Oscorp:

With a spring in his step and a bright smile, Peter Parker stepped off the bus, eyes sparkling in awe as he took in the massive structure that laid ahead of him. Grumbles and irrelevant conversations followed behind him, but he didn't let that bother him.

"Alright, stay together and refrain from touching anything," their biology teacher, Dr. Warren, informed with a stern look as he lead the group of students towards the entrance.

Peter was as excited as can be. He scanned the crisp and sleek building that was Oscorp from top to bottom. If he had to guess the building was well over one hundred meters in height. Bringing his camera up, Peter snapped a picture of the building and quickly assessed the picture. Deeming the result satisfactory, Peter shut the camera off and dropped it — the neck strap preventing it from hitting the ground — and continued walking with the rest of the class.

Peter felt an elbow nudge his own and turned. "Someone's way too excited," the redhead that was Harry Osborn said with a knowing smirk. "Does that mean…?"

"No." Peter's gaze momentarily shifted towards Mary Jane who was chatting it up with Gwen before sighing and quickened his steps.

Harry easily caught up, a grin replacing his annoying, teasing smirk. "You're avoiding the big elephant in the room, Pete."

"We're not even in a room." Shortly after, a gust of cool air hit Peter as he and the rest of the students entered the remarkable building. "Okay, now we're in a room."

"You promised me you were going to ask MJ…" Harry's expression showed that he looked genuinely hurt and disappointed. Then, there was that pout that Harry displayed to coerce Peter into doing his bidding.

"Not the Os-Pout," Peter groaned, looking away. This gave Peter the chance to really study the room, his eyes glazing over various tables, computers, unfiled documents, and employees scampering around. His eyes focused on a glass containment box that seemed to house several odd-looking spiders. Though, the sight was ripped away when he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders and shake him like a maraca.

"C'mon, Pete! Ask her!" Harry's voice had dropped in volume as if they were talking about some sort of secret — which, to be fair, was — but Peter played on the cautious side.

"No, Harry!" Peter's volume matched Harry's. "Just—leave me be. I'll ask her," he paused, glancing at Mary Jane laughing before shifting his look to Harry, standing straighter and speaking more firmly, "when the time is right."

Harry seemed to be more insistent and a bit pleading, shaking Peter once more. Peter didn't realize that Harry's hands were still on his shoulders. "The time is right, Pete!"

Students passed by the two whom had stopped and didn't seem to spare a single glance their way. Peter gently grabbed Harry's hands and forced him to relinquish his grip. "No, it's—just, not now. Got a bit on my mind."

Peter was glad that he wasn't lying to one of his best friends for once. He did, in fact, have some things on his mind as of late. After coming home, Peter was met with a grinning Uncle Ben holding Aunt May who looked uncertain. He had told Peter that after considering Peter's request, they were going to allow Peter to enlist in the Marine Corps at the age of seventeen with their consent, of course. As expected, Peter was thrilled and couple that with the Oscorp field trip, Peter was sure that it was his best day yet.

Peter was looking forward to talking to a recruiter with Uncle Ben and go over the details. Today was a Christmas come early for Peter.

Harry slumped in defeat, releasing an audible sigh. His eyes locked onto Peter's. "Last day, then?"

Peter shook his head. Harry continued, "Summer?"

Peter gave the same silent response. "First day?"

Peter hesitated for a moment before giving a shrug. Harry seemed reluctant about accepting a 'maybe' as an answer. After a few seconds, Harry finally nodded in acceptance. "Fine. Just hope that a musclehead beats you to it."

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Osborn," Mr. Warren called out, issuing a silent warning to the two in question.

Peter realized that he and Harry had stayed back and the class was ahead of them, waiting impatiently for them so that the tour could begin. Mary Jane and Gwen seemed to be enjoying their predicament if giggling was any indication.

"We should get going," Peter advised, stepping forward.

"Yeah.

"I'm home," Peter groggily announced as he shut the door behind him. Aunt May materialized from the kitchen wearing the kitchen mittens that Peter had grown accustomed to. No doubt Aunt May prepared a meal before he and Uncle Ben went out, but Peter just didn't have the appetite — or energy for that matter.

"Peter!" She greeted with a bit of enthusiasm. "Just in time. I've finished my cooking and—"

"I don't feel like eating or...anything right now." His eyes drooped for a second or two.

