Marvel : the Author

Hey guys ! It's been a little more than a month. In the meantime, I didn't really stop writing or any thing… I have to admit that I haven't pursued the stories I already had in the world. I'm ashamed… Not much, but a little ashamed. That said, I write a lot less than before I started here and on my Patréon.

Still… I Hope you like the chapter. I tried to explain my viewpoint about the mystic arts and portal making. Tell me what you guys think !

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And the answer is… It did not last long !

Well, to me, it did. I mean, I spent a week on that roof in order to be close by in case something happened. You'd tell me : 'Hey, moron ! Don't you know how to make portals ?' Which is a rather fair observation. Two things though… I've pointed it out before but, the Arcane arts are not like the magic of fiction where you just have to wish or think of something real hard in order to make it happen. You actually have to understand the phenomenon you want to provoke down to its smallest detail, and also know how it happens. For instance, in order for something to catch fire, you need three things : an oxidizer, like oxygen. A fuel source : paper, wood, coal… And finally, you need an igniting source. Spark, heat…

Now, you know what you need for a fire. You also need to understand what a fire is, whether on a physics or chemistry standpoint, or an arcane one. Don't you worry, guys ! I'm not going to be discoursing about the properties of fire nor enter a philosophical debate about the symbolism of fire and its attributes.

In order to bend space and connect two points, which is the basic principle behind portal making, you need a much greater deal of knowledge into an obscure field of physics : quantum physics. It's something you don't start to study before the end of your high school years, and you continue to study in university. If you're interested, anyway… You also need to know the coordinates of where you want to land. And not the arbitrary ones humans created to calculate and not lose ourselves. The real coordinates are not something you can determine easily, either…

Long story short : portal making and traveling is a pain in the ass ! If I make a single mistake, I can end up in another world, or in space or even another dimension, altogether ! Humans are prone to make mistakes when put under stressful situations. If I do make a blunder, I'll risk missing my chance to save the life of Ben Parker.

And before you point out that the Ancient one, Strange and basically every sorcerer uses portals as if it's the most natural thing in the world, I'll point a few things out myself. First : the Ancient one is… Well, ancient. I don't know how long she's lived but at very least a couple of centuries. She's honed her art during her long life. The other masters have years of training under their belt, as well. As for Strange… Well, he's a freak ! In the movie, he learned in a year enough to be considered a master of mystic arts. That's not something that can be done if you're not a freaky genius. No. Actually, genius is too weak a word. Freak, that's the word !

Anyway, all this to say that I spent a good deal of time spying on the Parker's posted on the rooftop. The thing is, I don't really know how Ben Parker is supposed to die, here. There's a ton of versions after all. I don't believe he's even mentioned in the MCU, though… Still, he exists here. And considering how rotten Peter's luck is, I can safely assume that he'll undergo the usual baptism of losing a close one to crime.

And as expected, one night Ben Parker gets back to his home, head down. Even from a distance, I can feel the man is quite downhearted at the moment. Is this the night ? I think as I witness this. Has Peter been harsh with his uncle, uttering words he'd regret his whole life, if indeed, Ben Parker was to die on this night ?

« Tako Henshin. » I mutter in a low voice.

Like Superman, I'll use my true appearance while fighting crime, I decided a while ago. Unlike the Man of Steel however, who had to act and disguise himself as a dork in his day to day life, my real appearance is different enough that it'll be hard for people to put two and two together.

In addition, I'm wearing something I'll never be caught wearing usually : sorcerer's robes. They are mostly black with red linings and a hood.

As I feel the shift in my physiology, it takes me a bit of time to adjust to my lack of bones. If I want to stay upright, I need to tense the muscles in my leg-tentacles. And even then, it doesn't really feel comfortable.

« I'll need training in this form if I want to fight efficiently… » I mutter to myself.

I spent a couple of months on my own in the sewers, but even then, I never really mastered this form. I could move around, but fast or well ? It was and still is beyond me right now. Anyways, I'm pretty sure Octopi's bodies aren't designed to move on dry land. Then again, humanoid-octopi are pretty rare, if not unheard of, beyond fictions, so… I don't know. Maybe I am designed for it ?

I shake my head, feeling it wobble like a jelly transported in a flat plate. It's weird and all, but I have a mission right now !

* * * * *

Hours passed before I think to myself that… Maybe I don't have a mission. Given how depressed Ben Parker seemed when he entered his house, I assumed that he had an argument with his beloved and brilliant nephew. So, I waited for him to exit and leave in search of the teenager… To no avail it seemed.

I had a few Gazers keep their eye on the house from different angles. You know, in case he doesn't take the front door or another event causes the death of Ben Parker.

And it's a good thing I did ! As the hours draw way past twilight and closer to dawn, I spot movement in the backyard of the Parker's suburban home. It is trying to be stealthy, but it's clumsy and twitchy and frankly speaking, stupid looking. A man with a wool cap, bad-shaven and dirty, inconspicuous black clothes is making his way toward the Parker's home. Maybe that's because I've spent days - or rather nights - here, watching over their house, but it's clear they're not swimming in money. So, the way I see, if this guy thinks it's a good idea to burglar them, either he's, one, a complete and utter idiot whose two leftover neurons had finally ended their life and death duel in a lethal draw, or he is a junky high up to his eyeballs… Either way, it's the kind of man who's actions are not thought through.

I spit ink in the air and will it to form a circular platform. Although I thought of forming batwings and fly over to the house, the thing is… it's a pain ! There's a great deal of thought required in order to change a physiology, and most importantly, make it viable and usable. It's not something you just wing ! Heh ! Wing. Bat-wing !

Any~ways… A floating platform, in this sense is easier to use. I just have to make it stable, sturdy enough to support my weight without deforming, and make it float towards where I want it. Much easier !

I soon reach the upstairs windows leading inside a bedroom. Considering what's inside, I'm guessing it's Peter's room. Posters of chemical formulas on the walls, textbooks lying messily on the desk, dirty clothes on the floor, either in piles or strewn about. And the smell… Yep, I'm pretty sure that's Peter's room.

My thoughts are interrupting by the shouts I hear from downstairs. An unhinged voice, cries of distress and a deep, reassuring voice opposing each other… I don't have much time, I think.

« Let's go ! »