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A/N: I wrote the prologue and chapters one through five in two days, and that completely blew me. I'll try and see if I can pump anything else out consistently, but for now there's only two more pre-written chapters in my Doc Manager.
Another thing - college. First semester won't be bad, but as finals come nearer, I won't have much spare time between studying for finals and getting to know the ins and outs of my new career.
Lastly, I'll mention that this almost became an X-Men fic on this exact chapter, but then I remembered how much shit comes with being a Mutant. Not worth it. So where this story almost deviated to meet Charles Xavier, my OC instead meets... well, go on and find out yourself.
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Reviews
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r15yamaha16: That's a bit too OP for my OC. Besides that, Spider powers come with a bunch of problems, like the Inheritors who are nearly impossible to kill and AU Spiders demanding your help and all that bull. And my OCs Divine Spark is basically Sorcery, just... Godly sorcery? He wouldn't benefit from studying Sorcery, especially since a lot of the dimensions one would draw energy from as a Sorcerer are governed by gods, so my OC drawing on Cyttorak's energy would be seen as Yahweh infringing on his territory, even if my OC is a neutral party, according to my head-canon of godly politics.
Coldsan: That sounds perfect. Now I just have to find a way to work it into the story.
DBot15112002: I didn't mean for him to appear that way but that seems to be the case, huh.
TribunalXxWolfxX and runelt99: Spoilers.
Aconitum613: Good point. Lemme fix that.
SirMaou: I'll probably use the High-Fathers again in another story, they're so underused and convenient. Username checks out. Cheers!
ashenerden: It's really difficult to write, even more difficult to write something good that doesn't end up being cringy. You should give writing a shot.
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To the Guest who keeps posting shitty reviews, do you really have nothing better to do with your life? You keep trying to put me down, but my story's Favorites keep racking the fuck up. People are reading my story, Favoriting it, and here you are, trying to put down someone to make your garbage self feel better. And if my story is so trash that no one will read it, why do you keep reading my new chapters? Unlike you, I have the balls to post a story, something you'll never be able to do with your level of self-esteem. You'll only either bombard my story with more shitty reviews in response or just stop posting shitty reviews, both because I got under your fragile skin. Get out of here. Or stay, and post more public reviews that everyone will see and belittle you for. Either way, I don't have time for you, even if you come up with a sob-story that validates your need to put someone better than you down.
Dear Guest, my story has 100 Favorites, almost 200 Follows, and is in 5 communities. Those numbers are bigger than your self-esteem ever will be. Good day, and good bye.
BTW, thanks to everyone for Favoriting, Following, and adding my story to the communities. Means a lot to a man.
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Sharingan might be the most useful ability ever. I speed-read the ever-living shit out of books online for an entire week, reading up on biology, physics, and a bit of light reading on programming for a future project. With my newly acquired understanding of SCIENCE! I attempted to do two things. One, I tried to compact my muscles.
It didn't work the first time. Or the fifth. Or the hundredth. Somewhere up there, though. Now I could continue physical training without accruing drastic appearance changes. Two, I tried to turn the Divine energy into atoms. I struggled with that for a while, then figured out how to use my Divine energy as a particle accelerator. Not a very safe thing to do, let me tell you. I blew up my limbs a few hundred times. When I finally figured the particle accelerator bit out, I then tried forming atoms. Veeeeery difficult to make, so I said fuck it, I'll just make one Neutron and deal with the radioactivity like a man. I'll win out ultimately, because I can use it to develop radioactivity resistance and practice turning Divine energy into matter since the Neutronium would constantly break down into radioactive stuff. No problem, right?
Ouch. I got cancer instantly, and a quarter of my cells died. I'm just glad I didn't sprout dick antlers. Back to the drawing board.
I steered back to atoms, and decided, hey! What if I made diamonds? Then I could stab myself with the hardest mundane material on Earth without selling my soul to get one!
Nooo, no. Very difficult to make Carbon. I couldn't even make any, actually. As it turns out, creating, then balancing Protons, Neutrons, and Electrons is very hard. I would know, because I spent half a day trying to make Carbon.
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Maybe I have a skewed perception of 'very hard', because I'm pretty sure most other people would say 'impossible' instead of 'this is mildly inconvenient'.
...
So I switched gears and decided to further develop an existing ability, the ability to enhance myself using Divine energy.
Basically, I took my ability to enhance myself with Divine energy, but instead of using the Divine energy internally, I used it externally to enhance myself. Externalizing the ability gave me less of an enhancement, but on the flip side it allowed me to inhibit my body.
'What?' you might say. 'What the fuck does that mean, Tyler?'
Heh. Well, that means I train 24/7, and I can continue exercising even after I progress past human limits, although it's not nearly as effective as manual exercise. If I didn't already have this ability I would pay to get it with my weight in gold.
But anyways, I was absolutely gleeful with my new ability, and decided to get back into research, except with the addition of body inhibition, and quickly fell into a routine for the next two weeks.
