Date: Friday, September 10, 2010.

  Location: Oscorp, Manhattan, New York

  Midtown High's students spilled from the school buses and gathered in front of Oscorp's t skyscraper. The tide of students parted around Tyson's rge frame. Peter stood in front of him, safe in his wake from being dragged along with the crowd. Both of them ed their necks to take in the building that stretched ambitiously toward the sky.

  "It's bigger than I thought, the pictures don't do it justice," Peter ented, his voice barely audible over the cmor of the gathered students and the distant, ever-present hum of the city.

  "That's what she said," Tyson mumbled, amused.

  It was then that a luxury car pulled up to the curb. The doors opened, and out stepped Harry Osborn, looking as privileged as his name suggested, followed by his father, Norman Osborn. The senior Osborn was a figure straight out of the magazines; fident, imposing, and with an aura that atention.

  "Peter Parker," he decred more than asked, extending his hand in a firm handshake. The familiarity took Peter slightly aback. He'd met Norman Osborne previously, as he and Harry had been friends for years, but Peter hadn't seen Norman since middle school. He had not expected the magnize him, let alone remember his name.

  "Yes, sir," Peter responded, a bit flustered but managing to grip the offered hand.

  "Harry tells me you're quite the sce whiz. You know, I'm something of a stist myself," Norman remarked with a hint of pride in his voice, his smile broadeni not fully reag his eyes.

  "I read all your nanoteology research. It's brilliant," Peter admired, his respect for the man's work evident in his tohe nervousness he initially felt began to ebb away in the face of his stific passion.

  "And you uood it?" Norman teased lightly, a chuckle esg his lips. "Like father, like son." Norman's gaze then slid over to Tyson, taking in his stature with a businessman's assessing eye. "And you are?"

  "Tyson, sir," he replied, a gloved hand that Norman shook firmly.

  "A strong grip," Norman observed. The CEO's eyes momentarily flicked down to their handshake. He remarked, "You might be the biggest high school kid I've ever seen."

  Tyson chuckled, uurbed by the frank assessment. "Yeah, maybe I should put it to use, maybe py Football et a job as a bouncer," he joked.

  Norman's lips twitched into a smile, "Tell you what, I'll have someone from Security find you before your field trip is over. If we have b interns at Oscorp, there's no reason we 't have Security interns."

  "Really?" Tyson was surprised by the ued offer.

  "Absolutely," Norman firmed, "Wele to Oscorp. Enjoy your tour."

  As Norman moved away to address some waiting executives, Harry, Peter, and Tyson joihe throng of students as they began to move toward the entrance, funneled along by their teachers and Oscorp staff.

  As they crossed the threshold into the building, Tyson couldn't help but smile at what was ing... Assuming his memories of this field trip held. As the doors of Oscorp closed behind them, sealing them off from the rest of New York, Tyson was ready for the show.

  The students of Midtown High crowded into the lobby of Oscorp. They were all whispers and wide eyes as they took iower. However, the buzzing halted when a young woman stepped forward. a crisp white b coat that trasted with her ly tied-back blonde hair, Gwen Stacy greeted them. “Wele to Oscorp,” Gwen’s voice cut through the murmurs, anding attention. The badge on her arked her not as a student, but a b intern. “I'm Gwen Stacy, the head intern here, and I'll be guiding you through today's tour.”

  Tyson nudged Peter lightly, “That’s my chemistry b partner.”

  Peter just smiled. Uyson, he'd been at Midtown long enough to know of Gwen's intelligence. But seeing her outside of school, with a position at a leading teology pany, elevated his respect for her to another level.

  The group's first stop ce that brimmed with the kind of advanced sce you only read about ibooks or saw in sci-fi films. The room was a colle of high-tech equipment, from robotic arms handling DNA samples to puter ss dispying plex geic data.

  “Oscorp’s leading the world in cross-species geics,” Gwen said with enthusiasm in her voice, “Pi studies into bining the DNA of different anisms.”

  The tour took them through various exhibits aments, eaew area unveiling another yer of Oscorp’s tribution to sce. They saw advanced robotics, renewable energies, and more. As the tour tinued, Peter’s anticipation built; they were heading to the boratory of the renowned Dr. Curt ors, one of the lead stists at Oscorp. He practically buzzed with excitement. The students huddled into the department heralded by a crisp sign.

