[Oscorp- New York Upstate]
Oscorp tower stood to be the highest peak amidst a sea of bland concrete spires. Every local and crazy knew what Oscorp Robotics was, and everyone knew the king behind the throne, Norman Osborn. He was a man of great intellect and pride. no one would ever get a chance to undermine him, nor would they hear an apology uttered from his lips. Many saw him as one of the most successful Black men to achieve such status in a time when many aspects of society weren't kind to the African-American community. To many, Oscorp was a promise that no matter what pit you may find yourself in, there will always be a brighter future to be obtained with a strong will.
Within one of the advanced genetics labs stood two men covering over a small green capsule, one which contained multiple brown arachnids. The lights were dimmed low inside, and the eerieness was illuminated by countless cold, calculating machines scattered around the concave box. Norman stood next to the capsule, donning a sleek gray tuxedo that glimmered with the green light shining around him.
With dark beige skin and wavy hair, he broke normal hairstyles for his age group, as it reminded him that his late thirties weren't far from youth just yet. He leaned forward and carefully cupped one of the spiders onto his palm, ever so steady as to not agitate the confused creature.
"Mr. Osborn?" Questioned his assistant, who cautiously observed his employer handle the spider with such care.
"Do you fancy Greek mythology, Henry?" Asked Norman, with eyes fixated on the thousands of brown hairs sticking up the creature. Emerald irises glued onto the Spider's black eyes as if he could peer into the very soul of it.
"I can't say that I do."
"There's a myth about a woman named Arachne. My pops used to read it to me most nights. The story goes like this-- there was this woman, just a mere mortal, like you. She was known as the unrivaled spinstress. The once unrivaled goddess Athena, well, she didn't take that kindly. One day, she walks onto Earth and challenges Arachne to a weaving contest, and when Arachne wins, Athena takes her rage out on the land. When the meadows were scorched and the seas dried out, Arachne cursed the God and hung herself. Athena took pity on the girl, touched her on the forehead with a magic liquid, and said: "You shall not die, Arachne. Instead, you shall be transformed and weave your web forever." Arachne shrank and blackened, and from that day onward, Arachne was forced to spin a web."
"Uh, Mr. Osborn?" Henry interjected, holding a buzzing phone in his hand. "Harry said he needs to be picked up earlier today."
Norman simply grunted before gently placing the Spider back inside the capsule, departing without uttering another word. Henry stayed behind to move the hive of arachnids back into their exhibition center, as they needed to be properly prepared for the upcoming field trip.
[BROOKYLN]
Fall breeze and sunshine protected the residents from the threat of winter, although many looked forward to the festive season. This small town was small and thus allowed for easy connections. Everyone knew everyone, and somebody hated somebody. September was usually the hottest of the fading summer days. Sun glistened and beamed down on the small island without remorse for days on end, only reassuring that the striking cold would soon strike.
On this particular day, many schools had let out earlier due to recent protests and strikes against entertainment industries, which many students simply viewed as a means to escape fear-inducing tests and overbearing teachers. While many students went off to join impromptu house parties or join in on shopping sprees, one boy chose to use this time more wisely than others.
A young boy with golden brown skin dressed in a black and white hoodie and black jeans. Large headphones were almost completely concealed by a noirette bundle of curls. Melodies of synchronized vibrations loudly danced into his ears, which didn't bother him at this point. It would probably end up detrimental in later years, but he was young, so it didn't cross his mind just yet.
Zion Zamor was just sixteen years old and attended Brooklyn Academy, but he couldn't argue that he found any enjoyment through much of it. In his hands, he held a large book containing multiple arguments that fought to coherently disprove harmful theories relating to science and race. As his eyes widely skimmed the inky printed paragraphs, the young man failed to notice an incoming object being flung toward him. He was snapped out of the heavy voice from his headphones, as they were struggling to produce any noise from water damage.
He frantically looked around, only to find a fancy yellow Volkswagen beetle standing on the street parral to him. Inside were four students donning lettermen jackets and holding water balloons in their grasps.
