Chapter 217: Teaching Miles

Miles returned moments later with Peter B., who looked mildly amused.

"Only a Peter has strange things happen to him," Peter B. remarked, sitting down.

"I did not know Spider-Man could cook," Miles said, watching Peter work.

"He cannot," Peter B. corrected. "It is something we are terrible at. Almost all of us, anyway. I have nearly burned my apartment down more than once."

"You are kidding."

"No."

The orders kept coming. Peter handled each one with mechanical efficiency, translating the restaurant’s absurd lingo without hesitation.

"How did you understand any of that?" Peter B. asked after a particularly incomprehensible order.

"When you spend enough time with a friend who has multiple mental disorders, worships chimichangas, and treats violence like a recreational sport.....you learn to speak the language of the demented."

Peter B. felt an inexplicable shiver run through his body. "You just reminded me of my ex-girlfriend Wanda Wilson."

Peter paused for several seconds before resuming his work.

"We Parkers love danger," he said. "If you dated someone with those characteristics."

"Too much," Peter B. confirmed wearily.

When the food was ready, Peter set the plates down and returned to the kitchen for the remaining orders. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Peter B. stare at the wheat cakes.

The older Spider-Man took a single bite.

His mask of indifference.....the shield of cynicism and disinterest he had built around himself.....cracked. Tears rolled silently down his face.

Miles noticed. He said nothing. He just focused on his own plate and stayed very still.

Peter winked at the boy.

"Do you have any Spider-Man advice for me?" Miles asked after a while.

"Lots," Peter B. said between bites. "Disinfect the mask. Use baby powder on the suit.....underarms and groin. You do not want chafing."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"I think you will be a very bad teacher," Miles said. He turned to Peter. "What about you?"

"Several things," Peter said, still cooking. "Invest in the stock market.....find a pattern and exploit it. Build a voice modulator. You may have a teenager’s body, but your voice gives you away. Constantly upgrade your suit and create variants for specific situations. I have a bulletproof suit, a stealth suit, a fireproof suit, and others. The one you saw me use is adaptive, but if I overload it, its protection degrades."

Miles and Peter B. both watched him with growing attention.

"Find a private place to train. Discover your limits and surpass them. Create web variations. Your identity is a state secret.....do not reveal it to anyone, especially your parents. If they worry about you now as a normal kid, imagine what happens when they learn you come home with bullet wounds and broken bones. Create a schedule for being Miles Morales and being Spider-Man. Peter B. forgot that, and his life fell apart." He paused. "I would give you more advice, but you would forget half of it by tomorrow."

Miles turned to Peter B. triumphantly. "You see? That is how it is done."

Peter B. snorted.

They left the restaurant as it closed. The old owner pressed a thick wad of bills into Peter’s hands.

"Your food was the best this place has ever had. Thank you, kid. Whatever your friends ate is on the house."

Peter smiled, thanked him, and walked outside. As they headed toward the bus stop, he handed the money to Miles.

"Here."

"What? No, that is yours."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Another piece of advice.....the most important one. Seize the opportunities life gives you, Miles. Look at Peter B. Past his thirties. Now look at me. Almost a decade younger, wearing clothes worth fifteen thousand dollars."

Both Miles and Peter B. nearly choked.

"This is the difference between seizing opportunities and letting them pass because they are not morally pure. Am I wrong, Peter B.? How many times could you have been happy, but it was not morally right?"

"Yes," Peter B. said quietly.

"That is why I am morally neutral. On one of my patrols, I took money from drug dealers and used it to pay off our house debts. That single action triggered a chain reaction. My life improved every time I seized an opportunity that was not entirely clean.

I was accepted into a prestigious company. I created inventions beyond imagination. I found cures that should not have been possible. And with all of that, I became powerful and wealthy."

He looked at Miles. "Intelligence is not a privilege. It is a gift, used for the good of humanity. And only those with the will and ambition for change were endowed with it."

Miles was silent, processing.

"If you do not want a good life, that is your decision," Peter continued. "But they deserve it, do they not?"

Miles understood. They meant his parents.

He took the money.

"What about you?" Miles asked as they waited for the bus. Peter B. had fallen asleep on the bench. "What is the difference between you and him?"

"My full name is Peter Benjamin Parker-Fitzpatrick," Peter said. "My vigilante name is technically the Superior Spider-Man, but I shorten it. I run a multibillion-dollar company. And I am in a polygamous relationship."

Miles blinked. "How many women?"

"Five. Potentially six more. Time will tell."

Miles was speechless.

"I want to live that beautiful dream too, Mr. Parker," he whispered reverently.

"Tell me.....is there someone who has caught your eye?"

Miles tensed. He debated internally for several seconds before answering. "Her name is Mindy McCready."

Peter looked at him for a long moment.

’It is official. Every Spider-Man across the Multiverse is attracted to dangerous, violent women.’

"Pay attention," Peter said. "One.....show confidence at all times. Two.....when you speak to her or any girl, look her in the eyes and pay attention to what she says. Three.....light physical contact, never sexual. Four.....a woman always likes to solve the puzzle. Be unique. Treat her appropriately. Five.....show affection in creative ways. Not by buying chocolates and stuffed animals."

"This is worth its weight in gold," Miles said.

"Now listen carefully. When you first see Mindy, call her by the wrong name. Lisa. Estefany. Whatever."

"Why?"

"Because eventually she will come to you and say, ’My name is not Lisa, it is Mindy.’ And you will apologize and say, ’I thought you were the Lisa who was angry at me for not calling her.’

Mindy will subconsciously conclude that you dated someone who looked like her.....someone you rejected. She will give you her approval without realizing it. After that, everything becomes easier."

He paused. "But the most important thing is to be yourself, Miles. Because when she falls for someone you are pretending to be, and you eventually show her who you really are.....she will leave."

"This is a thousand times better than the hand on the shoulder."

"Whoever told you that.....punch them."

While Peter B. slept, Peter continued coaching Miles on presentation, posture, and social strategy. By the time the bus arrived, Miles Morales was a different person than the one who had climbed aboard the rooftop an hour ago.

They disembarked near the Hudson Valley and found high ground overlooking the Alchemax campus. Peter B. and Miles changed into their suits while Peter activated his nanosuit with a double-tap of his watch dial.

The nanobots cascaded across his body in a fluid wave. Both Miles and Peter B. stared with wide eyes.

"Mr. Parker, where did that come from?!" Miles exclaimed.

"Nanotechnology," Peter said. "Precise. Simple to carry. Easy to store."

Peter B. looked at the suit with barely concealed envy. "Can we concentrate?"

"How do we follow Spider-Man’s footsteps inside?" Miles asked.

Peter B. crouched and thought. Miles copied the pose. After a few seconds, Peter B. had a plan.

"Four.....hack the computers. Five.....download everything important. I will recognize it when I see it. Six.....grab a bagel from the cafeteria." He straightened. "Staying here and keeping watch is important, kid."

"Wait, what?!"

Peter B. was already swinging toward the building.

"Learn by watching," Peter called to Miles, firing a web of his own. "Consider it a test."

Twip. Twip.

Both Spider-Men disappeared toward Alchemax, leaving Miles alone on the hill.

"Because I had to get stuck with the pirate Spider-Man.....old and homeless," Miles muttered. He punched a rock in frustration. It shattered. "That is new."

He raised his head.....and his heart began to pound. A car had pulled up to the Alchemax entrance. Someone he recognized was stepping out.

Miles’ eyes went wide.