#27--May 10, 2019
When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fourteenth birthday, he was bitten by a radioactive spider.
Peter cringes as the door to his cell is thrown open, curling into the corner next to his cot. The very familiar Albert Malik walks in, all high and mighty, and he grins at him. The two guards, the same ones from four years ago, grab him. He pulls against their arms but he doesn't have enough energy to move. His food and water are limited and he can't sleep at night, nightmares about a time he can't remember and a time he does remember.
The men drag him down the hall and into the room that he is very familiar with. It's the only other room that he actually goes to other than the bathroom and his cell. The men pull him into the chair and use the fabric straps to hold him down. He couldn't break them if he wanted to.
Albert walks around the room, gathering the materials to gather Peter's vitals and to set a control factor for when the next spider bites him. Small scars litter Peter's arms and chest and small cuts in various stages of healing. He had shed his shirt long ago when it became a little too tight on him. It sits under his cot in the cell. It's one of the only things from his life before. It's one of the only things that he can remember.
Peter barely flinches as the scalpel slices a cut on his ribs. This is all too familiar for him. He can't help the way his chest jumps in a sharp breath as Albert brings the newest spider over to him. He'll have a spider bite Peter every two weeks. There are many small dots littering Peter's body from where the spider bit him.
Peter's heart picks up pace as the spider crawls out of the tube and onto his arm. This one looks different from the others. It makes Peter wary. The spider crawls over his arm before digging its fangs into Peter's arm, making him jump against his restraints with a grunt. He grimaces at the hot flash in his arm as Albert gathers the now dead spider off of his arm.
None of the spider bites have reacted this way and it makes Peter scared. He thinks that it might work this time.
Albert takes his temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. He nods for the guards to take Peter back to his cell and the boy doesn't struggle against their arms. They end up dropping him in the middle of the cell where he promptly curls into a little ball, exhaustion and aching limbs making him hate the thought of moving. Slowly, Peter crawls over to his cot and pulls the ratty blanket down to him, too weak to pull himself onto the cot.
Shivering on the floor, Peter feels his eyes pull close.
He groans as the door to his cells slams open, his ears pounding at the sharp clang. It sounds louder than normal. The thunks of the two guards are his only warning before they wrench him up and drag him into the lab room. He's strapped to the table and his head lolls to the side as Albert walks towards him.
The man checks on his ribs where the cut was and Peter sees the man's expression harden in disappointment. Albert checks Peter's temperature and frowns at the results. "You're burning up..." he murmurs before checking Peter's heart rate, "and your heart's beating faster than normal."
Peter just lays there, his eyes still closed from the bright light. He swallows down his nausea as the man continues to run tests. He barely even feels it when the man begins to take his blood. "Interesting..." Albert mutters, no doubt checking Peter's blood through a microscope. What's interesting? Peter vaguely wonders.
"Take him back to his cell," Albert instructs. Peter whines as the men remove the straps and wrench him off the table, his head pounding as he lays slack in their arms. The men dump him on the ground but this time Peter doesn't have the energy to move. He does, however, heave up the nutrients that were pumped into him that morning. He lazily wipes his mouth and rolls to the side, curling into a ball and shivering.
He falls asleep with his body burning and body shivering.
Peter doesn't recall being dragged out of his cell when he awakes. And now that he thinks about it, how many times has he been dragged into this room? His eyes are still burning and his head and ears are hurting but he's no longer shivering or feeling like he's burning alive.
"Ah, Peter," Albert says, coming into view. The head of the table is propped up and Peter can now see the man without having to lift his head. "Are you with us?" Peter frowns in confusion. What does he mean...? "Well, you see, you've been in and out of unconsciousness for the past week but it appears that the worst of your sickness has gone," the man says as if he heard Peter's question. I said that aloud, didn't I?
"What's wrong with me?" Peter murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut as the bright lights become too much. To his surprise, Albert flicks half of the lights off.
"You've mutated," Albert states simply. "Apparently the muscle aches and the sensitivity and the sickness that's happened in the past week was your body dealing with the mutation. You've formed muscles, you no longer need glasses, and it seems that you have exceptional hearing, Peter." Peter frowns at the man but realizes that he is right. He can hear the dripping of water from the bathroom down the hall and he can see the man perfectly even though he's standing a few feet away.
"Congratulation, Pete," Albert says. "The spider worked."