Gwen's first person view
Gwen:He did what—he bailed?
I couldn't hide the shock in my voice as I turned to Harry Osborn. The bus ride over had been filled with chatter, kids either complaining about being dragged to some "nerdy science field trip" or buzzing with excitement about Oscorp like it was Disneyland for brainiacs. And yet, when we were all lined up outside the facility and I noticed Peter Parker wasn't with us, it knocked the wind out of me.
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, raising his brows in surprise.
Harry:Yeah, I'm just as thrown off as you are. Anything related to this kind of thing science, tech, all that stuff he's always the first to raise his hand. Excited, happy, you know how he is.
His tone carried that familiar note of irritation he reserved for Peter, though there was no real malice behind it. Harry never quite knew what to make of him.
Then Harry sighed and added in a more thoughtful voice,
Harry:But then again, he mentioned his family's been going through a rough patch. Said he's been working extra shifts lately. Can't say I blame the guy if he decided not to come. Priorities, right?
I nodded slowly, though my mind was already elsewhere. Of course it made sense. Not everyone was born into comfort and wealth like Harry. Not everyone had parents who could pay their way through every opportunity. And not everyone even had parents. My gut told me Peter's life at home wasn't simple. The way he sometimes drifted off in thought when people casually talked about family dinners or vacations it was telling. He tried to cover it, but I noticed. I always noticed.
Gwen:Still feels weird without him here
I murmured, but Harry had already turned his attention toward a group of jocks nearby who were loudly joking about how they hoped Oscorp would hand out free jetpacks.
The tour guides sleek-looking employees in dark suits and Oscorp badges, ushered us into the building. The air smelled faintly of sterilized metal and polished glass, the kind of environment where every surface gleamed under sharp white lights. The entrance hall was massive, with towering displays showcasing Oscorp's achievements: holograms of renewable energy solutions, advanced prosthetics, genetic breakthroughs. The kind of stuff that usually would've had Peter practically vibrating with excitement.
As we were split into smaller groups, I ended up with Harry, Liz Allan, and a few other classmates. Liz was already recording snippets on her phone, whispering to her friends about how she was going to post it later with some "funny" caption. I rolled my eyes, focusing instead on the guide leading us deeper into the facility.
We passed through corridors lined with observation windows where scientists worked in labs filled with equipment that looked far too advanced for high schoolers to fully understand. Every so often, someone would whisper a question, and the guide would answer with rehearsed confidence about Oscorp's vision for the future.
When we reached the genetics division, though, the atmosphere shifted. There was a hum of excitement from the science kids in our class the ones like me who actually cared. We were led into a chamber where dozens of glass enclosures held spiders of different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some clung to webs spun in precise, geometric patterns that seemed almost unnatural.
"This," the guide announced with a sweep of his hand,
"is our cross-species genetics program. Oscorp is currently studying the DNA of various organisms in hopes of unlocking new possibilities for medicine, agriculture, and even human advancement."
Harry leaned toward me, his voice low.
Harry:This looks like the setup for a horror movie.
I smirked.
Gwen:Don't tell me you're scared of spiders.
Harry:I'm not scared
he said quickly, then frowned as one of the larger specimens skittered across its enclosure.
Harry:Just… cautious.
The guide droned on about genetic sequencing, adaptability, and the potential for creating cures to diseases once thought untreatable. I only half-listened. My eyes lingered on a particular enclosure near the edge of the display. Inside, a single spider clung to the corner of its web. Its coloration stood out a deep reddish hue with faint, almost glowing blue streaks along its legs. It seemed oddly still compared to the others, but something about it drew my attention like a magnet.
Liz and her friends pressed closer to the glass, snapping photos and giggling.
Liz:Imagine if one of these bit us. Maybe we'd all turn into superheroes.
"Or mutants," one of the guys joked.
"Next thing you know, we're growing extra arms."
Gwen:Some of you could use a few more brains instead
I muttered under my breath, earning a quiet laugh from Harry.
The group moved along, following the guide, but I lingered a second too long in front of that particular enclosure. The spider shifted slightly, and I could've sworn its tiny, gleaming eyes fixed on me. My stomach fluttered in a way I couldn't explain.
Harry:Stacy, let's go
Harry called, already walking with the rest.
"Coming," I said quickly, tearing myself away.
We continued through the rest of the genetics wing, though my mind kept drifting back to that spider. The tour wrapped up with the guide reminding us not to touch anything, not to wander off, and not to believe everything we read on conspiracy blogs about Oscorp. Most of the class chuckled, though I caught a few rolling their eyes.
