Rebirth: MarveL Marvel's InvincibleSpider-MAn

Chapter 5: Crossroads of Destiny

Alex woke before the alarm on Friday morning.

The attic skylight was soaked with ashen dawn light, but he knew the clouds gathering over New York foretold an afternoon thunderstorm. Lying in bed, his fingers drummed unconsciously on the sheets, rehearsing every possible scenario for the day ahead.

The Oscorp lecture. 4:00 PM. The radioactive spider, Arach-9.

In his memory—or rather, in the countless versions he’d seen—this scene always ended with Peter Parker getting bitten. A scrawny teenager on a field trip, a loose spider descending unnoticed, two tiny red marks on his neck, and the beginning of a legend.

But now, Alex knew the exact time, place, and even the lab layout—pieced together over the past week and a half from old newspapers, scientific journals, and urban planning archives in the library.

Do you want it to bite you?

The question had returned again and again, like a moth beating against a windowpane. Each time, his answer shifted. Sometimes a firm No, sometimes a hesitant Maybe, sometimes a guilt-ridden If I must.

He sat up and walked to the mirror. The teenager staring back was pale, with faint shadows under his eyes. Alex Miller. Sixteen. Orphaned. Midtown High student. Peter Parker’s classmate.

And one more identity: The One Who Knew the Future.

“If Peter doesn’t become Spider-Man,” he whispered to his reflection, “what happens to New York? The people he saves? Gwen Stacy? Tony Stark?”

But he also thought of Ben Parker. That rainy night, those last words, the boy kneeling on the sidewalk in tears. All that Peter would endure in the next two decades: loss, betrayal, responsibility, loneliness.

“Maybe…” Alex took a deep breath. “Maybe it can be different.”

Breakfast felt unusually charged.

“You’re going to that lecture today, right?” Lily asked around a mouthful of toast, her eyes probing. “With Peter Parker.”

“Yeah.” Alex poured milk into his cereal, trying for nonchalance.

Aunt May slid fried eggs onto his plate, studying his face. “You look a bit nervous, honey. It’s just a science talk.”

“Maybe worried about meeting Norman Osborn?” Uncle Ben looked up from his paper, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. “I’ve read about him. A genius, but some say he’s… overly aggressive.”

Alex’s fork froze mid-air. “Overly aggressive?”

“Pushing too fast at the boundaries of science and ethics.” Uncle Ben turned a page. “Sometimes progress needs careful steps, not leaps.”

The words landed like a stone in still water. Alex nodded and finished his breakfast in silence.

Before leaving, he checked his backpack: notebook, pens, student ID, and an inconspicuous brown vial—antihistamines and corticosteroid cream bought from the pharmacy yesterday. He didn’t know if they’d help with a radioactive spider bite, but it was better than nothing.

And a small mirror. He needed to see the back of his neck.

The school day crawled by.

In Chemistry, Peter was visibly restless. When Mr. Rodriguez mentioned radioactive isotopes, Peter almost jumped from his seat, his fingers flying across his notebook.

“Excited for the lecture this afternoon?” Alex asked between classes.

Peter’s cheeks flushed slightly as he pushed his glasses up. “It’s my first time visiting an Oscorp lab. Their gene-editing research is cutting-edge, and…” he lowered his voice, “I heard they’ll show some unpublished projects.”

“Like what?” Alex asked casually.

“Bio-mechanical interfaces. And… enhanced spider-silk protein research.” Peter’s eyes glinted behind his lenses. “Think about it—spider silk is five times stronger than steel but much lighter. If it could be synthesized…”

Alex’s throat tightened. Enhanced spider-silk protein. That was part of the Arach-9 project—the spider was genetically modified so its venom would induce the host to produce silk-like secretions.

“Sounds dangerous,” he said, his voice drier than intended. “Altering basic biology.”

Peter nodded, but his excitement didn’t fade. “Dangerous, but full of possibility. That’s science, isn’t it? Testing the edges of the known.”

In that moment, Alex saw the future Peter Parker—the hero forever weighing power against responsibility. That essence seemed embedded in his character, spider bite or not.

At 3:45 PM, over twenty students gathered outside Midtown High.

An Oscorp luxury coach waited by the curb, its black body emblazoned with a stark green logo. Their chaperones were Ms. Carter, the biology teacher, and Mr. Rodriguez.