"HA! Looks like I got ten points!" Exclaimed a teenager in the back seat behind the passenger. Zion sighed as he removed his headphones and placed them in his satchel, staring at two with a glare. They caught onto this and began to mock him with frowns and baby noises, very childish but vexing after what happened. This was Kenny Kong, Brooklyn High's biggest and bulkiest quarterback on the team, alongside equal partner in tormenting Zion and best friend to Flash Thompson.
Flash Thompson sat in the passenger seat, holding onto an even larger balloon aimed directly at Zion's head. He was undoubtedly the "popular" kid within the school. He was handsome, strong, charismatic, and the face of the football team. Everyone loved him. Flash and Zion never got along, as the latter's public status as an "outcast" meant their interactions were anything but pleasant, at least for Zion.
Before he could toss the ballon, an older man stepped in front of the drenched kid, shielding him from any more potential wet attacks. Upon spotting an elderly man standing above him, recognition and humility instantly set in.
"Uncle Imari?" Zion procured with disbelief. He quickly got up despite the dampness working to polish the floor beneath his boots enough to cause a struggle.
His uncle, a man of slender and lengthy stature, didn't shake. His aged body knew of greater physical trauma in his past but his demeanor only showed fragility. With a smile, he winked at his nephew just before spinning around to face the culprits.
"I have half a mind to come over there and slash them damn tires." Imari blurted with wrinkly arms thrown up in the air. His methods of intimidation were promptly mocked with snickers and chuckles. The group decided to just leave with fumes and smog spewing from the worn-down car. As they sped off down the block, Imari dusted himself off and helped Zion off the ground.
"What are you doing here?" Zion quizzed, shaking off water droplets like a wet dog.
"Well, I was heading out to pick up some groceries." He solemnly hummed. This was a common activity he did to get fresh air and avoid spending money on gas. "Come on, boy, let's get you dried up."
Zion angrily shoved his broken headphones into his backpack and followed his uncle. The walk back was silent and bitter, with Zion finding a way to stay calm by crossing his arms and periodically sighing out loud. They passed through the suburbs that were brightly decorated with expressive murals and floral designs that spread out from building to building. As they walked home, dozens of friends and neighbors stopped to chat with them, which was another common occurrence for them.
Imari unlocked the door and pushed it open to trigger the squeaky hinges, thus alerting an elderly woman of their presence. Mei Reilly, the wife of Imari, perked her head up and gently set down her poetry book on the couch. With a growing grin and tinges of silver-dyed hair that bounced as she stood up to greet her family. Mei immigrated to the U.S. in the mid-nineties, when she spent her time paying for college by working at a local bodega, the very same she happened to meet Imari. She spent her days writing poems for the local paper, which didn't pay much, but it helped cover bills when necessary.
"There you are," She greeted before her eyes locked on the moping and soaking-wet nephew standing right beside him. "And Zion? I thought school didn't get out until 3?"
"That's what I said," Imari responded, making his way down the stairs to the basement. As he did so, Mei smothered her nephew with a tight hug, despite the dampness transferring onto her clothing as well.
"Water fight? Or Flash?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Zion silently replied by raising two fingers. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you want me to call the school?"
"NO NO NO NO!" Zion frantically waved with a sudden shout, scaring both Mei and himself in the process. There was nothing worse than a parental figure going to school to confront your bully. If things weren't hard or embarrassing enough, then this would surely make it worse. "Trust me, Aunt Mei, I'm good..."
"Well, at least let me start driving you home if you're going to start drenching our carpets from now on." Mei snickered, pointing at the wet puddle amassing beneath Zion. Sheepishly, he ran off the carpet and promised to grab some towels from the basement. He quickly ran down the steps and grabbed a loose towel from the dryer machine. Before he could leave, he heard Imari clear his throat, which was his form of asking for attention. Zion turned back and met the gaze of his uncle, who sat next to an old car engine he tried to repair from time to time.
"Dad didn't leave you much instructions, did he?" Zion queried, now moving to examine his uncle's fiddling with loose nuts and bolts.
