The moment came faster than I expected. One second I was frozen, staring up at the near-invisible thread dangling from the ceiling, and the next, gravity seemed to wink at me. The spider dropped, plummeting through the air in a controlled arc that, frankly, would have impressed a gymnast.
Instinct screamed to flinch, to slap it away, to scream, to run. But I didn't. I couldn't. Not if I wanted what I had come here for. Every nerve in my body was tense, every thought focused on a single principle: I had to let it bite me.
I relaxed, as much as one can in a room full of students completely oblivious to the immediate danger. My pulse thudded, a rapid drumbeat that mirrored my excitement and fear.
The spider landed lightly on the top of my head. I could feel its legs crawling through my hair, exploring, probing. A chill ran down my spine as it slipped down the side of my face, the tiny hairs of its legs tickling me in ways that were equal parts terrifying and fascinating.
It moved into my shirt, wriggling and crawling across my chest. I could feel the faint pressure as it explored my body, and then it started down my arm. Every centimeter it traveled felt like a test of my patience and resolve.
Finally, it reached my hand. I could see it clearly now—an almost surreal creature, black and glossy, as if polished obsidian reflected the lab lights. Its legs were unusually long and jointed at angles that no ordinary spider could achieve, each tipped with tiny, retractable hooks that glimmered faintly. The exoskeleton wasn't just armored—it rippled with subtle, almost organic patterns, faintly luminescent veins coursing with synthetic proteins designed to enhance strength and agility.
Its eyes—eight in total, clustered in a perfect semi-circle—were iridescent, refracting the fluorescent light into tiny prisms of red, green, and gold. They didn't just see—they analyzed, calculating motion, weight, and trajectory in a fraction of a second. Its abdomen was unusually compact, but the spinnerets beneath it glowed faintly blue, a sign of a genetically engineered silk strong enough to hold several times its body weight.
Tiny, barely perceptible tufts of hair along its legs twitched as it balanced delicately on my fingers. I could see the faint metallic shimmer of its fangs, perfectly proportioned for its bite, and the fine musculature that allowed the creature to move with eerie, preternatural grace. Its very presence radiated intelligence, as if it were aware of me, studying me, making silent calculations about its next move.
My stomach twisted, a mixture of fear, awe, and anticipation. This wasn't just a spider. It was the pinnacle of genetic engineering—perfected, beautiful, and terrifying. And it was on my hand.
And then—sharp, instantaneous pain. A sting so acute it made me wince, my teeth gritting instinctively. The spider had bitten me.
My hand trembled slightly, a mix of fear and adrenaline. I flexed it experimentally. No immediate signs of the expected transformation yet. Just pain. Just… reality.
My first instinct, the rational, human one, screamed at me to crush the little thing, to end it before it caused more harm. I caught myself just in time, my mind racing.
Wait.
Wasn't Cindy Moon also bitten by the same spider that Peter was bitten by in the comics? If I killed the spider now, I could prevent her from becoming Silk in the future. Than again if I remember correctly The Great Weaver was the one who selects who gained the powers so that Anansi could send the spider to bite them.
That meant either way she would still get bitten as she was selected just like Peter Parker was. I shook my head, weighing the options in a split second. There was no time for indecision.
I slapped the spider off my hand. It scurried across the floor, moving with a speed that made my eyes follow it automatically. I ignored Dr. Vasquez, who continued speaking, oblivious, moving the tour along to the next topic: another row of enclosures filled with lizards.
And then I saw it.
The spider moved toward the girl. My pulse jumped into my throat. She was exactly where I had predicted, still seated on the floor, unaware. My brain clicked, cataloging angles and distances, timing, trajectories. The spider's bite found her ankle before she could react. She flinched, recoiling immediately, and stomped on it instinctively. The spider scurried out of sight, leaving her ankle red and stinging.
Cindy Moon. That was her. Finally confirmed.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from my body. For now, I felt fine. The bite burned, stung, a tiny reminder that something had changed, but no immediate effects. My mind drifted to the upcoming hours, knowing the pain would hit tonight. The anticipation of transformation, the unknown consequences—they were both terrifying and exhilarating.
🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷
By the time the tour ended, my body ached slightly from tension. Every muscle had been coiled like a spring, ready to react to any movement of the genetically modified spiders. Flash had tried a few more jabs, muttering insults under his breath, but for the first time that day, I felt a measure of control. I had survived the spider. And I had seen Cindy get bitten.
Back at school, the hallways were chaos incarnate. Students milled in clusters, shouting and laughing, jostling to reach lockers or escape to the exits. I moved quickly, weaving through the crowd, careful to avoid Flash and his posse, who lingered near the lockers, their laughter sharp and grating. I didn't let it reach me. My focus was elsewhere.
I spotted her—Cindy Moon—walking alone near the main entrance. She moved deliberately, head slightly tilted, hair falling over her shoulders just like on the bus, eyes fixed on the ground as if measuring the distance between each footstep. I adjusted my backpack straps and broke into a light sprint, dodging a group of students who seemed intent on blocking my path.
"Cindy!" I called, projecting my voice just enough to get her attention without sounding alarmist.
She turned, glancing at me with mild curiosity, polite but distant, like she had better things to do. "What is it, Parker?"
I closed the distance between us slowly, trying not to appear frantic, leaning just slightly closer. "I saw it," I said. "I saw you get bitten. By that… new genetic spider. The one in the lab today."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Wait… what?"
Before she could question further, I lifted my hand subtly, showing her a faint, red puncture mark on the back of my palm. "I got bitten too," I said, keeping my voice low, careful to convey seriousness without panic. "This isn't a normal spider bite. Whatever Oscorp engineered in those spiders… it could change us."
She stepped back, tilting her head in that way that made her look both wary and intrigued. "Change us? What do you mean?"
I forced a grin, just enough to sound casual. "Either we get… you know, the powers. Like in the comics. Or we can—hypothetically—sue Oscorp for reckless endangerment. One of those options is exciting. The other… potentially very profitable."
Her skepticism softened into cautious interest. "And you… want to do what about it?"
I paused, weighing my words carefully. I couldn't let her see that I already knew everything—the comics, the movies, the series, every twist of Peter Parker's life. That knowledge could scare her, or worse, make her mistrust me. For now, I had to frame it like I was just looking out for both of us.
"For now," I said, voice measured, "we need to watch for symptoms. Any change—strength, reflexes, anything at all. Pain, unusual sensations… even dreams. And I need your phone."
She hesitated, but eventually handed it over. I typed in my home number carefully; I didn't have a personal cell yet, but this would work for now. "Call me," I said, locking eyes with hers. "If anything happens. Anything at all."
She pocketed the phone, giving me a small, cautious smile. "Alright, I guess if anything happens I'll call you."
"I won't," I said, brushing off her warning with a shrug. Inside, my heart was racing, every instinct telling me that today had just shifted the axis of both our lives.
I turned and headed toward the exit, weaving through the throngs of students. The doors opened to the sharp city air, wind hitting my face like a slap. The streets smelled of exhaust, hot asphalt, and something electric—almost like the city itself was aware, pulsing, alive.
I walked fast, keeping my thoughts to myself, replaying the spider's movements, Cindy's reaction, every detail from the lab. I knew what was coming, knew that a simple bite could spiral into something that would change everything.
And for the first time, I felt that weight fully—the knowledge, the responsibility, the future. The comics hadn't prepared me for this feeling. They hadn't prepared me for standing on the edge of something real, something dangerous, and knowing that everything depended on what I did next.
A wind gusted past, carrying a warning I couldn't ignore. Somewhere, deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.