Miles Morales: New Spider Chapter 3.

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It’s been six years since I was born, and the baby has grown into a boy—a big, healthy boy. Not fat or chubby, just exceptionally well-built. I’ve inherited my mom’s dark brown eyes, which perfectly complement my sharp facial features. My short black hair is always neat, kept in a crew cut with side fades. My body is still developing, but I’m built like a miniature athlete. The doctor says I’m in top condition for someone my age, which I attribute to training with my dad.

I don’t have the strength of an adult—not that freaky—but I’m pretty sure I could hold my own against older kids. And did I mention my intellect? I’m a bloody genius. I don’t know how my brain compares to a typical person’s, but I definitely have an edge. As someone who was once an adult, I can tell you that understanding things now comes with ease. It’s like there are no barriers anymore; when I learn something, I *actually* understand it.

I first noticed my edge with speed reading and retention. I can recall anything I’ve seen, even just at a glance, which makes me suspect I’ve developed a form of photographic memory. The thing is, I don’t know what I don’t know. So, don’t expect me to understand molecular biology if I haven’t read about it. But once I’ve acquired information, I can regurgitate it with perfect comprehension, as long as I have enough context.

My intellect is my most noticeable enhancement, so much so that people call me a boy genius. You might wonder why I’m still in preschool then. The truth is, even with all my genius, I know that human interaction is fundamental to developing mental faculties and acceptable behavior. I also understand that not all “acceptable behavior” is necessary or useful; some of it just holds you back and limits your creativity and self-expression. I’m in preschool to learn patience, self-control, and how to relate to others.

Many geniuses become arrogant, thinking everyone who isn’t at their level is beneath them. But I believe everyone has their strengths. Everyone sees the world differently, and if you look at a problem from someone else’s perspective, you might find a solution you hadn’t considered. No one is truly stupid… well, okay, some people are. Einstein did say that stupidity is infinite, after all.

I’m a regular at the library, soaking up knowledge. There’s so much advanced information available, and it’s free for students. The science in this world—Marvel, as I’ve come to know it—is far more advanced than in my original world. With genius scientists like Dr. Samuel Sterns, Otto Octavius, and Arnim Zola, there’s a rich scientific foundation here. Combine that with my intellect, and you have me: a kid who’s head over heels in bliss from all this knowledge.

I can see why people hate geniuses. For a regular person, after spending countless hours of hard work just to get somewhere, it must be frustrating to see someone like me advance so quickly. Some adults at the library give me the stink eye for “reading books I know nothing about just to look smart.” Seriously? I’m six years old and more mature than them. Common sense is definitely undersold—I can’t stress that enough.

I have my mutated soul to thank for all of this. It’s no secret that I’ve put in six years of effort to get these results. I wasn’t just playing around. On rainy days, during lightning storms, the lightning-shaped birthmark on my upper arm feels warm, almost like it’s resonating with the storm. My energy orb hasn’t seen any radical improvements; it’s just a little bigger than a marble now, but it’s still constantly circulating. When I focus hard enough, I can catch glimpses of a yellow-orange glow.

The width of the energy flowing through my channels has increased. Where there was just a single strand before, there are now multiple strands, almost like a wire. It’s giving my body the same improvements I had as a baby, but now my senses are slightly more developed. I haven’t called this energy “chi” because I’m not sure that’s what it is. It could be magic, but I doubt that even more. It might even be the source of Miles Morales' bioelectricity. Whatever it is, I know it’s beneficial to my body.

I’m very sensitive to energy, thanks to my mutated soul. I remember that in the MCU, the Iron Fist’s chi looks like a yellow version of Extremis from *Iron Man 3.* Is it just a coincidence? I’ll have to investigate that further.

Back at school, I have… well, I want to say “friends,” but that feels a bit off. I know I was reborn, but it’s still weird for a grown man to call kids his friends. This is probably why you lose your memories when you reincarnate—so you can start fresh. But, to hell with it. I have friends. Cute little kids who make your heart melt with their tiny voices. It’s more like I’m an older brother to them, though. This kid named James has really grown on me—I’m a sucker for curious kids.

