Peter laid in bed, drenched in sweat, moaning and huffing. It had all started two days ago after Peter and the rest of Midtown High's tenth-grade class went on a field trip to Oscorp's state-of-the-art biogenetics laboratories. Peter had not been so excited about something since the school's science fair in 2019 when he was in the sixth grade…and before that…well, he couldn't remember anything else he'd been so excited for. Ned shared his excitement, obviously, but Harry not so much. Harry had seen it all before, and he wasn't one for biology anyway; the Osborn heir was more of a social sciences man.

The visit was amazing, and everything was going so well. Oscorp was the leading biogenetics company in the world, and much of the research they showed the students was groundbreaking. Peter had trouble believing it was real. Somehow, at one point, even Flash seemed interested, especially when they saw a man experimenting with some kind of flying boomerang. It all changed in the spider room. The scientist who was acting as a tour guide told them that the spiders in the room had been genetically modified to be stronger, faster, more aware, self-healing, and just overall better than other spiders of the same species. Latrodectus hasselti, the Australian Black Widow, was the species chosen by Oscorp for their experiments, a small black spider with a single red mark on the abdomen.

Initially, even the spider room was fascinating. As a bioengineering nerd, spiders genetically enhanced in hopes of later applying similarly augmentative effects on human beings was right up Peter's alley. Oscorp, like many other biogenetics companies, was still, more than 80 years later, trying to replicate the super-soldier serum that coursed through the veins of recently defrosted Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

That was until Peter spotted a terrarium missing one of the little black and red spiders. Not to worry, he thought. After all, the biologists had said that the spider project was being discarded in favor of some new serum Oscorp was developing and that the spiders were to be killed and cremated. There was, after all, reason to worry because the arachnid fell from the ceiling right into his hand, and yeah, it bit him. Typical Parker luck. Screaming in front of the class like a baby, Ned fussing over him, Harry trying to help him while at the same time appearing stoic and cool and, the cherry on top, the now laughing and joking Flash Thompson and company, overall, a messy affair. Even Gwen was watching…oh, the misery!

Luckily, no one suspected it had been the spider. Right after biting him, the arachnid fell to the ground just in time for Peter to squash it and kick it under a table. He wasn't about to find out what the Oscorp scientists would do to him if they found out Peter Parker, nerd extraordinaire from Queens, had been bitten by a failed spider super soldier experiment, no matter how passionate he was about genetics. Instead, most other students chalked it down as Peter Parker being a wuss, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe he had tripped and hurt his toe. Surprise, surprise, it got much worse once they left Oscorp. He spent the rest of the bus trip moaning in pain while Ned and Harry did their best to conceal his state from the students and teachers at his request. Peter limped home from the bus stop and fell into bed without speaking to Ben and May.

Sunrise didn't bring much relief; instead, his condition only got worse. His temperature skyrocketed, and his muscles turned to mush. May and Ben made him chicken soup and lots of tea, but nothing seemed to help. Ned and Harry called him after school, but Peter barely had the energy to speak. Australian Black Widows were not lethal, but they were venomous, and Peter seemed to be especially susceptible to their venom, judging not only by his worsening condition but also by the tennis ball-sized red mess that used to be his hand. Peter did have one more hypothesis, however. Maybe, just maybe, the venom was acting inside him and turning him into…a super-soldier. Just like Oscorp intended. As he thought about the past couple of days, Peter Parker drifted to sleep inside his bedroom in Queens, unaware, as of yet, of the changes happening within him.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Peter turned off his alarm. Through his squinted, sleepy eyes, he could see it marked 7:00 AM. Time to get ready for school. Rays of sunlight shone through the window as small particles of dust floated around in his bedroom. As he woke up, Peter's mind began working at full speed again. He had been sick for two days. It was Friday. Peter didn't feel sick anymore, and his hand had returned to normal. How could this have happened? He wasn't about to protest, but people didn't usually get miraculously better when they were about to die just a few hours prior. Okay, that was an exaggeration. He had not been on his deathbed…not at all. Ben and May were already up; he could hear them wiping up breakfast in the kitchen below. No more inner monologuing. Peter put on a white button-up, a plaid V-sweater, and black dress pants before running downstairs. He didn't just feel better, he felt…rejuvenated.

