The air in Oscorp's subterranean lab stank of antiseptic and fear, a sterile prison buried beneath the neon-lit sprawl of New York, Earth-731, in the year 2030. Peter Parker, 25, lay strapped to a cold steel table, his emaciated frame trembling under the hum of fluorescent lights. His brown eyes, once bright with boyish curiosity, were now hollow, darting like a cornered animal's. Electrodes clung to his sweat-soaked skin, wires snaking to machines that pulsed with a sinister rhythm. For ten years, since his abduction at 15, Oscorp had been his world—a world of pain, humiliation, and relentless experiments. Today, the scientists were pushing harder, injecting a viscous, glowing serum into his veins. The spider-serum, they called it, designed to forge the ultimate superhuman weapon. Peter's scream tore through the lab as the liquid burned, his body convulsing against the restraints.
Flashback: Peter, age 12, sat alone in a Queens schoolyard, his nose bloodied from a bully's fist. "Freak," they sneered, shoving him into the dirt. Gwen Stacy, a shy girl with blonde hair and fierce eyes, offered him a tissue, her touch gentle. "You're not a freak, Peter," she whispered. He smiled, a rare moment of warmth before the world grew crueler.
Back in the lab, Norman Osborn watched from behind a one-way mirror, his angular face lit by the glow of monitors. The CEO of Oscorp was a man of precision, his gray suit immaculate, his green eyes cold as steel. To him, Peter was no longer human—just Subject 731, the key to Oscorp's domination of a world teetering on chaos. "Increase the voltage," Norman ordered, his voice calm but unyielding. A scientist hesitated, glancing at Peter's writhing form. "Sir, he might not survive—" Norman cut him off with a glare. "He'll survive. He always does." The scientist flipped a switch, and electricity surged through Peter's body, targeting sensitive nerves in a calculated act of torture. Peter's screams turned to choked gasps, his mind fracturing under the onslaught. Images of his childhood—Gwen's smile, his uncle's voice—shattered like glass, replaced by a creeping madness that whispered chaos.
Peter's torment wasn't random. Oscorp's experiments went beyond science; they were designed to break him, to mold him into a weapon without will. The electroshock treatments, especially those targeting his lower body, were a sadistic signature, meant to humiliate as much as harm. Each jolt left scars—physical and mental—that festered in Peter's psyche. Yet something was changing. The serum was working. His muscles twitched with unnatural strength, his senses sharpened, catching the faint hum of a drone outside the lab. But with the power came a cost: his thoughts grew erratic, laced with a dark humor that felt foreign, like a voice laughing at the edge of his mind. "Funny," he muttered through gritted teeth, "you'd think they'd get tired of zapping me." The scientists didn't notice the shift, but Norman did, his eyes narrowing with interest.
Gwen Stacy, a low-level technician in a white lab coat, stood at a console across the room, her hands trembling as she recorded data. She'd taken the job at Oscorp to stay close to Peter, to watch over the boy she'd loved since childhood. Every scream tore at her heart, but she hid her pain behind a mask of professionalism. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly, her blue eyes scanning the room for a chance—any chance—to help him. She'd seen the CCTV cameras, knew the risks, but tonight, something snapped. Peter's latest scream, raw and broken, was too much. She typed a command into the console, overriding the lab's security locks for a split second. The restraints on Peter's table clicked open.
Peter's eyes widened, his spider-senses buzzing. He didn't know how or why, but he seized the moment. With a surge of newfound strength, he tore free, ripping electrodes from his skin. Alarms blared as he vaulted over a console, his movements unnaturally fluid, like a predator unleashed. Scientists scattered, shouting for security. Gwen froze, her heart pounding as Peter's gaze met hers for a fleeting moment—a spark of recognition amidst the chaos. Then he was gone, crashing through a ventilation shaft, his laughter echoing, wild and unhinged. Outside, the city's neon lights swallowed him, but the Blackweb Unit, Oscorp's elite enforcers, was already mobilizing. Gwen's console flashed a warning: her override had been traced. She was caught.
Cliffhanger: As drones hum in the distance, Peter, hidden in a dark alley, clutches his side, pain flaring from the experiments. "Gwen," he whispers, his voice a mix of madness and resolve. "I'm coming back for you."