He asks me the funniest questions, like, “What do clouds taste like, Miles?” with the most serious expression. I’d reply, “Oh, maybe like water and ozone—I’ve never tasted it.” Then he’d ask, “What’s ozone, Miles?” Man, he’s a little scientist in the making.

The year is 2008. I know the Iron Man movie happened in May, but this MCU must be an alternate version, so I can’t trust my meta-knowledge 100%. But what do I want from Tony Stark? His armor designs and the primitive version of the arc reactor. Do I actually *need* it? No, but I *want* it. It would make heavy lifting easier. Why? Because the Hulk will strike soon, and Harlem isn’t far from Brooklyn. We might suffer the aftermath, and while I won’t be able to fight, I can at least run away carrying both my parents.

Where would I acquire the materials? Where would I get a lab to work in? I thought about all that earlier, and that’s why I’m widely acknowledged as a boy genius. I’ve won science fair prizes and competitions. Ever heard of the Google Lunar XPRIZE? The milestone that interested me the most was the Soft Landing Milestone Prize—the spacecraft had to transmit data proving it soft-landed on the lunar surface to win $3 million.

Being a genius is nice, but I didn’t want to complete all the projects. Doing that would draw too much attention, both good and bad, so this prize fit me perfectly. My parents really trust my genius and maturity. Even though I’m just a child, they noticed early on that I wasn’t normal. A four-year-old solving calculus problems is anything but normal. So, they supported me all the way, giving me the best education they could afford, always praying for me, and saying they were proud. Now, I’m on a great scholarship, attending a private school. Seeing their happy faces fills me with love—they’re the only people on this planet I don’t want to disappoint, and so far, I’ve kept that promise.

But enough of that—back to the spacecraft. Although it wasn’t very large, it still cost a lot of money to build and launch. My parents didn’t have that much to spare, so we went dumpster diving at a scrapyard filled with electronics and other machines. We needed parts, and we lucked out. Sometimes I forget that this is the Marvel universe. What does that entail? Well, I’ll say it again: “Common sense is undersold.” Not to everyone, but the majority of people here seem to lose most, if not all, of their cognitive abilities under stressful situations.

We found a scaled-down version of a Falcon X space shuttle, fully functional with rocket boosters. It was in great condition; the only problem was a broken connector right under the control panel, which made all commands void. Fix that connector, and boom, it’s good as new. But no, someone had to throw it all away. Well, I’ll put it to good use, so thank you, anonymous donor.

From there, we worked our asses off to get this moon-ready. We refitted it with a solar sail to act as a chute and added simple versions of external inertial dampeners. They took up a lot of space, but they significantly reduced motion. And then, we were ready.

“Okay, Dad, this is what it all led to—all our hard work, sweat, and tears. All the sleepless nights through shine and rain. So I ask, are you ready for launch?” I was hyped.

“Whoa, buddy, you keep surprising me,” he said, reaching down to pat my head. “If it wasn’t for your mom, it would have been hunger-filled, sleepless nights instead.” I giggled.

“Yeah, Mom made sure we ate and got enough rest.”

“Yes, son, your mom is a saint,” he smiled, looking at me. “You’ve got to believe, son—believe in yourself. If this one doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean you should give up, right? No, you get back up and try harder! Until it all comes through and works out in the end. Always know that we are very proud of you.” He set down the tablet and hugged me. “You’re the best thing that came into your mom’s and my lives.”

“Dad! You’re getting sappy again.”

“Hahaha, I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

“All right, buddy, countdown. T-minus 10 seconds… 9… 8…7...6...5...4...3...2...1"

The rest is history. We ended up $3 million richer and moved to a nicer, larger apartment in a cleaner part of Brooklyn. It’s a great neighborhood and all that.

As a surprise, my parents turned the basement into a lab, stocked with most of the essentials. They really know me well.

I continued to win other science fairs, though these were on a smaller scale. I wasn’t in it for the money this time; instead, I won prizes like tools, materials, and instruments. That’s how I ended up with a fully stocked lab, although now it looks more like a workshop.

Ah, the bliss.