"Aunt May. Uncle Ben," Peter slid into the kitchen and planted a kiss on his aunt's forehead.

"Peter! You're better! Your uncle and I were just discussing taking you to the hospital," Aunt May pulled Peter down into a hug.

"And I was telling your aunt that you would get better," May shot Ben a sour look, but he just shrugged and smiled. "Welcome back, kid, I knew you wouldn't stay down for long."

"Thank you, May, Ben. Don't worry; it was probably just some strange virus that's going around Oscorp labs," Peter stuffed two toasts into his mouth and gulped down orange juice. He could only live on chicken soup and tea for so long before he went crazy.

"Want me to take you to school today? I know you're better, but you don't need to take the bus just yet," Ben lowered his copy of the Daily Globe and peered at him.

"No need, Uncle Ben. I want to take the bus today. Ned must be worried about me, and I want to catch up with him," Peter tried his best to decipher the headline of the newspaper Ben was reading. It looked to be something like "TONY STARK AND WILSON FISK ANNOUNCE PARTNERSHIP." Ben closed the newspaper and stared at the cover.

"I never liked Stark or Fisk; they both smell of corrupt greedy men. I mean, Stark sells guns! Now they announce these…green stations. For a better, greener future, they say. Fisk and Stark united, the two richest men in New York working for the good of the environment and the people of New York. Bunch of lies if you ask me."

Peter gave him an absent-minded nod. Ben was always talking about the news, and he usually tried to listen, but right now Peter had the monumental task of answering two whole days of messages in the WhatsApp group chat. The Titanic Swim Team was the group chat he shared with Ned and Harry, obviously named by Harry with the support of Ned while Peter kept his vote blank during a lunch break in seventh grade. And now, after two days of not answering, Peter found himself staring at more than one hundred messages. He still had to wait a solid thirty minutes for the bus to arrive. The youngest Parker sighed audibly, earning him a weird look from Aunt May and a quizzical one from Ben. Time to type.

"U better wussy P? Flash has been calling you that after your little display during the field trip."

"You owe me 3 bucks, Parker, so don't die."

"If you don't come to school tomorrow, I'm going to tell everyone what happened in that toilet three years ago, Peter."

"Harry told Liz you liked her. He said it would be funny…she gagged."

"You're a snitch, Ned."

"Open Instagram, bozos. Gwen just posted."

Most of the messages were from Harry, with Ned occasionally chiming in. Some contained so much offensive content that Peter had trouble reading them. Better check Instagram before he informed Harry and Ned of the return of Peter Parker. Yup, Gwen posted. Okay, back to typing; been staring for too long.

"Listen up, mortals. Peter Parker will attend school today, be present or cry later for this is a one-time performance."

"See you on the bus, Peter! Glad you're better."

"About time, you asshole! It was starting to get boring without you."

Twenty minutes later, Peter Parker was, for the first time in his life, boarding the school bus on time. He walked down the aisle brushing against elbows and seats. Peter heard Flash say something, likely something dumb, as soon as he entered, but he tried his best not to give him any attention. Ned was sitting near the back and visibly shaking with excitement.

"Peter! You're feeling better! I'm so happy!" Ned moved aside to give him the window seat, and Peter happily took it, but not before fist-bumping the larger boy.

"Did you really think there was ever a chance I would be sick for long? This is Peter Parker we are talking about. I'm the very picture of health," he flexed his puny muscles and let out a laugh.

"Well…I don't know about that. But I do know that Harry bought Baldur's Gate," Ned showed him a picture of a pasty white ginger pointing at a computer running a game.

Peter's eyes shot open, "Seriously? We need to go to Harry's later! He's the only one with a PC good enough to run that monster." Ned nodded effusively in agreement.

Midtown High was exactly that, a high school. A large blue building filled with windows from where one could see classrooms and labs. Peter was a sophomore just starting his second year and as such already integrated into the school's ecosystem of predator and prey. That was an exaggeration, maybe, but that's exactly how Peter felt when Flash Thompson walked by him and Ned and decided it would be a good idea to squeeze his arm.