Work on resistances during daylight hours, then go home and research everything I could about regular physics and quantum mechanics all night, all the while irradiating myself with Neutronium, getting used to creating matter, chugging chemicals, and overdosing whatever I could get my hands on. Nothing serious, just brake-cleaning fluid, antifreeze, and Sudafed.
At the end of the two weeks I gained forty pounds of muscle, forty times the average growth speed. And all sixty pounds of muscle were nicely compacted to make me look as if I were an average teen in muscle mass. Except for being super shredded. Nothing I could do about that.
Fire, electricity, blunt force, and radiation resistances were even stronger, and I could parkour even better, utilizing Arc Booms from both my hands and feet to change direction mid-air. I also discovered a new nifty ability towards the end of the week. I could use Divine energy both internally and externally and overload my body with energy, and my abilities would skyrocket for a short period before I knocked out. It was great, and it caused this cool visual effect where I would radiate blue light and arcs of energy would swirl around me. Very difficult to maintain, and very difficult to 'level up'. I called it Nova. Not very original, but it didn't need to be.
I didn't test how strong I was using Nova because of how unsafe it potentially was to test it in the city, but I had to be almost halfway to Spider-Man level strength, which put my Nova strength multiplier at about twenty-five times, a good boost up from my regular ten times multiplier, which seemed to have capped.
I felt good about myself. I was getting stronger by the day, and my routine was perfect. But something different eventually had to happened.
Like me deciding I needed funding. Lots of funding. And the source didn't need to be reputable.
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My fingers prodded my face softly, before ruffling my hair, then pushing it to the left somewhat orderly. I grew. I grew a lot. From five feet five inches to five feet eleven inches in three months since my first day. I also let my muscles fill in do a decent size, since my parents would never see me shirtless, and they apparently never noticed my sheer size change.
I was starting to think they were NPCs.
My baby fat cheeks were gone too, along with the pimples, and what was left was the face I was most used to, an averagely good-looking angular Spanish face, if prideful in appearance. And a bit too much flawless skin.
Why was my skin so fucking perfect? When did it get like that?
I made a face in the mirror, then left the bathroom. I'd need to see if I could burn all waste in my body or something, because I couldn't be bothered to use the bathroom anymore.
Needing to eat was a hassle too. What if I could live off Divine energy? I already generated muscle and resistances just off of Divine energy, so it wasn't too big of a step to nurture my body with Divine energy, right? Would my lifespan be affected by that?
I walked back to my room and went to my closet, where I already had a suit ready in a black tactical backpack. I put together the backpack's contents in preparation for my 'acquisition missions' that I would now be frequenting.
I scooped the backpack, opened my window and checked the dark alleyway, then jumped out, landing in the alleyway from a height that would normally break bone. I walked out normally, putting some distance between me and my apartment, slipped down another alley and hid behind a dumpster to change into a two-tone compression suit with bulletproof vest, elbow and knee pads, and forearm and shin guards modded in, then full helmet with tinted lenses, neck gaiter, gloves, and Tabi shoes, everything black and tactical. I was not risking anything I couldn't mitigate. I was sadly not yet bulletproof. A .50 Cal could still pierce my skin.
I slung the now empty backpack on and spider-climbed the side of the building. Hopefully by the end of the night it would be full of goodies.
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Scouted a seedy apartment complex. A few random people walked in glancing around like druggies. Druggies meant dealers, dealers meant money. Did they have the money with them, though? Was it in the same complex?
I hopped onto the roof of the seedy complex and tested the rooftop access door. Unsurprisingly it was locked. Also unsurprisingly that meant nothing to me, and I broke the knob as silently as I could. Huge ego boost from that. I ran down the stairs on the lookout for anyone. Soon I came to a hall where there was one of the skinny druggies with his back to me walking rapidly. I ran up to him and put him in a headlock with a hand over his mouth, muffling his yelp and nulling his squirms.
"Where's your supplier?" I hissed in his ear.
He just tried to scream and squirmed harder.
"If you don't tell me I'll skin your banana!"
Shakily, he pointed at a door, so I gave his head a knock, let him down gently, and ran back to the rooftop access door, then spider-climbed to the window of the door that the druggie pointed at. I peaked into the apartment and found a man in a hoodie and jeans lounging on a couch with his phone, a pistol on a nearby table. The window was open. Big mistake. I climbed in, up the wall and onto the roof, stopping right above him, then I slowly stood up and chopped his head. He went out like a light, and I continued climbing on the ceiling to the other doors in the apartment to check for anyone else. He lived alone. I found his drug stash in a backpack in his bedroom, and another backpack full of untidy bills of various denominations, mostly twenties and tens. I took the backpack and left the complex.
I got lucky finding druggies. I needed to find a criminal.
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"The fuck you want?" Snapped the black man I had pinned.
