Webs of The Fates

Peter tried to ignore the nagging unease settling in his chest. It was just a field trip. A normal school trip with no reason to expect trouble. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But experience had taught him that nothing in his life was ever that simple.

The glass walls of Oscorp Tower loomed above Peter like a reminder of everything he’d ever fought against: the sterile, controlled world that tried to pretend it was safe, all while hiding the dangerous secrets behind closed doors. He shifted his weight, uncomfortable despite how much he’d tried to ignore the unease gnawing at him.

He couldn’t quite place what set him on edge. Maybe it was the simple fact that nothing in his life was ever just a field trip. Or maybe it was the memory of every school outing that had spiraled into chaos—honestly, at this point, if a field trip didn’t end in disaster, it’d be a first.

Peter exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus as their teacher’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Alright, everyone. Stay in groups, no wandering off. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”

Peter glanced over at MJ, who was eyeing the building with the same guarded curiosity. She wasn’t just skeptical—she was thinking about how she could take down any threats if things went south. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying, though, considering their past with monsters; it was probably both.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

Peter gave a small shrug, trying to shake off the lingering sense of dread. “I don’t know. Something about this place feels… off.”

She frowned, following his gaze. “You mean because it’s Oscorp?”

“Yeah, well… not just that,” Peter muttered, his fingers twitching at his sides, restless. “There’s something else.” His eyes wandered over to the entrance, where they were waiting for the tour guide. “I just don’t trust it.”

She didn’t question him, just studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Okay. We stick together. If anything weird happens, I’ll knock someone out with my brain.” The corner of her mouth twitched in a smirk, but the concern in her eyes lingered.

Peter huffed a quiet laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. He didn’t know if it was just his instincts screaming at him or just some deep-rooted memory of too many fights with too many enemies, but something in his gut told him this wasn’t just a tour.

“Hey, uh, Peter,” Ned’s voice cut in from behind, bright and oblivious, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Peter turned, raising a brow. “That depends. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” Ned swept his arms dramatically. “Evil lair. Secret labs. Creepy experiments. Maybe a few mad scientists. You know, the usual.”

Peter sighed, but he couldn’t deny the accuracy. “I mean… yeah. That tracks.”

MJ shook her head, lips curving into something almost fond. “Ned, you’re ridiculous.”

Ned shrugged, undeterred. “I’m just saying, if I had a nickel for every time we ended up in a place like this, I’d have—” He paused, tilting his head. “Like, a dollar. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s still weird that it happened that many times.”

Peter let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, let’s just try to get through this without anything exploding.”

Ned grinned. “No promises.”

MJ shot him a side glance, then scanned the building again, her mind clearly calculating the odds of something bad happening. “We’ll be fine. But don’t think I won’t be on high alert the second anything strange happens.”

“Great,” Peter said dryly. “I’m glad to know we’ve got a brain and a ninja in our group.”

Ned beamed. “And I’m the one with the awesome instincts. Just in case you didn’t know.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You, with instincts? That’s—”

“Hey!” Ned threw up his hands, clearly offended. “I have great instincts. You just wait. If anything goes sideways, I’m calling dibs on the hero spot!”
Peter gave a small smile, but it was hollow. He could feel the tension building, his nerves tightening with each step he took towards the entrance. Oscorp wasn’t just an impressive tower—it was wrong, in ways he couldn’t put his finger on.

Inside, everything felt too clean. Too cold. The sterile white walls, the perfectly arranged exhibits of future technologies—it all screamed controlled chaos. This place was trying too hard to convince him it was safe, and Peter had learned the hard way that things that tried too hard to seem safe were rarely what they appeared.

“Welcome, welcome,” the tour guide said, his voice booming in the silence. “I’m Dr. William Hargrove, and I’ll be guiding you through Oscorp’s latest and greatest advancements today. We pride ourselves on being at the cutting edge of innovation.” He paused, sweeping his arms out wide. “Everything you see here today, from our robotics department to our bioengineering labs, is designed with one goal in mind: to shape the future. Together, we can make the world a better place.”

Peter barely held back an eye roll. “Shape the future”? The last time he heard that phrase, it was from a god with an ego problem who tried to reshape the world with a prophecy that nearly wiped out half of his friends. He was pretty sure Dr. Hargrove’s version was just as dangerous, though maybe without the gods and monsters—probably.

Peter’s eyes drifted toward the gleaming walls as they walked deeper into the heart of Oscorp. The air was thick with the scent of polished metal and expensive perfume, a concoction that made him feel like he was breathing in something dangerous. He caught sight of a massive display board showing off the latest advancements in robotics. A towering robotic arm, perfectly crafted and sleek, flexed and extended under the spotlight, its metallic joints moving with precision.

