The bus hissed to a stop outside a building that could only be described as futuristic and intimidating at the same time. Oscorp. Even the name carried weight. The large glass panels reflected the morning sun, and the building stretched skyward, far taller than any structure I had ever seen in Queens. The sheer size alone made my chest tighten with anticipation.
The doors swung open and the students filed out, shoving backpacks onto shoulders, muttering and groaning like this was just another boring field trip. I followed the crowd, careful not to collide with Flash or his gang. He was already elbowing people out of his way, puffed up and acting like he owned the place.
A woman in a crisp white lab coat stepped forward as the tour guide. Her hair was tied back neatly, glasses perched on her nose, and her smile radiated the kind of energy that said, I love what I do, and I hope you will too.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice warm but authoritative. "Welcome to Oscorp Industries. My name is Dr. Elena Vasquez, and I'll be guiding you through our laboratories today. Before we start, a few basic rules."
The teacher, surprisingly, didn't stick around. He muttered something about meetings and disappeared into the building like a ghost. Typical.
"Rule number one," Dr. Vasquez continued, "no touching any equipment unless explicitly instructed. Many of these machines are delicate, and some are sensitive to human interference." She smiled at the obvious groans. "Rule number two, stay with your group. Straying from the tour is not only unsafe but prohibited. And finally, rule number three—questions are encouraged. Curiosity is welcome here, but respect is mandatory."
I nodded to myself. Respect and curiosity, huh? I could do that.
The first part of the tour focused on more general research projects: chemical compounds for renewable energy, experimental robotics, AI neural networks. I tried to absorb everything, even though Flash and his entourage kept jostling me, making sarcastic remarks under their breath.
"Hey, Parker," Flash whispered as we passed a row of tiny robotic arms, "try not to drool. Don't want to short-circuit the computers."
I ignored him, keeping my eyes forward, silently counting to ten to avoid doing anything I'd regret. His lackeys laughed softly, enjoying the show.
"Ugh," I muttered under my breath. "It's like a zoo in here."
"Hey, you talking to me?" Flash said, raising a brow.
"Not even," I replied. "You're too predictable to be interesting."
He growled but didn't respond. Part of me was proud I hadn't escalated it. Another part wondered how long it would be before he'd snap completely.
We eventually arrived at a large room where the lighting was slightly dimmed, the walls lined with glass enclosures. Inside each, various spider species were observed. My heart skipped a beat. This was what I had been waiting for—the labs where Oscorp experimented on arachnids.
"Over 32,000 species of spider exist in the world," Dr. Vasquez began, gesturing to a large touchscreen display. "They belong to the order Araneae and are divided into three suborders. Each possesses unique adaptations that help them survive and thrive. For example, the Delena spider, in the Sparassidae family, has remarkable jumping abilities that allow it to capture prey mid-air."
I leaned in closer, reading the scientific names carefully, fascinated by the precision.
"Next," she continued, "we have the net web spider, family Filistatidae, genus Kukulcania. Its funnel-shaped web has strands with tensile strength comparable to high-tension wire. The spider hunts with reflexes so fast some researchers believe its nervous system operates close to precognition. Truly remarkable."
I nodded, absorbing every word. This was the level of detail I had obsessed over in my studies. Every nervous impulse, every muscle fiber, every strand of silk—it was beautiful.
"Other species we study include the Goliath Birdeater, Black Widow, Jumping Spider, Huntsman Spider, Darwin's Bark Spider, Diving Bell Spider, and the Ogre-Faced Spider. Each has traits we've analyzed, cataloged, and in some cases, replicated at a genetic level."
The students were impressed, whispering among themselves. Flash, of course, rolled his eyes and muttered, "Spiders. Great. I'm gonna die in here, aren't I?"
"Over the past five years," Dr. Vasquez said, moving toward a glass enclosure in the center of the room, "we have been experimenting with genetic engineering, transferring RNA sequences to create entirely new genomes. Combining genetic material from the three suborders, we designed fifteen super-spiders—arachnids capable of strength, agility, reflexes, and durability beyond what occurs in nature."
The bus doors hissed open, and sunlight flooded the street outside, washing over the line of students like a spotlight on stage. Oscorp loomed above us, a monolith of steel and glass, its reflective surfaces catching every glint of the morning sun. I stepped down carefully, trying to avoid tripping over my own feet, my chest pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and awe.
Even from this distance, the building radiated power. The sheer scale of it—the way it seemed to scrape the sky—was breathtaking. It was more than just a corporate lab. This was a fortress of knowledge, of science that touched the limits of what anyone had dared imagine. And somehow, I was about to walk inside.
The students crowded forward like ants on a trail, some groaning, some whispering jokes to one another. I felt Flash elbowing me hard in the ribs, as if my pace was somehow an affront to him. I ignored it, focusing on the building ahead.
A woman in a pristine white lab coat stepped forward, clipboard in hand. Her hair was neatly tied back, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and her smile radiated both warmth and authority.
"Good morning, everyone," she said. Her voice carried effortlessly over the murmurs. "Welcome to Oscorp Industries. My name is Dr. Elena Vasquez, and I'll be your guide today."
Before anyone could respond, the teacher—Mr. Grady, or whatever his name was—muttered something about a meeting and vanished into the building like he had better things to do than babysit a bunch of high schoolers. Figures.
Dr. Vasquez didn't miss a beat. "Before we begin, a few rules." She tapped her clipboard. "First, do not touch any equipment unless explicitly instructed. Some of these machines are extremely sensitive and could be damaged with the slightest interference. Second, stay with your group. Straying is both unsafe and against our policy. Finally, questions are welcome—but only at appropriate moments. Curiosity is encouraged, but respect is mandatory."