"What are you looking at there, Parker?" he asked with a sinister grin peering over at Peter's phone. He was showing Ned a funny cat video.

"Ah, please Flash, you're hurting me," he winced.

"Flash, stop," Ned shuffled in clear discomfort, "please."

Outside the school gates, a black limousine with the word Oscorp written in purple lettering on the sides was just pulling into the parking lot.

"You're no fun, Parker," come on, guys, let's go. Flash turned his attention to the usual gaggle of people who followed him around.

Flash, the quarterback, Flash the jock, Flash that had posed for fitness magazines and was a top recruit in the country…big deal. Peter massaged the place that Flash had grabbed all the while trying to keep a distressed Ned from having a panic attack.

"Yes, Ned, I'm sure I'm not hurt. Don't worry, Ned; everything is okay," strangely, Peter wasn't lying. Usually, Flash's little stunts hurt him; more than once he had gotten small bruises. Flash never outright beat him, but he took pleasure in grabbing him with more force than needed, or punching his shoulder and claiming he was just saying hello. The damage was more mental than anything. This time, however, Flash did not hurt him. Peter felt the quarterback was using all his strength but for some strange reason he just…didn't feel anything, no pain. Of course, he had to fake being hurt; otherwise, Flash might resort to more violent methods to not look weak in front of his football team.

A lean, pale, devilishly handsome ginger teenager emerged from the backseat of the limo and strutted towards them. The Osborn scion Harry, the coolest guy Peter had ever met or had any hope of meeting. He towered over both Peter and Ned and most other teens that age for a matter of fact, being six feet at fifteen made sure of that.

"Peter, Ned," he fist-bumped both of them all the while staring at Flash's back, "hope he didn't go too hard on you. He doesn't understand how what he does affects you guys, he's as dumb as rock."

As they started to walk to class Peter couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "You just say that because you're in the football team with him. He's still dumb though."

"I am sorry Harry, but I must agree. Flash is a bad guy if I've ever seen one," Ned crossed his arms and leaned into his locker to the right of Peter's.

"Well Ned maybe you've never seen a real bad guy," Harry closed his locker and gave Peter an impatient look. "Hurry up English is almost starting, and you know Mrs Benning will chew us out if we're late."

"Ok, ok calm yourself mister tall, pale and handsome," he was finally able to unglue his English notebook from his hand without anyone noticing. Probably another one of Flash's or some other idiotic jock's idea of a joke. As soon as he touched his notebook Peter felt it sticking to his hand. He slammed his locker and shoved the damned thing inside his bag.

Harry whistled quietly to grab their attention, "Listen up team, be discrete, G alert 9 o'clock. Don't drool."

Peter turned around slowly, very slowly, for some strange reason he was now aware of every single drop of sweat on his face and of every single sound in his vicinity faint as it may be. There she was, right where Harry had said, Gwen Stacy. She walked down the corridor wearing a black high-neck sweater, purple skirt, stockings, high boots, and green overcoat, her trademark headband held perfect blonde hair in place. Was that…Ned…panting. Painfully, slowly Peter tore his eyes away from Gwen to look at Ned, yup, panting. When he turned back around Gwen was walking past them, leaving only the smell of vanilla perfume. Then she looked back and smiled, was she looking at…Harry? Peter's head swivelled in the direction of the Osborn scion to find him leaning against his locker hands in the pockets of his trademark black trench coat with a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face.

"Damn you! You rich pretty boy bastard," Peter wasn't really mad, after all, he never really had a chance with a girl like Gwen Queen Bee Stacy. But he wouldn't miss an opportunity to mess with Harry.

The guy in question just accentuated his arrogant smirk and shrugged, "Ned you're a proper creep, why were you panting like that? It gave me the shivers."

Ned turned his head to peer at them, his eyes were bulged and slightly red "It wasn't like that! It's just that my bag fell on my foot, and it hurt a lot. I can't look weak in front of Gwen, so I just had to tough it out."

Peter placed a hand on Ned's shoulder and faked a tear wipe "A heroic tale for the ages my noble friend. I will never forget such bravery." Harry crossed his arms and nodded in agreement.

"Oh, shut up both of you!" Ned's eyes somehow bulged even more, "Guys…we're five minutes late."