  Department of Geics, Bioengineering, and Cellur Studies.

  Gwen's voice broke through the mounting whispers. "Everyohis is Dr. Curt ors, Director of GBCS. He's one of the brightest minds here at Oscorp and a pioneer in his field."

  Dr. ors, a tall man with a kind fad wearing a b coat over his one-armed frame, greeted them with a warm, albeit tired smile. "Wele, everyone. I'm excited to share with you a fra of the work we do here." The group settled into a semi-circle around him. “Our department,” Dr. ors began, sweeping his hand in a half-circle, a clear gesture enpassing the realm of his life's work, “is at the forefront of expl the human genome, uanding its secrets, and pushing the boundaries of what we know about our very existence.” He pointed around the boratory as he spoke, gesturing at the various stations. Each featured cutting-edge teology that seemed ripped straight from the future. There were maes sequeng DNA, microscopes showing magnified cells, and in a secure gss case, a model of a DNA helix. “We’re not just studyii a traditional sense,” Dr. ors tinued. His voice was a mix of passion and schorly wisdom. “We’re looking at bioengineering, the sce of altering the geic makeup for beneficial traits, bating diseases, and potentially, improving human capabilities.”

  The students listened, focused on the expert. Tyson gnced over at Peter, notig the furrow of his brows, and the tilt of his head.

  “And cellur studies,” Dr. ors went on, oblivious to Tyson’s distra aer's brewing questions, “allow us to delve into ing, uanding cellur regeion, and possibly answering one of the biggest questions. we replicate human cells effectively ahically? Imagine being able to copy healthy cells to repce diseased ones, ee lost limbs.” His gaze iently dropped to his missing arm, and the room fell into a sympathetic silence. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, redireg the focus, “the implications of our work are vast, affeg medie, teology, and even the enviro.”

  His speech drew to a close amidst a murmur of thoughtful hums and light appuse. The students were then given free rein to explore the equipment and speak with the stists. The b was a hubbub of curious students expl every crevid traptioer, however, stood apart, his gaze trailing Dr. ors as the stist retreated to his office. Tyson caught the glint of longing ier’s eyes.

  Tyson asked, “What’s up?”

  Peter responded, “I was hoping to speak with Doctor ors.” His expression shifted to one of disappoi.

  Without another word, Tyson csped Peter's arm, steering him through the throng until they reached Gwen. She was in her element, yet still exuded an aura of approachability. "Hey, b buddy!" Tysoed with an easy grin, trying to sound as charming as possible.

  Gwen looked up, her expressihtening in reition. "Tyson. What’s up?"

  "This is Peter," Tysoured, though it was clear the two already knew each other from the subtle aowledgment in their eyes.

  "Hey, Peter," Gwen smiled, thetention shifted back to Tyson, "What I do for you guys?"

  Tyson looked into Gwen’s eyes before leaning in slightly, "Actually, I was hoping for a favor. Peter here is dying to meet Dr. ors personally. Any ce you could introduce him?"

  Gweated, biting her lip. "I don't know, guys. Dr. ors is really busy—"

  "Please?" Tyson interjected, putting on his best pleading face, while Peter's own mirrored a simir se.

  With a sigh, Gwen capituted. "Okay, fine… But for the record, you’re too big to make puppy dog eyes. Make it quick, alright?"

  Tyson replied, “Big dogs are puppies too.”

  Gwen shot back, “And that’s the only reason I’m going along with this.”

  She led them to Dr. ors' office, knog politely before entering. "Dr. ors? Sorry to disturb you, but there's someone here who's very eager to meet you."

  Dr. ors, seated at his desk, looked up and adjusted his gsses. "Oh? And who might that be?"

  Peter stepped forward, a little nervously. "Hi, Dr. ors. I'm Peter Parker. I'm a huge admirer of your work."

  The stist's face softened into a smile. "Is that so? And articurly is you, Peter?"

  "Everything, sir. But especially your researto cross-species geics. It's... well, it's brilliant," Peter's voice held a reverence, his enthusiasm barely tained.