“Here at Oscorp, we’ve made huge strides in automation,” Dr. Hargrove continued, nodding proudly. “Our robots aren’t just tools; they’re partners. They can work alongside humans in hazardous environments, saving lives with unprecedented accuracy. These machines can be programmed to operate in places too dangerous for human workers.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. That “saving lives” line sounded a lot like the kind of rhetoric he’d heard from monsters who were supposed to be protecting humanity, and yet, everything they did just seemed to make things worse. He knew better than anyone that making something powerful and dangerous just for the sake of progress was never a good idea.

MJ, walking beside him, caught his eye and gave him a quick, knowing glance. “Don’t tell me you’re already suspicious.”

Peter shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral, but it was too late. She knew him too well. “Something about this place feels off. I can’t explain it. It’s like... one of those prophecies I used to hear when we were running from monsters. It’s too perfect, and I don’t trust it.”

MJ narrowed her eyes as she took in the room. “I’m with you on that,” she said, her voice steady. "It’s all too controlled. Too clean. And we’ve been through enough to know that when things look this perfect, they probably aren’t."

Ned, who had been eyeing the robotic arm with wide, fascinated eyes, suddenly turned and leaned in. “I’m pretty sure that thing’s going to start shooting lasers any second now. You guys get the same vibe?”

Peter shook his head, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Yeah, well, I’m more concerned that Oscorp’s doing something bigger than a robot army. I don’t trust them.”

MJ smiled faintly. “Great. Another corporate conspiracy. Just what we need.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t really think that, right?”

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about the same company that hired a guy who literally tried to play God with their experiments?”

“Fair point,” Peter muttered. That kind of thing had been way too common in their lives. The only difference now was that the gods didn’t seem to be behind it. At least, not that he knew of.

Ned leaned over to whisper to Peter, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “You know, if this place is hiding something, I could totally help. I’ve got great instincts—we could make an awesome team of superheroes.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but a small part of him was grateful for the ridiculousness of it all. "I’ll just keep the robot army in check, and you can work on your 'awesome instincts,' Ned.”

MJ sighed. “Sometimes, I think you two could use a little less conspiracy and a little more focus.”

"Focus is boring," Peter said, grinning. "It's more fun when everything's weird."

Ned nodded eagerly, completely missing the seriousness of their situation. "Exactly! Weird is always better."

The group moved deeper into the facility, the corridors growing dimmer as they approached their next stop. The walls were lined with screens displaying glowing graphs of DNA structures, pulsating in eerie red and blue patterns. A new, sterile scent filled the air, sharper than before.

“And now,” Dr. Hargrove announced, “we come to one of our most ambitious fields—bioengineering.”

Peter felt something twist in his gut, a deep, familiar discomfort—a warning.

The room they entered was cold and dark, the only light coming from the glow of display monitors. The main attraction sat in the center of the room: a tall glass case filled with soft, white light. Inside, something moved.

Something small.

Something alive.

A spider.

Peter felt every muscle in his body tense. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his heartbeat picked up speed. He didn’t know why, but the spider's presence was too much like the things he’d faced before—creatures born of experiments, things twisted out of nature, just like the monsters in the Underworld. The feeling was all too familiar.

Beside him, MJ made a sharp noise in the back of her throat and took an instinctive step away. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab something to throw. Peter didn’t blame her. He’d seen her face down monsters, sword in hand, but put a spider in front of her, and suddenly, the daughter of Athena was ready to burn the entire building down.

“That’s a big no from me,” she muttered, crossing her arms tightly. “What kind of freak show are they running here?” Peter tore his eyes away from the creature, swallowing down his own unease. “Yeah, uh, not loving this.”

The spider was larger than normal—not freakishly big, but something about it was definitely wrong. Its exoskeleton shimmered strangely under the lights, its legs twitching, almost too fast, too precisely. Peter swore it was staring at him.

MJ, standing as far from the glass as possible, made a face. “If that thing gets out, I’m setting this whole place on fire.”

Peter didn’t doubt it.

The spider was larger than normal—not freakishly big, but something about it was definitely wrong. Its exoskeleton shimmered strangely under the lights, its legs twitching, almost too fast, too precisely. Peter swore it was staring at him.

Dr. Hargrove continued, completely unaware of the growing tension in the room. “This specimen is kept under strict containment protocols, of course. But imagine the possibilities! A world where biological limitations can be rewritten, where—”
CRACK.

The sound was small. Barely noticeable.

Peter’s entire body locked up.

He turned his head just in time to see it. A tiny fracture in the glass.

