Spider-Man : The Morales Trilogy

Chapter 8

Miles was in the dorm now, focused on his laptop searching up possibilities of gaining superhuman abilities from an electromagnetic pulse but there wasn't any helpful result. Just people with wild imaginations across the globe with fan-fiction ideas involving a group of people who obtained abilities from an electromagnetic pulse but the scientific possibilities were non-existent unless there happened to be some sort of chemical compound within the exposed victim that caused the pulse to affect the cells. In this situation, it would be more fatal than genetic-manipulating.

Nothing. He could hear things he didn't want to hear, hit a lot harder and see things much slower and there was no reasonable explanation for these changes he was going through. And he already scratched out puberty as a reason.

Now that he wasn't focused on the laptop screen, his attention diverted back to the footsteps he'd been hearing before as they got closer and closer. Finally, whoever was coming paused outside the door to the dorm for a couple of seconds before inserting a keycard. The door beeped and Dil opened it and entered the dorm.

"Hey," he said and walked to his desk where he sat down and emptied the contents of his backpack onto the desk. Mostly notebooks and a lot of water color. He was probably working on another art project. Not that Miles really cared.

"So, there's a party tonight," Miles said. "And if you wanted to come, it's an open invitation. Since most people are heading home tomorrow, it's tradition to throw a party the evening before."

"Huh-huh," Dil said and started flipping through his notebooks, probably looking at sketches.

"Are you going to come?"

"Dunno."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Mostly my ribs hurting, feels like someone tried to punch them out of my body. My pride kinda took a beating too," Dil answered without looking away from the notebooks.

"I heard that happens to immature people."

"And I hear it's caused by douche bag best friends with uncontrollable tempers," Dil shot back.

"Is this going to happen again?" Miles asked and sighed.

"Depends. What part of me do you wanna try and break next? My ankle's been acting up recently, wanna have a go at it?"

"Stop being immature!"

"Stop being reckless," Dil said and sighed. "But I guess those are two highly impossible things so what's the point of even mentioning it?"

"As impossible as a symbiote being experimented on here at Horizon High?" Miles said.

"I thought you were just reckless before but turns out you're insane if you think there's still any symbiotes left to be experimented on."

"I have pictures," Miles said. "Took them when Connors wasn't looking which was nearly most of the time. If we could acquire a sample, we could run tests and use it to invent something cool!"

Dil got up to take a look at the pictures and gaped in awe. "That looks dope. It's glowing."

"Yep."

"But how the hell do you plan on acquiring a sample? That's theft and seeing as these symbiotes are technically illegal, it's also a federal crime. You can be reckless with electromagnetic pulses but trust me, you don't want a prison sentence."

"I was thinking we'd ask politely," Miles said. "Ask to have a sample just to study it and turn it in on time."

"And you think Connors would agree to that?"

"Maybe not," Miles said and sighed. "We'll find out after the weekend. So are you coming for the party?"

"I don't know. I have some paintings to get on with. Turns out this school has an art club and I made the cut."

"That's great. But you're coming for this party. You can complete the paintings or whatever over the weekend. It's practically a pool party."

"Pool party?"

"Yep. Meaning lots of girls in swimsuits or bikinis, some shirtless guys and a bunch of people skinny dipping. There'll be music. And dancing."

"You lost me at dancing," Dil said.

"Come on, Casen. You'd do anything for the chicks, remember? Even if it means getting groovy for about three hours."

"Alright, alright. You got me back at chicks."

"Alright then, party tonight it is," Miles said. Dil frowned and peered at Miles's laptop to see what he was searching.

"Really? You think you're going to get powers from EMP exposure?" Dil asked and snorted. "Is that why you did it? So you'd become some lightning blasting conduit? Call yourself Electro??"

"First of, Electro is such a terrible name," Miles began, "and secondly, if my nerd information is still up to date, that name has been taken. Thrice, in fact."

"Miles, please tell me you didn't light up the school with the pulse because you thought you'd obtain superhuman abilities?"

"No," Miles said. "But I'm feeling different. My senses are sharper and as you've witnessed, I'm much stronger."

"I think that's called steroids," Dil said, "not superhuman powers. You shouldn't even wish for things like this right now. You know the kind of danger you'd be in if you had powers. You'd put yourself on every kind of radar that exists currently. Terrorists would want you. Extremists target you. The government tries to use you."

"Please don't tell me you've been watching Project Manhattan again? You sound psychotic."

"That's such a great show," Dil said as he walked back to his bed. "Just so you know, Project Manhattan? That's something that could actually give superhuman abilities. If you look past the radiation poisoning and inevitable cancer."

"Your point?"

"The superpowers might seem great but do you consider the downsides?"

"What downsides?"

"You get exposed to gamma radiation and you can't socialize with people anymore because anger turns you into a deranged, wild green beast. Or you can't actually speak because a single sound from you can decimate an entire city?"

"Black Bolt and Hulk managed to get past those problems."

"How about your idol?" Dil asked. "Spider-Man? Do you know how many times he's been shot at by the cops?"

"And none of the bullets actually ever hit him."

"Miles, you don't have to have spider-like abilities to do some good in the world. We're geniuses. I'm pretty sure that's all the world needs from us."

"Don't be naïve, Dil. The world is dying and each day that goes by, the damage gets worst. There aren't any heroes left, the cops don't know how to do their jobs anymore. Criminals with insane technology in their hands and no one knows who's putting it out. Look at the news sometime, Dil. Families dying in collapsed buildings or violent, unexplained fires. Our brilliant minds can't fix this world. Not while it's this broken."

"Spider-Man didn't fix it either," Dil said.

That's when it occurred to Miles. He didn't think the pulse was what knocked him out, now that he thought of it. He was now sure that the pulse hadn't given him powers either. He remembered now.

He'd been bitten by a spider.

"You've got to be shitting me!" he murmured under his breath.