  "Thank you, Peter," Dr. ors replied, genuinely pleased. "It's not often I meet young people so passionate about our work."

  Tyson piped up, "Parker's the top of our css, Dr. ors. Super smart."

  Gwen couldn't help herself. "Sed, actually," she interjected with a pyful smirk.

  "Sed?" Tyson raised an eyebrow, then shot a questioning look at Gwen, "Then who's—"

  She just gave him a look, a silent, proud, 'obviously'.

  "Oh," Tyson ughed, "Right."

  The word "Parker" seemed to echo in Dr. ors' mind, reverberating against his memories. He peered more ily at Peter, reition dawning on his face like the slow creep of sunrise. "Parker," he repeated, his voice was softer, almost distant. "Your parents... Richard and Mary Parker. I worked with them."

  Peter's heart skipped a beat, his breath held captive. "It’s true then. The picture wasn't just a oime staged photo.” he said, more to himself than ors, before asking, “You knew my parents?"

  "Yes," Dr. ors nodded, a tinge of sadness in his eyes. "Brilliant stists, both of them. They were pioneers in their field before... before they disappeared." The air in the room grew thick. Tyson, sensing the weight of the moment for his new friend, squeezed Peter's shoulder in silent support. Dr. ors tinued, his voice took a faraway tone as if lost in memories, "I remember you as a child, Peter. You had your mother's eyes."

  Peter swallowed, emotions tangled. As he prodded, "My parents…” Peter recalled Norman Osbroioning his father earlier, “...they worked here?"

  "On special projects," Dr. ors firmed. "Much of the foundation of what we do in cross-species geics was id by your father. He was onto something groundbreaking."

  The versation drifted naturally to Dr. ors' current research, and his aspirations to use geics feive medie, potentially even limb regeion, inspired by his ditioer listened, enraptured, every word pulling him deeper into a world his parents had onhabited.

  That's wheer's gaze fell on the formu dominating or’s office. He reized the sequence of symbols. "That formu," Peter interrupted suddenly, his voice urgent, "I've seen it before." Dr. ors and Gwen turned, following his stare at the plex equation on the whiteboard. "It's... it's my father's work, isn't it?" Peter's fingers were almost toug the scribbled numbers, his eyes bright with iy.

  Dr. ors observed him, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "Yes, it was one of Richard's theoretical formus. But it's never been pleted."

  Without a sed thought, Peter grabbed a marker from Dr. ors' desk. And then, in front of a stunned Dr. ors and an astounded Gweer pleted the sequehe marker squeaked against the board as he scribbled, the sound punctuating the silehat enveloped the room.

  Dr. ors was the first to speak, breaking the hush that had fallen. "Incredible," he murmured, iing the formu as if seeing a ghost from the past.

  Gwen was , her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "How did you do that, Peter?"

  Peter lowered the marker, his chest heaving lightly from the adrenaline. "It's been in my house all along. My dad solved the formu."

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The gravity of the revetion, the bridging of past and present, hung heavily around them.

  Dr. ors finally turo Peter with a serious look on his face. "Peter, thank you. This... this could ge everything."

  Tyson cpped Peter on the back, a proud grin on his face. He addressed Dr. ors, “You know you ’t use this without payier right? It’s his solution.”

  or’s voice held a promise, "Of course not. I'll be in touch, Peter."

  As they exited the office, Gwen resumed her role as guide. When they rejoihe tour, she tio expiricacies of Oscorp's work. But her gowards Peter held a new light, one of deep resped a hint of wonder.

  Rogue Rept

  The students filed inte, open b. Eyes were wide, some in fear, others in intrigue as they took in the rows of gss enclosures, each housing a spider. The geically-engineered araids dispyed an array of colors and patterns as they g to their webs. Gwen began expining the breakthroughs Oscorp had achieved with these creatures.

  Peter, however, had drifted to the front, his fasation transparent. "You know some spiders ge colors to blend into their enviro," he shared, more to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "It's a defense meism."

  Harry, leaning against a table, rolled his eyes in disi. "Peter, what would make you think I wao know that?" he asked, though there was no real mali his words.