His stomach dropped. That’s not good, he thought instinctively, the same way he’d sensed danger during a hunt in the woods or when he’d seen the first signs of a monster’s approach. His senses were on high alert, just like when he could feel the earth tremble before a fight with something big.

No one else seemed to notice—not Dr. Hargrove, not the students, not Grover, not even MJ. But Peter felt it.

And then the spider moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before Peter could react, something blurred in the corner of his vision. His instincts roared to life—MOVE—but he was a second too slow.
A sharp sting. A prickling heat spread through his wrist.

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his hand back. His pulse hammered as he looked down—his sleeve covered the spot, but he felt it. The burning, the spreading heat like wildfire beneath his skin.

His fingers curled into a fist, his breathing uneven. Don’t react. Don’t let them see.

“Peter?”

MJ’s voice. He barely processed it.

She hadn’t seen.

No one had.

The spider was back in its case as if it had never moved.

The crack in the glass was gone.

Peter blinked rapidly, his vision swimming. Had I imagined it? No, no, he felt the bite, felt the heat coursing through his veins. Something was happening, something bad—too familiar. This is like when I was infected by the poison of the Hydra...

“Hey, are you even listening?” MJ nudged him, frowning.

Peter forced a strained smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

But his wrist throbbed. His skin tingled. His heart pounded.

He wasn’t fine.

The rest of the tour blurred past him. Dr. Hargrove’s voice faded into the background, his words melting into static. The marvels of Oscorp’s cutting-edge research barely registered. The only thing Peter could focus on was the heat pulsing from his wrist, spreading through his veins like liquid fire.

His instincts screamed—run, fight, something isn’t right—but what was he supposed to do? Freak out in the middle of a school tour? Announce to the class, “Hey, I just got bitten by a genetically engineered nightmare, and now my blood is boiling.”?

Yeah. No.

So he clenched his jaw, forced himself to breathe, and kept moving.

“... and that concludes our tour,” Dr. Hargrove finally said, leading them back to the lobby. He smiled—practiced, professional, completely unaware of the wrongness thrumming through Peter’s body. “Oscorp appreciates your curiosity in our work. We hope to see some of you pursuing careers in the sciences. The future, after all, is shaped by brilliant young minds like yours.”

Peter nearly snorted. Yeah, a future full of genetically modified horrors and flying death drones. Very reassuring.

The class murmured polite thanks, then shuffled toward the exit.

The second they stepped outside, MJ inhaled deeply, like she’d been holding her breath the entire time.

“Okay,” she declared. “That sucked.”

Ned let out a long, exhausted groan. “Finally! We’re out. That place was making my skin crawl.”

Peter turned to him, forcing a laugh. “Dude, you were buzzing a second ago.”

“I was trying to be positive!” Ned shot back, throwing his hands in the air. “Did you see those robot arms? And that drone? That thing was built for hunting people! That’s, like, the opposite of okay!” He tugged at his hoodie, looking around nervously, as if the Oscorp building itself was listening. “Man, I knew this place was bad news! That spider looked wrong, Peter. I swear, it was looking at me, too.”

Peter stiffened.

Ned had felt it, too. He’s not wrong, Peter thought.

“The spider… it was like the monsters we used to fight. And it was watching us—probably because we could sense it.”

MJ, however, just scowled. “You’re both missing the obvious issue, which is that there was a giant genetically enhanced spider in the first place.” She hugged her arms around herself like she was still shaking off the experience, her gaze flicking to the sky as if expecting a monster to fall from it. “This is how horror movies start.”

Ned nodded way too fast. “Yes! Exactly! We are one lab accident away from a zombie outbreak, and you all laughed at me when I said we should have left sooner!”

“Pretty sure you were the one geeking out over the tech.”

“That was nervous enthusiasm, Peter! It’s a coping mechanism!” Ned fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, then lowered his voice like he was afraid of being overheard. “Dude, do you ever get that feeling? Like… when something’s about to go horribly wrong, and every instinct you have is just screaming?” His voice dropped lower as if he was remembering something from their past—something worse than a tour gone wrong.

Peter swallowed. Hard.

His wrist throbbed. His pulse pounded.

“Uh… no?” he lied.

MJ narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re acting weird.”

“What? Pfft. No.” Peter took a step back. “I’m totally fine. Nothing weird here.”

Ned squinted at him. “Uh-huh. You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing. Where you pretend you’re fine, but actually, you’re totally not fine, and you’re either about to pass out or do something stupid.”

Peter tensed. “I—I do not—”

MJ raised a skeptical brow. “Oh yeah? What about the time you insisted you were fine and then collapsed mid-battle with a real monster?”

“Or the time you said you ‘probably didn’t have a concussion’ and then walked into a mailbox?” Ned added.

Peter winced. “That was one time!”

