Prologue:

It was the perfect day, almost too perfect in a way. Perhaps that is why disaster struck the way that it did. Nothing seemed amiss while the classes of Midtown High were escorted in small groups through the halls and labs of Oscorp. It was nothing more than a routine field trip, nothing more than a routine day for those who worked there. It happened suddenly, so suddenly that no one could pinpoint exactly what had happened to cause such a catastrophe. All anyone could tell was that one second everything was perfectly normal and the next the experiment was bubbling and hissing. Most of the students and the scientist who had been conducting the experiment had only enough time to try and jump back and hide before it exploded, dragging or pushing their closest classmates down with them.

Four students were sent to the hospital.

Those students were Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker, Harry Osborn and Felicia Hardy.

Gwen:

Besides the fact that it was her first day going back to school and that Gwen honestly couldn't remember a time waking up so refreshed, Monday morning seemed just like every other morning. The bandages had come off of her arms and face just yesterday afternoon. Something was different though; she could feel it and as she looked in the mirror she tried to figure out what it was. It was almost like everything was clearer somehow, crisper and neat. But that was just silly, now wasn't it?

Once again she felt like she was coming up blank and sighed as she ran a brush through her straight blonde hair. She paused as she was about to pick up her favorite black headband. "Come in." she called over her shoulder while she finished lifting it into her hands.

Her bedroom door opened and she saw her dad standing in the opening, dressed in his police uniform with a surprised look on his face. "Good Morning sweetheart." his smile was thin, "I just wanted to make sure you were ready for your first day back at school." He paused, "You know, we can always wait another day or two if you're not feeling up for it."

"Dad, I'm fine. In fact I'm going a bit crazy being stuck at home." she turned to face him instead of watching him through the mirror. "I'm ready to go back to school."

Her dad gave her a short nod and looked resigned, she was, after all, a rather determined person. And when Gwen Stacy made up her mind, good luck changing it. "All right, if you're sure." he turned to leave but suddenly turned back to her with a pointed finger, "But I'm driving you to school today. Understood?"

Gwen opened her mouth to argue but slumped her shoulders slightly in defeat. "Understood." she agreed, knowing this was one battle she would not win today.

It was only after he left that she wondered how she could have realized he was on the other side of the door to begin with.

Peter:

The clock was beeping again. Peter groaned before slamming his hand down hard this time in an effort to shut it off. There was a crash, and his hand came back with broken slivers of plastic stuck to the outside of his still closed fist. Blearily he blinked and stared in tired confusion at his hand. "Must've hit it harder than I thought." he murmured to himself, shaking his hand to try and get the pieces off while he rubbed at his eyes with the other hand.

Slowly he pulled himself from the safe warmth of the covers and made a face at the remains of his smashed alarm clock. Peter grumbled at the pieces stuck to his hand shaking it again harder over the garbage. "What- come on- get off-" he shook his hand again and again in between his words. Finally he tried to brush it off with the other hand, only for it to stick to that hand instead. "Are you serious? Why won't you just come off?" he groaned.

His Aunt May chose that moment to pound on his door, "Come on Peter, rise and shine! You're going back to school today, remember?" In his surprise he leaped into the air all the way up to the ceiling. His fingers and toes touched it while his body contorted almost like he was crouched. For a few seconds he swore he was actually sticking to the ceiling, but then he bodily slammed right back down into the floor.

"Peter!" Aunt May's voice carried through the small apartment.

"Sorry Aunt May!" he yelled back, "I- uh- kinda lost my balance."

When Aunt May snorted and chuckled to herself Peter could picture her shaking her head with a smirk on her lips, laughing about the clumsiness of her nephew.

Felicia:

Sitting at her vanity she fingered the ends of her long hair, staring at herself in the mirror intensely. The lingering aftereffects of the explosion was quite clear looking at it. Her once gorgeous jet-black hair was tinged with white along the tips of her hair and in two solid strips that framed her face. Even the tips of her bangs had become white. It was quite the statement; a statement that she wasn't quite sure she liked.

There was nothing to be done about her hair at this hour, so she turned her focus on to other things she could control. Her makeup was impeccable, as always. Today she had gone with a deep smokey eye with sharp liner to really accent the vibrant green of her eyes. They seemed to almost glow, though that was most likely from the bright lights surrounding her vanity, she decided.

Flexing her hands, she decided a good blood red color polish would be just the perfect complement to match her lips. Using slow, deliberate strokes of the brush she painted her fingernails. It was important she looked her best today; it was not just her first day back at school but her first day returning to her job as Norman Osborn's personal assistant. Locking eyes with her reflection she took a calming breath, she had to be poised and perfect today, her position and family demanded it. Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw she repeated it to herself again like a mantra, today will be perfect. Perhaps if she repeated it enough times, she would believe it enough for it to be true.

Harry:

With practiced ease, Harry pulled his jacket on before turning to make sure his appearance was acceptable. As an Osborn, there were certain standards he had to meet, both set by society and by his father. Thankfully the suit jacket was informal enough for school, most closely resembling a uniform style jacket. His appearance alone would set him apart from his new schoolmates at Midtown High School, but coupled with his last name, it was likely he would find himself amongst those in the highest ranks of the social elite there too.

It was just his luck that the first official day of school had been a grade level field trip to his father's own company no less. It was a place he'd been around since childhood and he had always thought it was one of the safest places around. And yet, something had happened. Harry frowned just thinking about it as he buttoned the jacket. Something that sent him and three of his classmates to the hospital, but what exactly had caused that explosion? And what had it done to them.

Holding up his hand he saw that he could hold it steady. The tremors he'd been feeling didn't seem to be plaguing him anymore. It was impossible, the retroviral hypodysplasia that his father had was rare but genetic and it had already begun manifesting itself. There wasn't anything in the world that could cure it or stop it once it had started, and he knew that fact well. It was amongst the many things being researched at Oscorp.

A soft knock at the door and his driver stepped into it once he acknowledged the knock. "Yes?"

"Departure for school is scheduled in fifteen minutes." He bowed his head slightly before leaving him once more, leaving Harry to his own devices once more. The young heir was thankful his father hadn't thought to pull him back out of the school immediately after the accident. It had taken quite some time for him to convince him to allow him to attend the public school which his childhood friend Peter attended. Of course, he mused, a small smirk gracing his lips, his father could hardly fault the school for the incident that occurred at his own company, even if it was during their field trip.

With a breath he turned back to the mirror, giving himself one last once-over, looking at himself with his father's critical eye. Running his fingers through his hair he tried to give himself a smile. He managed a small one, too close to a smirk really. Twitching his nose, he decided to practice once more and really put on a polish, tabloid ready, shiny Osborn smile. This time he managed just that. Thankfully, as a high schooler with a bit of a bad boy heir image, he could get away with a smirking smile more often. Really, that was the smile that would help him out as an outsider at this school. It had first proved to be useful at the many private schools his father had sent him to over the years. With it he could worm his way into people's minds, hearts, and the various social circles that existed at each of them.

Without another glance he turned on his heel. It was time to go to school.