The Kryptonian: Reborn in Marvel as Bruce Wayne

The quiet hum of the lab surrounded me as I worked, meticulously adjusting the schematics on the holographic display. The design was sleek yet classic—precisely what Alfred had requested for his new body. It wasn't every day you designed a robotic avatar for your AI butler. I chuckled to myself as I imagined Alfred's voice paired with the youthful, regal appearance he'd chosen.

Just as I was fine-tuning the sensory suite, the door hissed open, and Alice strolled in, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "What are you up to now?"

I gestured to the holographic projection. "Giving Alfred a physical body. He's been stuck as a voice in my head for too long. Figured it's time he stretched his legs—metaphorically speaking."

Alice leaned in, inspecting the design. "Why does he look so young?"

"His choice," I said with a shrug. "He said he wanted to be more... approachable."

She snorted. "Approachable, huh? Looks like a model from one of those British period dramas." Her gaze shifted to another design on my display—a large, muscular robot with imposing tusks adorning its head. "And what's this?"

"That," I said, smirking, "is a concept design for another project. Let's just say it's a work in progress."

"Mm-hmm," she replied, clearly skeptical. Without warning, she saved my work, closed the station, and spun my chair around to face her.

"Time to go."

I blinked. "Go? Go where?"

"School."

"School?" I repeated, incredulous. "I'm the head of a successful multinational company and a superhero. I don't need school."

Alice snorted. "Head of a company, sure. Hero, debatable. But you're also a 16-year-old with no friends your age. And guess what? You're now enrolled at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Congratulations."

"Wait—Midtown?" I paused, my mind racing. That was Peter Parker's school. Interesting.

"Fine," I said, standing and grabbing my jacket. "But only because it's Midtown."

Alice smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Thought so. Now come on. You've got a first day to make an impression."

The Royalty, my one-of-a-kind ride, was waiting outside. A joint creation of Rolls-Royce and Tesla, it was sleek, powerful, and one of only four in existence. Alfred opened the door automatically as Alice and I slid inside.

"Alfred," Alice said, buckling her seatbelt, "take us to Midtown."

"Certainly, Miss Alice," Alfred's voice replied smoothly. The car hummed to life, gliding down the long driveway on its own.

As we drove, I gazed out the window, considering my plan. Peter Parker was likely already bitten by the radioactive spider; the Stark Expo trip had happened months ago. 

Alice interrupted my thoughts. "Don't overthink it. Make some friends, play nice, and try not to get into trouble."

I smirked. "No promises."

The car pulled up in front of Midtown, drawing a fair amount of attention. Students whispered and stared as I stepped out, backpack slung casually over my shoulder. Alice bid me a sarcastic "Have fun!" as the Royalty drove off.

Inside, the office staff got me sorted quickly, handing over my schedule. First class: Advanced Physics. Great.

The morning was as dull as I'd expected—duller, even. The teachers weren't bad, but the curriculum was practically prehistoric compared to what I already knew. Newtonian physics? Child's play. Basic calculus? I'd mastered it when I was ten. The only thing keeping me from dozing off was the occasional distraction on my phone.

Of course, that didn't go unnoticed.

"Mr. Wayne," my Advanced Physics teacher, Dr. Hale, called out sharply during a lecture on kinetic energy. "Care to put your phone away and join the class?"

I didn't bother looking up. "I am joining the class."

Murmurs rippled through the room.

"Really?" Dr. Hale said, clearly unimpressed. "Then perhaps you can explain the difference between elastic and inelastic collisions?"

I sighed, putting my phone down deliberately. "An elastic collision is one where both kinetic energy and momentum are conserved. In an inelastic collision, momentum is still conserved, but kinetic energy isn't—it's transformed into other forms of energy like heat or sound. Oh, and in perfectly inelastic collisions, the objects stick together post-impact, resulting in maximum energy loss to deformation."

Dr. Hale blinked. "...That's correct."

"Anything else?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.

He frowned but shook his head. "No, carry on."

It set the tone for the rest of the day. Whether it was answering advanced chemistry questions before the teacher could finish asking them or correcting a historical date in World History, I proved I didn't need to be there.

In Calculus, Mrs. Mendez tried to trip me up with a curveball problem involving integration by parts. I walked her through the solution step by step without missing a beat. "See?" I said, leaning back with a smirk. "Like I said, I don't really need the lesson."

Her lips twitched as though she wanted to argue but couldn't. "Well... carry on then, Mr. Wayne."