  Peter was too absorbed to respond. His attention remained fixed on the spiders as he tinued, "Some spiders even have super strength retive to their size, and others have a venom that be adapted for advanced medical treatments."

  Gwen smiled at Peter's enthusiasm, then directed everyone's attention to a stist who began a more detailed lecture about the geihas they'd introduced into the spiders.

  One sharp-eyed student, squinting at the enclosures, interrupted. "Isn't one missing? There are supposed to be thirteen."

  The stist barely skipped a beat, more perturbed by the interruption than the missing spider. "One of our colleagues is likely dug some tests. Nothing to worry about."

  The expnation seemed to satisfy everyone, and the lecture resumed.

  In a rare instance where Peter's mind was not focused on sce, his eyes drifted to where Mary Jaood fixated on the spiders. A sly grin crossed Harry’s face. He said to Peter, “You should talk to her.”

  Peter challenged, “You go talk to her.” Surprisingly, Harry pushed off the table and approached Mary Jane fidently.

  "Did you know," Harry began, "that some spiders ge colors to blend in? It's a defense meism."

  Mary Jauro him, an eyebrow raised. "Really? That's... iing."

  "Yeah," Harry tinued. Peter watched the exge from a few feet away with a sinki. "And some even have like, super strength."

  Before Harry could tiheir teacher's sharp voice cut through the room. "Mr. Osborn. Do we o review proper etiquette duriures?"

  Harry straightened, caught. "No, sir," he mumbled.

  The eyes of the group were now on him, a few students snickering uheir breath as Harry was brought to a er of the b to be chastised. The teacher's voice could be heard even though they stepped away, “Just because your name is on the building, isn't an excuse to be rude.”

  Tyson meandered away from the group, his eyes sing the b. Amongst the high-tech equipment, he found what he was looking for. A small box of unused vials and a colle of stoppers. With his acquisition in hand, he positioned himself at aed area with a clear view of the whole room. He decided to just stand bad observe the iient… and bide his time.

  Meanwhile, Peter mustered up the ce, camera in hand. "MJ, could I get a picture? For the school paper?" he asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

  Mary Jane looked surprised but then agreed with a hesitant smile. "Sure, Peter."

  The first few shots were awkward, Mary Jane was unsure how to pose with the gss enclosures of spiders. Yet, as Peter's camera clicked away, she warmed up. Her poses became more natural, even pyful.

  "Great! That's really good," Peter enced, his own nervousness abating with each photo. Yet he still hid behind the camera.

  Just then, one of Mary Jane's friends came bounding over. "MJ, you have to e see this!" she excimed, grabbing Mary Jane's arm and pulling her away, leavier aloh the camera still raised.

  Tyson saw it all from his vantage point. His focus, however, shifted when a tiny movement caught his enhanced sight. It ider, but not just any spider. It was the geically engineered spider that had been pointed out as missing earlier. Its blue and red hues were vibrant, almost pulsing.

  This was it. The moment Tyson had been waiting for.

  As if in slow motion, Tyson observed the araid desd gracefully from its web above, l itself via a silken strand directly toeter, who was oblivious, still looking at the photos he'd just taken.

  Tyson watched with eager anticipation.

  The spider nded softly on the back of Peter's hand. For a split sed, it seemed as if nothing would happen. Then, with an almost imperceptible movement, the spider bit down.

  Peter's rea was immediate. His hand whipped back from the sharp sensation. The camera nearly slipped from his grasp as a surprised yelp escaped his lips. He stared at the tiny red mark on his skin, then up at the space where the spider had been, y.

  "What the—?" Peter began, but the spider was already scurrying away, having avoided his notice. The otion had drawn a few curious looks, but the tour tinued. Peter wasn’t popur enough for his outburst to hold the group’s attention.

  In the immediate aftermath of Peter's bite, Tysoire focus was locked onto the spider. While it had evaded Peter's notice, Tyson eled his predatory nature and focused on his prey. Its vibrant blue and red hues stood out starkly in his enhanced vision as it scurried away, attempting an escape. However, with Tyson's senses, it couldn't hope to disappear; he tracked it as it darted across the b floor.

