Nathan pushed the door open and stepped into the house. The silence inside felt heavier than usual. No TV playing in the background. No dishes clinking in the sink. No arguing over phone calls or sudden slamming of briefcases.
Just quiet.
Then he saw the note on the dining table.
Scrawled hastily in blue ink, the handwriting was unmistakably his mom's and it was precise, like her court statements. The paper fluttered slightly from the breeze of the door swinging shut behind him.
"We both are going out of town. Be back next week. Here's money for food. Love, Mom and Dad."
Next week?
Nathan blinked. "You're kidding me," he muttered.
He looked down at the envelope taped beside the note. It was stuffed thick with cash. He counted.
$5,000.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
He picked it up slowly, thumbing through the bills. As if the weight of the money only added to the ache in his chest. Five grand. To survive a week. As if food delivery and quiet abandonment were parental love languages.
Nathan shoved the cash into his wallet, then tossed his bag onto the couch.
A wave of heat washed over him and it was sudden and intense. His stomach churned like he was on a ship caught in a storm.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the couch, sweat already gathering at his temples.
"God… I feel like shit."
He barely managed to pull his hoodie off before the room spun. Muscles clenched, then trembled. His vision blurred.
His last conscious thought before slipping into darkness was, Am I dying?
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Nathan's eyes flew open.
6:30 A.M.
The alarm blared like a drill sergeant screaming in his ear. He sat up fast and immediately noticed something felt… off.
The heat was gone. His head was clear. Too clear.
He stood, and the creak of the wooden floor under his feet sounded sharper. Cleaner. Like his senses had been dialed up.
He yawned, stretched and froze.
His arms. His chest. His legs.
They weren't his.
He was already in great shape Track team, weekend workouts, push-ups before bed. But this? This was different.
"Okay… that's new."
He flexed.
Hard muscle rippled under his skin like he'd been sculpted overnight. He looked like one of those guys in superhero movies who did 800 pushups between takes and only ate steamed chicken.
Still in disbelief, he stumbled into the bathroom.
The reflection staring back at him didn't make sense. Sharper jawline. Broader shoulders. Lean, defined muscle where there had once been tone.
"This is insane."
He turned, checking for any weird skin rashes or… spider legs growing out of his back.
Then he walked to his bedroom door, reaching for the knob and his hand got stuck.
Like glued.
"What the fuck?"
He yanked his hand back and ripped the top half of the door clean off its hinges.
Splinters flew. Nathan stumbled back, staring at the wooden chunk still attached to his hand. He shook it off and watched it clatter to the floor.
He looked down at his hands. "What is going on?"
A beep.
He glanced at the clock. 7:05. The bus would be there any second.
"No time for answers. Just… don't destroy anything else."
He grabbed his backpack, now feeling like it weighed nothing, and dashed out the door.
The morning air was crisp. Nathan's heart pounded, not from exertion but adrenaline. Something inside him had changed, and it wasn't just his appearance.
As he crossed the school lawn, a sudden sharp tingle raced through his head. A weird, electric sixth sense buzzed in his brain.
He ducked instinctively—
WHOOOSH!
A football sailed over his head and slammed into the brick wall behind him with a loud THUD.
He turned, already knowing who it was.
Flash Thompson grinned like a jackass quarterback from a teen movie.
"Hey, Nate! My bad. My aim was off!"
Nathan raised an eyebrow and shot back, "With your brain power, I don't even know how you passed middle school."
Flash's smile faded.
"What'd you say?"
Nathan smirked.
Flash's scowl deepened. "You're dead, Drake."
He took off running, barreling forward like a freight train.
Nathan panicked and bolted but this time, something was different.
He was fast.
No, more than that he was a blur.
His feet barely touched the ground as he flew down the hallway, weaving between confused students. Lockers zipped past in flashes of color. He turned a corner and spotted a janitor's closet and ripped the door open and ducked inside.
His chest heaved, but he wasn't tired. Not even close.
"What the hell is happening to me…?"
He waited.
The bell rang.
Footsteps pounded down the hall and faded.
Nathan cracked the door open, checked for Flash, then slipped out. A familiar mop of brown hair appeared just ahead.
"Peter!"
He grabbed Peter Parker by the backpack and yanked him into the closet.
"Jesus dude! What are you….?!"
"Something's wrong with me," Nathan said, eyes wide. "And you're the smartest person I know."
Peter blinked. "If this is about the hair thing again, I swear to god, Nate "
"It's not about my balls!"
Peter smirked. "I mean, I told you it was puberty"
"I was twelve!"
Peter grinned wider. "And yet it's still funny every time."
Nathan shoved his face into his hands. "I hate you."
"No, you don't. Now tell me what's going on."
They stepped out of the closet and began walking down the hallway. Nathan explained everything the weird fever, the muscles, the door, the freaky hand-stick, and the football dodge.
Peter's expression grew more serious with every word.
Then Nathan added, "I pulled my door in half, Pete."
Peter stopped walking. "Did anything weird happen yesterday?"
Nathan blinked.
Then the memory hit him like a train.
"The spider," he said. "At Stark Industries. It bit me."
Peter stared at him.
Then smacked him in the back of the head.
"OW! What the hell?"
"That's for being a dumbass."
"Why are you always hitting me?!"
Peter crossed his arms. "Maybe because it's the only way to restart your brain."
Nathan rubbed the back of his head. "So what? Am I dying?"
Peter looked thoughtful. "No… I don't think so. But we need to test something. Come on."
They ducked out of the school and made their way down a nearby alley. The walls were old brick, about three stories high.
Peter crossed his arms. "Alright. Impress me."
Nathan looked up.
Took a deep breath.
Then pressed his hand to the wall.
It stuck.
One hand. Then the other.
He climbed. Slowly at first, then with increasing confidence. He reached the top, flipped upside down, and scrambled across like a spider. He looked back at Peter then leaped.
A perfect backflip.
He landed in a three-point crouch on the ground knees bent, fingers splayed against the pavement.
He looked up at Peter.
"Holy shit," Nathan said, breathless. "That was fucking awesome!"
Peter's jaw had dropped. He was frozen, blinking slowly.
Nathan stood, arms spread. "Come on, tell me that wasn't the coolest thing you've ever seen."
Peter finally exhaled. "Okay… yeah. That was badass."
Nathan grinned. "So… what now?"
Peter scratched his head. "Now? We test limits. See what else you can do. Speed, strength, wall-crawling, reflexes. But first… we need to find out what kind of spider bit you."
"Why?"
"Because if it was from Stark Industries, it wasn't normal. That thing was engineered."
Nathan whistled. "You think I'm gonna turn into a freak?"
Peter chuckled. "Let's just hope you don't turn into a human tarantula or something."
Nathan laughed nervously. "Yeah… let's hope."
But deep inside, past the fear and the shock, a spark had ignited in his chest.
Something bigger than him.
Something incredible.