"Run!" Harry dashed ahead of them only turning back to make a joke about Peter's awful drip and about how they had to buy him some new clothes.

"What the hell does drip mean!?" It's too late for you and a sad look from Ned was the only answer he got.

"This is awful!" Ned fiddled with the school lunch, looking at it in disgust.

"It's…probably not that bad," Peter had to admit that it did, in fact, look that bad, and he was more than happy that Aunt May had packed a chicken sandwich for him. Harry was, as per usual, eating a whole banquet delivered to him during lunch break by a servant.

"You can have this," he told Ned, shoving a Tupperware in his face. "It's pretty good," he added with a mouth full of…was that caviar? Typical Harry.

"Harry, we're going to your house later."

"What!? Who invited you?"

"I did. I invited Ned as well," the boy in question nodded as he hungrily shoved the contents of the Tupperware inside his mouth.

"Why do you guys want to go to…oh…I see. You guys want to play BG3," Harry frowned, and Peter decided to give him his best impression of puppy eyes. "Fine just stop looking at me like that. It's freaking me out. You look like a bloated frog, Parker."

"A what? Take that back, Osborn, I do not look like a bloated frog! I look cute! C-u-t-e."

"You don't, you look horrifying. Whatever that face is, my nightmares are made of it," Harry gave Ned a flat look and he just nodded in agreement.

"Okay, I think it's time we go. We can't be late for two classes in a day," Peter slammed both hands on the table and-well-it cracked. The table split in half. How did that happen? It was just supposed to be a theatrical slam-the-table moment. Just a yeah guys we need to move thing. How the hell did the thing split in half? Peter just stood there staring at his hands. Everyone in the cafeteria was gaping at him, he could see Flash from the corner of his eye looking positively flabbergasted, Gwen was sitting beside him with a stupefied look. Everyone appeared shocked, Liz, Kong, Patricia, Freddy, everyone. Well, Peter couldn't exactly blame them, puny Parker had just split a table in half. He just couldn't figure out what was going on today, the notebook sticking to his hand, splitting a table in half, suddenly being aware of everything around him to a supernatural degree…could it be?

"Peter…I'm so sorry," Harry put up his hands and gave his best-frightened look while still keeping that characteristic mocking, arrogant air about him. "You look cute."

The cafeteria erupted into laughter, making Harry spring into motion, grabbing him by the sleeve and slinking away with Ned hot on their heels.

"It was probably already cracked anyway…yeah…for sure…no way puny Parker could have done that!" he heard Flash say just before the doors shut.

Harry let go of his arm near the biology lab, "Peter what was that? How did you—how did—how did you do that?"

"I haven't a clue," again he looked at his hands. Had the spider really done something to him? He had pinned that train of thought down to the fact that he was delirious with fever, but could he have been right? "It just happened, man."

"What do you mean it just happened? People don't just snap tables in half like that! Especially people that look like this!" Harry held up one of his arms and rolled the sleeve backward to reveal a noodle arm.

"Harry, you shouldn't say things like that. You know Peter doesn't like it," Ned shrunk under Harry's and Peter's gazes.

"Can it, Osborn! It's none of your business," he slammed his fist against a locker, and it bent around it, leaving a distinctly fist-shaped mark on the metal. He stared at it in disbelief. Okay, something was definitely not right.

Harry frowned looking from him to the locker and then back to Peter, "You see!" he exclaimed, pointing at the oddly shaped metal, "Peter what the hell is going on!?"

"Peter…how did? You do that?" Even Ned was starting to get bolder now, placing both hands on his wide hips and peering at him with an inquisitorial frown.

Peter put his hands up, "I don't know, okay. Maybe the table was already rotten inside or something, and maybe this thing," he hit the locker with his knuckles "has been here for way too long as was already fragile. I can't explain it. Just…leave me alone."

"That's some proper bullshit."

"I would not have worded it that way, but I have to agree with Harry."

"The truth is that…I've been training Karate. I am done with Flash's antics. Next time I see him I'll smash his ugly face in."

"You've gone insane," Harry pulled him by the neck and ruffled his hair. "Whatever man, just tell us when you're ready. So, we still on for BG3 at my house today?"