  As Tyson moved to intercept it, he cloaked himself in an illusion so as to not draw attention. The spider suddenly altered its course, rapidly asding audent's leg. This girl, unaware of the tiny creature sg her, tinued her versation with a friend. Before Tyson could intervehe spider bit her, just as it had Peter. The girl flinched, her hand shooting to the spot on her leg where the spider had struck. But she wasn't fast enough to hit the spider. She missed, and it fell toward the floor anchored by an invisible thread.

  Seizing his ce, Tyson approached quickly, but carefully and precise with his movements. He caught the spider in the vial as it drifted toward the floor. Seg the stopper, Tyson slid the vial with the captured spider into his pocket.

  Tyson approached the girl who had spped her leg. He walked over and spoke to her just as she was rec.

  The girl was slender, with long dark hair. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she ughed at something her friend said once she recovered from the sting of the bite.

  "You okay?" Tyson asked, his deep voice ced with .

  She looked up at him, her initial surprise at his t presence quickly melted into an easy smile. "Yeah, I'm fihanks," she replied, rubbing her leg absently. "You’re the new guy, right? I'm dy."

  "Tyson…" he responded simply, eyeing the spot where the spider had bitten her.

  "You're big, Tyson," dy remarked, a pyful note in her voice. "Do you know how to skate?"

  "Skate? Like, Ice skating? Dunno, Never been," Tyson admitted.

  "Too bad. We could use you on the hockey team," she said with a wistful sigh. "You'd make a great defenseman, just standing there like a wall."

  Despite the situation, Tyson chuckled. "My ex-girlfriend said I should try hockey."

  "Welp, that’s awkward,” dy said after a pause, taking a step back. "See you around."

  With that, she turned and rejoined her friends, leaving Tyson to sider the spider in his pocket and the event that had just unfolded.

  As the group lingered, a security guard approached Tyson. The guard’s expression rofessional but not unkind. The students fell silent, their eyes dartiween Tyson and the guard, whispers trag the edges of the crowd. They seemed to expect a frontation of some kind. However, Tyson calmly followed the guard without protest. He was led through a series of corridors until they reached the epiter of Oscorp's security. It ace filled with monitors dispying every inch of the Oscorp building. In the ter sat a stern-looking man. His sharp eyes flicked from s to s until they were drawn by Tysorance.

  "Tyson, this is Mr. Gargan, head of security," the guard introduced.

  "o meet you," Tysoed, a hand which he shook firmly.

  "Mr. Osborioned you might be ied in an intern position here," Mr. Gargan began without preamble. "What makes you a good fit for our security team?"

  Tyson stood tall. "I'm a fast learner, and I don't scare easy. Plus, I've got a good sense of when things aren't right."

  Gargan studied him for a moment before a slight smile cracked his professional facade. "You certainly have the physical qualifications," he ceded. "You're a student, but you could still learn something oernoht shift. How's that sound?"

  "Night shift works for me," Tyson agreed promptly. "I've got school during the day, and I train at Chikara Dojo iernoons."

  "You do martial arts?" he raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed.

  Tyson answered, "I have some training in fighting and firearms, but I retly took up eastern martial arts."

  "Good. You'll start with security training as soon as you get in. We'll ease you into it," Mr. Gargan decided, handing him a badge with the Oscorp logo on it. "Wele to Oscorp security, Tyson Smith."

  Accepting the badge, a slow smile spread across Tyson's face. "Thanks, Mr. Gargan. I appreciate the opportunity."

  As he left the security office, badge in hand, Tyso a sense of aplishment. He'd pocketed the spider that bit Peter Parker. And nding a security internship gave him a foothold in Oscorp, and hopefully, a way to keep an eye on things from the inside. Plus, with his limited need for sleep, the te-night shift erfect. And as an intern, he could set his own schedule and fly uhe radar.

  Rogue Rept

  As the engines of the school buses hummed, ready to depart, Tyson squeezed through the throng of students to fier pale-faced, swaying like a bran the wind. Peter's hands missed the railings repeatedly as he tried to climb the stairs ihe bus.

  "Peter, you don't look so good," Tyson ented as he steadied Peter with a firm hand.

