Miles Morales: New Spider Chapter 6.

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It's 2009, and I'm seven years old now.

A whole year has passed since the incident with the Hulk, yet the events of that night remain unforgettable. I still have nightmares where the Abomination bursts into my home, grabbing me in its monstrous arms. He lifts me up to his face, his sinister grin ever-present. I never know what happens next because I always wake up before the nightmare ends.

That day in Harlem was awful overall, though it had some good moments. Unfortunately, the boost I got from the chi power trip was only temporary. I suppose it was just the residual energy that flowed into my body when everything evolved. The power is still there, but I can't tap into it at all anymore.

At least I managed to stash my gear, costume, and the tube of blood in my lab before exhaustion overtook me. I wasn’t so lucky with the falling debris while trying to rescue people—I ended up with some nasty bruises. My body felt completely beaten. The whole hero thing was entirely new to me. Before this, my only experience with heroics was what I saw on TV or read in comics. In reality, it’s nothing like how they hype it up—there are no dramatic montages, just hard, painful work.

My parents were both scared and furious when they found me passed out from exhaustion. First, I had snuck out. Second, I came back home injured. Naturally, they assumed I’d been fighting or getting into other kinds of trouble. My mom even called my grandma over, and that was intense. Compared to my grandma’s words, my parents’ scolding was like a slap on the wrist.

I was grounded for so long that I couldn't even leave the house without my dad secretly tailing me. I actually found out by accident—one day, I caught a glimpse of him in a taxi’s side mirror on my way to the library, the only place I was allowed to go aside from school.

For the next month, I was stuck with chores: taking out the trash, cleaning parts of the apartment, doing the dishes, and even washing the dirty laundry. To top it off, I had to eat instant noodles for dinner every single night. I liked them for the first three days, but after that, the mere thought of them made me sick. My lab rights were revoked, too—I couldn’t get back to my experiments until the punishment was over.

I have to admit, the whole ordeal set me straight. I definitely don’t want to go through it again, especially not the noodles.

Eventually, my dad stopped tailing me after he didn’t find any evidence of me being involved with gangs or bad influences. One evening, we went out to the park together. He sat on a bench, and I sat down next to him.

"You know your mom and I love you," he said.

"Yes, I do," I replied.

"It's just that what you did can't go unpunished. I don’t want you to end up like your uncle. When we were kids, he’d pull stunts like this. I know you really like him, but we don’t want you to follow his path."

My uncle always comes up during moments like this when my dad wants to show me what happens when you become a delinquent—a menace to society.

"He's a bad influence, Miles. He has no regard for rules at all. Don’t act like he does. We need you to be better than us."

'I’m not doing this just to survive; I’m doing it to protect the people I care about. I’ll try not to disappoint you.'

"You get me, Miles? You understand?"

"I understand."

"I love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad."

As a final punishment, my grandma signed me up for ballet classes. She said that if I was going to be jumping around, I should do it with style. Let’s not talk about it anymore—the positions, the jumps, and especially not the laughter or the shame that followed. The important thing is that I’m more flexible now. End of story.

Not much has happened lately. There’s been some news about a new company making waves in genetic engineering, pharmaceuticals, and other biological research. It probably sprang up after the Hulk incident. They must’ve seen what happened to Hulk and are trying to replicate it. I should have been more concerned, but I just didn’t think they’d succeed. If they did, I figured it would’ve shown up in the MCU. Besides, I was too busy working on Blonsky's blood and focusing on enhancements to pay much attention.

I borrowed some of Stein's tech to try and extract and synthesize the serum essence from Blonsky's blood, similar to how Stein synthesized Banner's blood. It was a slow, complex, and frustrating process. After all this time, I wasn’t even halfway through.

I didn’t consider using the serum myself. My parents were already suspicious of my activities—growing taller overnight would’ve been impossible to explain. But looking banged up did have one advantage: my dad started teaching me self-defense. That was really appreciated.

Although I wasn’t a combat genius, I learned quickly. I studied my opponents’ fighting methods to anticipate their next move. I must’ve inherited that from my dad. In the comics, he was such a great fighter that he worked as an agent for the Kingpin under Fury until SHIELD took the Kingpin down. I couldn’t always predict my opponents’ moves accurately, but it was still a useful skill.

This prompted my dad to take me to a dojo run by an old friend of his. There, I began learning Muay Thai for my agile build and judo to handle larger opponents.

Ever since that night in Harlem, I hadn’t gone out of my way to rescue people. I did stop a few alley muggings nearby to test my fighting skills, but that was until I almost got stabbed. Without the exo-suit, I couldn’t even overpower adults, and I didn’t have enough combat experience to be untouchable. That experience really hammered the reality check for me—rushing into things will only get me killed. I’m a genius, but I keep making stupid decisions.

I’m putting my well-being first now. I’ll still help people—I need to build a public image. It’ll make the things I’m planning easier in the long run. Imagine it: Who would suspect the great and noble Superman of theft or murder? No one, that’s who (well, Batman might, but they’d say he’s paranoid). That’s the power of a public image.

Finally, as the end of 2009 approached, I managed to extract the super-soldier serum from Blonsky's blood. But I haven’t administered it to myself yet—the changes would be too pronounced. I’ve decided to wait.

It took nine full months of hard work to extract that serum. Stein's published papers were crucial in setting me on the right path. The amount of serum I could synthesize from the blood wasn’t much—just enough for one shot, but that’s enough for my body since I’m still a developing child, not an adult.

The serum increases the molecular density of cellular fibers—skin and muscle—through synthetic proteins. It enhances not only the body and mind but also amplifies personality traits and emotions. The mind can deteriorate if the individual's personality isn’t compatible with the serum. That’s why Erskine chose Steve Rogers—he needed a good man.

I was fortunate to have consolidated my resolve, pushing for a change that affected my personality, making me compatible with the serum. Now I understand why Blonsky went insane. He wasn’t compatible with the serum, and the dosage was too low to complete the full enhancement process. It only handled the essentials, leaving his brain partially altered, which caused increased aggression and slight mental instability. Exposure to Hulk’s gamma rays only worsened his condition, driving him mad.

Blonsky should have realized this. A peaceful scientist like Banner developed split personalities and anger issues from the procedure—Blonsky never stood a chance.