MJ and Ned both crossed their arms in perfect sync.

Peter groaned. “Look, I just need to get home, okay? Mom wants me to pick up groceries.”

Ned frowned. “Why do I feel like that’s a lie?”

MJ tilted her head. “Because it is.”

Peter threw up his hands. “Okay! Fine! I just—I need to go. I’ll see you guys later.”

And before they could question him any further, he turned and bolted.

—

By the time he got home, the burning under his skin had intensified.

Peter barely made it through the front door before stumbling into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. His breathing was too fast, too shallow. His pulse was hammering in his ears, his wrist still throbbing like it had a heartbeat of its own. The pain felt alien—like when he’d been poisoned by a cursed artifact or felt the creeping fire of a monster’s bite. This didn’t feel like a regular injury. It was inside him.

His entire body hurt—but not in a way he understood. It wasn’t like getting punched or scraped up on patrol. It was like that time he’d tried to use the Oracle’s sword—his muscles weren’t just aching; they were changing.

He swayed on his feet. The room felt too big, too loud, too much.

He could hear the tick of the kitchen clock. The hum of the fridge downstairs. The shuffle of footsteps outside. The distant roar of a plane cutting through the sky. The heartbeat of a pigeon on the fire escape.

Peter’s breath hitched.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

The awareness was overwhelming. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms against them as if he could block it all out. But he couldn’t—because he could feel everything. The fabric of his hoodie brushing against his skin, the minuscule shift of air as he moved, the tension coiling in his muscles like a wire pulled too tight—

His knees buckled.

Peter barely managed to catch himself against his bed before collapsing onto it, gripping his wrist, his whole body locked in the sensation of something changing. He was too aware. It felt like the first time he’d fought in the labyrinth, like the pressure of the earth moving under his feet, the shift of time when he’d fought a Titan.

His skin burned in a way that felt familiar—a memory from his years as a demigod, when he'd faced powers that made the world itself tremble. The burning sensation of magic coursing through his veins, pulling him toward the gods’ will, like when he'd first gained the ability to track monsters even in dense fog or the first time his reflexes had been quick enough to stop a monster from reaching his friends. He used to feel this way, during the rush of battle, when everything was heightened and he was more alive than he ever felt in the normal world.

Maybe it was a gift, that feeling of power. Maybe it was a curse.

Peter couldn’t tell anymore.

He had always known there was something else in him—something that wasn’t just human. The demigod blood, the way his senses were sharpened beyond what any normal human could understand, the way he could hear a whisper from a mile away or see in the dark like it was nothing. The way his body could heal quicker than it should, the way he moved without thinking, as if his instincts had been trained by the gods themselves. But even after years of monsters, prophecies, and the constant pull of something otherworldly in his veins, this—this felt different.

It was too much.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, pressing his palms harder against them, trying to block out the pressure. The fire in his veins felt like the burning rage of an Olympian god, like the moment he had stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon, realizing he could feel the crackle of Zeus’s storm brewing in the clouds. He had never been this aware before. Not even when he was facing down Kronos himself.

Maybe it was the spider bite. Maybe it was something worse. But Peter knew, deep down, this wasn’t just a demigod thing. This wasn’t just the aftermath of his years spent training with the gods, or the monsters he’d fought, or even the way his blood had adapted to the pressure of Olympus. This felt… new. Different.

The world shifted around him. It wasn’t just the way his senses flared to life—it was like the very fabric of his reality had changed. He could hear the faintest tremor in the air, the way the sunlight flickered in his window, the faintest hum of the fridge’s motor down the hall. Everything was sharper. More alive. Every flicker of movement felt like it had meaning. Every sound, every motion was charged with purpose.

Peter gasped, his eyes flying open.

The world was clearer. Sharper. Different. The familiar sense of his demigod reflexes kicked in, but it was more. The way he had always been able to sense monsters or hear the distant clash of a battle? Now it was like he could feel every small shift in the world. The hum of the earth beneath his feet, the pulse of the city’s heartbeat, the thrum of the air against his skin.

His fingers curled against the sheets. His breath steadied. The pounding in his skull dimmed into something steady, something new.

The fire in his veins didn’t burn anymore. It thrummed.

Alive.

Peter stared at his trembling hands. He had no idea what had just happened. No idea what that spider had done to him or what it meant.

But he could feel it—something shifting, crawling under his skin, settling into his bones. It was like the power of the gods had infused itself in him again—but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the fire of a battle or the rush of a prophecy. It was something new. Something that might have started as a mistake but was now living inside of him, just like the gods had always done—growing, changing, evolving.

A shiver ran through him.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it would go away.

Maybe, by the time he woke up tomorrow, everything would be normal again.

…He hoped.