Aunt May was immediately concerned. "Is something wrong, dear?" She was about to take a hasty step forward but Peter still had the energy to wave her off.

"N-No, no. I'm fine, honestly…"

Peter wasn't sure if she entirely bought that white lie. Her skeptical and unconvinced expression answered that question.

"Hey, sport!" Uncle Ben descended from the stairs, wearing a grin. "Best eat first before we go to the recruiting—"

"Peter doesn't feel too well, Ben." Aunt May stepped closer, dismissing Peter's previous gesture. She took one look at him and her eyes lit up with concern. "My, he's sweating — and your face is red!"

Peter shied away from Aunt May, just now noticing that he did feel a bit warmer than usual. He had been experiencing strange symptoms ever since that spider at Oscorp bit him. It was like a track on repeat: his friends showed the same amount of concern as his Aunt and both weren't easily convinced. "S-Seriously, I'm fine. M-Maybe...I just feel like going to bed right now," his sentence had slowly transformed into quiet and tired mumbles.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben shared a look. Ben was the first to speak. "I guess we could postpone the recruitment thing tomorrow if you don't feel up to it."

May nodded her agreement. "Yes — but are you are sure you don't want to eat?"

Peter sluggishly made his way towards the staircase. "I don't—I'm not hungry…" His words trailed off as he ascended the staircase and disappeared beyond the railings.

Ben Parker tiredly ran a hand through his hair, a solemn expression appearing. "Oh, boy.."

As soon the door to his room was completely shut, Peter stumbled towards the bed, feeling worse as each second passed. It was like his nerves were on fire — as if something was happening to him. Something changing inside him. He carelessly tossed his glasses towards his dresser before collapsing on the bed. His breathing had become more harbored, his heart accelerating like a treadmill set to highest level. He managed to bring himself upright, facing the ceiling. Without his glasses, all he could really see was a blurry white wall with barely noticeable marks. His hands gripped the bed sheets as he tried to calm himself in hopes of slowing down his heart rate. It was slamming against his chest and he could practically hear it.

Eventually, Peter managed to bring himself under the blankets. He kept tossing and turning, finding it hard to fall asleep even though he was tired. It just didn't make sense, he thought. Though soon enough he had settled on the most comfortable position he could find and slowly his eyelids drooped, encasing his vision in absolute darkness. Then, his breathing slowly evened out, his heart beating in a calm rhythm unlike the constant pounding, and his mind finally faded into a state of rest.

"Alright, recruit! Move!"

Peter found himself being yelled by a typical DI portrayed in the movies. He blinked, taking in the area before him and what situation he was in. The first thing he noticed was the log walls and several men struggling to climb over it. In a different section, others were vaulting over hurdles constructed entirely out of logs. In fact, most of the obstacles on the course — Peter had soon realized that he was in a training course — and Peter was bewildered. Last he recalled he was completely wiped out on his bed.

"Did you hear me, four eyes?!" The Drill Instructor suddenly appeared in front of Peter, leaning in close with a stern and mean look. "Haul ass, buckaroo!"

Peter naturally responded in a wheeze, "Aye, sir!"

Without warning, Peter was shoved by an unknown force into a muddy puddle, grimacing. He'd spat out the unknown substance that had managed to find its way in his temporarily exposed mouth as he brought himself to his feet. Looking up, Peter discovered a wall — which was confusing considering that he'd sworn he'd landed in front of some knocked down hurdles strewn across the land.

To the side, Peter noticed a few men in the USMC fatigues cheering him on. Among them, strangely enough, was also Flash, MJ, Gwen, Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Liz, Sally, and the others. He shuddered as he stared at the group that contributed to his mishappenings at school. Seeing them cheer for him was odd and brought a strange feeling that Peter was unable to explain.

His attention returned to the wall, eyes glazing upwards. Then, he was met with the oddest sight.

Spiders. Freakin' spiders replaced the other recruits attempting to climb the wall — they crawled up on the wall. They weren't any ordinary spider, Peter noted. Each of them were exactly the same, and Peter recognized the colorful design.

The spiders impersonated the same spider that had bit Peter right on the wrist. Instinctively, Peter brought the bitten wrist to eye level and inspected it. The red burning marks of the bite had vanished.

