Harry does not look good. By lunchtime, he looks like he's barely holding himself together. He's sweating. His skin is pale and clammy. The usual confident Osborn grin—the one that says he knows exactly what he's doing—is completely gone. Instead, he's sitting there with a tight expression, pushing food around his tray without actually eating anything.
I sit across from him, trying very hard not to stare. Specifically, trying not to stare at the angry red bite mark on his shoulder. Because that would be rude. Also because staring at it reminds me that I might have just watched the birth of another superhero. Or another disaster.
With Marvel, those two options are usually the same thing. "You alright, man?" I ask carefully. Harry looks up. For a second, I see something in his eyes. Fear. Not normal fear. The kind that comes from feeling something inside yourself changing. "Yeah," he mutters.
His voice lacks its usual confidence. "Just... tired." I almost laugh. Almost. Because that is the biggest lie I've heard all day. And considering I live in a universe where aliens, gods, and walking explosions exist, that says something.
Liar.
He looks like he got run over by the same damn truck that killed me. And unfortunately... I know exactly what that feels like. Peter keeps looking over at Harry. He tries to hide it. He fails. Peter Parker has never been good at pretending he doesn't care. He's worried. Really worried. But he doesn't know what to say.
Honestly? I don't blame him. What exactly are you supposed to tell someone who just got bitten by a mysterious Oscorp spider? "Hey, buddy. Good news, you might become a superhero. Bad news, you might also become a science experiment gone wrong." Not exactly comforting.
Nearby, Gwen leans closer to Miles and whispers something. I can't hear the words, but I can tell what they're doing. They're watching Harry. Everyone is. Trying to figure out what happens next. Because we all know something is happening. The problem?
Nobody knows what. And that is terrifying. Because in this universe, "something is happening" usually means: A villain appears, a city gets destroyed. Or someone discovers a new power and accidentally creates a bigger problem. Sometimes all three happen at once.
Unfortunately, my hoodie pocket chooses that exact moment to move. Then it moves again. Then again. I slowly freeze. Because there isn't just one spider inside. There are five. The five escaped Oscorp spiders. Five tiny radioactive nightmares currently sharing a pocket with my phone and my dignity.
The fabric shifts as they crawl over one another, occasionally scratching against the inside of the hoodie. Somehow, they aren't trying to escape. They're just... existing, waiting. I have absolutely no idea why they're staying put. And frankly, I don't want to know.
I slowly glance down. "Don't even start," I mutter beneath my breath. One of them scratches against the fabric. Another follows a second later. It almost feels... intentional. Like they're laughing at me. Fantastic. Apparently my second life has turned me into the world's most unwilling spider babysitter.
I force myself to look away from my hoodie. Because Harry Osborn with spider powers? That isn't something I remember. Not from the comics. Not from the cartoons. Not from the movies. Harry has been a lot of things.
The Green Goblin.
The Goblin.
The Hobgoblin.
Sometimes a hero. Usually a victim. Occasionally both. But Spider-Man? No. That isn't supposed to happen. Which means one thing. The timeline has already gone off the rails. And we've barely started.
I look around the cafeteria. Peter, Miles, Gwen, Cindy, Harry, Lyn, The MJ's and Anya. Nine spider bites from five escaped spiders now sitting quietly in my hoodie. Coincidence? Yeah... No. Marvel doesn't do coincidences. Marvel does catastrophic chains of events disguised as coincidences.
I sigh. My lunch suddenly doesn't seem very appetizing anymore.
Freeze frame. Cue narrator voice.
Alright.
Let's check today's scoreboard. Peter Parker?
Bitten.
Miles Morales?
Bitten.
Gwen Stacy?
Bitten.
Cindy Moon?
Bitten.
Lyn Stacy?
Bitten.
Anya Corazon?
Bitten
Harry Osborn?
Also bitten.
Congratulations! Oscorp has successfully handed out enough spider bites to start its own superhero support group. Meanwhile...
Jake is walking around with the five escaped Oscorp spiders tucked safely inside his hoodie like they're collectible Pokémon. Except instead of adorable little monsters that evolve into dragons... These evolve people. Usually through excruciating pain, existential crises, and enough emotional trauma to keep several therapists employed for decades. Someone get this guy a Poké Ball.
Actually...
Forget the Poké Ball. Get him a biohazard container. Because right now Jake isn't carrying pets. He's carrying five tiny, genetically engineered disasters waiting for the universe to decide whose life they're going to ruin next. And knowing Marvel? The answer is probably...
Everyone's.