Dimensional Nomad

By the time I turned ten, my foundation was in place. My portfolio was growing at a steady pace, my body was starting to show the effects of all the early training, and my mind—already sharp from the reincarnated memories—had become my most dangerous weapon. But the real game hadn't even begun yet.

I had plans. Big ones.

Still, for now, I had to play it smart. No one in their right mind would believe a ten-year-old kid was capable of the things I was planning, and I had to keep it that way. No need to raise suspicion before I could handle the fallout.

It all started with a curiosity about science… at least, that's what I told everyone.

"You want a chemistry set?" my mom asked, giving me a curious look as we wandered through a toy store one weekend.

"Yeah!" I said, putting on my most innocent grin. "I've been reading about how scientists mix things together to make medicine and stuff. It's cool!"

The look on her face softened instantly. It was easy to see she was proud of me for taking an interest in something so "educational." I leaned into that image as hard as I could.

The chemistry set was basic, of course—a glorified toy, really. But I didn't care. It was just a stepping stone. I spent weeks fiddling with it, memorizing chemical processes and convincing my parents I was just a kid playing with test tubes. Meanwhile, I was sneaking my way into local libraries and devouring science books that no normal ten-year-old would bother with.

Biology, chemistry, engineering, physics—I needed to know it all. If I was going to navigate the Marvel universe and survive what was coming, I needed an edge. And knowledge? Knowledge was the ultimate superpower.

Of course, pretending to be a "gifted" kid had its perks. By the time I started middle school, teachers were starting to take notice.

"He's incredibly advanced for his age," one of my science teachers told my parents during a parent-teacher conference.

"We're so proud of him," my mom said, beaming.

I smiled and nodded along, keeping quiet. I didn't want to attract too much attention—just enough to fly under the radar while still getting access to the resources I needed.

Teachers thought I was a precocious genius, the kind of kid who might one day win a science fair or get into an Ivy League school early. If only they knew what I was really working toward.

Meanwhile, my physical training continued.

By now, I'd outgrown the simple push-ups and jogs. I'd managed to find a local dojo that offered martial arts classes, and I convinced my parents to let me sign up.

"It'll be good for him," my dad said when my mom hesitated. "Discipline. Fitness. Plus, it'll get him out of the house."

"Fine," she relented. "But only if he promises to keep up with his homework."

"Deal!" I said quickly.

The dojo was perfect. Sure, the classes were geared toward kids, but I wasn't there to win participation trophies. I absorbed everything like a sponge—kicks, punches, grappling techniques—and practiced harder than anyone else in the class.

At night, I would recreate the moves I'd learned during the day, pushing my body to its limits in my bedroom. It was exhausting, but every bruise, every ache, every drop of sweat was worth it. This body of mine wasn't just some normal kid's body. It had potential.

And I was going to unlock every bit of it.

Then there was the Stark Industries situation.

By now, Tony Stark had been back in the picture for a while, taking over as CEO and causing ripples in the tech industry. I kept a close eye on him—on every press release, every patent Stark Industries filed, every new product they announced. I knew what was coming, and I had to stay ahead of it.

I started making tiny trades through the account my dad had set up for me, riding the ups and downs of the stock market with calculated precision. I didn't make any huge moves—not yet—but every dollar I earned was another step closer to freedom.

Freedom to act. Freedom to experiment. Freedom to become what I needed to be.

But there was still one thing missing: power.

By now, I had the beginnings of a fortune, the mind of a super-genius, and a body that was getting stronger every day. But in this world, that wasn't enough. Super-soldiers, aliens, gods, mutants… Earth-616 wasn't just a dangerous place—it was chaos. And if I wanted to survive, I needed to level the playing field.

The problem? I didn't have access to any of the big-ticket items yet. No super-serums. No Vibranium. No alien tech. I was just a kid in New York, still playing the long game.

But there was one place where I might be able to start.

I'd overheard some older kids talking about a science fair that was coming up in a few months. It was open to middle and high school students across the city, and the winners would get the chance to tour some of the most advanced research labs in New York—including Oscorp.

"Bingo," I muttered under my breath as I sat at the lunch table, scribbling fake notes into a notebook to look busy.

Oscorp was a goldmine of opportunity—if I played my cards right, I might be able to sneak a peek at their research, maybe even grab a sample or two of something useful. Norman Osborn wouldn't become the Green Goblin for a while yet, but the seeds of his empire were already growing.

I had to act fast.

That afternoon, I ran home, dropped my backpack at the door, and sat down at my desk with a stack of notebooks. I spent hours brainstorming, sketching designs, and running through every scrap of scientific knowledge I could think of. I needed a science project that would blow the judges away—something that looked impressive, but wasn't so advanced that it would make people suspicious.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, I had my plan.

I grabbed a pen and wrote two words across the top of a fresh sheet of paper:

Magnetic Propulsion.