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Arachnids Don't Cry

Vengeance and blood. Who do you bleed for? Who do you kill for? What is it that the innocents are owed? What is it that the meek seek from their tormentors? Who hears their cry? Who is the flail wrought upon the wicked? What is my purpose? Join me on this journey writ in blood and together we will blaze through hell to find the answer. Marvel Insert/Reincarnation Fic as Miles Morales Ff.net account. https://www.fanfiction.net/u/12059332/Rain-Reid *For any of you who wish to support me my patreon link is down below. The patreon is just there if you wish to support me because you enjoy my work. You are in no way obligated to provide me with anything. It's all your choice. https://www.patreon.com/R41n I'll also be posting original stories, notices, teasers and polls for more stories to come, so check it out.

Reidrain · Anime & Comics
Not enough ratings
5 Chs

CHAPTER FOUR

Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

RHYME & REASON

Let us think. I haven't had much time to properly ponder my earlier circumstances. But here, in the deep shadow of these dusty tunnels, I stuck my back to the dusty ceiling, the scurrying of rats, lizards and critters of all sorts resounded in the depths. In this deep frigid darkness I could let my mind cool, I can finally allow cold reason to prevail within the solitude of myself.

I don't know how I came to this body, or more importantly why. That is a question I will have to tackle further down the line, when adequate resources are available to me.

Then let's get to the who's who. Who is Miles Morales? He is the first and only son of Rio and Jeff Morales, only nephew to Aaron Davis. He is a smart teen from Brooklyn, a boy raised in a modest home, someone who would become ­­–a scientist, a successful businessman, a great teacher, an outstanding artist— whatever he wanted to be. He was someone with a bright future, and a life ahead of him, an unexciting one yet a good one still.

Yet he chose to be Spider-man, a hero, hated and loved. Why? Simply because he is a good person, someone with a hold on responsibility, someone with a heart that bleeds for others.

I wasn't such a person. My heart was black with vengeance and hatred.

It isn't something I could change simply because I found myself in a different body. This heart was mine, one I'd earned from my suffering.

So the truth is that I will never become a hero. I am more inclined to punish, to seek blood for blood, to pluck an eye for an eye than to be inspirational. I am not spider-man, I am one simply bit by an irradiated spider, a spider that caused an extremely absurd mutation within my biology. I will save people, but I will do it my way.

For the sake of clarity I must delve into my memories, the sequence of events and organize the facts. Why? To understand the present we must consider the past. To predict the future one cannot discard yesterday.

And here is where I cheat, the spidey sense, this borderline precognitive sensory ability that allows one to perceive things beyond the natural. I bend it, I twist it, I straighten it out and spread it through all things. It is ethereal yet graspable, ghostlike yet solid. Asking me to use it beyond just a sense for impending danger, I did. I allowed it to move through me, to saturate my thoughts to encompass my being.

I was bit by an irradiated spider. The spider was an experiment that escaped its cage, a creature put through an immense amount of suffering for the advancement of science. In its last act of defiance, it sunk its fangs into my veins and pumped my body full with unnatural venom.

brZzzz

The buzz of the spider sense tells me I am correct but not fully.

The spider is an avatar of an extra-dimension force, a universal constant of order or good and it chose this body to bear the responsibility of being its agent on earth, a force of hope in the mortal plane.

brZZzzz

The buzz confirms, yet there is more. More I am unable to fully comprehend yet. Two conflicting postulations both correct but not fully so. A link is missing.

I was bitten by the spider during a school excursion to the prestigious Oscorp Labs, one of the leading research and development agencies in the US. Oscorp Labs was solely overseen by a man called Norman Osborn, an extremely successful—industrialist, weapons manufacturer, electronics maker—billionaire businessman.

Why would a man so seemingly competent then allow an excursion to his facility? A facility where he was actively developing such a bio-weapon? Yes, it was unmistakably a bio-weapon. Why bring teenagers into your house of glass knowing that young adults and teenagers are reckless and untamed, they will go where they want, do what they want, touch what they want, act how they want regardless of warnings or consequences.

They will throw stones in your house of glass just to see it break, so why let them in? If your glass isn't just glass, if your glass is reinforced to the extent where it can withstand explosions and weapons fire, then you would be secure in your trust that stones would do nothing to your abode.

He had nothing to worry about, his facility was adequately protected, the important things could not be accessed, if they were any even stationed in the facility. We do not know how the spider got there, it could have clung to an object at an entirely different facility in an entirely different location and arrived there in manner.

Further then, if you can display your power and prowess to the younger generation, if you can have them in awe and worship of you then you can control them, you can have them climb over each other in trying to please you. They may not know it now, but once they mature, once they're in that final year, when they have to go to college and find a job, when they have to choose what company will determine how rich they live, how good their lives will be.

You create an army of willing slaves, answering to your beck and call. It is a way to cement yourself as a dream, an ideal.

We can agree that his facility is protected, and to protect something you must keep watch of it, then we can agree that he has seen me.

That he is aware that I was bitten by his experiment and that I survived it. That conclusion meshes with the observation I made upon being followed from the hospital after my recovery.

So if he is still keeping an eye on me, then I must contain something valuable to him. I must be evidence of something he is chasing or something he sees as interesting enough to keep a hold on.

brZzz—The spidey sense confirms.

Knowing Norman Osborn, my meta knowledge of his life, his murderous alter ego, of his dark dealings and his heinous crimes cements a fact in my head, I will kill him. I must. If I want to protect this new life I lead and those connected to it, there is no other option. I am not Parker nor am I truly Morales, I am not as forgiving, nor naïve, nor bright.

These are geniuses that build objects and devices that put entire industries to shame, teenagers and young adults who rightfully qualified themselves to stand amongst other geniuses.

What do I need to kill a man as protected and powerful as Osborn is? I would need money; money to acquire resources and information. Most importantly I would need power. I have power, a type of it, I would have to fashion it, to understand it fully so I utilize it fully.

Power to face the consequences of my actions, being an arachnid mutate was not enough. I would need power to topple armies, power to stand against the truly powerful, the power to be kind without fear of repercussion.

With these I would have to strike as swift and with extraordinary precise lethal force.

What is the best way to acquire both? It would have to be in a field I was familiar with.

A subject I'd not only dissected down to its fundamentals but also steeply involved myself in. That subject is crime, criminality was my bread and butter, criminals were my brethren. I knew them as I knew myself for I was one of them. In this field I truly excelled, filled with schemes and plots and murder and death and destruction, this was my calling.

With access to the police database through Jeff, I know who to strike and when to strike.

*.*.*.*

Till next time, Rain (the best ever) away!

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