He was wearing a tight black and purple costume. He was also very muscular. I was sitting on a very muscular back. Benefit of compressing my muscle, I was much heavier than I looked.
"I just need information." I said soothingly. "I want to know if you'd be willing to cooperate."
"I ain't sayin' shit, man."
"Not even for money? I don't know shit about criminals, so I need a criminal."
"Fuck y'all heroes."
"Lucky I'm not a hero. I just wanna rob some fuckers, man. I don't give a shit about what you do as long as you give me information. Look, if you agree I'll let you stand."
The man was silent for a few moments, then sighed.
"Fine. I'll fuckin' do it."
"Nice." I said cheerily. "Fair warning."
I punched the ground next to his head, causing flames to bloom from my fist and the concrete to crack. His face got a little toasty.
"I'll light your ass on fire if you try running, and you won't escape unless you can out-sprint a formula one."
"Oh you one of them super-powered freaks!"
"Fuck yeah, man." I said as I got off his back. "Tell you what - if you got good info I can do you a small favor that only a super-powered freak can do."
"How fuckin' old are you?" He said as he got up and stretched. "You sound like you're barely old enough for a drink."
"Sixteen."
"Hold the fuck up - " He protested, morals seeming to activate.
"Doesn't matter." I cut. "I need to know who's rich, what rich fucks don't have any gangs backing them, and if there's someone with more information than you. Oh, and they all need to be criminals."
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One week and many, many raids later.
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"Oh, baby." I said sensually, rubbing bills on my vest. "So much money..."
I put handfuls on my face, inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a moan.
"Honey?"
I tripped and fell, then flailed about stuffing the money back into the duffle bag I'd 'acquired'.
"Ma don't come in I'm nakED!"
At the last syllable, the knob started turning so I baseball-slid and stuck out my toe to hold the door shut. I must've looked fucking funny lying there in tactical gear covered in money and doing a pirouette on the door.
"Oh, well hurry up, you have a visitor!"
"Okay! Just- don't come in!"
She apparently walked away from the door, and I sighed in relief. So that's what it felt like to be Spider-Man with his mask off.
I got up and put away all the bags of money under my bed, then got out of my gear, and into regular clothes. I ruffled my hair , took a breath to calm my nerves at nearly being caught, then exited my room and followed my mother's voice and a strange man's voice to the living room.
Tony Stark was sitting on my couch. On a regular Saturday, Tony Stark was in my home.
" - Mister Stark!" I gaped, attempted an awkward wave/dab hybrid and immediately felt shame. "Wow, um, hi."
"Hey Tyler." He said with a small grin.
"Yeah hi what's up?" I put my hands on my hips and smiled, still shell-shocked.
"Remember that grant you signed up for?" Stark winked both eyes.
My mind raced at that. This was a tactic he used with Spider-Man, but I wasn't doing vigilante stuff, so... what was he doing?
"Um - yeah, definitely. The..."
"September Foundation." He finished.
"That. Um."
"I'm here to lay out the details."
"Right. Money. Money?"
"Lots of it, kiddo."
"Awesome."
"Can I talk with him?" Stark asked my Mom.
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I closed my bedroom door and eyed Tony Stark strolling around my room.
"So what's up?"
Tony looked up at me, then pulled out his phone and projected a holographic screen of me emitting tremendous amounts of blue energy zipping around in my warehouse.
"That's what's up." His gaze weighed heavily on me. "My sciency sensors were going off the charts a month back. Thought I'd check it out."
Shit. What was tracking me? A drone?
"So you know what else I found interesting?" Stark continued, changing the video on his phone.
To an aerial shot of me in my combat gear this very same morning, sneaking into my window with a massive haul. And then the day before, and the day before that.
"How about all that money you... borrowed?"
I sighed and rubbed my eyebrows.
"The suit's in my closet. Money's under my bed."
He obviously knew too much about me. And considering he didn't have me arrested... He must've wanted something from me.
"Really?" He bent over and peeked under my bed. "Not a great place to hide that, kiddo."
"Nowhere else." I grunted. "What do you want?"
"Why first, not what." He straightened and looked at me. "Why only criminals?"
"Well," I crossed my arms and leaned against a wall. "I needed money fast, and it seemed fair to steal from criminals. That's about the short and long of it. I could've stolen from big hedge funds, but they got buddies in high places. Untouchable even with massive evidence of them screwing over their clients with stuff that should be illegal."
"So you're a vigilante thief with morals." Stark said as he found my backpack in my closet and opened it.
"A contributor to society." I said crisply. "Cops don't have time for criminals that aren't committing crimes in front of them."
"Not bad." Stark commented on my suit. "A bit... angsty, but definitely an improvement from that Spider-Kid. At least you protect vitals."
"Is the why finished? How 'bout the what now?"
"Well," Stark straightened up. "It just so happens that I'm in need of a kid that can sparkle."
"There's no way out of this?"
"Not unless you want your mother to know of your nightly escapades. Got a passport?"
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