Peter stood at the edge of the group, his old camera bag slung over his shoulder, an analog film camera borrowed from his uncle around his neck. Mary Jane stood beside him, laughing with friends from the drama club.

Alex took a deep breath and joined them.

“You made it.” Peter smiled. “Ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Alex’s eyes scanned the crowd. Flash Thompson and his football friends were there too, in overly formal shirts, loudly discussing “future millionaire tech.”

Ms. Carter began roll call. “Parker, Peter.”Peter straightened. “Here.”“Miller, Alex.”“Here.”

The coach engine rumbled to life like a growl. Alex sat next to Peter, watching Queens streets give way to Manhattan skyscrapers. Rain began to tap against the windows, leaving winding trails.

“If…” Peter began softly, his voice almost lost in the engine’s hum, “if you had a chance to get power that could change the world, what would you do with it?”

Alex turned. Peter’s face was blurred in the window’s reflection.“I… don’t know,” Alex said honestly. “I think I’d be scared. Scared of making mistakes, of hurting people.”“Me too,” Peter admitted, his fingers tracing the camera strap. “But sometimes I think, if I could help more people… if I could stop bad things from happening…”

“With great power comes great responsibility?” Alex quoted quietly.Peter looked at him, surprised. “You’ve heard that saying too?”“My uncle says it often.” Alex felt a strange resonance.

The coach crossed the East River. The spire of Oscorp Tower sharpened in the rainy haze—a monolith of glass and steel, its green logo glowing coldly against the grey sky.

The Oscorp lobby looked like a sci-fi film set.

A ten-meter-high atrium, holograms floating in the air showcasing company achievements, researchers in lab coats hurrying along glass walkways. The air held a peculiar sterile smell—antiseptic, ozone, and an unnameable chemical tang.

They were greeted by Ms. Keller from PR, a blonde woman with a perfectly polished smile. “Welcome, future scientists,” her voice echoed through hidden speakers. “Today, you will witness how the future is built.”

The tour began in the public exhibition hall. Students crowded around display cases holding artificial heart valves, neural interface chips, transparent plant specimens.

Alex’s heart began to race. According to his reconstructed floor plan, the next stop should be the Bio-Research Wing. The Arach-9 lab was at the end of that corridor.

“Now to our Biotechnology Division,” Ms. Keller announced. “Please note, photography is prohibited in some areas. Stow your phones and cameras.”

Peter reluctantly put his camera away.

The group passed through a glass door requiring keycard access. The temperature dropped a few degrees; the air grew drier. Observation windows lined the corridor, revealing sterile labs where technicians operated precision instruments.

Alex’s eyes scanned the placards: Gene Sequencing, Protein Synthesis Lab, Tissue Culture Center…

Then he saw it.

At the corridor’s end, left side—a heavier metal door than the others. Its label read: SPECIAL GENETICS PROJECTS - SECTOR A9 - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

A9. Arach-9.

His palms grew damp.

“This is our frontier research zone,” Ms. Keller stopped before the door but didn’t open it. “Highly sensitive experiments are conducted here. For safety, we cannot enter, but we may observe through the viewport.”

She pressed a button. A section of the wall above the door slid open, revealing thick glass.

The lab inside was smaller than expected. A biosafety cabinet stood in the center, containing several transparent terrariums. Even through the glass and distance, Alex could make out the moving black specks in one of them.

Spiders.

His breathing grew shallow and rapid.

“Here we study unique biological properties of arthropods,” a male voice said from beside them.

Alex turned sharply.

Norman Osborn stood behind them.

He was taller and leaner than in photos. A tailored dark green suit, silver hair impeccably styled, but with deep shadows under his eyes. His smile was polite yet distant, his gaze uncomfortably sharp—sweeping over the students like he was appraising specimens.

“Mr. Osborn!” Ms. Keller clearly flustered. “We didn’t expect you to—”“I enjoy seeing young minds engaged with science,” Osborn cut in, his eyes settling on Peter. “Especially gifted ones. Mr. Parker, correct? I read your science fair paper. On radioactive decay applications in medical imaging. Insightful.”

Peter turned beet red, opening his mouth but producing no sound.

Osborn turned to the viewport. “This project is a personal interest. Nature’s designs are often more ingenious than our most advanced engineering. Spider silk, chitin strength, insect sensory systems… Imagine if humans could possess such traits.”

