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Two years passed in the blink of an eye.
After the final confrontation on the bridge, the Green Goblin vanished completely from New York City. Most people assumed Spider-Man had defeated the terrorist for good.
Only a handful of people knew the truth about Norman Osborn's death.
In a hidden private laboratory, a dozen scientists in white coats moved between workstations, monitoring experiments and recording data.
In the innermost office, a gray-haired scientist stood nervously before Marcus, delivering his report.
"Sir, the ninth Spider-Man replication attempt has failed."
His voice was tight with anxiety. "Subjects injected with the super-spider gene either died immediately or transformed into mindless spider-creatures. The probability of successfully replicating Spider-Man's abilities remains at zero."
He hesitated, then continued. "Additionally, the genetically modified spider has been harvested too many times. Even with careful cultivation, it's dying. We can only extract one more genetic sample before it expires."
Marcus reclined in his chair, expression neutral as he listened.
When the scientist finished, Marcus waved him away. "I see. You're dismissed. Bring me the spider."
The scientist exhaled in relief—the boss wasn't angry—and quickly left.
Marcus sat alone in the office, mind drifting.
For two years, he'd operated this secret laboratory with one goal: study the genetically modified spider that had created Spider-Man, and replicate the process.
After two years, progress was exactly zero percent.
Every test subject injected with the spider's genetic material either died instantly or became a horrific spider-monster hybrid. Marcus had personally killed each monster before it could cause harm.
The laboratory staff were all clones Marcus had created—scientists specializing in biology and genetics. He'd hypnotized them for complete loyalty and dosed them with NZT-49 to boost their intelligence. He'd even secretly obtained genetic samples from Peter Parker himself.
And still, nothing worked.
Marcus had finally accepted the truth: artificially replicating Spider-Man through genetic engineering was impossible.
The result was disappointing but not surprising.
In the Marvel multiverse, every Spider-Man's creation was overseen by the Spider-Totem. And the Spider-Totem was connected to an entity called the Master Weaver—a being that existed beyond individual universes.
Marcus had hoped Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man universe might be different. More scientific, less mystical. Apparently not.
This world's Peter would eventually be summoned to other universes by Doctor Strange, which confirmed the Spider-Totem's influence extended here too.
Marcus had avoided being bitten by the spider directly because he'd been cautious. He already had numerous abilities—super-brain, telekinesis, telepathy, enhanced physicals from the T-Virus.
The spider could only offer two meaningful upgrades: increasing his base strength beyond ten tons per hand, and gaining spider-sense.
Everything else—enhanced senses, improved healing, wall-crawling, web generation—wouldn't add much to his existing capabilities.
But now, after two years of failed experiments, Marcus was reconsidering.
He trusted his system. Its priority level had to exceed even the Master Weaver's authority—otherwise, he wouldn't be able to travel between universes so freely. The system was at least multiverse-level, possibly higher.
That meant even if the Spider-Totem tried to interfere, the system should protect him.
The scientist returned with the spider in a small containment unit.
After dismissing him, Marcus studied the creature on his desk.
The once-vibrant genetically modified spider looked lethargic now, barely moving. It was dying.
Marcus considered his options for a long time.
Then his expression hardened with determination.
He opened the containment unit and placed his right hand inside.
The spider didn't hesitate. It crawled onto his hand and bit down.
Marcus had deliberately relaxed his enhanced skin, letting the spider's fangs penetrate easily.
The venom flowed into his bloodstream.
After injecting all its genetic payload, the spider curled up and died.
Marcus examined his body's response with clinical detachment.
The venom spread through his system. His cells began changing. Heat built throughout his body.
The transformation would take hours to complete.
His consciousness started to blur.
Marcus incinerated the spider's corpse, reducing it to ash.
Then he opened a hidden door behind his bookshelf and entered the secret chamber beyond.
He lay down on the bed inside, monitoring the changes in his body.
Before losing consciousness, Marcus gave his system a command: If I'm in danger, activate healing protocols immediately. Eliminate all harmful external influences.
Time passed. Marcus's awareness faded steadily.
That shouldn't have been possible—his awakened psychic abilities and strengthened soul should have kept him conscious through physical changes.
But he couldn't resist. His vision went dark.
Marcus's consciousness separated from his body.
He drifted through chaos—an impossible space that contained infinite complexity, infinite possibilities.
And there, in that space beyond space, Marcus saw it.
A massive spider unlike anything in the physical world.
It had eight enormous eyes arranged around a mechanical brain. Its shoulders bore two huge red hands. Below its body, a spherical machine supported it on mechanical legs.
The Master Weaver.
It was weaving a web in the void—a web that stretched across infinite dimensions.
And caught in that web, like dewdrops, were entire universes. Each strand connected to planetary systems, to timelines, to realities.
Marcus stared in awe and understanding.
The Master Weaver.
He knew the entity's identity instinctively, without being told.
A being that existed at the multiverse level. The architect of the Web of Life and Destiny. The guardian of all Spider-Totems across infinite realities.
The Master Weaver paused in its work.
Eight eyes focused on Marcus.
There was recognition in that gaze. And something else—curiosity, perhaps. Or acknowledgment.
One of the Weaver's massive hands gestured.
A beam of light shot from the Weaver into Marcus's soul.
Before Marcus could react, the connection severed.
He was pulled backward through impossible space, through tunnels of probability and causality, back toward his physical form.
His consciousness slammed back into his body.
Marcus's eyes snapped open.
What just happened?