As the group funneled toward the exit, Liz tripped or pretended to and bumped into one of the displays. The enclosure rattled, a sharp metallic clink echoing through the room. The guide rushed over, flustered, while Liz giggled and muttered, "Oops."
But in the commotion, no one noticed the faint crack forming along the edge of the glass. No one saw the spider crawl out with quiet precision, lowering itself on a nearly invisible strand of silk. No one but me though by the time I realized what I'd seen, it was too late.
We piled onto the bus, laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone compared notes on what they thought was the coolest part of the tour. Harry was arguing with one of the other guys about whether Oscorp's prosthetics or their renewable energy project was more impressive. I settled into my seat, feeling strangely restless.
And then it happened. A sharp sting on the back of my hand. I gasped softly, swatting instinctively, and when I looked down, I saw the faint outline of a crushed spider. My heart skipped. It was small, barely the size of a dime, but the coloring the reddish body, the faint blue streaks I knew it was the one.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, glancing over.
"Nothing," I said quickly, curling my hand into a fist.
Gwen:Just… bug bite.
He smirked.
Harry:From a spider in a spider lab? Figures.
I forced a laugh, but inside, panic warred with a strange exhilaration I couldn't quite name. My skin tingled, my pulse racing faster than it should've.
And somewhere deep inside me, I knew that life as I knew it had just shifted in a way I couldn't yet comprehend.
I hate the fact that I had to lie to both of my friends about the whole school field trip, or whatever the hell Oscorp wanted to call it, but still—not becoming Spider-Man was already carved at the very top of my list. And I did a pretty damn good job of avoiding it. It's not like I was lying when I told them I had work. Technically, I was telling the truth, just… not all of it.
Then it happened.
...MAJOR GOAL HAS BEEN COMPLETED (DO NOT BECOME SPIDER-MAN)
...rewards generating... rewards loading...
Rewards for completing goal:
Rare: Adaptive Suit
Common: $25,000 Funds
Epic: Passive Skill — Broken Threads
Rare: Workshop Access (9 PM – 5 AM)
Epic: Perfected Super Soldier Serum
Uncommon: Drone Blueprint
Rare: Martial Arts Upgrade Card
My jaw went slack. "What the hell is this?" I muttered out loud, staring at the glowing interface floating in front of me. "From just… not becoming Spider-Man? Are you kidding me?"
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and double-checked the HUD. No, it was real.
Profile: Peter Parker (Connor Reincarnated)
Age: 17
Status: Healthy (Headaches: Occasional)
Energy: 50/50
Funds: $25,172.50
Current Objectives: Survive. Save Uncle Ben. Save Gwen Stacy. Get Rich. DO NOT Become Spider-Man.
Next Unlock: 62 hours 35minutes
Skills/Gadgets:
Mundane: Perfect Memory Recall (active), Lock Picking (basic), Bus Tickets (used 3/5).
Common: Basic Martial Arts (Shotokan Karate, green belt level), Smoke Bomb (x2).
Uncommon: Enhanced Senses (sight + hearing minor boost), Drone Blueprint.
Rare: Structural Analysis (active)(cost 10 per minute), Adaptive Suit, Workshop Access (9 PM – 5 AM), Martial Arts Upgrade Card.
Epic: Broken Threads (passive), Perfected Super Soldier Serum.
Legendary: [LOCKED]
Mythic: [LOCKED]
Primordial: [LOCKED]
I slumped back into my chair and whispered,
"Hold up, hold up, what's the meaning of this? I got… two epics? Two? And especially—what the hell is Broken Threads?"
The system chimed, its neutral tone cutting into my thoughts.
Explanation requested: Perfected Super Soldier Serum.
[Perfected Super Soldier Serum: A perfected, stabilized variant of the original formula designed during the Second World War. Removes physical frailty, enhances all biological systems, fortifies cellular structure, and ensures longevity. Grants the user peak human potential pushed to its absolute limits—strength, speed, durability, stamina, and reflexes all increased exponentially. Unlike the original serum, no side effects, no instability, no degeneration. Capable of adapting alongside the host's growth.]
I blinked at that.
Peter:So basically… Captain America's body but, like, perfected? No side effects? No psychosis? No randomly flipping tables because someone spilled coffee on me?
The system didn't answer, obviously, but the silence was all the confirmation I needed. My heart raced. That was insane. That wasn't just useful—it was survival in this crazy universe.