"Yeah! Let's buy some snacks on the way," Ned chimed in.

"Yup, of course, we're still on. I invited us after all. Oh, and Harry, thanks for saving me back there. I don't know how I would have explained that one."

"You know Peter, with your habit of forcing yourself to make as few friends as possible I'm surprised you got one as good as me honestly."

"Shut up Osborn."

The interior of Harry's limo was something else, but Peter had grown used to it during the last few years. He would probably never, however, grow used to his penthouse at the very top of Oscorp Tower on Manhattan's 7th Avenue. The building itself was a simple square skyscraper with giant purple Oscorp lettering, but it held the secrets of one of the biggest corporations in the world. A corporation that would one day be Harry's and whose experiments had—perhaps—given Peter some kind of superpowers. Harry lived at the very top of the skyscraper, on the 87th floor, in the biggest flat of—literally—all time. Harry's room alone was bigger than Peter's house in Queens.

"Come on, Harry, it's my turn," Ned complained from behind Harry's shoulder. "Just…wait a second, Ned, I almost have him."

Peter's phone buzzed in his pocket, a call from Aunt May. Damn, he had forgotten to warn her he'd be going to Harry's house today. "I'll be back in a second, guys." Two uninterested grunts told him neither Ned nor Harry was listening to him.

Harry's—more like Norman's—penthouse was pretty much a museum of contemporary art, from paintings to sculptures. Huh, Peter would never have pegged Norman Osborn as the artistic type from the news or from the brief conversations he had with him when they crossed paths.

"Aunt May? You there?" His Aunt answered by pretty much screaming at him through the phone. Well, Aunt May always did that; she thought it was the only way someone could hear her when talking on the phone. "Peter! Where are you!? Your bus should have been here two hours ago!"

"Sorry, May. I forgot to tell you guys; I'm at Harry's hanging out with him and Ned. I'll be home before dinner."

"Peter! You need to warn me before you do these things. You know I worry about you."

"I know, May. I know. I'm sorry. I just…maybe sometimes you just need to understand that I'm no longer a child."

"Peter Parker! You are still underage, and I will treat you so! If you can't warn me you're going to Harry's house before you go than maybe you shouldn't be going there anymore! I have to know where you are!"

"Come on, May. Give the kid a break. He knows he did wrong," he heard Uncle Ben say. "He's going to be home before dinner, right Peter?"

"Yeah! I promise! I'll be there before dinner! I'm sorry about not warning you. Bye!"

"Pet—" Okay, now that was handled, he could get back to playing games and forgetting all about the weird things that had been happening all day. The table was old and fragile; that was all…yeah. No way a spider had injected him with some kind of super venom. That was just the delirious thoughts of a teenager who desperately wanted to be like the superheroes he saw in the news day in and day out. The back of his head started tingling for some reason.

"NO! I told you that! They can't cut funding! Not now! WHY! FISK AND STARK! NO! JUST SHUT UP I WILL HANDLE IT!"

Peter would recognize that voice anywhere, after all, the man was always on the news, and he was the father of one of his best friends. Norman Osborn screaming on the phone. Something about Fisk and Stark? Uncle Ben told him something about them earlier this morning. Norman's steps were getting closer, and something told him he wouldn't be very happy if he knew Peter Parker was listening in on his conversation, not even his pretty face could save him from that one. What to do? What to do? He frantically searched for somewhere to hide and, without realizing, backed himself up against a wall. Well, it was over. Peter Parker would die at fifteen years old without ever having kissed a girl or tasted Burger King's new special bacon hamburger. Then, suddenly, somehow, he was staring at the floor…from…the ceiling. He was on—the—ceiling. Okay, don't freak out, Parker. He was literally sticking to the ceiling with only his hands and feet. Peter had to muffle a scream that he would have let out at literally any other time because Norman Osborn was walking right past—or under—him, and he decided it would be a good time to stop and savor his whisky while looking out of a window like Darth Vader out of a star destroyer. The tingling had gotten stronger and stronger as Osborn got close, and now it was wildly out of control. Peter thought that if it kept up for much longer, he might actually puke on Norman's curly orange hair. Not that he would let that distract him from the fact that he was still clinging to the ceiling like…a spider. Fuck.