"No, he did not," Imari replied, screwing a small bolt into the oil filter. Imari and Zion's father were given an old Saab 900 by their father when they were teenagers, under the condition that they fixed it by themselves. Unfortunately, the two brothers were never able to find the time to finish it after graduating high school. Three years after Zion was born, his parents tragically passed away in a plane crash meant to take them to a research expo in another state, leaving a young Zion to grow up with his aunt and uncle.
"So, let's talk about it." Imari started. Zion muffled his exasperated sigh behind the towel and sat down on the workbench. "You need to start standing up for yourself." Imari chastised.
Zion agreed with a defeated nod, but deep down, he knew full well there wasn't anything he could do. Flash was the most consistent problem in his life, and no matter how many times they faced each other, Zion could never find the answer. Equations could run through his head and eventually find the conclusion to start anew, yet Flash Thompson never seemed satisfied with his results.
"I know," Zion sighed, leaning his back against the prickly wall. "I'm not like the other kids--football kids - I'm actually working for a future. I'm sharpening my mind, not flashy muscles that'll fade away in a couple of years."
With that retort, Imari raised an eyebrow and turned around to face his nephew. It was growing more and more clear that social isolation and mild bullying were giving way for Zion to develop some sort of superiority complex. He was smart and gifted, and everyone knew that even him, but this recognition made him arrogant.
"Hey--Flash might not have the most noticeable intellect anyone can see that. But he has a heart. He doesn't give up easily, and he also doesn't let his opponents see him fall." Imari began, now taking a seat next to Zion on the workbench. The uncle gently placed a mini towel on Zion's lap, which was meant for him to dry his own hair. "I'm not defending the kid. Lord knows he's given my boy a hard time, I'm just saying you need to start showing these kids that you're not a pushover."
"I can't fight these kids, I'll get demolished!" Zion bleated, raising his arm to flex non-existent muscles to prove his saddening point.
Imari shook his head and patted Zion's shoulders. "No, no, I'm not raising a boy to start trouble. You got to know how to defend yourself. Until they learn that Zion Zamor ain't some little punk to mess with, they're never gonna leave you alone." Imari then tapped his finger against Zion's forehead. "You got the brains neph, now you need to brawn to carry all that."
Zion reluctantly nodded since he developed a distaste for bodybuilding due to his unapologetic classification as meek and scrawny for so many years. However, even he knew that some changes needed to be made if they wanted an easier time in high school.
"I'm not trying to put you down, Zion." Imari continued. "I want to see you thrive to go out there and make something with the life you've been given. We don't want to see you end up like us. No one should have to struggle as folks like us do... your father would kill me if he saw that I didn't raise you to be the man you deserve to be."
With simple words hitting Zion where he needed to hear them, he began to forget about the aches of his life. Even with the world fighting against him, Zion knew he could always find comfort within the security of his family. With arms that coiled around Imari's arms and back, Zion squeezed with the little muscle he had.
"Thank you," Zion sniffled, unsure if his emotions were acting up or if the wet hair finally started to affect him.
[Osborn Residence]
Within an ivory tower built more than comfortably, three individuals were situated around a glossy white dining table surrounded by priceless and expensive decorative interiors. Norman Osborn, alongside his wife, Emily Osborn, and his son Harry Osborn quietly ate their dinner together. With such a long table, the three were decently spread apart from each other, forcing their volume to elevate for even the simplest of conversations. Norman ate his meal while reading countless work emails, seemingly oblivious to his present family.
Harry, being ashamed of needing to head home early due to the strikes, stirred his fork within his branzeno without daring to look up at his father. Everyone knew Norman's work was highly important, and even the slightest distraction could set him back by days.
"So Harry, how was school today? did you learn anything interesting?" Emily asked, breaking the silence with a caring tone. Unlike her husband, she wasn't as cold to her only child. It was only that she had less control over how he was raised. Norman was a man of traditional values and took it upon himself to shape Harry to be the model of a man he deemed acceptable.
"Good, I guess." Harry slouched, still picking at his food with disinterest. "We started learning about human cell division, but it's all confusing."
