Miles Morales: New Spider Chapter 20

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The days went by as I slightly enjoyed 9th grade, but wow, kids were mean—damn, these kids were mean. Not all of them, but many were ruthless to each other. It was like a jungle out there: friends backstabbing each other, teens giving into peer pressure, and making awful decisions. But I guess it's all about learning from your mistakes—that’s what makes you who you are. Ganke was pissed at me for leaving him hanging back in 7th grade, but he met a guy named Judge, and they hit it off, so it's all cool now.

The Chitauri invasion was supposed to happen this year—that was a fact, especially since my Spidey-sense had been ringing non-stop, warning me about it. It got annoying, but I had gotten used to it, especially since I could multitask.

I was hiding on the ceiling of the Scorpion base, still in camo mode, quietly observing my targets. I was mapping out the area, making sure I didn’t miss anything. The last thing I wanted was any unexpected surprises.

I was about to strike the Scorpion gang. It was a Mexican gang with little history in the U.S. The Mexican mob boss had come to Brooklyn, running from an enemy gang in Mexico. He saw the power vacuum left by Hammerhead as his chance to rise again, prompting the recent spike in crime and gang violence.

You know, I really tried to be good—I really did. But when people act like animals, I have a hard time controlling myself. I gave him a chance to take the easy way out, but he spat on my offer. So, now I was showing him the hard way.

He was a vicious, ruthless, homicidal man with a god complex the size of the moon. Yes, a god complex, with the whole "leading you all to the promised land" speech, saying he was sent by fate.

Nasty scars covered his body, some short, some long, running from his head over one of his eyes, others all the way down his back. He was proud of his scars, openly displaying them by wearing only a tank top, black jeans, and combat boots. He had a wide pierced nose, a very hoarse voice, and used a hook chain as his main weapon. Seriously, wasn’t this guy just a meaner version of Captain Hook?

I remained in stealth, watching Scorpion get drunk on beer, with women on both sides of him. His goons were scattered around the room, sipping alcohol, loitering, and laughing. I only needed to take down Scorpion and incapacitate his goons.

I slowly crept down from the ceiling, my movements going unnoticed. I stood right in front of Scorpion himself, and he still didn’t notice me—too busy addressing his men.

“This is our opportunity to rise and expand our territory. These people need a leader, and fate has brought me here for that reason. I will take you to new heights, to our promised land. Scorpions, RISE!”

“Scorpions forever!” his men shouted.

He never noticed the gun pointed at his head, or the bullet tearing through his skull, splattering his brains all over the two women and the graffiti-covered wall.

“What the hell! Boss!”

“Boss! Boss! Motherf*cker!”

“F*cking coward! You b*stard!” the thugs shouted over the screams of the cowering girls.

They aimed their guns at me as I came out of camo, drawing all attention toward myself. Everything slowed down as my Spidey-sense kicked in, my body responding in the most optimal path. I moved like a blur through them, taking them out and restraining them, making sure not to kill them. I only kill monsters. Mindless killing would draw the ire of SHIELD and other heroes, but I guess the Punisher would be proud. SHIELD would give me leeway if I had principles on how I operated. If I acted maniacally, though, I’d be very restricted.

I made sure the girls were okay. I didn’t want collateral damage.

I take out monsters, and that guy was one. What, should I have given a grand speech and fought to the bitter end, standing victorious over my fallen foe? Yeah, this is reality. I do what needs to be done in the most efficient way possible. The winners write history. Since going through the Isotope 1 enhancement, I’ve become less sympathetic toward killing. I noticed it was due to the biological processes my evolved body had been going through. I wasn’t a normal human anymore—I was gradually evolving into something better.

I located their safe, broke it open, and took all the cash available, stuffing it into a duffle bag. It was for the girls—the ones here, the dead ones, and the ones still trapped. Jenni had directed me to a good friend of hers who dealt with cases like theirs, providing shelter, training, and jobs.

When did I start using guns? When I got smart about how to deal with the world. Spider-Man brings hope; I bring fear to criminals.

I broke through the wall, making a direct path to where the girls were being held.

“Boss, I notified James earlier, and he should be here soon,” April informed me. “Thanks, April.”

“Gather around, ladies. No need to be afraid. It’s alright now—you’re safe. Someone will be here to help you all.” I handed them some cash, prompting them to hide it in… places. Moving on.

I could hear the sirens, but James was already here, his vehicle spearheading the others.

James Mathers, a young, energetic guy, had a bright personality—the kind that made the world seem like a better place. But don’t let that fool you; he was a driven individual. His results spoke for themselves.