The students around me alternated between awe and annoyance. Some clearly thought I was showing off, but others seemed genuinely intrigued. I caught snippets of whispers—"Who is this guy?"—and more than a few curious glances.

Still, none of it made the classes less excruciatingly boring. If anything, my little performances only highlighted how out of place I was. By the time lunch rolled around, I was seriously reconsidering Alice's insistence that I "make friends."

And then, right on cue, I heard the chaos in the cafeteria and that unmistakable name "Penis Parker!"

I sighed, already annoyed. Turning toward the far corner of the room, I spotted the source of the commotion: Flash Thompson, flanked by his lackeys, looming over Peter Parker and Ned Leeds. Jackpot. They were laughing and were messing with Peter's things, seems that they had also broke his laptop.... wait was that one of my cheaper WayneTech models?

The cafeteria went eerily silent as I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

"Hey, Flasher!" I called, striding toward the table where Flash Thompson and his crew sat. "Instead of bullying other students, maybe you should keep to yourself like a good mutt."

Heads turned. Conversations died. Every eye in the room fixed on us as Flash stood up, his confusion giving way to irritation.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

I smirked. "Bruce Wayne."

The name landed like a bomb. A ripple of whispers and gasps swept through the crowd.

Flash sneered, masking his unease with bravado. "And what do you want, rich boy?"

"Oh, nothing much," I said casually, crossing my arms. "Just thought I'd point out how sad and pathetic bullies like you are. Compensating for something, maybe?" I let my eyes dip deliberately downward.

A wave of laughter and gasps erupted around us.

Flash's face went beet red as he laughed sarcastically. "Oh, that's cute. Real cute. You think you can just waltz in here and talk to me like that?"

"Actually, I do." I took a deliberate step closer. "From what I can see, there are several cameras in this lunchroom. And from what I hear, you act like they don't exist because you think you're untouchable."

Flash's smug grin faltered.

"Alfred," I said, my tone sharp, "list Mr. Thompson's crimes."

"Certainly, Master Wayne," Alfred's voice chimed smoothly through my sunglasses. "Compiling records of Mr. Thompson's actions: vandalism, theft, property damage, assault—both verbal and physical—and several counts of harassment, all corroborated by eyewitness reports and security footage."

Flash's eyes darted nervously as his friends shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Who the hell is that?!" Flash barked.

"My A.I.," I said with a cold smile. "Now, since you destroyed Peter Parker's laptop, here's what's going to happen. You're going to buy him a new one. Today."

Flash scoffed, his bluster returning. "Yeah, no. Not happening. It's just some cheap piece of junk anyway."

Peter, sitting at the table nearby, waved his hands nervously. "It's fine, really. I don't—"

I held up a hand without even glancing his way. "Shut up, Parker. I'm handling this."

Turning back to Flash, my smile disappeared. "You've got two choices, Thompson. Either you pay for that laptop, or you hand over whatever cash you've got on you right now."

Flash laughed again, looking to his friends for backup. "You're delusional, Wayne. You think I'm scared of you? Guys, get him."

His crew stood, but they hesitated, glancing between me and Flash. Mistake number one.

I stepped forward, my movements smooth and precise. The first guy swung sloppily, and I ducked under it, grabbing his wrist and twisting until he hit the floor with a yelp. The next came at me with a chair; I caught it mid-swing and yanked it out of his hands, using it to knock him flat.

Flash's confidence evaporated as I dismantled his crew in seconds, leaving them groaning on the ground. When Flash finally swung at me, I sidestepped, letting him stumble past me.

"I warned you," I said, catching his wrist mid-punch. With a quick, practiced motion, I bent his arm just enough to make him yelp in pain. "Now, hand over your wallet. All of you."

Muttering curses, Flash and his friends pulled out their wallets, tossing the cash onto the table. I collected it and counted quickly. Just over $500.

I turned to Peter and shoved the wad of cash into his hands.

"Here," I said. "Keep this."

Peter shook his head, trying to push it back. "I can't—"

"You can and you will," I interrupted firmly, closing his hands around the money. "Take it. Consider it repayment for what that idiot did."

Peter stared at me, wide-eyed, before nodding.

"Now, come on," I said, motioning to him and Ned. "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?" Peter asked fixing his backpack.

"To fix you two."

As we headed out of the cafeteria, I caught a glimpse of MJ sitting alone at a corner table, her sharp eyes locked on me. A hint of curiosity flickered across her face before she returned to her book.

Interesting.