't an anti-academic airhead like Flash Thompson, but he wasn't interested in the humanities or those sorts of things- what really engaged him was numbers, and most importantly, his true love- science.

Today was special. It was the beginning of his sophomore year of highschool, and, after two weeks of practical nothingness, the Science Club would finally kick off its year with a trip to the Long Island Nuclear Facility- a first for the school, and for Peter. He couldn't wait to go- couldn't wait until he got early dismissed at 1:30 PM, just four hours from now.

Still, the ever-studious Parker took his notes diligently.

The bell rang. Another hour closer.

Next class was Gym. This was his first obstacle today.

In middle school, Peter had been quiet and reserved, never attracting attention. In his freshman year, however, Peter decided this would change. Unfortunately, he wasn't socially aware at all, leading to a great deal of embarrassment for him when he tried to hang out with the 'cool guys' or trying out for sports, something he doubted he'd ever recover from.

Gym class wasn't actually that bad, at least, the first half wasn't- the stretching part. Peter was scrawny, and as such, he was generally flexible. The coach wasn't hostile, and didn't single out Peter. The same couldn't be said for Flash Thompson, who he was unlucky enough to have class with. However, after a few weeks, the teasing had numbed to Peter. He let the jocks have their fun.

Next he had lunch. His second problem.

Lunch was a time for him to sit in peace- unfortunately, there was noise all around him. He didn't like people sitting with or near him, but the lunchroom was big enough to find a decent spot to hide away in. Some people pointed out 'that autist Parker'. Peter was pretty sure he didn't have autism. Pretty sure.

Next class was Algebra II. Most of the class were Juniors, so Peter didn't have to talk. Plus, it was a STEM class, and Pete was good with numbers.

The bell rang at 1:15 PM, but, instead of going to his next period, Peter went down to the meeting place with the members of the Science Club. Midtown High was a championship-level Science Team, but they never seemed to be able to win a competition. But that didn't stop them from trying- something Peter found admirable, thanks to some good ol' moral lessons from Uncle Ben.

He sat alone in the assembly hall. Yeah, the science club was full of nerds, but this wasn't the 1960's- most of them were cool enough, and had their own little cliques.

Because of this, Peter was shocked when he was approached by a clean-featured asian guy, fit but chubby, like a youthful Sumo wrestler. He carried his weight well and had tall, well-trimmed hair. "Hi there," he said. "I'm Ned," he flashed his badge, "I'm in yearbook. They made me come along to take picture of your trip. And you are?"

"I- I'm Peter Parker," he said, "Nice to meet you, Ned."

"Oh, I know you," Peter's hart sank. Was he really that notorious for being a weirdo? "You're Harry Osborn's friend. Is he here?"

Peter exhaled, relieved. He figured Ned was out of the loop. "Yeah, we were friends."

"Were?"

"Yeah. Nothing really happened. We just.. I don't know."

"Well, he's in the club, right? I'm sure he's still cool."

Peter sighed, getting up to walk over to Harry. He was the son of New York's biggest scientist and businessman, Norman Osborn, and looked like a younger version of the 40-year old CEO. He was tall, over six feet tall, with his red-brown hair in a crew cut, showing off his tall forehead and sharp hairline. He had a thin face- one much thinner than the one he had when Peter first met him in middle school.

"Hey, Harry," said Peter, still not really wanting to talk to his old friend.

"Hey Pete," said Harry with delight, the kind that couldn't be faked, "You haven't talked to me all year. What's up with that?"

"I don't know, Harr.. I didn't really feel like a social person."

"Well, like, you never were. But that's the past- I'm glad to have a friend back, right? And maybe you can teach me a few things. I didn't really want to be in this club, again, but dad's still insisting I get into his line of work, and I get some good old fashioned Parker humor." Harry patted his friend on the back.

Peter smiled. He was back- Harry was always entertained by Peter's snarky, crude humor, especially since Harry, as a rich kid, got to hang with the popular kids, all of whom were far more shallow than he was, and he knew it.

"Thanks, Harry. Means a lot, really."

"Anytime, Pete. And hey-" he saw Ned behind Peter, "who are you?"

"Ned Leeds. Photography."

"Sweet. Let's get going, I'm sure Peter can tell us what filthily intelligent people we're gonna try and act like we can hold up to next," he said, sounding both kind at sarcastic at the same time.

"So, Pete, give us the, uh basic salt on the place we're going?" said, or rather asked, Harry from across the isle on the front of the bus. Ned sat on the window seat behind Peter, who started laughing.

"You mean gestalt, right?"

"Yeah, basic gestalt, whatever."

The boys shared a laugh, and Peter continued accordingly. "The Long Island Nuclear Research Center is a state-of-the-art center, one which has been experimenting on radioactivity and genetic engineering-"

"Wait, they use both radioactivity and engineering?" Asked Ned.

Peter was annoyed by the boy's lack of science knowledge. Pete also suspected the photographer was making fun of him, but he still continued, "Yeah. In the 60's, when the place was founded, nuclear was all the rage. Then, in the 90's and 2000's genetic engineering became big, and now they're doing both, and in some cases, using genetic engineering to prevent radiation poisoning and such, but that's not all. I think it's really cool, as science is all about asking questions, and those questions never really change, even if the answers we come up with shift in and out of popularity. As we advance in tech, I'm totally in agreement with the Center in that-"

"Peter," said Harry, "You're doing it again." He tried to look sympathetic.

Peter had none of it, sitting back in his chair, sighing agitatedly. He was easily agitated, of course, which led to greater satisfaction of his bullies, which made a feedback loop of agitation.

"Peter- don't take that the wrong way, man. You're a nice kid- you know that, right?" said the ginger boy.

