~New York, Columbia University~
"There are over 32 000 known species of spiders, classified into three suborders..."
Under the guidance of a female professor, the tenth-grade students of Midtown High filed into Columbia University's research center. For a public high school, securing this visit was no small feat.
"This is amazing! The most advanced electron microscope on the East Coast! I can't believe we get to see this!"
Unlike his enthusiastic best friend, Harry seemed utterly disinterested.
The young Osborn heir wasn't much of a scholar, and compared to dull scientific instruments, he was far more captivated by the red-haired girl walking ahead.
"...So these spiders possess unique abilities that aid in hunting. For example, this Australian species has incredible jumping power. This one, from the genus 'Kukulcania', family *Filistatidae*, spins funnel-shaped webs nearly as strong as steel cables used in construction..."
"...And this one relies on reflex-based hunting. Its neural reflexes are so fast, that many researchers believe it has a form of precognition, able to sense danger before it happens..." The professor explained in meticulous detail.
These were all genetically modified super-spiders, the result of five years of DNA synthesis and RNA manipulation at Columbia University...
The ultimate goal? To refine these spider traits so that humans could one day harness their extraordinary abilities.
Peter listened intently, fascinated by the specimens in the petri dishes. The idea of spiders with such incredible traits; powerful leaps, ultra-strong silk, lightning-fast reflexes, even a sixth sense, left him awestruck...
"Can I take a photo for the school paper?" Peter asked the professor.
As the school paper's photographer, he often snapped pictures at school events.
With permission granted, he raised his camera. Just as he pressed the shutter, someone shoved him from behind, ruining the shot.
"Back off!" Harry stepped forward, well aware of how often his friend got bullied.
"Or what?" The boy who pushed Peter sneered.
"Or the mighty Osborn will have Daddy fire your dad," a hulking teen mocked. He was Peter's most frequent tormentor.
"What's your rich dad gonna do? Sue me?" The bully grabbed Harry by the collar, his tone menacing.
He'd long despised this privileged kid... handsome, wealthy, and constantly hovering around Mary Jane. If not for fear of expulsion, he'd have already taught this rich boy what his fists could do.
"Thompson... Let him go." A calm voice cut through the tension, its tone brooking no argument.
"Sean..." The bully, Thompson, hesitated before releasing Harry and slinking away.
As the star of Midtown High's football team, Thompson usually ruled the school with his size and muscle. But things had changed recently.
Sean Cyphers (once a nobody) had somehow become a force to reckon with, even taking down street thugs single-handedly.
The showdown at the school gates had already become a campus legend. Overnight, Sean had become Midtown High's most talked-about figure.
Anyone else daring to order Thompson around would've earned a knuckle sandwich. But facing the guy who'd beaten multiple gangsters? That was a different story.
"Thanks, Sean," Peter said gratefully, while Harry gave a reluctant nod.
"We're classmates. No need for thanks." Sean waved it off.
He'd just stepped in casually... after all, seeing a young, pre-Spider-Man Peter Parker getting bullied was something he couldn't ignore.
Who could've guessed that today, of all days, this "insignificant Peter Parker" would begin his journey to becoming a superhero?
"Peter, imagine if humans had these spiders' abilities. What would that look like?" Sean asked as Peter snapped more photos.
"It'd be incredible. They'd have reflexes fast enough to dodge bullets, jumping power to clear buildings, maybe even climb walls like spiders." Peter's imagination ran wild.
The bookish teen's mind brimmed with scientific curiosity.
Nearby, Harry rolled his eyes and sidled toward Mary Jane. Chasing pretty girls was the Osborn heir's true calling.
"Maybe you'll become someone that amazing one day." Sean patted Peter's shoulder before walking off.
He already had his own power source, no need for a spider bite. His body continuously absorbed stellar energy, an endless well of vitality.
Back at the school gates, had Sean unleashed his full strength, it would've been a bloodbath. He could've torn through those thugs like paper. Human flesh felt fragile to him now.
Delving into the white light in his mind, he saw a progress bar on the system interface.
Though growing daily, it hadn't yet breached the 5% threshold. Each 25% milestone seemed to unlock a new ability...
Peter frowned at Sean's words. How could humans gain spider traits? Raising his camera, he focused the lens until it settled on Mary Jane...
One of Midtown High's most popular girls, the vivacious redhead had no shortage of admirers; Thompson, Harry, even Peter himself, though his shyness kept him from speaking more than a word to his crush.
Lost in thought, Peter didn't notice the tiny spider descending on a silken thread, creeping onto his hand. Drawn as if by magnetism, it sank its fangs into his skin.
Peter jerked his hand back. The spider had vanished, leaving only a small bump like that of a mosquito bite.
"Strange. Where'd that mosquito come from?" he muttered, puzzled.
Thus began the journey of the future Spider-Man...
...
Meanwhile, Sean found himself in trouble again...
Leaving Columbia University, he was intercepted on the way back to school.
Not by street thugs this time, but by men in black suits, arms sleeved in tattoos, their jackets bulging slightly at the waist. Guns, most likely.
A middle-aged man stepped forward, eyes dripping with condescension, "Listen, kid. You put one of my guys in the hospital. Small fry, sure, but he moved a lot of product for me. Now I'm out money..."
"...So here's the deal. Either I break your legs, or you start working for me."
The man studied Sean's impassive face, as if his words hadn't registered.
"Kid, I know you can fight. But I'm not some two-bit street punk. If you don't play along? Well, New York's a big place. People disappear all the time." He casually flipped open his jacket, revealing a handgun at his waist.
"What would I have to do?" Sean asked, "If I worked for you, I mean."
"Be at the abandoned factory in the suburbs tonight at ten. I'll supply the goods. Remember, new guys hand over 80%. That's the rule."
The man clapped Sean's shoulder, satisfied, "And don't think about snitching. My boss, Frank D'Amico? Big shot on the West Coast. Even the police commissioner gives him face."
As the group swaggered off, Sean slid his hands into his pockets. His seemingly mild expression hardened and cold as ice...
~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~
~~~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~
Read ahead on my P@treon...
p@treon.com/MayaMatengele01