Why was Norman just standing there? Didn't he have anything better to do than to stare menacingly out of a window? He needed to get out of there as soon as possible and get himself home. Norman pulled out his phone and began to pace up and down while waiting for whoever was on the other side to pick up.

"Okay, time to go," he whispered to himself. Peter kept the tips of his right fingers stuck to the ceiling and let the rest of his muscles relax, then when he was closer to the ground, he let himself fall, landing as quietly as possible. Which, to his surprise, was making no sound at all. This was starting to get freaky; had the spider venom really worked on him? Why did Oscorp give up on the project if it could produce a human with powers?

Still crouched, he made his way to the living room, only to realize that Norman was just a few steps ahead and would soon find Peter Parker squatting behind one of his leather couches. His mind panicked, and Peter jumped backwards slightly. Okay, how could he explain to Norman that he was sneaking around because of weird radioactive spider powers? He couldn't. His mind raced, trying to come up with a decent enough explanation. Then, for the first time since he'd spotted Norman coming towards him, Peter took some time to analyze his surroundings. He was…on the ceiling again, but this time he was much, much higher. Had he just—jumped to the ceiling? He did kind of flinch when he saw Norman, but he managed to control himself before he actually jumped up in surprise and yet just that small contraction of his muscles had propelled him a good six meters up into the air.

The Oscorp CEO decided to sit down in a chair with a full view of the exit door. Peter couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but Osborn didn't sound happy. Back to bigger problems. How was he going to get out when Norman was apparently a big fan of staring at doors? He heard Harry speaking not too far away from him, from the balcony above the living room.

"Dad? What are you doing here? Have you seen Peter?"

Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't look up.

"What!? Hold on just a second; my brat is annoying me. Peter? No, I have not seen Peter! Now get out of my sight, I have things I need to take care of."

Poor Harry stuck with a father like that. If Ben was like that, Peter would have run away by now. Luckily, the little Osborn-to-Osborn convo allowed Peter to crawl through the ceiling and reach a vent that he knew for a fact would take him to the elevator. There was just a tiny metal grate-shaped problem. He had broken a table in half and punched a hole through a locker without really putting much effort into it.

BLAM! He punched right through the gate, and it went flying, disappearing inside the vent. No time to waste; no doubt Norman, Ned, and Harry would have heard that.

Note to self, don't use your full strength unless you really mean it.

The vent was dusty, and Peter could hear Harry and Norman shouting about something not too far away. Sorry, Ned, but I must leave you with them. First things first, I need to figure out just what exactly that spider did to me. Dad's lab in the basement should be more than enough.

All in all, Peter was pretty proud of just how well he was taking this whole supercharged spider powers thing. He had not screamed, even if just because he couldn't; otherwise, Norman would have found him, but it was still a win.

Damn, Oscorp needs to hire someone to clean their vents; it's so dusty in here.

Peter crawled out of the vent hole looking significantly dustier than when he went in. He made his way to the elevator using the ID card Harry had given him, trying his best to ignore the weird looks he was getting from the Oscorp employees. Had none of them ever seen someone with dusty clothes? His phone buzzed.

"Peter, where are u? Harry's vent just exploded!"

It was a message from Ned with a picture of the aforementioned vent attached.

"What!? That's crazy! I'm sorry but I had to bail. My stomach is hurting, and I don't want to drop a chemical bomb on Harry's toilet. I probably won't go to school for the next few days just to make sure I don't get sick again. Tell Harry we can go shopping this weekend if he's rlly about to pay me for some new clothes I ain't gonna say no."

Peter had been downstairs for a while now, long enough that Uncle Ben and Aunt May had mounted a siege outside the trapdoor that led to the basement and what was left of his dad's lab equipment and were barraging him with questions.

"Peter, my boy, is everything ok? Did something happen in school? You've barely spoken to us today," said Ben.

"I told you, Ben; I told you he needs help. You know he doesn't have that many friends in school and it's starting to affect him," he heard Aunt May say.

May wasn't exactly wrong, but it still irritated him slightly that she said that behind his back. Peter had two friends, and that was more than enough. The only reason he didn't have more was that he did not want to. Okay, now he was lying to himself.