Peter didn't make a sound. Now he apologizes. I bet he isn't even sincere. We've known each other since middle school, and this is what I get. I swear, Uncle Ben and Aunt May are the only good people I know, he thought bitterly, sitting still as a statue.

Harry leaned back, not willing to fight a losing battle, "Okay Pete. I'm... sorry I don't have a spoonful of sugar for you."

Long Island Nuclear Research Facility

While Peter didn't talk to anyone on the class' tour of the Research Center, he enjoyed himself very much, often acting autonomously, acting very fluent in the art of the science done in the lab areas they were allowed in. He was especially excited to go to specimen testing where, even though it was only on primitive invertebrates, the facility would begin the process to see if their creations could directly help humanity- a first for a nuclear facility open to the public!

But with all his knowledge, Peter didn't know that, as he joined back up with the class, when he put his hand on the doorway to walk through it, the thin, light feet of an orb-weaver spider climbed on him, the red and blue creature climbing up his finger, down his hand, and onto his arm. It's first time touching human flesh. The strong spider had been on an adventure, escaping from its test chamber and avoiding detection thanks to numerous genetics tests on it and it's ancestors and a multitude of radioactive exposures, however, the soft cotton of Peter's simple white polo shirt was a foreign substance to the spider. When it was halfway up his upper arm, the spider got confused, and, after nearly an hour of its instincts going crazy due to its newfound freedom, it panicked, and sunk it's fangs into Peter's arm.

"Eep!" screamed the thin boy, grabbing his arm. Everyone looked at him, giggling at the noise he made.

Now I've really done it.

Parker House, Astoria, Queens, 2:48 PM

The Parker House's calm, white and mint-green wooden exterior and tiny, inconsistently green lawn were never the site of much conflict, despite being in a considerably less wealthy neighborhood in Queens. It was built in the 60s, and had been home to a certain happy couple for over 20 years, since the early 90's.

"Peter. Peter? Wake up, Pete," smiled Ben Parker, a squarely-built fifty-so year-old man with a firm jaw and combed-back gray hair, shaking his young nephew in the passenger seat of his car. Peter dozed, and Ben continued, "feeling better, I hope."

"Wha- yeah, Uncle Ben, I'm feeling better."

"But not too much better, right?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"Well, kid, is just hate to have had to take you home early for sickness when you never had a problem to begin with."

Peter smiled at his uncle, getting out of the car groggily. He would have probably taken that as an insult and insinuation that he was a liar if it was from anybody but his beloved Aunt or Uncle- the former of whom was standing outside, taking care of her quaint windowside garden, as she always was, when not taking care of her husband or nephew of course.

"Pete! I heard you got sick!" exclaimed Aunt May, taking off her gardening gloves and bushing her graying, short, medium-brown hair to the side. She walked over quickly, hugging her precious nephew. She would always do this, even though he was now over an inch taller than her now.

"I'm... mostly fine, Aunt May. I got bit buy some bug in there, I guess, so it might have been an alergic reaction, but it's barely even slowly, so it was probably just something I got on the bus. Those things are-"

"Filthier than a garbage bin," finished May, "I'm glad you listen to what your Uncle and I teach you," patting him on the back.

"Thanks, Aunt May."

"Now come on, I'll get dinner ready."

A few hours later, Peter started to feel like shit.

He stood up from bed, wearing only plaid boxers and white socks- all he needed to stay warm under the covers usually, but tonight he was miserable. His head hurt. His hands and feet were numb. Every single muscle was sore down to the bone. He could feel a headache, starting in the front of his head, spreading, but never stopping, over his head, past his ears, down his spinal cord, with the soreness of his nerves meeting the numbness of his appendages causing a great degree of discomfort for the 120-pound boy. He tried to put his glasses on, but his vision was better without them. Weird. Really weird. And on top of all of that, he was hungry.

Craving meat, he stumbled downstairs. When he swatted at the light switch, his hand stuck to it. Doesn't Aunt May clean these things? Thought Peter, annoyed and confused. It took some focus, but he pulled his hand off of it. To his chagrin, the same thing happened to the refrigerator door.

After a bit, he got that open, and rummaged through the food. In the front was half a chunk of unsliced lunchmeat. Perfect. He unwrapped the package, biting into the chunk without caring to do much more in preparation. Before he knew it, he had chomped down the whole thing.

"Peter?" Came an older, feminine voice.

Peter stopped and turned around. "Aunt May," he said groggily, looking at his Aunt in her lavender nightgown and gray-streaked hair.

"What.. what are you doing Petey?"

"I'm sorry Aunt May, I was just.. hungry. Really hungry." He then loudly belched.

"Oh," said May, bemused, "Well, I'm glad you finally have an appetite after all these years, but I'd appreciate it if you told me."

"Okay, Aunt May," yawned the scrawny boy, walking over to get the cupboard for a cup, "But I'm also thirsty. And Sore. And have a headache. I think... that it's because I'm sick. I did feel better earlier."

May supported her nephew's shoulders as he got water from the fridge, "Oh, well, it's just acting up again. Go to the bathroom and then back to bed, okay, sweetie? I'm sure you'll feel fine in the morning."

"Yes ma'am."

Parker House, Astoria, Queens, 7:01 AM

Peter Parker woke up. He no longer had the throbbing headaches, but his body was still sore. He didn't even want to get up and stretch- but, alas, his alarm went off, so he had to wake up. There was on curious thing though- the clock sounded very far away. Peter tried to turn around, but couldn't. His head felt kind of weird too- where was the pillow? Why couldn't he feel his sheets or mattress? Why could he feel the breeze of a fan right by his ear?

Then he opened his eyes.

Holy shit, he thought

I'm on the ceiling.