As he spoke, his gaze seemed to drift over Alex. For a moment, Alex felt a chill—that wasn’t a casual glance. It was an appraisal, a measurement.

“A pity we cannot show more today,” Osborn said. “The Arach-9 specimens are in a sensitive phase. But perhaps one day…” he paused meaningfully, “gifted youth might have the chance to participate in such research.”

The tour continued, but Alex’s mind was no longer on the other labs. He was calculating. In the original story, the spider escaped after the tour, while students waited for the bus. Peter was bitten in the restroom.

But if he wanted to change things, he needed to act earlier.

The opportunity came ten minutes later.

As Ms. Keller led the group onward, Alex pretended to tie his shoelace, falling behind. When the last student turned the corner, he rose quickly, his eyes fixed on the corridor’s end.

The ventilation duct.

In the films, the spider escaped through a vent. And here, the vent grill was just above the A9 lab door.

He checked his watch: 4:20 PM. In the original timeline, the escape happened around 4:35.

Alex took a breath and approached the vent. He needed to check if the grill was loose, if he needed to—“Lost?”

Alex froze. Norman Osborn stood five steps behind him, wearing that polite, cold smile.

“I… was looking for the restroom.” Alex struggled to keep his voice steady.

“That way.” Osborn pointed in the opposite direction, but his eyes remained on Alex’s face, as if solving a complex equation. “You’re… Miller, correct? Alex Miller.”

Alex’s heart nearly stopped. “How do you know?”

“I like to know who visits,” Osborn said, stepping closer. “Especially those who show particular… interest. You were curious about the A9 project.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I’m just interested in biology.” Alex forced himself to maintain eye contact.

Osborn studied him for seconds, then abruptly smiled—a brief, mechanical expression. “Stay curious, young man. It’s the engine of progress. But remember…” he lowered his voice, “some curiosities are best kept at a distance. For safety.”

He turned and left, his dark green suit disappearing down the corridor.

Alex leaned against the wall, realizing he’d been holding his breath. Norman Osborn had noticed him. Why? Had he been too obvious? Or could Osborn somehow sense the “anomaly”?

No time to dwell. He glanced at the vent—the grill did seem loose. But he could do nothing now.

He hurried back to the group. Peter gave him a concerned look. “You okay? You look pale.”

“Just a bit lightheaded.”

The rest of the tour passed in a blur. Alex’s focus was entirely on the clock. 4:25. 4:30. 4:32.

The group reached the final exhibit—Oscorp’s “Future Visions” hall. Holograms showed gene-editing curing diseases, AI-assisted research.

4:34.

Alex’s spider-sense—no, just ordinary intuition—began screaming.

He excused himself to the restroom and slipped away. The corridor was empty. He moved quickly toward the A9 lab area, his heart pounding.

4:35.

A faint, almost inaudible click came from the ventilation shaft.

Alex looked up. The vent grill trembled slightly.

It’s happening.

What should he do? Run? Let history unfold? Or…

A dark shadow dropped from the grill gap, almost weightless.

Alex saw it clearly: a spider, but larger than normal, with strange, almost glowing red markings on its body. It adjusted its fall mid-air, its trajectory aiming straight for—the corridor corner behind him.

Toward the restrooms. Where Peter might be.

No time to think.

Alex stepped forward, hand outstretched.

The spider landed on the back of his hand.

A moment of cool touch, then sharp pain—two tiny points, like being pierced simultaneously by two hot needles.

The spider scurried away, vanishing into shadow.

Alex looked down at his hand. Two red dots were already visible, the surrounding skin faintly inflamed. A strange warmth spread from the wound, traveling up his veins.

He’d done it.

He’d been bitten first.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor’s end. Alex quickly pulled his sleeve over the hand and turned, pretending to read a safety placard.

Peter emerged from the restroom, looking puzzled. “Alex? What are you doing here?”

“I… was also looking for the restroom,” Alex said, feeling a slight dizziness. “Must’ve taken a wrong turn.”

“It’s this way.” Peter pointed.

As they walked back, Alex felt the warmth spread to his shoulder. His senses were changing—distant conversations grew clearer, lights seemed brighter, chemical smells he hadn’t noticed before filled the air.