"Well, that's alright you'll--"
"I bet Zion doesn't struggle with Biology," Norman interjected, still scrolling through emails. It was no secret that Norman had an unspoken favoritism toward his son's best friend. Zion was much more attentive in school and always scored the highest, whereas Harry seemed to fall behind no matter what he tried to study.
"R-Right..." Emily started, trying to quickly figure out how to best redirect that into a more positive message. "Maybe try asking him for help tutoring again. You could invite him over after school this week."
"Help. Ha." Norman scoffed, shutting his computer and standing up from the table. "You're never going to amount to anything if you keep relying on others to raise you up with them. I didn't raise a boy who struggles to play catch up, I'm raising a man. Act like one."
With that, Norman stepped away without getting more than a few bits of his food. It wasn't unusual for him to abruptly leave family dinners since Oscorp business could happen at any moment. Harry could only sigh once more as slight resentment began to bubble within his mind, with both Norman and Zion setting the center stage of his emotions.
[The Next Day]
"Uncle Imari, you really didn't need to drive me, I don't think Flash would wake up that early to hit me with water balloons." Zion chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt as the car came to a stop in front of his school. Today was the class field trip that he had been looking forward to for months, which was something his aunt and uncle had to hear every hour of every day. The two took Mei's vintage red Volkswagen Beetle, which was the only working car they owned.
"Nah nah nah, I can't have my nephew getting clowned on his favorite day." To that, Zion nodded in agreement. As Zion went to open the door, Imari cleared his throat to get his attention. "Remember what we talked about? Don't be a pushover. Don't go acting a fool and starting trouble, but stand your ground."
"I will, thanks." Zion beamed before shutting the door and fastening his backpack over his shoulders. He took a deep breath as he made his way toward the front entrance of the school, still feeling equally excited and terrified to walk in each day. Midtown High was a school built with a million bricks and dreams, now, whether those dreams made their way was up for debate. Hundreds of students ranged from stereotypical nerds to stereotypical bullets attended, and Zion was drafted into the former of the two.
"There he is!"
Zion heard the familiar voice of his friend Cindy Moon calling out from behind him. She was the third member of the "Geek Squad," a bland and uncreative title the friend was given. Cindy was a transfer student from another local school and happened to meet the former duo when she spotted them sitting alone near the trashcans of the cafeteria, and from there, they all stuck together every day.
"Hey," Zion greeted, pausing in place to allow her to catch up.
"Not wearing your headphones?" Cindy questioned since seeing him without oversized headphones was quite a rare occurrence. "What happened this time?"
"Water Balloons." Zion sighed, shivering at the loss of his favorite accessory.
After a few minutes of waiting, Zion and Cindy, alongside their other classmates, boarded the school bus to head to their destination, Oscorp Industries. As the school bus trod down the street, Zion nervously tapped his thumb against a clenched palm. His mind was splintered into multiple thoughts of excitement, leaving him unfocused on his surroundings and the present moment.
"Man, he's really excited, isn't he?" Harry asked out loud, seated in between the two. He decided to take the bus today due to his father not having the time or care to take him into the office with him.
"Yup, wouldn't be Zion without the
Guided by the Oscorp staff, the group of students ventured into the heart of the research facility. The tour wound through corridors lined with displays showcasing groundbreaking experiments and technological advancements. Zion found himself drawn to the section dedicated to genetic manipulation, where he witnessed scientists meticulously conducting experiments on various specimens.
As he navigated through the corridors, adorned with displays showcasing cutting-edge innovations, Zion's curiosity was piqued. His gaze fixated on the glass enclosures housing various experiments, the hum of machinery, and the faint scent of chemicals lingering in the air. Oscorp was a world unto itself, a place where boundaries were pushed, and the limits of human potential were explored.
The centerpiece of the lab was a series of glass enclosures housing an array of spiders. His gaze fixated on the arachnids, each one a marvel of nature's design. Oscorp's efforts in genetic enhancement were on full display, showcasing spiders that seemed unlike any he had seen before-radiant in their colors, poised with an almost ethereal grace. Within the sterile confines of the lab, a group of scientists conducted experiments, focusing on genetic enhancements and splicing. Among the myriad experiments, one enclosure captured Zion's attention-an array of spiders contained within a controlled environment.