I nodded to myself. Respect and curiosity. I could do that. I could survive this.
The first part of the tour focused on general research. She led us through hallways lined with glass partitions, each room buzzing with technology. I caught glimpses of robotics labs, AI neural interfaces, and chemical stations experimenting with renewable energy sources. I tried to take it all in, but Flash's voice kept cutting through my concentration.
"Hey Parker," he sneered, leaning casually against a railing. "Try not to drool on the robots. Don't want to ruin the little guy's first trip, do we?"
I ignored him, counting silently to ten. His entourage laughed softly, enjoying my attempt to remain composed. Every time I glanced at him, my pulse quickened, part irritation, part anticipation. I knew better than to escalate things here—especially in a lab full of expensive, delicate equipment.
Finally, we reached the room I'd been waiting for: the arachnid laboratories. The air was slightly cooler here, the lighting dimmed, and the hum of climate-controlled enclosures filled the space with an almost imperceptible vibration. Spiders. Hundreds of them. My heart skipped a beat.
"Over 32,000 species of spider exist in the world," Dr. Vasquez began, motioning toward a touchscreen display detailing the taxonomy. "They all belong to the order Araneae, divided into three suborders. Each species has unique adaptations that allow it to survive and hunt."
I leaned closer to the display. My pulse quickened. This was the kind of precision I had memorized over years of obsessive research. Every name, every genus, every behavior—the data etched into my mind.
"For example," Dr. Vasquez continued, "the Delena spider, family Sparassidae, has powerful jumping abilities that allow it to ambush prey mid-air. The net web spider, family Filistatidae, genus Kukulcania, spins an intricate funnel-shaped web with tensile strength comparable to high-tension wires. Its hunting reflexes are so fast that some researchers believe its nervous system approaches precognition. Truly remarkable."
I could feel my brain firing on all cylinders. Calculations, probabilities, potential outcomes—I was cataloging everything. If I were back in my lab, Addison would have already cross-referenced this species with every known super-spider genetic pattern in history. Here, I had to do it myself, mentally. And I loved every second.
"Other species we study include the Goliath Birdeater, Black Widow, Jumping Spider, Huntsman Spider, Darwin's Bark Spider, Diving Bell Spider, and Ogre-Faced Spider," she continued. "Each has traits we've analyzed, cataloged, and in some cases, genetically replicated."
The students murmured among themselves. A few gasped at the larger specimens. Flash rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible.
"Spiders. Great. Can't wait to get eaten," he muttered under his breath.
"Over the past five years," Dr. Vasquez said, moving toward a central enclosure, "we've been working on genetic engineering, transferring RNA sequences to create entirely new genomes. By combining traits from the three suborders, we designed fifteen super-spiders, arachnids capable of strength, reflexes, and agility beyond anything found in nature."
I caught a glimpse of the enclosures, my pulse racing. These weren't just spiders—they were the product of years of painstaking genetic manipulation, the culmination of research that most scientists could only dream of attempting.
MJ raised a hand, stepping slightly forward. "Excuse me," she said, her voice steady. "You said fifteen genetically designed spiders. I only count fourteen in the enclosures."
Dr. Vasquez paused, adjusting her glasses. "Ah, yes. The scientist must be studying that one, no need to worry about it."
I felt my stomach tighten. My instincts were already on edge. One of these spiders was missing. My eyes scanned the room, picking up subtle shifts in the air, the way shadows moved across the ceiling.
Flash jabbed me in the ribs again. "Hey, Parker, still staring at the floor like a scared little rat? Look up, maybe you'll see one crawl into your lunchbox."
I ignored him, keeping my attention on the enclosures and the subtle, almost imperceptible motion above me. The other students were distracted, some whispering about genetics, others scrolling on their phones.
It was a delicate web, almost invisible against the bright lab lighting. A faint thread stretched down from the ceiling, moving ever so slightly. The missing spider.
Flash leaned closer, smirking. "Parker, you staring at the ceiling again? Don't tell me you're planning to crawl up it or something. Ha!"
I ignored him. My focus was absolute. One of the genetically engineered spiders, invisible to nearly everyone, was lowering itself, measuring me, studying the room. Its movements were deliberate, calculated, and terrifyingly intelligent.
I kept my body still, barely breathing. The spider's legs brushed the edge of its silk line, testing the weight. It was exquisite engineering—a perfect combination of muscle, nerve, and genetic design. I had read about creatures like this in journals, in obscure research papers, but seeing one in person… it was entirely different.
The other students, blissfully unaware, continued their chatter. Flash grumbled, clearly frustrated that I wasn't reacting. He muttered something about "glass nerds" and "choking losers" under his breath, but I didn't even register it. Every muscle in my body was tensed, ready.
The spider's thread swayed slightly, inches from my face, and I realized my hands were gripping the edge of the lab railing without me even noticing.
And then I felt it—a subtle shift in the thread above me. The spider was moving closer.
Every instinct screamed at me to react, but I stayed frozen. I didn't want to startle it, didn't want to provoke the creature. It was intelligent, engineered, and—most importantly—completely unpredictable.
Flash groaned, leaning back. "Seriously, Parker. Look at me when I'm talking. You can't just stare at spiders like some creep. Get a life."
I didn't respond. My eyes never left the descending predator. This wasn't about high school bullies anymore. This was about survival, about witnessing something no one else here would ever understand.
The spider lowered itself closer. Inches. Millimeters. Its legs twitched in a way that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. I could feel the electric tension in the room, though no one else seemed aware.