Suddenly, the environment faded away and transformed into that of a woodland area, the sound of a small flowing river barely reaching his ears. The first thing that caught Peter's attention was the time of day: it was dark. Looking around, Peter found himself amongst other recruits looking worse for wear. Some of them were lying up against various tree trunks scattered about and others were simply lying on their backs on the floor, seeming to be catching their breath.

Like a switch had been flipped, exhaustion and fatigue set in Peter. His nostrils simply didn't supply enough air, making him resort to becoming the dreaded mouth breather. Again, like a switch, something heavy suddenly appeared. After his frivolous search, Peter located the source of the mysteriously distributed weight: a backpack. The sudden weight coupled with his fatigue had forced Peter to take a knee and recover.

"Alright, enough restin'!" A hoarse voice announced sharply, "Get yer' asses up and move out. The Crucible is almost over."

Peter involuntarily groaned with the other young men. Sleep, a bed, and blankets sounded like dessert to Peter in his state of mind. He was sure the others shared the same idea.

Again, the environment faded away and was replaced with a park that Peter was unfamiliar with. It was dark besides a few lamps placed accordingly to provide light to the path.

"Will I ever see you again?" A feminine voice fondly whispered to his right.

Peter sharply turned in the direction of the source, finding a familiar and ever so beautiful redhead that was Mary Jane Watson. His eyes widened and he was just about to voice his surprise, but he found that he couldn't speak at all — finding that his throat felt dry and a small pain resonated each time he gulped.

Mary Jane suddenly closed into Peter, enveloping him in a firm yet meaningful embrace. "Will I?" There was the feeling of something wet making contact with his dark green shirt; Mary Jane's tears of sadness, perhaps?

Instinctively, Peter raised his arms just high enough and began patting the redhead's back soothingly as she shed her tears into his clothing. Peter caught a glimpse of that same spider standing idly on Mary Jane's shoulders. Certain images of Oscorp, scientists, Norman, DNA helix evaporating and reforming into something new, and general military stuff.

Before everything faded to black, Peter heard a strong voice utter, "Enhanced...soldier."

When Peter was brought out of his slumber, he didn't gasp like most characters did in films to generate the idea that the dream was a nightmare. Instead, his eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in his surroundings as he sat up.

Refreshed. Energized. If Peter was told to use two words that would describe what he felt right now he would use those two. There were no headaches or other strange occurrences like yesterday.

Peter noticed that there were wet splotches on his bed sheets. It was most certainly not a wet dream considering the area of said splotches. Glancing down, Peter caught similar wet areas on his shirt that he was too tired to change out of. He figured he must've been sweating really hard during his intense moment.

He would deal with those minor issues later, he decided. In a few short moments, Peter had already entered the bathroom and didn't even spare a glance at his reflection, intent on taking a much-needed shower.

Five minutes later, Peter dragged himself out of the bath and set out to place toothpaste on his toothbrush. The mirror had fogged up quite a bit and Peter was content with that. He didn't want to spend time looking at his pathetic excuse of a body.

When Peter finished brushing his teeth he eyes unintentionally met the mirror. What he saw made his heart skip a beat or two.

Now that the mirror had time to clear up, Peter was able to see himself. He was no longer greeted with the scrawny and wimpy sight of his torso. Instead, he was met with a new person altogether. One with glistening six-pack abs, defined pecs, and bulging muscles. Though the muscles weren't overboard like some crazy bodybuilders, but it was just enough to catch any girl's attention, he figured.

"Woah…" He marveled, flexing each muscle. His hand came down to his abs and rubbed it over, knocking it once experimentally. "Holy...it's like a rock!"

Then, he noticed the lack of glasses. Funnily enough, he could see perfectly without them now — hell, even better!

Twisting the faucet, Peter gathered up water and splashed his face and looked at his reflection once more. "What the hell…?"

He subconsciously began to rub the spot where the strange spider had bit him. Eventually, Peter cast a look down to the very spot and was surprised to find it healing already; the red burning mark already fading out of existence.

"Was it you?" Peter toyed with the idea in his mind. The idea that the spider that had bitten him had given him these...gifts. Sure, it sounded far-fetched, but it was the only plausible explanation so far. Maybe it was one of those genetically modified spiders that the guide had boasted about — Peter had managed to hear a hushed conversation about a missing spider during the trip.

Uneasiness settled in, nervousness plaguing his mind. As Peter exited the homely bathroom, he silently hoped that there were no other side effects.