Dimensional Nomad

Getting into the science fair wasn't difficult.

I'd submitted my project proposal—a magnetic propulsion system designed for small-scale transportation—and watched as the school administrators fell over themselves to praise me.

"Brilliant work, truly brilliant," my science teacher had said, eyes wide as he read through the technical breakdown I'd written up.

I almost felt guilty. Almost. Because, let's be real—my 'brilliant' idea wasn't even remotely original. I'd pulled it from memories of existing tech in the real world, scaled it down, and slapped on a coat of polish. But hey, it's not cheating if you're reincarnated into a world where the tech doesn't exist yet, right?

The real challenge wasn't winning—it was staying under the radar. I had to seem impressive, but not too impressive. Exceptional, but believable. A young prodigy, but not a threat. And I had to do all of that while keeping my real plans quiet.

Oscorp—that was the goal.

The science fair was held in a sprawling convention center in Midtown, just a train ride away from Queens. Walking in that morning, backpack slung over my shoulder, I took in the scene with a practiced calm. Rows of tables lined with poster boards, buzzing students, and judges with clipboards. The air hummed with nervous energy.

It all looked so ordinary.

But beyond this bubble of high school ambition was the prize—a tour of Oscorp Industries. A golden ticket to one of the most advanced research facilities in New York.

"Remember to smile, play nice, and don't get cocky," I muttered to myself as I set up my display.

The system I'd built was small—a compact rail and a magnet-powered platform that zipped back and forth when activated. Simple, sleek, and flashy enough to grab attention without raising too many eyebrows.

I had bigger plans for magnetic propulsion, of course—but those were for later. For now, this was just bait.

As the day rolled on, the judges came by in waves. I walked them through my project with a carefully rehearsed blend of enthusiasm and humility, watching as they scribbled notes and nodded along.

"This is very impressive work for someone your age," one judge said, pushing up his glasses as he examined my setup.

"Thank you," I replied, offering my best shy-but-determined smile. "I just really love science."

I laid it on thick, and it worked like a charm. They loved the "curious, bright young genius" act. I couldn't blame them—who doesn't like the idea of discovering the next Einstein in a room full of teenagers?

By the time they announced the winners that afternoon, I wasn't surprised to hear my name called.

I walked up to accept my certificate and tried not to look too smug. I couldn't afford to get cocky—not yet.

"Congratulations," the head judge said as he handed me the paper. "You've earned yourself a spot on the Oscorp Industries tour next month. Make sure you keep up the good work, young man. You've got a bright future ahead of you."

"Thank you, sir," I said, keeping my voice even. Inside, I was grinning like a madman.

Step one: complete.

The day of the Oscorp tour arrived quicker than I expected. My parents had no idea what I was really after—they just thought I was an overachieving science nerd on a field trip.

"Be on your best behavior, okay?" my mom said as she dropped me off at the meeting point that morning. "And take pictures! I want to see what this Oscorp place looks like."

"I will, Mom," I said, waving her off.

She had no idea that her son was about to infiltrate one of the most dangerous corporations in Marvel history. Fun times.

Oscorp Industries was everything I expected—a sleek, polished corporate front for cutting-edge science that would one day spiral into madness and chaos. It was strange walking through those glass doors, knowing what Norman Osborn would eventually become.

For now, though, it was just another lab.

We were herded through a series of pristine hallways by a young employee in a sharp suit and a practiced smile. The other kids ooh'd and aah'd at the sleek tech on display—robotic arms, clean energy prototypes, and samples of biological research.

But I wasn't here to sightsee.

I was here to steal something.

Okay, maybe "steal" was a strong word. Let's call it… borrowing.

The opportunity came when our tour guide paused to take questions near one of the biological research labs. Through the glass wall, I could see a cluster of researchers hunched over microscopes and specimen containers. And sitting on a counter near the back of the lab was a vial of bright green liquid.

My heart skipped a beat. That was what I needed.

I didn't know exactly what was in the vial—some kind of experimental biological compound, probably—but in this world, anything glowing and green was worth investigating. Oscorp's research was decades ahead of most labs, and if I could get my hands on even a sample of their work, it could be a game-changer.

Now I just had to figure out how to get to it.

"Excuse me," I said, raising my hand as the tour guide finished answering another kid's question. "Can I use the restroom?"

The guide blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Uh… sure. There's one just down the hall. Be quick, okay? We're about to move to the next area."

"Thank you!" I said, already slipping away.

I moved down the hall at a brisk pace, keeping my expression calm and my footsteps quiet. The bathrooms were the perfect excuse—an easy way to slip out of the group without raising suspicion. But I wasn't going to the restroom.

Once I was around the corner, I stopped, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The hallway was empty.

Good.

I pulled a small screwdriver and a roll of tape out of my backpack. (Don't ask why a ten-year-old carries those things—I like to be prepared.) Working quickly, I unscrewed the vent cover at the base of the wall and slid it aside. The air duct was narrow, but I was small enough to squeeze inside.

"Let's hope this works," I muttered, taping the vent cover back into place behind me.

Crawling through air ducts is not nearly as glamorous as movies make it look. It's cramped, dark, and dusty as hell. But I didn't have time to complain. I had a vial to "borrow."

The lab was just ahead. I could see it through the grates in the ducts—the researchers had their backs turned, deep in conversation as they huddled around a computer screen. The green vial was still sitting on the counter, tantalizingly close.

I took a deep breath, braced myself, and popped the grate open.

I dropped down as quietly as I could, landing in a crouch on the tile floor. My heart was pounding, but I forced myself to stay calm. Move quick, move quiet, don't mess up.

I grabbed the vial, shoved it into my backpack, and slipped back into the vent before anyone noticed I was there.

By the time I rejoined the group, no one even realized I was gone.

"You took your time," the tour guide said as I slipped back into line.

"Sorry," I replied, smiling sheepishly. "Got a little lost."

He rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue.

As the tour continued, I couldn't