The heavy thud of my aunt knocking on the door shattered my sleep.
"Chris! Get up! You need to get ready for school!"
"I'm on it, Auntie!" I shouted back, swinging my legs out of bed.
I hit the shower and started my morning routine, but when I looked in the mirror while brushing my teeth, I froze.
My body had changed overnight. I didn't look like a skinny teenager anymore.
My muscles were dense, compressed, and defined—like a pro bodybuilder, but without the bulky, useless mass. I looked lean, dangerous, and efficient.
Even my clothes felt tighter. My sleeves were shorter, and my jeans felt like they were ready to burst at the seams.
I quickly dressed, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs.
The family was already at the table. My uncle and aunt were eating, and my cousin was slumped in her chair, eyes glued to her phone. She didn't even look up.
Typical. To her, I was just background noise.
"Morning, Uncle. Morning, Auntie," I greeted them, sitting down to serve myself.
I ate enough for three people. My metabolism was screaming for fuel after last night's transformation.
As I stood up to clear the dishes, my uncle looked at me with a smirk.
"Take care of yourself today, kiddo. Don't go about fainting again. Real men don't do that."
I grinned back. "Yes, sir."
The atmosphere was light, a rare moment of comedy before I headed out.
I didn't walk to school. I ran.
Tapping into my connection with Bart, the stray dog, I blurred through the neighborhood. I arrived at the gates in minutes, feeling completely fresh, not even breaking a sweat.
I reached my locker just as a very concerned Peter Parker walked up.
"Dude! What happened yesterday? You just dropped!"
"Nothing, Pete," I said, shoving my books into the locker. "I just didn't feel well. Too much heat, maybe?"
"Oh, okay. Just... try not to die on me next time, alright?"
I laughed. "I'll try my best."
We headed to Biology class. Usually, I was the guy staring at the clock, waiting for the bell. Not today.
Today, I was the most attentive student in the room.
Knowledge was power. If I wanted to evolve, I needed to understand the mechanics of life. Every word the teacher said about cellular structures and animal traits felt like a manual for my own body.
After class, as we walked through the hallway, I spotted a familiar shape.
Hoot, the owl, was perched on a window ledge outside. He stared at me with those unblinking, golden eyes.
I knew what he wanted.
"Hey, Pete, give me a sec? Bathroom break," I lied.
I ducked into the restroom, pulled out a bag of treats I'd grabbed from the kitchen, and fed them to Hoot through the cracked window.
He clicked his beak in thanks and took off into the sky.
Back in the hall, I started grilling Peter. I knew he was a genius, so I used him as a walking encyclopedia. I asked him about everything—tracking instincts, muscle density in predators, the nervous systems of insects.
Eventually, even Peter got tired of talking.
"Geez, Chris! Why the sudden interest in Biology?"
"I know what I want to be," I said firmly.
"What? A doctor?"
"A zoologist."
Peter laughed, but he nodded. "Actually? I can see that. You've always been weird with animals."
Our conversation was cut short by a shadow looming over us.
Flash Thompson.
"Hey, Parker! You fool, can't you see you're disturbing my peace with all your yapping? Go find something else to do."
Peter went silent, his shoulders slouching. But I wasn't the old Chris anymore.
"Shut up, Flash," I snapped. "Maybe being the school's top athlete has gotten to your head so much that your brain got shoved into your ass."
The hallway went dead silent.
Flash's face turned a deep shade of purple. "What did you say to me, Maxwell? Repeat it."
"I said your brain is in your ass. Want me to draw a map?"
Rage took over. Flash lunged at me, throwing a heavy right hook.
In my mind, it was like the world slowed down. I tapped into the ant's reactionary speed.
I sidestepped him so effortlessly it looked like I was dancing. Flash stumbled, his momentum carrying him forward.
I didn't think. Instinct took over. I threw a punch straight into his solar plexus.
CRACK.
Flash gasped, his eyes bulging. He stumbled back, clutching his stomach, and coughed up a spray of blood.
He looked at me with pure terror, turned, and practically ran away from the scene.
The entire hall was quiet. Nobody stood up to Flash. Nobody hurt Flash.
Before the crowd could start cheering or the teachers could arrive, I grabbed Peter and bolted.
That Evening
I met the "Council" in the alleyway. I told them straight: "I need to train. I can't have this power without control. Teach me."
Bart went first. I thought, What can a dog teach a human?
I was wrong. Bart taught me the way of the pack—how to track a scent through a maze of smells, how to stay low to the ground, and the importance of persistence.
Selene followed. She taught me feline grace—how to move without making a sound, how to balance on a wire, and how to strike with lethal precision.
Even James, the "broke" rat, taught me how to move through shadows and find things that were hidden.
Finally, Hoot taught me the hardest lesson: Patience.
"Search for your prey," he seemed to say through the link. "Be silent. Be the shadow before the strike."
By the time I headed home, I felt different. I wasn't just a kid with animal powers anymore.
I was becoming a predator.
And in a city like New York, there was plenty of prey.