“You sure you’re okay?” Peter asked again, concerned. “Your face is flushed.”

“Might be running a fever.” That wasn’t entirely a lie.

Back in the hall, the lecture was concluding. Ms. Keller was wrapping up, but Alex could barely hear her. His whole world was recalibrating. He could hear a pen rattling in a researcher’s pocket twenty meters away, see microscopic scratches on the zipper of Peter’s camera bag, smell each person’s distinct scent: Mary Jane’s citrus perfume, Flash’s deodorant, the faint developer fluid on Peter.

And pain. A deep, burning ache flowing through his veins.

“Now please follow me to the reception area for refreshments…” Ms. Keller’s voice sounded underwater.

Alex moved mechanically with the crowd. Downstairs, across the lobby, into a room with drinks and cookies. Other students chattered excitedly, snacking, discussing what they’d seen.

Peter stood beside him, sipping orange juice. “Amazing, right? Their research is so advanced…”

Alex tried to respond, but his lips felt numb. Faint flashes appeared at the edges of his vision, like static.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Need to sit.”

He found a chair in the corner and sank into it. Closing his eyes made the world louder. He could hear the entire building: elevators moving, computer fans humming, heavy machinery vibrating deep underground. And heartbeats—his own, frantic, and the twenty-odd others in the room, a chaotic drumming.

“Alex?” Peter’s hand was on his shoulder. “You’re really not well. I’ll get a teacher.”

“No!” Alex grabbed his wrist, then immediately let go—his grip was frighteningly strong. Peter winced. “Sorry, I… just need air.”

He stumbled to the terrace door. Cold air hit his face. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained heavy. Alex leaned on the railing, breathing deeply.

The sting on his hand had become a steady burn. He pushed up his sleeve. The two red dots were now surrounded by dark red streaks radiating outward like a sinister flower.

The door opened behind him. Peter followed, carrying two cups of water.

“Here.” He handed one to Alex. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alex took it, his hand trembling. “Maybe worse than a ghost.”

They stood in silence, watching the New York streets below. Evening traffic began lighting up, the city glistening wetly after the rain.

“You know,” Peter said softly, “sometimes I think science is like this city. On the surface, everything is order and logic. But underground, in the subway tunnels and old pipes, there’s a whole different world running. Dark, chaotic, but maybe… more real.”

Alex looked at him. In the fading light, Peter’s face looked both familiar and strange. This boy didn’t know that minutes ago, his destiny had been altered forever. He didn’t know he was supposed to become Spider-Man, lose his uncle, love, hurt, become a hero.

And now, none of that was certain.

“If,” Alex began, his voice hoarse, “if you had a chance to prevent something bad, but the cost was… changing what someone was meant to become, what would you do?”

Peter thought for a long time. “I think,” he finally said, “I’d ask that person what they wanted. Because in the end, it’s their life.”

Tears welled in Alex’s eyes unexpectedly. He turned quickly, pretending the wind had blown something into them.

On the bus back, Alex sat by the window, watching his reflection. That sixteen-year-old face, that straw-blonde hair, those blue eyes—but housing a twenty-two-year-old soul, a thief who had just stolen Spider-Man’s fate.

The burning in his hand had spread up his arm. His temperature was rising. An unfamiliar tightness pulsed deep in his muscles, as if something was being rewoven.

By the time they reached school, full dark had fallen. Students dispersed. Peter looked at him worriedly one last time. “You really don’t need a doctor?”

“I’ll be fine.” Alex hoped it was true.

He walked home alone, each step feeling like the ground subtly shifted beneath him. His balance was unnervingly precise; he felt every uneven sidewalk tile. A distant dog bark sounded as if right beside his ear; streetlights bled into strange halos.

At his doorstep, he stopped and looked up at the Miller house windows. Warm yellow light spilled from the kitchen; he could see Aunt May moving behind the glass. Safe. Ordinary. Home.

But he no longer fully belonged there.

He looked down at his hand, clenched and unclenched it. A strange strength hummed in his fingertips, as if he could crush stone.

Alex Miller. Sixteen. Orphaned. Midtown High student.

Now, one more identity: Bitten by a radioactive spider.

The future unfolded before him in unpredictable ways, like a web just beginning to be woven—and he stood at its center, not knowing if he was the predator or the trapped fly.