"Eugh, spiders..." Zion shivered, taking one step back from the enclosure. Growing up, he always had a consistent fear of spiders, as during summer, they'd always manage to crawl into his room to escape the heat.
"Don't wet yourself, Zion." Flash snickered upon noticing the change in expression on Zion's face. He was, unfortunately, all too aware of how much Zion feared the eight-legged creatures.
"Here we have the 13 spiders living within an enclosed containment environment that simulates the Amazon rainforest." The tour guide explained, leading the group past a large glass enclosure with thousands of artificially constructed greenery for the spiders to comfortably live in. The class examined the exhibit with interest. However, one keen-eyed student managed to find something missing.
"Uh, there's only 12," Cindy spoke up, recounting by quickly gliding her index finger through the air to pinpoint each different colored spider. Upon confirming the exact number of spiders, she looked up at the tour guide, awaiting an answer.
"Hmmp, then one of the other genetic engineers must've taken it out for a project." Replied the tour guide, clearly dismissing the situation. She began to continue her lecture, but by now, most of the students had tuned out and began talking to each other. The trio exchanged looks that displayed their confusion at her lack of care, but they dismissed those thoughts within seconds.
"So Harry, you've got the inside scoop. What's your dad doing with these spiders?" Cindy questioned, hoping to get real answers that weren't censored for public ears.
Harry scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, which Zion had already expected to see. "Like he'd even tell anything. I only overheard his phone call about using them to extract genetic codes to make some sort of performance enhancers."
As Harry racked his brain to remember what the exact uses of the spiders were, something above them began to move unbeknownst to everyone below. A purple and green arachnid traveled the ceiling with intricate movements, moving in the direction of an oblivious teenager right beneath it. Zion continued to conversate with his friends as the spider steadily descended downward by utilizing a shimmering white rope of silk.
The creature was inexplicably drawn to Zion for an unknown reason. Despite the fear it held toward the larger world around, all of its eyes could only stare at him. Once it was close enough, the spider severed the web from its legs and jumped onto his back, and was luckily unnoticed. It crawled down to his wrist, and only for a tickle of its legs moving on his skin was when Zion was alerted of its presence.
The eyes of Zion and the spider locked for a second before the mutated spider snapped its fangs into his veins. To Zion, it was only a slight prick, almost inconsequential, and it went unnoticed amidst the wonder of the fear of the spider. Unaware of the profound change that had just occurred within him, Zion skittishly swatted the spider off his hand, but he made sure not to let anyone notice him.
Initially startled, Zion withdrew his hand, a tingling sensation lingering at the point of contact. Unbeknownst to him, a metamorphosis had been set in motion. Due to the force of his hand and the injection of venom from its fangs, the spider lost its tether to life, dying on the floor as a consequence of pursuing freedom.
"Oh no..." Zion whispered to himself, now realizing that the spider must've been the missing one. Quickly, he scooped up the lifeless body with his hands and dropped it in an open pocket of the plastic case, only taking a sigh of relief when he caught up with the moving group. The tour continued, but an odd sensation began to surge within Zion.
He suddenly felt light-headed and weak in his limbs. He managed to keep his composure all the way until the end of the tour. During the bus ride, here fastened his static-riddled headphones over his ears and tried to fight what he believed was a sudden flu.
Once he arrived back at school, he went to the computer lab to try and finish one of his reports. However, as the day progressed, the fever began to grow more unbearable to deal with. An itchy red rash developed over his wrist that was only soothed by an ice pack tied to his wrist.
With the drowsiness taking over, Zion groggily made his way over to the computer lounge, which was only accessible for comp-sci students. He grabbed an old towel from the gym lockers and laid on the dusty floor, completely carefree from the grime and dirt staining his clothes. Zion quickly fell asleep right then and there, with his body uncomfortably reacting to the powerful changes surging throughout his body.
[Next Chapter: Uncanny Teenager]