The truth was that Peter Parker was hanging from the ceiling, analyzing a sample of his blood. He had already tested his newfound physical abilities; first, he tried to test just how strong he was, but he couldn't figure that out because no matter how hard the material was, Peter could punch right through it even when he stacked blocks of concrete on top of each other. He tried calculating his strength given the damage he inflicted on different materials, but all he could say with some degree of certainty was that his punches carried several tons of force. Then, he tried to test how far he could jump and how high, but the lab was nowhere near as big as he needed to test that. He also realized that his reflexes were faster than before, faster than what he knew was humanly possible. While testing his jumps, Peter knocked over a mug full of chocolate milk and caught it barely a millimeter away from the table. His physical ability had improved greatly. Not only that, but during the day, Peter had grown muscles; the spider was, after all, supposed to be a project on creating peak physical specimens, and Peter could certainly call himself that. He looked like a calisthenics athlete now, lean and muscular. He touched his chest.

"Well, those look and feel like airbags. Time to start wearing baggy clothes for a while to hide these muscles. Damn, I love that spider."

The truth was that he, in fact, did love that spider. For the first time in his life, Peter felt special. People always called him a genius and told him the future held great things for him, but they were lying. Yes, he was smarter than most, but what did that matter? There were plenty of special smart people in the world, and not all of them became billionaire CEOs. Peter always was the scrawny, introverted kid that people made fun of when they had nothing better to do. He was not bubbly like Ned or cool like Harry; no, up until this point, Peter Parker was nothing but background. But not anymore. Now he was special; he had spider-powers—superpowers—he could punch through concrete, run up walls and leap over buildings, he was jacked and strong. Peter was finally someone.

As if there was any doubt anymore, Peter was now sure that the spider had done something to him; his blood was normal at first glance, but a closer look revealed some kind of strange unstable matter floating around and merging with his red blood cells, which would then distribute it throughout the body and fuse it with his cells. Oscorp's experiment had been a success, at least in his case. Analyzing the matter inside his blood, which Peter very originally dubbed spider-virus, revealed that it promoted cell death at an early stage and that the only reason he had survived and was now becoming a superhuman was through pure luck. His body had adapted and incorporated the spider-virus.

He burst through the trapdoor wearing the largest coat he could find while rummaging through his dad's things. It wouldn't do to have Ben and May see his newfound muscles. They would never let that go without an interrogation that would put the feds to shame.

"May, Ben. Chilly tonight, isn't it? So, what's for dinner? Pizza?"

"Peter! You've been down there for hours! Is everything okay?" started May, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Everything is okay, Aunt May. I just…lost myself in Dad's research that's all. Did you know that he was developing a super sticky substance before he died? According to his notes, he hoped to revolutionize the construction process of skyscrapers," May let go of him murmuring something about him being the same as his dad and about ordering a pizza, oh, and also something about Peter not calling her, followed by some improper words.

Ben, on the other hand, did not seem to be as convinced as May that Peter was telling the truth, "Peter," he started, putting one hand on his shoulder, "you know you can tell us anything. I understand that maybe your school life is not as easy as you would like, but I will be here, always."

"I know, Uncle Ben. But it's the truth; I was simply working on my father's research, nothing more," he felt bad lying to Uncle Ben, but he couldn't just tell him that a radioactive spider had bitten him and that now he could climb walls and was super strong, could he?

"Okay, Peter. Just think about what I told you. Now let's go inside. May was already mad that you didn't call saying you went to Harry's, and then you lock yourself up in the basement. It's best not to leave her alone for too long," he gave Peter an amused expression.

"Yeah, Uncle Ben. Let's go," his life was finally trending up. Peter Parker had never felt so happy.

Author's Notes

This marks the conclusion of the first chapter.

I've long intended to craft a Spider-Man fanfic, and I've finally gotten around to doing it. Your feedback is immensely appreciated; please highlight any grammatical or phrasal construction errors. I don't intend to use this as an excuse but, English isn't my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes. Perhaps securing a beta reader would be beneficial—what are your thoughts on that?

I've already completed two more chapters, planning to unveil them weekly. Is there a preferred day or time for the chapters to be released that would suit your preferences?