  "I...I don't feel so great," Peter fessed. The weakness revalent in his voice as it was in his body as he leaned heavily against his friend.

  The teacher approached with a frown. "What's going on here? Why aren't you getting on the bus?"

  "Peter is sick," Tyson expined, quick thinking kig in. "I think he's gonna hurl. It's better if he doesn't do that on the bus, right?"

  The teacher's nose wri the thought. "Well, we 't just—"

  Tyson's eyes fshed as he made eye tact with the teacher.

  Suddenly he had a cell phone in his hand. He held it out for the teacher. "It's okay, I've got his Aunt May on the liyson interjected, "She says I take him home."

  "Oh, well, if Aunt May says it's okay," the teacher relented, albeit still hesitant.

  She put the cell phoo her ear. Aunt May’s voice came through clearly. The teacher gave Tyson the phone babsp;

  She said, "Make sure he gets home safely, Tyson."

  "You got it, ma'am," Tyson nodded, supp Peter's weight more fully now.

  They moved away, and Tyson hailed a cab, helping the staggerier inside. Peter mumbled what might have been a thank you, his head lolling against the seat. The city blurred past them as Tyso a steady arm arouer, whose quid shallow breaths revealed his disfort.

  "Hang in there, man," Tysed softly, "I got you."

  Peter's home came into view, and Tyson paid the driver before helping his friend to the door. With one arm supp Peter, his rabbing the keys Peter handed him, Tyson mao get them ihe worry alpable in Aunt May and Uncle Ben's eyes as Tyson half-carried a listless Peter through the front door. "What happened?" Aunt May fretted, rushing to Peter's other side.

  "I’m just sick," Peter croaked weakly, trying to muster a reassuring smile but failing. "Need some sleep, that's all."

  Tyson nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, it was a close call iaxi. Thought he was gonna hurl." His tone was light, attempting to i some levity into the situation.

  Together, though mostly through Tyson’s efforts, they maneuvered Peter up the stairs and into his bedroom. Peter colpsed onto the bed with a groan, his energy pletely sapped. Tyson, ag like an honorary family member, took the initiative to get a gss of water and some aspiri them on the nightstand, withier's easy reach.

  "Thanks," Peter mumbled, his crity momentarily returning.

  "No problem, dude. Just get some rest," Tyson replied.

  "Will do," Peter breathed out, his eyes already closed, just giving a weak thumbs up. Tyson lingered, ensurier was resting before he quietly let himself out, shutting the door behind him.

  Downstairs, Aunt May was a flurry of motion i, the homely st of cooking wafting through the air. Uncle Ben was setting the table, his movements betraying his lingering worry. They both looked up as Tyson desded the stairs. Feeling like he needed an excuse Tyson ented, “The flu and stomach bugs have been running around school early this year. Might want to make sure you wash your hara good for the few weeks.” Theook a step toward the door.

  "You're not leaving without having something to eat, young man," Aunt May decred before Tyson could even say goodbye. It wasn't a request, but a gentle demand. Her expression softened as she added, "Yht our boy home. It’s the least we do."

  Tysoated, not wanting to intrude, but the warm, inviting smells from the kit tugged at his senses. "Well, if you insist, Aunt May. I’d hate to let good cooking go to waste," he relented with a smile.

  As they sat down to eat, the versation was light. They chatted about school and the Oscorp trip, and Tyson eveioned his e-night internship, careful to py down how unusual it was for a student.

  Aunt May acted as the g surrogate, encing Tyson to bance work, school, a. "You boys, always trying to do so much," she chastised affeately.

  Uncle Ben added, "reciate you taking care of Peter. Keep taking care of those around you. We lift each other up. That's how we all succeed. And success isn't just about what you aplish in your life, Tyson. It's about what you inspire others to do."

  Getting a motivational phrase from Uncle Ben resonated with Tyson. Perhaps even on a level he wasn't fully ready to front.

  The meal ended with warm goodbyes and Tyson assuring he would visit again. As he stepped out into the evening chill, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. In this house, he'd found a kind of family albeit traly.

  And he knew what would happe.

  With a sullen sadness, Tyson wondered if he’d be able to interfere and prevent the approag tragedy.