He parked his vehicle in front of the building as I came out with the girls. I could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

“Here, hide it,” I said, handing him the bag, which he did.

I didn’t need the money anymore. I had plenty after using my AI to steal millions from mobsters. That was still me limiting myself. If I needed to, I could steal billions.

“You know what to do—make sure you take care of the girls,” I told him. He’d handle the situation well; this wasn’t our first time doing this.

“You make it sound like we’re married.”

I silently facepalmed. One thing that exhausted me about James was his damn jokes.

He once told me he was waiting for a movie called *Constipation* and then just stopped—the guy never finished the joke. How am I supposed to know if it came out or not?

“T-...thank you...sir,” I heard a voice behind me and noticed a petite girl of Latin descent, looking up at me with deep gratitude in her eyes. For that moment, everything seemed quiet.

‘Is this where we kiss? I’m not really into that.’

“Boss, the schedule,” April announced, breaking the moment. “Right! No problem, miss. You take care of yourself,” I said as I began to swing away. “You know, April, you sounded almost jealous.”

“No such thing, boss. You must have imagined it.”

April, this isn’t an anime, but let’s just set that aside for now.

The moment my Spidey-sense went off, April made an announcement: “Boss, the western division SHIELD base just blew up.”

Loki was here.

Here came the Chitauri and their tech. I know, I know. Why not stop the invasion? Why not save all the people who would die?

To all of you who would die, I’m very sorry. But if the invasion didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have access to the alien tech I desperately needed. Plus, the invasion was the main reason the Avengers got together. What would the world be like without them?

It was time for me to do what I had been putting off since last year.

Unbreakable skin was my next course of enhancement. I wanted to be able to fully tank a hit from the Hulk and get back up without injury. Having nigh-impenetrable skin would affect my whole physiology, not just my skin.

All my powers would be augmented. It would put me on Hulk’s level of durability, but with all my enhancements and abilities, I’d have an edge over him, especially with my active Spidey-sense warning me of danger.

I could fight Thor, but a hit from his hammer would still do some damage before my healing factor kicked in.

It took this long because I didn’t want SHIELD knowing what I had been doing to myself. The only thing they knew was that I stole some tech; they had no idea how I got my powers or what they were exactly. That was great news for me, and I intended to keep it that way. It put me in a great situation, allowing me to claim that all the abilities I displayed were just my powers evolving.

“April, make preparations for Project Ironskin, and get the spider armor ready.”

Yes, spider armor. No matter how much power you have, sufficient armor always helps.

My armor would be like Iron Man’s suits. I would constantly strive to improve them—and myself. Just because I had superpowers didn’t mean I couldn’t have super armor. I wasn’t going to throw away common sense by abandoning protection just because it wasn’t naturally part of me. Advanced technology was one of the keys to acquiring godhood.

The Spider Armour MK 2 was a larger, heavier version of my black spider suit with the classic red and vantablack color scheme. It was heavy because of the added full body armor plates. The spider emblems were enlarged and more defined, with the weblines extending all the way to my torso. I had removed the ones around the head, leaving the eyes to glow alternately between a demonic red and a bright white, depending on my emotional state. My web shooters had been improved into gauntlets with rotating cartridges, eliminating the need for manual refills. They only needed the cartridge magazine from my utility belt. The arms of my suit had ports for my stingers to protrude from without damaging the armor.

Retractable, slim-profile thigh holsters, similar to those of Robocop, were attached to my thighs for guns—yes, guns, and I had already explained why.

The helmet retracted sideways from the middle, like that of the Destroyer, instead of downwards, with my new and improved half-face mask beneath it.

The utility belt held micro drones, which doubled as trackers, now operated by April. It also contained improved techno shurikens, electroadhesive explosives, smoke pellets (fog, knockout gas, tear gas), and a lot more.

The suit was tricked out with tech that guaranteed an easier life of heroism for me.

The Iron Skin project was essentially the Luke Cage treatment.

I had already prepared everything for Noah Burstein’s electro-biochemical process. The equipment and tools hadn’t been difficult to acquire at all with the money I had, and by milking my SHIELD status for all it was worth, I knew exactly where to get them.

The process was going to be messy—very, very messy—so I had to find a secluded, safe place, which April had already arranged. Instead of erasing the paper trail, she left a believable one that would lead any trackers in circles.

I had to get my parents out of the house for the week so nothing seemed out of the ordinary when I disappeared.

They had been wondering how they kept getting lucky with winning dinners, trips, and spa retreats. “Heh,” I thought. They should know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was time to get started.