But Broken Threads… that one scared me more than it excited me.
Explanation requested: Broken Threads.
[Broken Threads: Passive skill. The host has been forcibly untangled from the Web of Fate. All threads of destiny binding the host to the pattern of Spider-related disasters, losses, and tragedies have been severed. As a result, host is no longer predetermined to experience the archetypal suffering associated with the Spider. Probability of catastrophic events tied to "Spider-Man's curse" reduced by 60% unless such events are absolute fate points.]
My throat dried.
Peter:Wait. You're telling me… I'm no longer tied to the same endless cycle of pain Peter Parker is known for? No constant tragedy magnet? No universe itself bending over backwards to make me miserable?
[Correct.]
I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the edge of my desk. "Holy crap. That… that's huge."
The system wasn't done.
[Note: Reduction is not immunity. Host may still face challenges, but threads of inevitable suffering woven by the Spider archetype have been weakened. Free will and personal choices hold more weight.]
I buried my face in my hands.
Peter:Oh my god. So… Uncle Ben doesn't have to die. Gwen doesn't have to die. Aunt May doesn't have to get sick. I don't have to go broke living paycheck to paycheck while secretly building billion-dollar tech and wasting it on web fluid.
For the first time since waking up in this world, I felt my chest loosen. The anxiety, the constant paranoia of Spider-Man's story repeating itself through me, it all suddenly felt lighter. Not gone, but lighter.
I laughed nervously to myself.
Peter:Okay, this is insane. This is completely insane. I avoided becoming Spider-Man and the system decides to hand me enough stuff to build my own personal empire? $25,000… a suit… a workshop… drones… martial arts upgrade… and a perfected serum.
I stood up and paced across my room. The Adaptive Suit's description popped up when I hovered my thoughts over it.
[Adaptive Suit: Rare-grade. Shifts to match host's environment and basic combat needs. Temperature regulation, minor kinetic absorption, stealth adaptation. Repair functions: limited. Energy cost: 5 per hour active.]
My lips parted slowly. "This… is so much more than spandex. This is—oh my god, this is actual armor."
The Workshop Access scrolled up next.
[Workshop Access: A pocket-dimension style workspace available between 9 PM – 5 AM. Equipped with necessary tools and equipment scaled to host's current tech level. Allows crafting, repairing, and experimentation with skills and blueprints.]
"Pocket dimension workshop?" I whispered.
Peter:Like some Tony Stark-Batcave hybrid just for me? Oh, this is getting way too good.
And then the Martial Arts Upgrade Card…
[Martial Arts Upgrade Card: Allows one chosen martial art skill to instantly advance by one major rank. Current eligible skill: Shotokan Karate (green belt). Upgrade available to brown belt.]
I whistled low.
"So… basically a free fast-forward button for fighting skills. That's… ridiculously overpowered. No more waiting years to get good. I can skip the line."
But my eyes kept returning to the two words glowing under the Epic category: Broken Threads.
It was surreal. To not be bound to Peter Parker's suffering. To not have the web of fate pulling me into tragedy after tragedy. It didn't make me invincible, but it gave me something Peter never had—a fighting chance at happiness.
And yet… with all of this… I knew there was no turning back.
I muttered to myself, "I just wanted to survive. Now the system's giving me the means to rewrite the damn script."
The thought of Oscorp. The spider that never bit me. Gwen, Harry, … all of it buzzed in my mind.
But at least now… maybe I wasn't doomed to lose everything.
I stretched my hand and instantly the serum appeared from the system space. It wasn't in some high-tech container or anything—just a thick syringe, the glass smooth, holding a bluish-silver liquid that shimmered faintly as though alive. My mouth went dry. "Ok… here goes nothing," I muttered, my voice cracking even though no one could hear me. I clenched my teeth, pressed the needle to my arm, and shoved it in before I could think twice.
The sting was nothing. The injection itself was easy. But the second the serum entered my veins—my entire world flipped.
Heat. Blistering, suffocating heat. It tore through me like wildfire, rushing from my arm into my chest, my heart pounding so fast I thought it might explode. I gasped for air, clutching my stomach, and then the real pain hit. It wasn't just heat—it was destruction. Every single bone in my body felt like it shattered at once, like I'd been thrown into a compactor. I collapsed onto the floor, teeth clenched so tight they might break.
I wanted to scream. Oh God, I wanted to scream for help. Water, I thought frantically. I need water. But Aunt May and Uncle Ben were downstairs, and if they came up here, I'd never be able to explain why their nephew was convulsing with a glowing syringe in his arm.
So instead, I grabbed my pillow, shoved my face into it, and screamed. The muffled sound barely left the fabric, but my throat burned as if I were shrieking into the void. My muscles seized, spasming uncontrollably. I felt tendons snapping, only to regrow stronger. My skin stretched tight, then relaxed, then tore and healed again. My vision flickered, going dark, then sharp, then so clear that every fiber of the pillow looked magnified.
The fire spread deeper, down to the marrow of my bones, then into my blood itself. My heart slammed against my ribs, pumping the serum through me like a war drum. Every beat hurt, every beat felt like it was tearing me down only to rebuild me. I rolled onto my back, clawing at the carpet, sweat pouring from me like a faucet.
"Oh my God—this hurts so much—" I gritted out between clenched teeth.
My spine arched off the ground, and I swore I heard it crack, the sound sharp and horrifying, before it snapped back into alignment stronger than before. My shoulders widened, my ribcage expanded, my muscles ripped themselves apart only to reform tighter, denser, more powerful. It wasn't growth—it was metamorphosis.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the fire dulled. The storm quieted. My body relaxed, trembling violently, but calm at last. I lay there, drenched in sweat, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Energy +400.
The system's voice echoed in my head, but I barely registered it. I was too focused on the fact that I was still alive.
I pushed myself up slowly, legs unsteady, and stumbled to the mirror. My jaw fell open.
"Oh my damn."
I didn't just look different. I was different. My face was sharper, like all the little imperfections that made me look like a scrawny nerd had been erased. My jawline looked cut, my cheekbones more defined, my skin clearer. My eyes—my god, even my eyes looked brighter, alive with an intensity I hadn't seen before. I had been a bit above average, I guess, in terms of appearance, but now? Now I could be called handsome—easily on par with Harry. Maybe even surpassing him.
I tore off my shirt, my hands shaking. What stared back at me was unreal. No bulk, no overdone gym-rat muscle, but a lean, perfectly sculpted physique. Chiseled abs, each one cut like stone. My arms were strong, but not oversized, veins visible in smooth lines across them. My chest had widened just enough to give me an athletic build. My shoulders were broader, my waist tapered. Every inch of me looked like it had been carved by some artist obsessed with symmetry and power.
"Holy crap…" I whispered, running my hands down my torso. My skin felt firmer, my muscles harder, my entire body humming with energy.
I took a step back, still staring. "This is me? This is actually me?"
Finally, I gathered the courage to ask the system the question buzzing in my head. "System… what are the full effects of the serum on my body? And—be honest—how strong am I right now?"
[Answering query.]
[Perfected Super Soldier Serum effects:]
— Cellular reconstruction complete. All weakness eliminated.
— Muscular system enhanced to maximum peak human output, permanently.
— Skeletal structure reinforced: fracture resistance 400% higher than baseline.
— Cardiovascular efficiency increased: stamina and recovery rate amplified.
— Reflexes and coordination upgraded: reaction speed near-instantaneous.
— Metabolism refined: body maintains optimal form without excess strain.
— Longevity boosted: aging slowed drastically.
— Adaptability unlocked: physical body can further grow alongside training and experience.
[Power Estimate: Currently beyond Olympic athletes and special forces combined. Base strength capacity estimated at lifting 10-15 tons without strain. Maximum exertion: higher potential achievable with conditioning. Speed: capable of running 70 mph sustained, with faster bursts. Endurance: extended combat possible for hours without fatigue. Reflex time: calculated in milliseconds. Recovery: minor injuries heal in minutes, moderate in hours. Immune system: resistant to toxins and diseases.]
I staggered back, staring at the glowing text. "15 tons? Without strain? And speed—seventy miles per hour? Reflexes in milliseconds? What the hell—"
The system continued, calm as always.
[Note: Host is only at the entry threshold of perfected potential. Training and future skill unlocks will expand capabilities further.]
I laughed weakly, running both hands through my hair. "So… I'm… basically Cap on steroids? Actually no, better. Faster. Stronger. Oh my god."
I punched the air, more out of instinct than anything, and the wind pressure from the movement knocked a stack of books clean off my desk. I froze. "Oh crap."
Slowly, I lowered my hands. My heart was racing again, but this time not from fear. From excitement. From the realization that I was no longer the weak, scrawny Peter Parker this universe
Peter's new appearance in comments